Title: if we go too far
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from "Heavens on Their Minds"
Warnings: future!fic. Disturbing.
Pairings: um… yeah. Het. Somewhat non-con.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 500
Point of view: third
"They still tell stories about you."
He doesn't look up, has nothing to say. She chuckles, trailing her fingers along the bars of bone, caressing a rib.
"They call you Traitor," she murmurs, canting her head, studying him. "Just as they call him Deliverer."
He shudders, but makes no sound.
She counts that as a victory, and leaves with glee.
-
She returns, of course, because Hell is boring and he is beautiful.
"Did you think," she asks, slipping through the bars and touching his face, "that it could ever come to this? Him?"
He jerks away, eyes on the blood-soaked flesh that makes the ground in Hell.
"C'mon," she says, kneeling in front of him, holding his head so that he can't look away. "It's me."
His eyes are full of hate, but he stays silent.
She laughs, a ringing sound; he flinches.
"Traitor," she breathes, leaning in to caress his lips with her tongue. "Beautiful traitor."
She kisses her way across his cheek, down his neck, relishing the hatred in his taut form.
"You gave us the deliverer, sweetheart," she whispers, looking up into his endless gaze. "We thank you for that."
He says nothing. He never does.
-
She never spends more than a few days topside before returning to his prison, always telling him what his brother is doing.
"He's remaking the world, darling," she gleefully tells him one night, rubbing circles on his bare, scarred back. "It's a glorious place, of ash and fire. He's waiting for you, you know. Wants you at his side."
Silence. He trembles.
"I remember you had a smart mouth," she says, almost sadly. "I miss it. Are you really that broken?"
The quiet is an unmistakable answer.
-
Time has no meaning in Hell. Days, weeks, months… human inventions. Demons and devils only notice the Earth's revolution, the moon, and the sun.
She visits when she can. He never ages; the deliverer wants him as he was.
The day he finally speaks, no human has ruled in three lifetimes. No human nation still stands.
The deliverer has conquered the world and his regime is absolute.
She's kissing the traitor's neck, biting down to taste his exquisite blood, when his voice stops her cold.
"Take me to my brother, bitch."
-
She does, because he is kin of the deliverer and his will is law.
King of the world and still not happy, because something—everything—was missing.
She wonders if Heaven still stands. If their parents know. What they thought, watching the world burn.
The deliverer's castle is made of ivory and marble, pearl and diamond. There are no guards because he needs none; his is the power of a god.
She leads the traitor to him. He shines brighter than the sun no one has seen in three hundred years.
She counts, the only one that still does.
Her lord knows they're coming.
-
"Dean," the deliverer says.
"Sammy," the traitor replies.
She watches, and it's like no time has passed at all.