Chapter 40

Gilgash punched Crowley viciously, "It was a boy, slime!" He hit him again, bleeding bruises forming across Crowley's already wounded face.

"She had a SON!" He screamed punching every inch of Crowley's body, Bones growling behind him.

He backed off, breathing hard. Crowley's breath, too was coming in labored gasps.

"What was his name?" Crowley asked tentatively.

Gilgash held himself up regally and stared imperiously at him, "Prince Dean, Child of the Light, Persephone's Flower, Son of the Dead, The Beacon of Hope."

"Dean?" Crowley asked, he forced a laugh, "Cute."

This enraged Gilgash more who flung kicked one of the elegant bed posts, cracking it off the frame. He heaved it up and smashed it across Crowley's back, who yelled in pain.

Crowley groaned, "Can't you just kill me and be done with it?"

Gilgash laughed and backed off, "Oh, not yet. You will know your crimes before you're executed for them."

"My crimes?" Crowley spat, "Is it customary to torture someone while revealing crimes they haven't committed yet before executing them for it? Hardly seems fair."

Gilgash shrugged and laughed, "Well, I am a demon." He sauntered forward and pinched Crowley's cheek, "I was telling you a story."

XXXXX

Gilgash's Story

"Gilgash." She said commandingly, I turned and regarded my Queen Persephone. She had the boy cradled under and arm, where he slept. Her hair was tied back from her face in braids. She looked much less a girl than she ever had. Her eyes were harder.

"Yes, My Lady?"

"Come with me. To the war room."

I followed her with quick steps while she strode to the war room. If anyone had thought becoming a mother would make her soft was a fool.

She closed the door behind me with a snap, "Gil," She said roughly, "I have a job for you."

"Of course, My Lady. As you command."

Her voice softened minutely, "Gil, you've been my friend for many years and a loyal Captain for longer. I am going to charge you with something you will not like."

I frowned, "As you wish."

"If the angels break through, you will not go into battle."

"My Lady!"

Her eyes were unrelenting, "If the angels break through, you will take Prince Dean and you will leave Hell. You know the way?"

I nodded solemnly, "Yes, I know the way."

Her face became impassioned, "Promise me, Gilgash!"

I looked startled, "Yes, My Queen, of course. But why would you not take him?"

"If the angels break through the wall I will seal the door on my people, it may take some time and I may be captured during the attempt. You need to see to his safety. I will not lose another child."

"Upon my life, My Queen."

XXXXX

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "Shit."

Sam smirked, "Aw, Lucifer's son was named after you."

"Shut up, Sammy. She named her kid after me. I had a grandson. A freaking grandson."

"I mean, you still might. Angels live a long time. You think that's the favor she's gonna ask you? To take care of her kid?"

"As long as it's not letting Lucifer out of the pit."

Sam laughed hollowly, "You'd have to fight your way through me on that one."

Sam got up and stretched, "I'm gonna make breakfast, you want any?"

"Nah," Dean said looking back down at the book, "I had pancakes with Bobby in the middle of the night."

"Oh, naturally."

Sam slunk out of the room, leaving Dean to read about his daughter in privacy.

XXXXX

The Letter from the Bunker

Dean was so beautiful. He had your eyes, Dad. He'd stand on my lap, me holding him up under the arms and wriggle his fuzzy little wings. They were disproportionately small and wiggly. Lucifer said that when he grew a little they would grow too fast and become disproportionately big and awkward.

Lucifer became more serious after Dean, there were long stretches where he'd stare out the window at the wall with hard features.

I sat in the War Room, Dean on my knee, he was practicing flexing his wings and wiggling his toes. Paper stretched before me and I made small marks across it, organizing the sigils on Hell's Bunker.

Lucifer sat at the other end of the table, kittycorner from me, he was moving small figurines about, planning battles. Creases cut down his forehead.

"Persephone." He said in a hard voice.

I glanced up, "Lucifer."

"When we met. You had a king."

"Yes. Hades."

His gaze rested on Dean who chewed on his toes. "What did you do with him?"

"I told him to run."

"Because I would have killed him." It was not a question.

He spoke evenly any accusation stripped from his voice, "You offered me the throne because I was powerful and you were losing. You took me into your bed because you were seducing me."

I mimicked his tone, "You took my offer to gain advantage over Michael, to slip from under his thumb."

He made a few more adjustments to his figurines, "Persephone," he looked at me with intensity, "You must have no illusions about who I am."

I looked for a long time at him, knowing he would tear his way out of his millenia old prison and lead an army of demons. He would release the horsemen on the Earth. He would overcome my uncle's body and use it too torment my father to an inch of his life. I knew he would drive the world to the edge and feast in the wake of death.

"I have always known what you are."

He looked back at me steadily, "Did you intend to return to your old king? To kill me and receive him through the gates?"

"Yes."

"Do you now?"

I considered slowly, this was no time for rushing or deceiving. Crowley was my oldest friend, he had dragged me from the Hellions and burned my wounds closed. He had thrown himself in front of their claws to allow Ethan and I to escape. He had built Hell at my side and rescued me from Zeus. The sulfur that rolled from his skin intoxicated me and his heart lulled me into peace.

If this were a fair fight, he might even stand a chance.

Crowley was also jealous and cruel. He liked to own things. I brushed the fluff of blonde hair back from Dean's face and he fluttered the wings he got from his father.

"No."

Lucifer reached a long arm across the table and uncurled his fingers toward me. I stretched my arm to him and let my fingers touch his.

It was no longer a fair fight. I would have taken up with Zeus if it meant safety for my son.

I curled my arm around my boy protectively.

Lucifer stood and walked around to us, he pulled Dean out of my arms carefully and set him against his chest, petting through his soft down wings. "I've got you, little prince. No one will hurt a single of your feathers. You and your mother and perfectly safe with me."

I looked up sharply, "It's his six month birthday tomorrow."

Lucifer smiled at his son and patted his feathers, "Nearly a man, then!"

But my face had paled and my hands shook.

"Are you alright, Sephone?"

"It's nothing," I said swiftly, "A family superstition." But then, of course, it would be me who would burn. A trade I would make. A trade I would make ten thousand times.

"We should rest," Lucifer said. He was right, the night had worn on and it did us no good to be tired. I stood and took Dean back. He gave a mighty little yawn and snuggled into my shoulder. My boy.

I allowed Lucifer to lead us back to our room. Usually little Dean slept in a basket next to our bed, but not tonight. Tonight I wouldn't let him go. I slipped into pajamas and cradled him to me. I lay down with my little thing next to me, my arm in a circle above him, tucked against my body.

Lucifer lay down behind me and cast his wing above us. I shut my eyes.

It was midnight and Dean was six months old and I awoke.

"Lucifer," I said in a horrified whisper. He was awake immediately.

I could feel it in my flesh. "They've broken through the wall."

XXXXX

Gilgash nuzzled Bones, his face anguished, "There is only a little more I have for you," he said softly. Then in distractedly, looking about the room, the let his dark fingers fall against a small basket overturned at the foot of the bed, "My lady."

XXXXX

Gilgash's Story

I was at the wall. I walked along it with a night of silence around me. The wall had held so strong. I marched quickly.

I heard a creaking behind me and I looked back. I was seized by terror. A crack was running up the wall, crackling through the stone. I opened my mouth the shout the alarm and it blasted open. I was knocked off my feet in the spray of shrapnel, half covered in rubble.

Michael and his flaming sword glowed in the threshold of the hole, his golden armor dancing in the fire light. But it was the thing behind him, the voice broke into the sound of crumbling stone.

"The Queen lives." The voice was raspy and low and familiar.

Michael turned his head and replied, "And the nephilim dies. I remember. I am a creature of my word."

I could not wrench myself from the stones. Angels flooded through the fractured wall. Fire leapt from Michaels' feet arching across the gardens of Hell. It grew before me and my skin blistered, I could smell its reek. I tore at the stones holding me and watched helplessly the army advanced.

When I did pull myself free the fires had cut me off, blazing hot around me and I could not pass them.

XXXXX

The Letter from the Bunker

I could smell the burning flesh from the window and I tore off my night things, throwing my armor over my body. Fully encased I lifted my prince to me.

Lucifer, similarly armed seized my shoulder, "Seph, go! Lock them behind the door and flee! My angels and I will hold them off."

"You will lose with only your angels!"

"It will buy you time, you can escape with Dean."

I kissed him madly, he returned it with desperation and then shoved me back, "GO!"

I careened down the stairs, Dean held tightly against me, shouting to all I passed the signal to retreat. They, as always, did not question my commands but flooded into the bunker. Carrying the young, fear etching in their eyes. Some of them were already burned.

Screams echoed and they tumbled into the caves I had made beneath the palace, all that remained. They were still crushing themselves down the damp and curving path downwards when the fluttering of wings and the clinking of armor heralded angels storming the palace, winging at us, fury in their Hellion's eyes.

Achilles was at my side then, his eyes mad and the high guard with him. "Seal the door, Queen." he said, spear leveled at the angels. "We will keep them off you."

I shut the door and began the sigils, I cradled Dean with my arm and cut open the hand behind him. I dipped the fingers from my free hand into my own blood and painted them fresh upon the door. Under my breath I rasped the words Lucifer had taught me locking my people away. Swords clashed behind me. Fear was pounding in my heart.

I finished the last sigil and turned, looking for a way to run with Dean. There was a passageway. I abandoned my guard and sprinted up it. I could feel the fire coming into the broken windows as I tore passed them. Dean began to cry.

I pushed my hand forward and a window at the end of the hall burst open, Hell rose up to catch me as I leapt. I was wrenched backward by my hair and pulled roughly into strong arms.

"If I am not mistaken." A dark voice behind me said, "You are my sister in law."

I tore at my hair but Michael seized me by the free wrist and dragged me. It was all I could do to keep Dean cradled to me. He leapt from the window and flew downwards, me hanging from the wrist.

We came down into an unburnt circle, surrounded by his angels on three sides, a wall on the fourth.

Lucifer was on his knees, chains encircling his wrists, blood wetted his hair and his cheek looked broken. There were holes in his armor.

Michael towered over him, "Is this your Queen, Little King?" He thundered.

Lucifer screamed out, his voice terrible.

"And is that your son?"

Angels seized me from behind, holding my arms immovably. Michael leaned over me and pressed his hand against my skin. It sizzled and burn under his touch, leaving behind a branded sigil.

He smirked horribly, "Your Hell will be no weapon for you. Now, I believe it is high time I meet my nephew."

He tore Dean from my, I strained against my captors but their arms were stone. Hell did not rise to my command and Michael held my Dean.

He held my tiny prince along his extended forearm, regarding him. He tilted his head and looked at Lucifer, "An abomination, brother."

Lucifer shrieked, his hair tumbling around his livid face, "Do not TOUCH him Michael! Not the boy! Leave him!"

But Michael was absolute. He held Dean's tiny body by the chest in his mighty grasp and tore the wings from his back. Dean's little cry cut through me. I screamed.

Michael was not yet contented. He wrapped his fingers around Dean's tender feet, now dripping in the blood of his torn wings and let him go, suspending my boy upside down.

"Beg for his life, Lucifer."

He did. Without pause, "Please! Please, let him live! Allow me this, only this! Let him live. I will offer anything else." his voice broke, "Please, brother!"

I was shrieking and writhing in my captors arms.

Michael flexed his arm and swung it in an arc.

The Greeks had a story. It was popular once among my people. They told of a wise king, who reigned with justice. He was so just that, having aroused Zeus' ire, Apollo was given to this king for one year of servitude. The king, in his righteousness, did not abuse the fallen god and was thus rewarded at year's end. Apollo, freed from the chains of slavery offered the King a gift. He looked forward with his all knowing sight and told the king that Death would come for him in three days.

Horrified, the king pleaded with the god. Was there not some way to dissuade Death? Apollo relented, for he had been treated well and gave away Death's secret. He would be satisfied if another in the King's place. But they must go willingly.

The King searched his entire kingdom for a replacement. But, though he was loved by his people, they would not go. Nor even his sons, for as they told him, they were younger and would give up more years than he. Nor even his most devoted servants. Finally, with only an hour remaining, his beloved wife spoke. She would take his place amongst the dead. He tore his clothes and ripped his hair, screaming that it would be better to die than live without her. But he let Death take her away.

The King could not carve from his eyes the sight of Death bearing away his beloved and squandered his remaining days in torment.

The question, the Greeks asked, was if it was better to survive and see the thing you love be killed, or to die yourself.

Michael swung my tiny beloved Dean and dashed his little body against the wall. He broke open, smearing blood and brain along the stones of my home. Light erupted from Lucifer and screams were wrenched from my tormented lips.

To die, foolish Greeks. It would have been better to die.