A/N: Thanks to everyone reading, and those reviewing, I appreciate you all!
There's a special note down at the bottom, just so you know, so don't forget to read it, alright?
So, here's a John POV for you!
Angel's Wings
.11.
She's an anomaly. That was John's first thought upon seeing the little Junior Deputy in the church. She wasn't aggressive, or defensive, wasn't keeping a hand perched close to her gun, wasn't eyeing the Faithful like they were attack dogs held back by twine. She'd looked almost delicate, next to the calm, stalwart Sheriff and hyper-aggressive/defensive Marshall. Fine bones, pale skin stark against that ugly canvas tan of her uniform, black gloves and black boots and short black hair to go with it. Dove gray eyes that looked a little stunned, a little doe-like, wide and slightly glazed.
If her pupils had been a little wider, he'd have wondered if she'd come to Their Home with a little liquid or powdered courage in her blood, but no.
No, that wasn't it at all.
It wasn't until she'd finally stepped forward, expression dazed, to cuff Joseph that he and his Siblings realized something more was going on, something Joseph was going on. And, suddenly, he began to remember his early childhood memories of his brother, now Father. Memories of those now Too-Intense blue eyes being glazed and distant and always Watching something he couldn't See. Hers were like Joseph's when they were kids, back when God's Voice had been ever-so-slightly Muffled, with only bright bites of Clarity that had brought Joseph to life.
Joseph claimed to only See and Hear God infrequently, that the Voice of God came and went with only major Acts of Significance, but John remembered being five-years-old and watching his brother talking in his sleep of fire and red skies. Jacob didn't believe in The Collapse, not like John did, but he Believed in Joseph out of Love, and that was enough for them all. But John...
John remembered the vivid descriptions Joseph would mutter while unconscious, and they had sent him crawling into Jacob's bed after a nightmare more than once before the brothers had been separated. He'd always Believed in Joseph and in The Father, and he always would.
So, when the little Deputy, the little anomaly, whispered words about Broken Seals, he'd felt a shiver run down his spine and goosebumps break out on his arms.
And he longed to hear her Confessions. To listen to her cry out in Pain and Absolution, to hear of her Sins and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to hear more of God's Words through her. Be able to pull from her the same Voice that used to Whisper out of sleeping Joseph late in the night when pain and exhaustion would force the middle Seed into unconsciousness.
Pain and Release of that Pain, the moment of Clarity brought forth by the Power of Acknowledging ones True Self, ones True Faults... The Power of Yes...
He would often tell those in his Confessionals about the Duncans, how they taught him about the Power of Yes, of Acceptance of one's Sins, but, in Truth, it was Joseph who had opened that door, long ago, in that blood stained hellhole of a house where Old Man Seed had liked to beat and bloody them. And, just like when Joseph and Jacob had found him again, Saved him again, and pulled him back into their circle, it was Joseph who had taught him that giving that Power to others was his Gift, his Purpose.
And he would Give that Power to the Junior Deputy, whether she came to him by hook or by crook, he would Give.
He was a very Giving man, these days.
After that night, the Beginning of The Collapse, when Joseph had been safely brought Home, he had noticed his Brothers eyes. People liked to think that Joseph's face was forever set in the rigors of his Faith, that he was held distant due to his Sacred Position in God's Favor, but John and Jacob knew different. They knew that, beneath the stern, still features of The Father lay the writhing sea of Joseph, the one so filled with Empathy and Love that he sometimes couldn't deal with it at all. He was in a state of constant Drowning, and it meant that he was so much better equipped for Healing and Calling to Lost Souls than any human being John had ever seen.
And those eyes, once so dazed but now so clearly bright, so Intense that he had to hide them from the rest of the world or make them Burn and Drown at once under their gaze, had been glowing.
"The Little Lamb Will be Saved," he had told them, little Faith snuggling into his arms as soon as they had spread towards them, His Heralds, His Family. "She will be Saved, and She will become Our Family. God has Blessed us," he'd whispered, and that churning, writhing Sea of Empathy beneath The Father's skin had left its host nearly in Tears. Joseph didn't Weep, not even from Joy, but in this moment, it was close, closer to the surface than it had been in years.
And John had wanted to go out, immediately, and Hunt the now Named Lamb, bring Her safely back to Their Fold before anything could Taint the Vision Joseph had seen, could Turn Her from the Path his Brother had Prayed and Begged God for for the past Year. At the same time, he had wanted to Hurt Her, Cleanse Her with Blood and Pain and Yes until her Soul had been bleached white as snow beneath her skin.
And everywhere that Joseph went the Lamb was sure to Go...
He had waited, waited until the next day, skin crawling with the Want to Hunt Her Down, but he had waited. And then, he had sent out his Teams, his Chosen and Faithful and Converts, to Reap and to Hunt for Her. They had orders, orders to leave her Unharmed, because Pain would be HIS Gift to her, to Cleanse her, and they had gone forward Obedient to Their Heralds Words, the Words of The Father that were His Own.
And it had taken Days, three long, aching Days, before word of her within his Region had come to his Table. Word of her finally leaving that damn Island that Joseph had told him was now off limits, the Lamb's Sanctuary until it was time for her to Return Home to her Proper Flock.
And then, the Word had Come of the Pumpkin Farm, and the Team of Faithfuls had come to him on bended knee, begging to be Cleansed, with her Lesson on their Tongue and Repentance on their backs.
He hadn't been gentle. He hadn't been Kind. It was not his Calling to be either, for those who fell back into the Temptation of Sin needed to Learn, to be reminded every day of the Sacrifice they must Make for True Atonement. He knew that Personally well, his skin bore the Sins of his Life, and the Marks of his Repentance. And now, so would they, skin flayed and black ink like poison, Drowning out the Sins they had Begged him to Take.
And, once they were released from the Confessional, did they Fall Back into the mindset of before?
No. No they didn't.
Instead, they'd gone out among his Chosen and Faithful, had spread achingly awed Word of the Lamb's Lessons, had brought to John others who had, unknowingly, fallen for the sly Poison of their Sins.
He had never felt such Purpose within his Confessors before, and it filled him with Joy and Pleasure and Glee, because, if with just a single day she had brought him such Sinful Souls, from out of his own Faithful, what else could she bring, who else could she bring to his Confessionals?
So, inspired, he had filmed his video, his Introduction, and sent it out throughout his Region. The people would learn of the Power of Yes, and he knew that the Deputy was there, on his land, as if she'd been drawn to him. Maybe it was Gods Plan, His Will, that John got to her first? That's what Joseph would say, would tell him. Joseph would expound on the fact that it was John who brought the Sinners to the Light, was John who took Their Confessions and Cleansed them. Not Jacob, not Faith, but little John.
He'd been antsy, eager, fingers all but shaking like they used to when he went too long without a fix. He'd spent hours after the first broadcast, just cleaning and organizing his supplies and Confessional Tools. Making sure all the knives and needles were clean and sterile, that he was stocked on Cauterizing Powder (no need to let those Atoning die of blood loss, it would be pointless). That he had plenty of cream for his tattoos and that the chair was freshly wiped down. He left Deputy Hudson in the opposite chair, the Witness Chair, and kept her there most days, making her watch the warm ups to Confessions before pulling her from the room.
Confessions were meant to be Private. No one liked airing their dirty laundry in front of strangers or friends alike, but John was their Baptist, their Savior in this. Their Priest. They always Confessed to him, always, and they always would.
Humming softly as he carefully reorganized some of the Sins he'd cut away from his Faithful the day before, pondering on where to place them on the walls so that others knew they were not alone in Sin, his radio crackled.
"Hello?" a woman's voice called, breathy and slightly muffled, half-panicked. "Is anyone there?" John blinked at it, bemused, before movement from Deputy Hudson had his sharp eyes flicking to her. Her bruised eyes were wide, panicked, and she was watching him fearfully, eyes darting from radio to his face again. Slowly, John felt a smile curl his lips, felt his teeth start to bear as something like excitement began to flood his veins, pulsing through out him at her reaction. He slowly lifted the radio to his mouth, eyes glittering as he watched her yank at her bindings and shake her head, cries muffled.
"And who might this be?" He asked, playfully, taunting Deputy Hudson. This was obviously someone she knew, someone she cared about, and how better to get the stubborn Deputy to Confess than to witness her friend—
"This is the Deputy who has managed to get herself tree'd by a very, very angry bear who has, apparently, been given some kind of steroid or something," The unknown Caller responded, her muffled voice wry as John stilled, eyes going wide and gleeful as Hudson shouted at him behind her gag, words unknown and unneeded. "And who would very much appreciate someone with a gun coming to shoot said bear and put the poor thing out of its misery, thank you." John felt his breath stutter, his veins pulse and his groin ache as he shivered with realization. The Little Lamb was in trouble, and the line she called on was his, asking him for aide, for help, for him to—!
"Why, Deputy," he crooned, licking his lips a little. "Are you asking me to help Save you?" This time, she didn't immediately respond, and the wait, the anticipation, had John fighting his deepest Sins all together, not wanting to let his Lust or Greed or Wrath ruin this.
It was not his place to do so, after all. His Purpose was for Saving, not Indulging, so he would wait and—
"Do you want to Save Me, John?" her voice finally asked, filled with curiously. "I would think you'd rather capture me for Joseph." John didn't hesitate, blood pumping and Purpose riding his shoulders and filling his Heart.
"I seek to Save all those who are Willing, and those who are Not, Deputy," he told her sharply. "I would Cleanse your Body of its Sins, then take your Confession. But these are things you must be willing to do as well. Are you Willing to be Redeemed, little sister?" he asked breathlessly, heart pounding, eyes half-closed as he ignored Hudson's struggling, the entirety of his focus on the radio, on the woman behind it.
"All you have to do is say a single, simple word, and I would take you into the Holy Waters, wash away the filth of your body and leave you Clean and Renewed before the Eyes of God. I would Hear your Confession, carve the Sin from your flesh and leave you New within your Soul, and you would reach Atonement. It would be so Beautiful, Little Lamb," he crooned, achingly tender, need and eager anxiousness filling his throat. She needed to understand, He needed her to understand, he Needed her to say YES. "It would only take a single word, Lamb. Just. One." His breath caught in his throat, aching in his lungs. Say it, say it, say it, SAY IT—
"I—" she started, but then, then she screamed, and it yanked John from his mind, wrenched him from the Power of Yes, the drug of Yes, and he choked on his held breath, nearly throwing the radio as he flinched. Scrambling to grab a hold of it again, he pulled it close.
"Deputy?! Deputy, where are you?" He demanded sharply, harshly, struggling not to let his hands crush the radio as he listened, Prayed, for her reply. Hudson was leaning forward, as if she could get closer without him unlocking the chain holding her chair in place, straining against her bindings with tear-bright eyes. Any other time, he would think she looked rather beautiful like this, desperate and fearful, bruised and teary-eyed, but, not at the moment, not when the Lamb, his little Deputy, had screamed for him in pain and fear that he hadn't Gifted to her.
He would destroy whatever had dared Gift her the Pain that was Rightfully His to Bestow.
"I, I'm on a hunting trail near the Apple Orchard," she finally responded, her voice tight and hoarse with pain. "I could really use someone with actual firepower to come kill this bear, please. Sleeping gas only makes it madder and deadens its pain receptors, apparently, and it's caught me twice already." Bear, bear, of course, she was 'tree'd' still, she'd said so earlier. Father Forgive him in his Eagerness, he'd completely forgotten that she'd called him for rescue.
Abruptly leaving Hudson in the Confessional, locking the door behind him, John went hunting for his Chosen and a few trustworthy Faithful.
He would not let the Lamb fall to a bear of all things.
He would Save her.
It was his Purpose.
A/N: And End chapter! Hope you guys liked it!
An inside look at John Seeds creepy, needy little brain and how, despite being a smarmy little shit, he's still a cute little psychopath.
Now, onto the Special Note:
It Is Perfectly Fine To Hate John Seed. Its fine to Hate ALL the Seeds. They're very easy to Hate, and that's the point, In The Game. They're the enemy, they're meant to be assholes, they're meant to be hate-able to make you want to kill them. That's the whole point in the Game.
This fic is not like the Game.
This fic isn't about Hate, its about Understanding that Humans are Humans. That People do horrible, disgusting things for no reason, or no reason you can agree with, and still being able to acknowledge the fact that they are Human Too. That they have hopes, dreams, and ideas, that they feel emotions, maybe not as well as most people, but they still do.
Its okay to hate the characters from the game, but in this fic, they aren't just Characters. Or, at least, that's what I'm trying to portray.
Now, that being said, thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review!
