I do not own any of the creative characters of the VD, therefor they belong to their respective parties/creators. I do however have creative licences to the oc characters because, like me, they are broke.

On with the show.

All God's Children

"Behold, a creation that has far exceed all expectations. Man. Bow to him for he is one that should be admired."

From the shadows, he watched on as his father boast with glee at his latest creation. He watched in disgust as his older brother stood before the man they all admired slowly sink down onto bended knee at the feet of this…creature.

One by one his brothers took to their knees, crowns lowered, eyes closed as if they were praying to a being far greater than they.

How shameful, he thought.

He could no longer stomach watching the scene play out before him. Turning, he made way to leave and not dampen his father's mood. There was no need for confrontation today. Lately it seemed the rift between he and his father was growing wider by thin seconds. The suddenness of the soured relationship had driven the rift to a strange place in which his father would seldom seek conference with him.

His presence was no longer requested in attendance to discuss strategic measures for battles. He was no longer second in command when called to keep demons at bay. It would seem he no longer held any worth in receiving his father's praise. No, it was glaringly obvious that there would be little need for him this day. His words would mean very little and this new toy did not need his audience today. So, it was best he made little sound and leave. Unfortunately, he was cursed with the same golden crown as his father and therein leaving little chance for a quick escape.

"Lucifer, you will not bow?" his father asked.

Slowly, taking in a deep breath and releasing through his nose, he turned. "No father. I will not bow. How could I when I see nothing worth of bowing on behalf of. So, excuse me as I take my leave."

With that said, Lucifer made way to leave, but was halted by a thundering roar, "Look at me boy. You dare turn your back on me."

His father's commanding voice somehow always made Lucifer feel like a hostage to fear. He had born witness to moments when his father would reprimand his soldiers whenever they fell below his standards. Their heads bowed, bodies hunched over, repenting to the sins they had committed; begging for forgiveness and repenting to the sin they have committed against their god. He was awed by those moments of watching his father's strength, passion and leadership. It would seem now that his father's ire was soon to be dealt upon him.

"Look. At. Me," demand his father. Slowly, Lucifer turned. "Bow."

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no. No, I will not bow. Father, that creature is not worthy of my time. It is in no way greater nor is it our equal. It is molded dirt; something to walk on. It is not worthy," he argued.

"It was created in my image. Are you saying that I am not worthy and therefore that which is created in my image is not worthy?"

"Father, I…"

"Are you saying that your brothers are not worthy?"

"I did not say,"

"For they were created in my image."

"Father,"

"You were created in my Image. Are you not worthy?"

"I am your son. Of course, I was created in your image. Your blood runs through my veins as does Michael's, as does Gabriel's, as does Raphael's and the others. We are worthy, but for that monster," he pointed towards the silent being, "you would like your children to bend the knee? No," shaking his head, "I will not fall so as to lower myself to something that is far beneath me."

There, he said it. Taking a chance, he glanced towards his older brother, Michael, hoping to find an ally. He and Michael were a formidable force in intellect and heart. When it came to pride, where Lucifer bruised so easily, Michael was there to heal. When anger crashed like rough waves through Michael, Lucifer was there to calm those tumultuous seas.

Looking at his brother now, he did not find that old support he so hoped to see. In fact, not only did not find favor from Michael, all of his brothers seemed to have come to the same conclusion that he, Lucifer, was on his own.

If that is the case, so be it. Looking back towards his father, Lucifer noticed a slight blur surrounding his visage. His fathers' eyes burned with fury. His proud nose seemed more pronounced. Disdain had a way of making his father seem taller and imposing when the act was directed towards one of his children when they misbehave.

And this did not bode well for Lucifer.

"So it seems that I have displeased you in some way, My Son. For that I should feel sorry."

"No, father."

"No. I should feel sorry. I should feel sorry, but I do not. I have given you everything that I have. The one thing that I have asked of you is to obey me and respect my decisions."

"Father, I was just giving you my opinion on the matter of your creation. That is all."

"I did not ask for your opinion. I gave you instructions. To Bow. What you have given me is your disobedience."

"Father…"

"No," said his father, taking a step towards him. "You have said enough."

As his father drew nearer, Lucifer could see the storm clouds forming behind his cold gray steel eyes.

"My son. My second born. I cannot have such disobedience in my house. My home. This temple."

"Father, I apologize," he said, believing it was best he mollify things before everything got completely out of control. Regrettably, his father was not in a conciliatory mood.

"I believe you now, but I sense something deeper within you that says you will never find favor. That something is growing within you telling me I must be rid of you before such thoughts and ideals continue to plague you to later infecting the others."

"Father, what are you saying?"

"I banish you Lucifer. I no longer want you in my presence. Until you are ready to obey and welcome this being, I cannot have you in my home."

Lucifer could not believe this was happening. His father could not be serious as to expect him to grovel at the feet of his new pet. The eyesore. He looked towards Gabriel, who quickly hung his head in shame. Looking around at the others, he saw the same answering reply: shame at their brother's fool hearted act of defiance.

He, Lucifer, was on his own. "That I cannot do father," he said, shaking his head in defeat. "For the creature that stands beside you is evil, soulless, and has no sense of moral guidance. It is beautiful, that I cannot deny, but hidden beneath that beauty is something that will give birth to much worse. It will be ugly, and I cannot, will not, bow."

"Leave. I want you out of my sight. Leave. Now," said his father, before marching out of the room with his creature following in step.

Without another word, Lucifer turned in the opposite direction and left the only place called home. Never to set foot again.

Bonnie Bennett stood outside a brick building looking at a mural of fist posed afro, locs, cropped crown black women. Each figure exuding beauty, strength, excellence, and pride painted on the wall of Jeanette's Beauty Shop.

Across the street a group of elderly men, ranging from all shades of brown, could be overheard talking about current and past events of youthful days long gone. Their deep belly laugh resonated through the air taking her back to a past she so longed to revisit. Back to a memory of her father she had once thought was just a dream when she was much younger. It was the first and last time she had ever heard her father truly laugh. It was much like the laughter she heard from the men in their chairs tossing jokes and stories.

It made her long for her father. For just a little more time to hear that laughter, bottle it up to let it out from time to time as a reminder. That is the memory she wished played through her mind when she felt like walking down memory lane and not the memory of watching him being murdered in front of the entire town. No, she would not let that memory ruin this moment.

Down the block she could see a group of children playing tag; their laughter so contagious it drew a small chuckle from her. Another group of girls in pigtails and braids was playing double-dutch. A ball game was in play at the park, and the smell of Frieda's cornbread was wafting in the air.

She was home. This was familiar. This was home.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door to Jeanette's and was immediately hit with the aroma of shampoo, conditioner, the sounds of gossip, laughter and the melodic vocals of Nina Simone.

"Do my eyes deceive me or did a stranger just walk through my door?" sang a familiar voice that held a slight southern twang.

Smiling, Bonnie quickly made her way towards the tall statuesque black woman with arms at ready for a hug. Jeanette was an old family friend. She was the first person, besides her Grams, to caress, mold and tease the wild curls of Bonnie's hair. Now here she stood in the tight embrace of the person she could actually call family.

"Baby girl, where you been?" Jeanette asked, squeezing the younger woman in a tight embrace.

"Out of town with some friends," she answered, pulling out of the taller woman's embrace. "I got back a couple of days ago."

"Oh, is that so. You had a good time?"

Such an innocent question should not have been difficult to answer. Should she say that she was sucked into oblivion with a guy who was a vampire, a psychotic vampire, but a psychotic vampire with a conscience. Perhaps she should also add that his psychotic episodes were trumped by someone even more psychotic then he.

Was she then supposed to say that she was held hostage by said psycho 2.0 and left to defend for herself, find her own way home while her so called friends did nothing but sit on their collective asses? Let's forget the fact that she saved their asses so many times, and the one time she needed them they…well they couldn't get their shit together to save her.

Nah. Jeanette didn't need to know that. So instead she said, "it could have gone better."

"I'm sorry to hear that girl. So, what brought you here today?"

"I'm thinking about getting something different. You think you can pencil me in today?"

"For you, girl yes. You might have to wait awhile. If you're down for that?"

"I can wait," she said with a nod.

"Well good. I'll be done with Gladys in a minute, and then there's Tamara who's getting braids, you'll be right after her. Okay?"

"Sure."

"Alright. I'm gonna let Mikki go ahead and remove the weave from your hair."

"Sounds good."

"Mikki," Jeanette called.

"Yeah."

"Come here. I want you to meet someone," Jeanette motioned for a woman of similar height to join them.

She was dressed in all black: black shirt tied in back and high waist skinny-jeans with the only splash of color being a pair of pink high-top sneakers. Her hair was styled in a small neat afro and bright bangle earrings dangled from her ears." Mikki, this is Bonnie, she's family. Bonnie, this is Mikki."

"Nice to meet you," Mikki greeted.

"You too," Bonnie answered. Looking closer she could now see the small diamond nose-ring nestled in the corner of Mikki's right nostril. Caroline would not like Mikki because of her wardrobe. She would have considered her the embodiment of everything that was not fashionable, but to Bonnie, Mikki was culture. In secret, Bonnie was envious of Mikki style.

"Mikki, could you prep Bonnie for me while I finish with my two before your next chair walks in?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Mikki agreed, smiling at Bonnie.

"Thank you." Jeanette turned to face Bonnie. "Bonnie, you go with Mikki and I'll be with you in a little while."

Not long after Mikki removed the strands from her hair, Bonnie waited listening to the shop gossip. She watched as Darius, the owner of the barbershop next door, walk in with a bag of goodies from Frieda's for all the stylist. He spoke with ladies of the shop before heading back to work. She laughed when Jeanette's little boy came in bouncing on his father arms to kiss his mama before heading off for the day's activities.

Yes, this was normal. This is what a normal day was for normal people. There were no vampires to worry about. No spells, or a 1994 world in a place her Grams said was supposed to be a safe haven, only the place ended up being nightmare loop of a day here prison mate decided to go bat-sniff crazy and kill people. A world in which she was left alone to survive on her own while being terrorize by a killer. No, this was not that world. This was just a normal day in a world in which life was relatively easy.

"Okay, Bonnie come on." Jeanette called her almost 30 minutes later. "What did you have in mind today."

"Something new, adventurous."

"Oh. Braids? Twist? A nice bob? What you got in mind?"

Looking into the mirror she stared at the person looking back at her. That person in the mirror had been hurt a lot in her short life. She had been walked over for so long, that it had just become tiresome. She was beyond exhausted of being a stepping-stone, a bundle of magic or card that was pulled when her friends were down on their luck. The proverbial ace from up their proverbial sleeve. That person looked tired. Old. Life seemed to have been drained from her.

She was a victim, but who could she talk to about her life. She could try to get her friends to listen, but would they pay attention long enough while she tried to confide in them.

She was almost killed. Could they not see that she was tired and alone? That person was too young and alone to have experience so much without having family there to count on as that shoulder to cry on when needed.

She came to a decision.

"Cut it all off. I need a new look. I think I need to start over."

"You sure?" Jeanette asked, running her hands through the thick dark tresses on the young woman seated before her.

"Yes. I need a new me. I'm making a lot of changes in my life starting right now."

Tsk, "nothing wrong with that." Jeanette said reaching for the shears from her trey ready to transform Bonnie into a new woman. "Nothing wrong with that."

Davis Marigold believed life was full of surprises. When he was a young boy at the age of nine, he wanted to be Batman. Batman was dark, mysterious, and had a lot of cool gadgets to fight bad guys. That is until one day he decided to jump from the top of his mother's armoire pretending it was a tall building and broke his left leg. After that incident he figured he did not like getting hurt. So ended that dream. At age 13 he kissed the prettiest girl in his 8th grade class, Janice Culpepper, at his first boy/girl party in Richie Trigon's coat closet. When he was 17, his father allowed him to drive the prized 1972 Oldsmobile. He took special care of operating that vehicle that day, because one screw up could mean a lifetime of payback. At 21 he got drunk at his first frat party and woke up with a goat's ass in his face. That is all anyone needed to know about that.

Now at 32, he was in some run-down motel room making out with the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.

He and a group of friends gathered for a night out at a local pub to get an early start to the weekend celebrations. The group had started the night off eating on fried barbecue wings and sipping the finest beer in the place when a figure across the room caught his eye.

She was seated alone at the bar, rebuffing every guy that dared hit on her. At first, he silently thought that it was best he continued to sit and watch the parade of men slink away in rejection. Not one seemed to have charmed her, so when the opportunity came for someone at the table to retrieve another round of beers, he quickly jumped at the opportunity.

Once at the bar, after placing his orders, Davis casually eased his way next to the mystery woman and began to make small talk around mundane topics such as the weather and his expectations for the rest of the year. She was nice enough to entertain him with short answers, but when he felt that he was suddenly included in the long list of failed suitors he thanked her for her time before dejectedly walking back to his friends.

Later that night, while he and his friends were engaged in a pool game, Davis felt a light tap upon his shoulder. He was shocked to see the woman whom he carried a small conversation standing behind him. She leaned forward and whispered, "let's go."

They ended up at some no-name motel, rented a room, promptly locked the door, and began ripping off their clothes. There was something beguilingly intoxicating about her. Her sighs, moans, the twist and turns of her hips were so invigorating. She was his wildest fantasy come true.

The next morning 55-year-old Miriam Gold found Davis Marigold tangled in sheets. The sight of his sunken eyes, hollowed cheeks, and the look of sheer terror would forever haunt her.

It has been a while since I have written anything.