Bane - SN fic - PG13

[tigriswolf]

Title: Bane
Fandom: SN
Disclaimer: The Boys aren't mine, thank you very much.
Warnings: AU after "Home" and blasphemy, I'm sure.
Pairings: The Devil and His Consort
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1110
Point of view: first

On the morning of November third in the year of Our Lord two-thousand and six, the Bane of our kind opened his eyes and met the fearful, resigned, angry gaze of his brother.

Now, understand this—he wasn’t a bane until that moment. He wasn’t the vengeful, vindictive, amazing opponent until fire licked Dean’s form, until Death came for and took him, until the instant Dean breathed no more.

The Bane’s powers had been a flickering beacon, nearly faded and failed, but as Dean died, they blazed, exploded—it was too late, though. Dean was beyond aid at that point and his soul—what a prize it could have been!—flew heavenward. He tried to stay, to remain in his body and then just near his brother, but Our Enemy called him home and he could not.

The Bane then screamed in a voice that shook the world, a howling wail that terrified everyone, ours and theirs alike. No one was beyond it; even Our Enemy trembled a moment, I’m told, wondered if a mistake had been made.

And the brother no longer remained. The father was dead. The Bane had only himself and vengeance—

And his powers swelled with his rage. They grew and grew—soon, nothing was beyond him. The Enemy Itself, in the palace of jewels up in the sky, shivered at the burn of his cold fury.

One of our informants in those pearl halls told me that the brother asked Our Enemy if he could return, visit the Bane, stay with him until his own time. The Enemy’s answer was a resounding, echoing refusal. We ourselves heard it. The informant said the brother’s eyes grew cold and the Enemy’s aides drew back a little.

Oh, yes, the Enemy and Our Father both made a mistake, letting the Bane and brother into the world. And it’s not traitorous to say so—after the debacle, they both know it to be true.

By our time, a breath passed. By human-time, it was nearly a decade. The Bane grew, in both power and madness, and our informant in Heaven told us the brother paced around the golden streets, angry in a place that should be beyond anger. Heaven began to shift with him—those powers shouldn’t have joined him in the afterlife, shouldn’t have followed him into the sky, but they did.

Neither should ever have been born. They were not for the world, not for Heaven or Hell. They were—

Why Our Enemy allowed them, I have no idea. Not even Our Lord knows.

The Bane continued his extermination of our kind, only killing humans if they got in his way. Watching him command his powers, it was hard to see the boy he once was. Where there had been hope and love and all those ‘good’, ‘Light’, foolish human things, there was only Darkness. The deepest, darkest Darkness the world—and Our Enemy and Our Lord—had seen in a long time.

And we thought it couldn’t get worse. We thought there was nowhere to fall to.

Oh, dearest reader, we couldn’t be more wrong.

I write this so that those who survive will know. Not all of this information is available to all demons, or our brethren on Earth, but I am—I am Our Lord’s most trusted, I am Our Lord’s Consort.

He understands the mistake made in letting the Bane and his brother grow. Our informant in Heaven tells us Our Enemy knows, too.

And finally, they are beyond us. Astronomical powers—how? They are—were?—mortal. No human has ever had such power, except for the Son, and he was Godborn. They aren’t.

The brother finally tore himself from Heaven, fell to Earth. The Bane met him, in the place once called Golgotha, long ago—for humans, at least. Only a moment for us, those painful two-thousand years. Our Enemy’s greatest victory, the turning-point, the dawning sun…

And then they were born. Who knew what they’d become? Surely, if Our Enemy had had any inkling, any tiny clue, any infinitesimal shadow of a belief it’d end like this, He would have done something.

After all—they’re pissed at Him, too.

Humanity is the reason, I think. We cannot feel such emotion, nor can our opposites, the Chorus of Heaven. Our Enemy and Our Lord can, but only because Our Lord was the first and the Enemy his creator.

The Bane and his brother, born mortal, yet with such power… they feel. They feel deeply, completely, with such a fervor… they do not deny their emotions—or, rather, did not. In previous moments of their lives, they had.

But when the brother died and then leapt from Heaven… when the Bane became the Bane and blazed with righteous fury, striking fear into Our Lord and Our Enemy—emotions were no longer suppressed and with each breath they grew ever more furious.

Our informant spoke of Our Enemy’s fear, of His trembling on the Golden Throne. Our Father, at first joyous because of His Creator’s fear, began to shudder in His own trepidation.

I am His Consort, His most trusted. I know of events beyond all others; I was in Our Lord’s chamber when He learned the brother tossed himself from Paradise.

The look on my Beloved’s face, the terror in His eyes… oh, I cannot convey it. I cannot describe for you what I witnessed. But know this—what Our Lord trembles before is something no one can fight.

Neither should have ever been born, the Bane and his brother. That they were is a horrific mistake with no chance of being rectified. They are more, so much more—and Our Lord cannot challenge them, nor can Our Enemy. That possibility is beyond both of Them. Nothing can defeat the Bane except his brother, and the reverse, too, is true. And they will not fight each other, will not try to destroy each other, not after everything.

The morning of November third, we lost. We had no chance of winning from the moment Samuel Winchester opened his eyes and became our Bane. Both Our Lord and His Creator knew it, though Neither admitted it for years.

They stand together, united against Heaven and Hell, caring only for reach other, prepared to burn down the world.

We cannot fight them. We will not defeat them. They cannot be overcome.

The halls of Heaven tremble and the demons cower in Hell’s caverns. Our Lord waits for His doom and Our Enemy plans for a salvation He shall not receive.

The end has arrived, reader. And I write this only on the slim chance that some will survive.

Comments

[tigriswolf]

Oh, thank you! *giggles*