FIC: Lux Infernam (SPN, gen, coda to 4.22)
Sep. 4th, 2009 07:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
electricalgwenOne week. It is hard to believe that at the beginning of the summer, I had not seen a single episode of Supernatural, and now I am completely obsessed with it and bouncing around waiting for season 5 to kick off. I don't think I have ever behaved this way about a TV show. (Um. Except possibly for when we bought our first TV - which incidentally is still our only TV - to watch the premiere of ST:DS9. I mean. We were going to buy one eventually anyway. And I didn't bounce nearly so much.)
Anyway, I've only just finished season 4, and this ficlet demanded to be written. 800+ words, rated PG for concepts and language; set immediately post 4.22 and contains spoilers for same. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
affabletoaster for beta-reading (ETA: and for the title!)
Lux Infernam
Sam thinks, …He’s beautiful.
Dean thinks, Sam.
So much light. A person could drown in this light, with their eyes wide open, and never struggle. It pours over them, thick and clear; it illuminates the dust in Dean’s hair and the hollows under Sam’s eyes and the blood still soaking into their jackets.
It washes out in waves along the floor, as the Light-bearer moves towards them.
They hold each other up. Ruby is a dark mound at their feet.
“You killed her,” Lucifer says, and Sam shudders at the perfection of that voice shimmering in his ears, piercing his heart. “She served me well. This is a sad reward.”
Dean thinks, She hurt Sam.
Sam thinks, I didn’t know.
They open their mouths and the light pours in. Their tongues are tangled in it, casting dark shadows, uttering nothing.
Lucifer turns his face towards Sam.
Sam’s knees buckle. Only his brother’s grip keeps him on his feet, standing in the presence of the first Fallen.
“You have also served well, Samuel,” Lucifer says, “though unwittingly.” He gestures to the bodies of Lilith and Ruby, fair and dark, mirrored images slumped on the floor. “They did what was needful to bring you here. Now the time of deception is past. I would have you in the light.”
Sam thinks, Angel.
Dean thinks, Dick.
“I will raise Hell and harrow Heaven,” says Lucifer, “and bring the end times. I will tear them down, all the ones who would rule us, every principality and power.” He holds up a hand, as if in benediction, then clenches it to a fist. “Join me. We will vanquish Heaven’s angels, the self-righteous bastards who would make your brother their slave. It will be glorious.”
“They gave him back to me,” Sam mutters. His voice is a harsh croak, earth-bound.
“Branded,” Lucifer says swiftly. “You think he is yours? They kept him from you. They locked him up. Every step of the way, they have made him serve their purpose, not yours. They would separate you.” Compassion and anger vie in his tone. “It is only the rebels that have helped you this far.”
Dean thinks, Castiel, and Anna. And then, unexpectedly and painfully, Dad.
Sam thinks, Dean Dean Dean.
Lucifer takes another step. Bare feet on shattered marble, one as white as the other. Light, leaking into the world.
“There is no going back. You have drunk too deeply, Samuel.”
There is a foul taste in Dean’s mouth. He wants to wipe it away, but his hands will not release their grip. Sam Sam Sam. He turns his head, spits out the light. Croaks, “Liar!”
“Father of Lies,” Lucifer agrees. “Is not deception a necessary tool? How many lies have you told, Dean Winchester, in your pursuit of evil things?”
Dean’s breath hitches at the sound of his name on those lips, in that voice.
“Has not Heaven lied to you?”
Sam is pressed against Dean shoulder to hip, heart pounding against Dean’s chest. His hair brushes across Dean’s cheek as he gives a single, jerky nod.
Dean thinks, Sam. Oh, Sammy, no.
He clenches his fingers harder in Sam’s coat, wraps his fists in it and hangs on. His tongue forces shape to the words, raw and ragged: “I swore to serve Heaven.”
Lucifer meets Dean’s gaze directly for the first time.
Dean staggers. This is power beyond anything they have ever seen: beyond Castiel, beyond Azazel, beyond even Anna and Uriel. This is light and power concentrated, incarcerated, for eons, and the faintest shadow of it on earth is searing his eyes like a magnesium flash.
“Heaven?” Lucifer says, and there is a ringing, a wild challenge in the word. “Heaven freed me.”
The light burns impossibly brighter. Dean closes his eyes. It makes no difference; Lucifer is there, flame and wind.
“Heaven opened the door to your brother’s prison,” Lucifer whispers. “Heaven brought him to this place, to do these things. To kill a human. To drink a demon. To change beyond hope.”
Sam is shaking under Dean’s hands, wordless noise of denial tearing from his throat.
“Will you serve Heaven, Dean?” says Lucifer, eyes blazing like the nuclear sun. “Heaven damned him.”
Dean opens his eyes.
There is light there too, and green fire.
He looks at Sam, eyes pleading, all the things in his heart spilling into the space between them. All the darkness down the days and the years, burning away in the unbearable light.
Sam’s pupils are blown wide, black swallowing up the answering green. Dean imagines the black spreading further, an oil slick over his brother’s eyes.
Dean says, “Sam,” voice breaking, and then, “Okay.”
Sam drops his head; their foreheads are touching. A slow breath in and out. Dust hangs in the air, spirals swimming in the light. Calm in the center of the storm.
Heaven, beware.
They are coming.
Anyway, I've only just finished season 4, and this ficlet demanded to be written. 800+ words, rated PG for concepts and language; set immediately post 4.22 and contains spoilers for same. Thanks to
affabletoaster for beta-reading (ETA: and for the title!)Lux Infernam
Sam thinks, …He’s beautiful.
Dean thinks, Sam.
So much light. A person could drown in this light, with their eyes wide open, and never struggle. It pours over them, thick and clear; it illuminates the dust in Dean’s hair and the hollows under Sam’s eyes and the blood still soaking into their jackets.
It washes out in waves along the floor, as the Light-bearer moves towards them.
They hold each other up. Ruby is a dark mound at their feet.
“You killed her,” Lucifer says, and Sam shudders at the perfection of that voice shimmering in his ears, piercing his heart. “She served me well. This is a sad reward.”
Dean thinks, She hurt Sam.
Sam thinks, I didn’t know.
They open their mouths and the light pours in. Their tongues are tangled in it, casting dark shadows, uttering nothing.
Lucifer turns his face towards Sam.
Sam’s knees buckle. Only his brother’s grip keeps him on his feet, standing in the presence of the first Fallen.
“You have also served well, Samuel,” Lucifer says, “though unwittingly.” He gestures to the bodies of Lilith and Ruby, fair and dark, mirrored images slumped on the floor. “They did what was needful to bring you here. Now the time of deception is past. I would have you in the light.”
Sam thinks, Angel.
Dean thinks, Dick.
“I will raise Hell and harrow Heaven,” says Lucifer, “and bring the end times. I will tear them down, all the ones who would rule us, every principality and power.” He holds up a hand, as if in benediction, then clenches it to a fist. “Join me. We will vanquish Heaven’s angels, the self-righteous bastards who would make your brother their slave. It will be glorious.”
“They gave him back to me,” Sam mutters. His voice is a harsh croak, earth-bound.
“Branded,” Lucifer says swiftly. “You think he is yours? They kept him from you. They locked him up. Every step of the way, they have made him serve their purpose, not yours. They would separate you.” Compassion and anger vie in his tone. “It is only the rebels that have helped you this far.”
Dean thinks, Castiel, and Anna. And then, unexpectedly and painfully, Dad.
Sam thinks, Dean Dean Dean.
Lucifer takes another step. Bare feet on shattered marble, one as white as the other. Light, leaking into the world.
“There is no going back. You have drunk too deeply, Samuel.”
There is a foul taste in Dean’s mouth. He wants to wipe it away, but his hands will not release their grip. Sam Sam Sam. He turns his head, spits out the light. Croaks, “Liar!”
“Father of Lies,” Lucifer agrees. “Is not deception a necessary tool? How many lies have you told, Dean Winchester, in your pursuit of evil things?”
Dean’s breath hitches at the sound of his name on those lips, in that voice.
“Has not Heaven lied to you?”
Sam is pressed against Dean shoulder to hip, heart pounding against Dean’s chest. His hair brushes across Dean’s cheek as he gives a single, jerky nod.
Dean thinks, Sam. Oh, Sammy, no.
He clenches his fingers harder in Sam’s coat, wraps his fists in it and hangs on. His tongue forces shape to the words, raw and ragged: “I swore to serve Heaven.”
Lucifer meets Dean’s gaze directly for the first time.
Dean staggers. This is power beyond anything they have ever seen: beyond Castiel, beyond Azazel, beyond even Anna and Uriel. This is light and power concentrated, incarcerated, for eons, and the faintest shadow of it on earth is searing his eyes like a magnesium flash.
“Heaven?” Lucifer says, and there is a ringing, a wild challenge in the word. “Heaven freed me.”
The light burns impossibly brighter. Dean closes his eyes. It makes no difference; Lucifer is there, flame and wind.
“Heaven opened the door to your brother’s prison,” Lucifer whispers. “Heaven brought him to this place, to do these things. To kill a human. To drink a demon. To change beyond hope.”
Sam is shaking under Dean’s hands, wordless noise of denial tearing from his throat.
“Will you serve Heaven, Dean?” says Lucifer, eyes blazing like the nuclear sun. “Heaven damned him.”
Dean opens his eyes.
There is light there too, and green fire.
He looks at Sam, eyes pleading, all the things in his heart spilling into the space between them. All the darkness down the days and the years, burning away in the unbearable light.
Sam’s pupils are blown wide, black swallowing up the answering green. Dean imagines the black spreading further, an oil slick over his brother’s eyes.
Dean says, “Sam,” voice breaking, and then, “Okay.”
Sam drops his head; their foreheads are touching. A slow breath in and out. Dust hangs in the air, spirals swimming in the light. Calm in the center of the storm.
Heaven, beware.
They are coming.