Warnings: Language, violence.
Spoilers: None. AU.
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Notes: William Bell sees the future.
When he is seven, William Bell falls ill with a fever.
As he lays in bed, burning, he sees the visions for the first time.
He sees the future.
He sees the path that the world will take, and he sees that the path is mutable. He sees demons set upon that path by his own hand, demons bent to his own will, vicious and beautiful.
The path trembles under their feet, for their swords are sharp and they are merciless, and he is their master.
He sees this, and he knows this; he is meant to shape the world.
There is a field and it burns. The flames leap towards the sky and consume the stars themselves.
In the field is a woman, and the flames kneel before her, and lick her fingers as would a favored pet.
She is glory and destruction, the fire that is creation, the fire that is annihilation. She is the cold logic of progress that grinds the future into being with no regard for the past. She is the weight of tradition that holds the future captive.
She smiles, benevolent as she burns her enemies to cinders and scatters them on the wind.
There is a tree, and beneath the tree, in the shade of it's branches is a man.
He grins the trickster's grin.
In his left hand he holds a blade. His right hand bleeds from every cut the blade makes, and the ground beneath his feet is slick with blood.
He is laughter on their field of battle, the joyful songs of the righteous dead. He is the compassion of a quick killing blow.
He is beautiful and damaged, holding back the darkness, holding within him the darkness. He is weak and falters. He is strength that does not fail.
Behind them is darkness, storm clouds that conceal the horizon. In the shadows is a man, and the man is shadows. He is the storm-ravaged sea, and the ship that treads it's waves unafraid. He is the steady hand that guides the weapon, the eyes that see the target clearly.
He circles the other two with his arms, a shepherd to wolves.
He swallows the pain of his charges, takes upon his body the blows that would fell them, bleeds their wounds.
He is redemption for their crimes.
He is broken, and broken again.
William sees him, and weeps.
William does not recognize them the first time he sees them. It is a realization that grows over the years, grows along with the growth of their child's bodies.
He sees them in their laughter, when they link their hands together and loop their arms around each other's necks.
He sees them in their tears when they are pushed too far, for he knows they are born of pain, tempered with suffering.
He steels his heart against them. He loves them, and so he destroys them again and again, to see them rise, each time stronger than the last.