Temptation of Judas - Revise
After reading a long-and-plotty SG1/SGA crossover and having not one but *two* Jack's talking in my head for several hours, I was feeling even snarkier than normal and decided to give the ol' Temptation of Judas story a revise. I really haven't changed much, simply corrected a few typos and grammatical errors, and added a bit more here and there when I felt Gabe needed a bit more snark to deal with the "Things I’m Finding Hard To Believe But Which Are Actually Happening" situation. And then I decided to share it with you all, cause it's still probably one of my favorite pieces of writing that doesn't make me go "IT BUUUUURNS! OH, IT BURNS!" and was actually damned fun to write. Enough so that I was half tempted to write a sequel, but aside from one line - "Oh, I don't fucking *believe* this!" - I can't think of any story, Bible or otherwise, I could possibly use to make a sequel that wasn't unbelievably corny. So, we'll just improve (I hope, at least) on what is already there.
Once again, this story is complete *fiction* - it was written simply for fun and not at all to be taken seriously. If you think Dogma was scandalous and heretical and nothing more than a Shame to Christianity's Good Name - well, chances are you will like this story even less and probably don't want to read under the cut. If you do anyway, and decide to flame me for it, I will ignore you. If you don't read it, and still decide to flame me for it, I will also ignore you.
Original version can be found and the reasons I wrote the story in the first place can be found here.
~*~
My name is Gabe. 24 year old penniless college student, internet junkie, and admitted sci-fi geek, minus the glasses and the zits. A few weeks ago the local mechanic informed me that my car was now a death trap and that I really should look into getting a new one in which the wheels aren’t likely to fall off at any given moment. So I started looking. And looking. And looking some more. Unfortunately, there just aren’t that many reliable used cars around here that you can get for $1500 or less.
And that, my friends, is how I ended up down here. One minute I was driving home from a god-awful Psych exam, then next I was zipping straight down through earth, bedrock (and at one point what I swear was a wormhole of some sort if the glowy lights and warp-speed effects were anything to judge by, and as I mentioned I was a huge sci-fi dork, so I knew my wormholes) to... here. Huge, dark, cold, scary cavern complete with bottomless pits and a feeling of general despair, as well as a few rather painful looking torture devises scattered here and there for effect...
Wait a sec; darkness, despair, echoing screams of agony, cold ... Aw, man. If this is where I think it is then-
“Welcome to Hell,” a voice said behind me. I would have said it scared the living daylights out of me, but at that point I highly doubted there was anything “living” in which to scare. I did, however, let out an embarrassing squeak and jump around so fast that - had I been alive - I probably would have given myself a nasty whiplash.
“Excuse me?” I asked, though whoever he was had already confirmed my worst suspicions, so it was mostly just so I could prolong the inevitable.
“I said, ‘Welcome to Hell,’” he responded. “The 9th level of Hell, to be exact. The level reserved onl-”
“...only for the Devil himself and the Great Traitor Judas, I know.” Yes, I was a bit snippy. I had just been damned to Hell; who wouldn’t be snippy? “And judging from your ‘Ye Olde Jerusalem’ fashion sense and a distinct lack of horns and a tail, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you’re Judas?”
The man smiled at me and straightened from where he had been leaning against one of the dreary, drippy, probably not at all sanitary walls. “The Devil has many guises,” he answered, walking toward me, “Not all of them come standard with horns and a tail. However, you guessed correctly. I am Judas. The question is, what Great Evil have you done to receive a fate such as my own?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Masturbation, premarital sex, public support of homosexuality, Evolutionist rather than Creationist, eating meat on Fridays...”
That got an amuse smile out of him. “All very great sins indeed, especially that last one.” At least if I was damned to eternal suffering, it was nice to know the guy I was sharing it with had a sense of humor. And a really cute dimple in his left cheek. “However, great as they may be, none of them sound extreme enough to warrant Eternal Damnation with myself and the Devil in the frozen pits of Hell. I had to murder God’s only son to get down here.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.” I nodded wisely, because really, what *could* you do to respond to such a statement? “A pretty Major League sin you got going there. However, in all honesty, I swear to God,” I pause for a second. Hmm, maybe not the best phrase of choice there, Gabe. Regardless, I’m already damned to Hell, so cleaning up my language probably isn’t going to get me anywhere at this point.
“However,” I continue, sans using the Lords name in vain, just in case, “I am just as stumped as you are about how I ended up down here. Rape, pillage, and murder were just never my thing, you know? I even donated time and money to charity a few times. And I’m *damn* sure I didn’t kill anymore of God’s biological children.” Or, well, pretty sure. There was that spider I accidentally squished in the shower a few days ago, though I hope God would have the courtesy to give any new children a more durable body and longer life span than that of the average house spider. “At least you have someone to keep you company, now. Maybe Lucifer thought you were lonely?”
“It is not in Lucifer’s character to provide sympathy of any sort,” he answered, shrugging off his concealing robes. He wasn’t naked underneath, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), but for all the effect it had on my hormones, he may as well have been.
What *was* underneath must have been the New Testament’s version of a wife-beater - a tight shirt made of some sort of light material with it’s sleeves torn off - that revealed chiseled, muscular arms that put the Statue of David to shame and stretched over a set of abs that I so totally was *not* going to ask if I could lick even though I really really wanted too.
“Good point,” I answered, trying desperately to seem nonchalant. So this was Hell, spending an eternity lusting after a man I can’t have. God is such a bastard.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I suddenly became very interested in the gunk growing on the wall. “Speaking of the Devil,” I continued, attempting to picture one of my crusty old relatives naked to ebb the raging flow of estrogen in my system, “where is ol’ Luie? You’d think he’d want to meet his new torture victim in person.” Uncle Earnie in a Speedo... Uncle Earnie in a Speedo... Dammit, Uncle Earnie in a Speedo! “Also, if I may ask, where is all this fire and brimstone I hear so much about? For the 9th level of Hell, I have to admit I expected a bit worse.”
Judas shrugged, a simple rise and fall of his oh so muscular shoulders that I just wanted to--STOP IT! “Satan is his own man - or woman, depending on his mood,” he answered, seemingly unaware of my internal struggle with hormones. “As with any CEO of a giant corporation, he is often heard rather than seen.”
He twisted slightly to point toward a door that hadn’t been there before. “That is where your Eternity lies. Fire, brimstone, and far more unpleasant things await you with time.” His body motion gave me an excellent view of his perfect butt, which in turn caused the hormones I *had* thought I was getting a grip on thanks to Uncle Earnie and his damned Speedo to flood my system again. I whimpered quietly.
He must have assumed my whimper was for the horrors that waited behind that door (and hey, who was I to correct him), because when he turned back to me, there was a sympathy in his amazing dark blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. He stepped closer, putting his hand on my shoulder (which is exactly what I *didn’t* need but oh, God, I wanted it so much and wow does this level of Hell suck). “We do not have to go in there yet,” he continued, entirely oblivious to my dilemma. Hands turning into fists in my pocket, I used every ounce of will power I had (and all things considered, I really must have had a *lot* of it) NOT to tangle my fingers in his long, dark hair and fuck him senseless.
Thankfully, he stepped away after only a few seconds, turning away and using the hand that had been on my shoulder to gesture around the room we were standing in instead. “This here is a kind of limbo,” he said, continuing what he had been telling me before. “A waiting room, so to speak, while we try and figure out what, exactly, to do with you. For many years, only myself and Lucifer have existed down here. A third person rather puts a bit of a strain on our resources, and we still aren’t entirely sure *why* you were damned here in the first place.”
Well, okay then. It was nice to know they were just as stumped as I was when it came to Damning my Soul to Eternity with a psychopathic, power-obsessed Fallen Angel and the Great Traitor who I was trying desperately *not* to fuck into oblivion. God must have a sick sense of humor.
“I accidentally killed a spider in the shower a few days ago.” I managed to say in a surprisingly non-chalont kind of voice considering my raging hormones. “Does that count? I mean, I don’t *think* it was Jesus’ new half-sib, but who knows what kind of twisted personality God has.” I was babbling. I knew I was babbling; it was something I was very good at. But if it distracted me even *slightly* from the insanely strong desire to nail poor, damned, incredibly freaking hot apostle in front of me, I was going to keep doing it, darnit! “After all, he did kill all the first born of Egypt. Admittedly, Rameses was a bit of an asshole when he became Pharaoh, and as with all pharaohs, the whole God Complex would’ve put me in a bit of a tivvy, too, had I been the One True God. But killing innocent kids for the sins of their parents? And here I thought God was supposed to be loving and caring of all his children.”
Maybe that’s why he stuck me down here. If God is, in fact, All Knowing, he would’ve figured out my rather un-Christian thoughts about him and his sadistic tendencies in the Old Testament. In fact, I haven’t considered myself a Christian since I was old enough to realize that God was more than a bit of an asshole himself in the olden day.
Judas shrugged. “As with any ruler, sometimes many have to suffer for the greater good. How does a flock stay strong without the wolves to weed out the old and the weak? Had He not sent the Angel of Death among the children of the Pharaohs, those children would have been raised up to repeat the disregard for human life that their parents had. Many more would have suffered, for many more centuries, and the life you enjoy today as a free, independent woman of the 21st century likely would not be possible. And so, a handful suffered for the freedom of many. Perhaps it was a bit extreme, but even as His human children learn with each mistake they make, who’s to say God doesn’t learn as well?”
Nothing like a good theological discussion to get a girl’s mind off her libido for a bit, and despite my aversion to talk about such thing in the first place, he was making a lot of sense.
I was opening my mouth to continue the discussion when I realized that Oh My God, I’m talking theology with JUDAS. In Hell, no less. This was so totally going to the top of my Things I’m Finding Hard To Believe But Which Are Actually Happening List. I was rather surprised my brain hadn’t decided to fully shut down at the prospect.
Or maybe it had, because it took me a second to realize that while my mouth was still open, there were no words coming out of it. I had completely forgot what I was going to say before the Freaky This Can’t Be Happening realization, so I latched on to the first thing that came to mind.
“But... Isn’t God infallible? He’s not allowed to make mistakes, or the world will end.” Apparently the first thing that came to mind was Dogma. “Or something,” I finished lamely.
I’m not entirely sure what such focus on controversial Kevin Smith movie said about my state of mind. Maybe I was in the right place after all.
Judas smiled again. And there go my hormones again... Seriously, if God wanted to damn me to Eternal Suffering, I really don’t think He could’ve picked a better torture, a smile that seemed to tell me without words that he knew *exactly* what I was basing my side of the religious argument on. I was a bit curious as to how he might have gotten access to a theological comedy down here in Hell. For that matter, how he got his hands on *any* movie down here - cinema just didn’t seem to fit into the whole eternal damnation idea.
“The Bible has been translated and retranslated many times over,” he finally responded. “Passages have been taken out or added as saw fit by the priests who were the ones responsible for those translations, and the original copies of the gospels we wrote were not in the greatest shape to begin with when the first of those priests sat down and started transcribing what would one day become the Holy Bible. The parchment was torn, the words faded due to age and our own scribbled out mistakes. The book you recite passages from today in your Christian churches is a far different version than the one written out thousands of years ago, by a handful of ignorant young fishermen following the words and teachings an equally young - but perhaps not quite as ignorant - young carpenter.”
He smiled again as is eyes focused on those distant memories, shaking his head like one might when one recalled the indiscretions of their youth. I did my best to ignore the results - the physical *ache* his boyish smile and bemused expression had on hormones that were already raging.
“From personal experience,” he continued, completely oblivious to the battle raging inside of me, “I know that Jesus was far from the Perfect Son of God your scriptures make him out to be. While I never met Him in person - for which I am grateful - I can’t imagine that the Father would be much different, but I do know that he always had the best interest of his People at heart. What more can one ask of their God?”
We both fell into silence then, Judas lost in his memories and me drowning in a flood of pure, unadulterated lust. The fact that I still hadn’t jumped the man and started tearing his clothes off with my teeth must’ve meant that I have a will of iron. Still didn’t make the predicament I currently found myself in any better, though.
After a minute or two, some of what he had mentioned managed to filter its way further into my head, past the torrent of estrogen and into what ever small part of my brain was dedicated to analyzing information. He said gospels *we* wrote, not gospels *they* wrote. Meaning...
“Gospel of Judas,” I finally broke the silence with. He looked up, startled, so I repeated myself. “The Gospel of Judas. Some of the people up top believe they might have found the Gospel of Judas, and since I imagine you’re the only Judas around these days what with parents not wanting to name their children after the Great Traitor in any language, I can’t imagine who else it might have been written by.” Distraction. Distraction good. Distraction means using my head and ignoring anything from the neck down.
Judas nodded slowly, a frown replacing the bemused smile that had been on his face. “I did write my own portrayal of the events that happened while I was alive, but I assumed that it was tossed aside with the rest of the written verses that the priests didn’t agree with. After all, as you said, I am nothing but the Great Traitor; my opinions never mattered after... well, the events sent me down here in the first place.” The last was stated with bitterness, and no small amount of sadness. I resisted the urge to go over and hug him, not because I didn’t think he could have used one; on the contrary, he had the whole Lost Little Boy look going on, which only made him all the more endearing. Oh no, I stopped myself because I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t be able to stop myself after just a hug.
I did, however, go over and lean against the wall beside him; provided I kept my hands to myself, tightly balled into fists in my pockets, I figured he was as safe from me as one can be in such a situation, and it looked like he could’ve used the support, silent or otherwise. “As you have probably guessed, the transcript wasn’t in the greatest of shape,” I continued, “and again, experts are far from sure that its yours in the first place. You know us humans as a majority; we like ourselves some solid evidence before we declare something absolute to the rest of the world - politics not included, of course. But at least now you’re getting a hell of a lot more consideration than you have for the past two thousand years, and a lot more press, too. Though you’ll never convince the religious fanatics or most of the devout Christians, the seeds of doubt - if you’ll allow me a little biblical parsimilie - have been sewn when it comes to the idea of your ultimate betrayal against God.”
“But I did betray him.” He looked up at me, eyes big and blue and so full of pain that my heart clenched. “I handed my beloved friend and teacher off to be crucified by the very people he was trying to protect.”
I was helpless against those eyes, dark with loss and great sorrow, even after two thousand years. Against my better judgement, I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder. Pleased when the contact didn’t unleash the sex-crazed animal lurking just below the surface (and if he noticed how my hand was no doubt radiating heat into his shoulder, he was too polite to mention it), I looked him square in the eye and responded, tossing back the same line he had used on me. “ ‘A handful to suffer for the freedom of many.’ You did what had to be done. He knew this, and he accepted it, in the end. The Scripture had to be fulfilled; I don’t think he begrudged you the part you had to play.”
He gave me that *look* again, all wounded and lost, and suddenly he was moving forward and wrapping his arms around me and sobbing into my shoulder with the force of two thousand years of repressed emotion. And I wanted to help him, to hold him and comfort him because it had been *two thousand years* since he had been allowed contact with another human being and it *wasn’t* fair! But I couldn’t. Because with his arms around me and his body pressed against mine, I lost what little control I had left.
Lust was supposed to be fun; a rush, a pleasant exchange of pleasure for pleasure between two people. Usually, at least. Unfortunately, the world was full of sexual deviants, those who prayed on others, using the terror of their victims to further their own release. That’s what scared me the most. Because that’s exactly what I was turning into. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t pleasant. This was my soul watching helplessly from the sidelines as my body rode the wave of pure, terrifying, all-consuming lust that would wash away everything in it’s path. Lust that was focused entirely on Judas. Broken and defenseless Judas, forsaken by God and damned to an eternity of suffering and loneliness because he was the only one strong enough to sacrifice a man he loved for the greater good. It wasn’t fair at all.
I tried to warn him, tried to tell him to back off and run for safety before this terrifying... thing inside of me broke through and devoured him whole, but all that escaped was a pitiful whimper before the wave crashed over us. One moment he was clinging to me like a man drowning, the next I had his back against the wall and my hands halfway up his shirt. I forced my mouth against his, hard enough to split my lip against his teeth. “I’m sorry,” I whispered between kisses. I realized I was crying when I tasted my tears on his lips. “I’m so sorry... I’m sorry. I... I can’t stop.” I was kissing his neck now, pressing myself against him. His body, at least, was reacting quickly to the attention it had been denied for thousands of years, even as he stood frozen in shock, trapped. My body was enjoying the sensation; my mind was screaming in horror at what I was doing to him. This wasn’t me.
“I want to stop,” I said against his throat as my hands tangled into the fabric of his pants. “I want to, because you don’t deserve this. But I can’t.” My lips searched out his again, and found them... “Oh, God, I can’t...” and took control of them and I was crying and everything was salt and tears and helplessness... “Please forgive me,” I whispered into his mouth, “please forgive me... please...”
And then he reacted. Not by pushing me away as part of me had hoped (or feared), but by wrapping his arms around me, pressing our bodies together in one solid line from mouth to thigh as he started kissing me back. But his kisses weren’t with the same primal, animalistic need that mine had been. They were soft and gentle, almost brotherly, meant to give comfort rather than to take advantage. He kissed away my tears, and I was surprised when the animal inside didn’t object when he finally broke away. “ ‘And the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were beautiful^,’” he whispered, and his eyes were even more amazingly blue up close. Cupping my cheek in his hand, wiping away stray tears with a callused thumb, he continued. “And so they are. You are beautiful, Gabriel, beautiful within as well as without, one of those treasures hidden in the sand^. But my loyalty remains with my friend and teacher, even if I can never again listen to his lessons or share in his story.”
And suddenly I could breathe again, and my body was my own, and the lurking beast was banished by pure white, glowing light. Everything was so *bright*... after the eerie half-light of Hell, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The dark, dank grey cold cavern faded away, to replaced by - I kid you not - marble pillars and crystal globes. Engraved golden panels on the wall depicted some familiar and some not so familiar Bible stories from my youth, with stained glass windows evenly spaced between them, each and every one of them lit up from the outside, telling even more tales. Some I recognized from what little I knew of other religions, others I couldn’t place if my life depended on it, but all of them were beautiful.
That was when I noticed Him. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, what with the bright light and the golden streets (okay, so they were golden walls, but I figured that was another tidbit that might’ve gotten lost in translation), but I was. And there He was, walking toward us. Didn’t much look like all the pictures I had seen of Him in every church I had ever visited, but it was most definitely Jesus Christ.
It was about that time that I realized I was still in a rather intimate embrace with one Judas Iscariot. Doing my best *not* to look like a guilty school girl caught snogging her boyfriend underneath the bleachers, I stepped not so discretely away from the disciple in question, trying to retain at least a little dignity in the face of Jesus Christ, this is *JESUS CHRIST*!!! What the *hell* do you say when fucking *Jesus Christ* is walking toward you!!! Did I bow? Pray? I’ve not been very Christian over the last few years, so maybe that meant I didn’t have to do anything. Or maybe I was supposed to fall to my knees and kiss his feet, begging him to forgive me for straying from the One True Path of Light. I settled for staring in shock.
However, it appears that my crisis of faith went unnoticed. The two men only had eyes for each other, and I might as well have not even existed. Figures.
“Judas,” he said, voice holding all the warm, sweet comfort of real hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night, “Judas, my old friend... it has been far too long.” And then they were the ones in the intimate embrace, and the light surrounding them turned golden, and atmosphere of comfort and welcome increased a hundred fold; the ultimate Happy Ending if ever there was one, and I was doing my best *not* to bawl like a baby because of it.
Then there was more hugging, and a little bit of crying, and even a few (supposedly chaste) kisses, and after awhile I was starting to feel distinctly awkward, like maybe I should leave the two of them alone for a few minutes. Problem was, I really didn’t have anywhere to go. The hallway we were standing in stretched out in either direction, no sign of a door, and you really couldn’t see much out the stained glass windows. Not even a little shadowy alcove behind one of the huge marble pillars to go hide in. Also, I was a bit timid about wandering around aimlessly in Heaven; didn’t wanna get God ticked off at me for snooping or something, you know?
Always aware to the feelings of those around him, though, Jesus stepped away from Judas just as I was seriously considering rather loudly clearing my throat. And then his attention was directed toward me, and for a second I kinda wished he would go to back to Judas.
“Um... hi,” I said to him awkwardly. Yeah, Gabe, way to make an impression... What the heck else am I suppose to say to the Son of God?
“Gabriel,” he responded, smiling, his warm chocolate voice wrapping around me, soothing away my discomfort. “I bid you welcome, and give you my thanks,” he continued as he stepped forward, put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks, and it was like being wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer, all warm and fuzzy. No wonder (almost) everyone adored this guy. He practically oozed warmth and love.
“Thanks for what,” I asked quietly, still all muzzly and comfortable in a cocoon of comfort, because his hands were still on my shoulders, and I kinda wondered if he had that effect on everyone, or if it was just a backwash of all the love he obviously felt for the man standing next to me. Either way, it was awfully nice and cozy.
He smiled again, and turned his eyes toward Judas. “For finding my lost sheep, and bringing him back where he belongs.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said rather dumbly. Then I shook my head to clear a few of the extra warm fuzzies from my brain. The feeling of comfort was still there, mind, but now it felt more like standing in a beam of dusty sunlight and absorbing the warmth rather then being totally engulfed in it. Either Jesus was toning it down, or my body was finally getting used to standing in the presence of the King of Kings. Yeah, now that was just weird. One more for the Things I’m Finding Hard To Believe But Which Are Actually Happening List. “You mind telling me what just happened?”
Jesus stepped away from us, and had the grace to look a little sheepish. Sheepish? Is the Emmanuel *allowed* to look sheepish? “Ah, right...” He said, fiddling with the hem of his robes. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve swore the man was nervous. Of course, I really didn’t know better, so maybe he was. “It was a kind of... test, so to speak.”
“A test...” Judas and I said together.
Jesus was fiddling with his hem again. Oh yeah, the Son of God was definitely nervous. “Yes, a test,” he said. “You see, Lucifer and I have been having the occasional meeting, you know, just to catch up. ‘Know your enemies,’ that kinda thing. I mean, we’re both immortal, so its not like we’d kill each other or anything, and he’s really not that bad a guy once you get past the whole Devil thing, and we both like Kevin Smith movies, though I admit to not being crazy about all the swearing, and hey, if you humans have one thing going for you, its that you distill a darn good brandy, and...”
“Lord,” Judas interrupted him before he could babble any further, “get to the point.”
“OnenightwebothgotdrunkanddecidedtofindawaytogetyououtofHell,” he said in a rush. Then he took a deep breath, regained some of his composure, and continued. “You didn’t deserve to go down there in the first place, but it was written in the Scripture, and I admit, my Father was a bit of an asshole back when the Scripture was first written.” Ha! Take that, God! The hallway we were standing in shook a little in protest. “Well, You were!” Jesus shouted at the ceiling, before turning his attention back to us. Or, more to the point, back to Judas.
“My dear friend,” he continued, eyes and voice full of sympathy and maybe even a hint of pleading, “hadn’t you suffered enough?”
Judas didn’t say anything, just dropped his gaze to the floor and angled his body more toward me and away from Jesus. If I hadn’t been looking right at him, I doubt I would’ve noticed the split-second flash of hurt in the eyes of the Almighty.
“Right, then,” I said, breaking what was fast becoming a painful silence, “So what the hell - woops, sorry - what the heck does any of this have to do with me?”
Jesus sighed and turned his attention back to me. “Though we did finally manage to convince God to let Judas out of Hell, He refused to let him into Heaven without some kind of test of his loyalties. That’s where you came in. Though I doubt he’ll admit it out loud, you’re exactly his type.” I glanced at Judas at that last part, and was slightly amused to notice his face flushing, and I admit, I got a little thrill when I realized that he found me attractive. “Smart, independent,” Jesus continued, oblivious, “often times with her head in the clouds,” Hey! “And ever since Science Fiction has hit the big screen, he’s had the Devil smuggling him movies, and DVD box sets as soon as those were available. And Lucifer did; after having him down there for so long, I think he had a bit of a soft spot for Judas.”
I wasn’t going to laugh. No, really, I wasn’t. I did have to swallow a smile, though. Too bad the boy was so obviously taken with his old teacher. And, you know, dead.
“You already had a natural attraction going for you,” Jesus said. “That, along with the... ahem,” now he was looking rather guilty. The expression looked incredibly out of place. “... along with a little bit of extra ...lust - Satan’s idea, not mine!” He was quick to amend when my face went from quiet amusement to sheer anger in the space of a heartbeat, “- we figured if Judas could resist you after being denied human contact for the last two thousand years, there wasn’t anything he could be *but* loyal to the Light.”
“Great,” I snapped, “So you used me. Isn’t that against some eternal decree of yours? ‘Thou Shall Not Take Advantage’ or something like that? Or how about the simple prospect of *Free Will!*” Under other circumstances, I might not have minded being used so much considering who was doing the using, but I was severely pissed about that whole lust thing. I *never* wanted to feel like that again. “Did you even *consider* what might have happened if Judas hadn’t been so damn loyal?”
Judas flinched a bit at that last part, and I kind of felt like I had kicked a puppy. Jesus just looked ashamed (yeah, add that last part to the List, too, only substitute ‘thinking’ for ‘doing’. This whole situation was beyond surreal, and I kept wondering when I would wake up). I took a deep breath to control my anger, and when I spoke again, my voice - albeit a bit tight - was otherwise pretty normal. “Okay,” I said, “okay, I get it. I don’t *like* it, but I get it. This is me turning the other cheek, giving up my shoes as well as my shirt or whatever the fuck that biblical reference is.” Swearing in the face of Jesus Christ. Yeah, so it wasn’t my greatest moment, but I wasn’t taking it back.
Turning to Judas, I continued. “You didn’t deserve to spend another two millennia in Hell. For that matter, in my *personal* opinion, you never really deserved to go down there in the first place,” I sent a quick glare at Jesus when I said this, causing him to look even guiltier. Petty, yes, but the man had participated in a scheme that had almost made me a rapist. He deserved every bit of guilt he felt. “If by turning me into a raving, sex crazed lunatic for a few minutes - which really, *really* sucked by the way, and I am so incredibly sorry, even if it wasn’t my fault - meant that you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your eternity suffering for a sin you didn’t have any choice but to commit in the first place, then I get it. I understand.” I turned back to Jesus, taking a deep breath before finishing. “It was for the greater good, and I forgive you. Just don’t do it again, because that forgive and forget thing isn’t one of my fortes.”
Jesus smiled at me, and that warm fuzzy feeling increased a few notches, kinda like the sun peeking through the clouds after a month of grey, rainy skies. Then he turned to Judas, smile fading to be replaced by a look of entreaty. “And you, my old friend,” he asked, eyes bright with what might have been tears, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. “Might you find it in your heart to forgive me for all that I have put you through?”
The silence descended with all the subtlety of a guillotine slicing through the middle of a poor, unsuspecting watermelon. I wasn’t breathing, Jesus didn’t look like he was, either, and I’m not even sure my heart was daring to beat - though whether that was due to the gravity of the situation or the fact that I was still dead is anyone’s guess.
The silence stretched on, or at least it seemed it did. In all honesty, it was probably only a few seconds, but it was like the whole of Heaven, Hell, and Earth herself had paused to hear the answer.
“Of course, Lord,” Judas finally breathed, and I felt the whole world sigh in relief. “Under one condition,” and then it stopped again.
Judas sighed tiredly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Next time you decide to sacrifice yourself for the good of mankind, make John call in the authorities.”
Jesus tipped his head back and laughed, and if his smile had been like the sun breaking through the clouds, his laughter was like bathing in liquid, golden sunlight, and it was contagious. Around the world, Heaven, and Hell over, I wouldn’t have been surprised if people suddenly found themselves chuckling under their breath for no apparent reason, or choking on their coffees and teas. I certainly wasn’t immune.
“I’m not sure what John will have to say about the matter,” Jesus said after he had caught his breath, “but perhaps he has become a little too sure of his place**. I think something can be arranged,” he smiled.
“Then consider yourself well and truly forgiven, my friend,” Judas smiled back, offering his hand, “even if I feel that I am the one who should be asking forgiveness of you.”
Jesus took the offered hand and pulled Judas into another tight embrace. “Judas, my friend. My disciple. My pupil. I gave you my forgiveness even before we last broke bread, when fate required I lay such a heavy burden across your shoulders. It was written that a sacrifice had to be made, and that meant someone had to do the sacrificing. I never once resented you for the part you were forced to play.”
Judas caught my eye over his shoulder, and I mouthed an ‘I told you so’ in his direction. He smiled. ‘And so you did,’ he nodded, then let himself be held.
“Well, then,” Jesus said after they had separated with one last slap on the back, “I suppose it’s time to return you,” he pointed at me, “back down on the surface where you belong.”
“Really?” I asked, startled. “You mean I’m not dead?” And here I’d spent the last hour figuring I’d be stuck up here (which is way better than Down There, so who am I to complain?) for the rest of eternity - I had been in a car accident, after all - though I admit to not liking the idea much. Too much left undone, too many things left unsaid down below. But then again, I’m sure everyone had those regrets in the hereafter.
And now Jesus Christ himself was telling me I might have one of those rare second chances after all. “Not precisely, dead, no” he stated.
And then I was waking up, and I was sitting in my car, and my car was still sitting in the parking lot on campus, rusty and unreliable, yes, but most definitely *not* smushed into a twisted pile of metal. And yes, I did pat myself down to make sure everything was in the right place and that there weren’t any gaping wounds anywhere, heaving a huge sigh of relief when nothing was amiss. My head still ached a bit from that stupid psych test, but everything else seemed normal.
Or, well, as normal as anything can be after being damned to Hell, being turned into a raving sex manic by the Devil, almost molesting Judas Iscariot, being wooshed away to Heaven by Jesus Christ and finding out I was simply a test to get Judas back into Heaven, being Royally Pissed Off at the Son of the Almighty for a few moments before forgiving him for being a bit of a bastard, and witnessing first-hand Forgiveness of the Great Betrayal. Okay, so maybe my headache wasn’t totally due to the psychology test.
“No fucking way you can pull that one off as a dream, Son of God or not!” I shouted at the ceiling of my beat up Chevy Celebrity. “Not even my dreams are that messed up,” I added as an afterthought, and my dreams can get pretty messed up.
Taking a deep breath, I buckled up and turned the ignition. She coughed a few times, then the engine started and I high-tailed it out of there before the Chevy could change her mind. “Could’ve at least given me a new car for all you put me through,” I grumbled as I turned out of the university parking lot.
I was turning onto 11th street - as close as my small town got to Snob Hill - when I noticed a shiny eggplant-colored Jeep Wrangler convertible with roll up windows! Yay! sitting in someone’s front yard, and a middle-aged but still attractive woman walking up to it with a “For Sale” sign in her hands and a stormy expression on her face. I knew it was out of my price range, but I figured I’d take a look anyway simply because it’s the kind of car I’d always wanted. A girl can dream, after all, and - no thanks to the Higher Powers - I was still driving a death trap.
The woman noticed me turning into her driveway, and switched direction mid-step to walk over and give a very civil greeting despite her obvious anger at someone who, thankfully, I was pretty sure wasn’t me. In fact, she almost looked a little smug beneath the anger.
“Hey,” I greeted her, stepping out of the car with a smile. “I’m in the market for a newer vehicle,” I gestured in a ‘and you can see why’ kind of way toward my Chevy, “and I couldn’t help but notice the Jeep you have sitting there. Is it up for grabs yet?”
“It is,” the woman nodded. “Almost brand new, with not even a hundred miles on it yet. It’s a five speed, with air conditioning, CD player and AM/FM radio, anti-theft alarm, power windows and locks, and a decent sized engine from what I can understand, but I’m not much of a car person.”
The more descriptive she got, the more I wanted the beautiful machine sitting in front of me (wasn’t the happiest with the power windows, but hey, everything has its flaw). Of course, because of all those extra features, I was pretty sure I could never, ever afford it.
“Sounds like an amazing machine,” I said, looking at the Jeep rather longingly. “How much are you asking?”
“Twenty-five dollars.”
I blinked, shook my head, and stuck one finger in my ear just to be sure there was nothing blocking it that might’ve made me mishear. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me right,” she said, “Twenty-five dollars and it is all yours.”
I was stunned speechless. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to wrap my tiny little brain around this big honkin’ unbelievable offer. “Twe... Twenty-five dollars?” I finally managed to stutter.
The woman smiled, and she looked downright devious. “That’s right. Twenty-five dollars.” She must’ve saw the next question I was going to ask written all over my face, because she continued before I could say anything. “No catch. You give me twenty-five dollars, cash or check, and the car is yours. My husband is a doctor, and he bought it for his secretary, who just happens to be small, blond, beautiful, and *entirely* too involved with him for my comfort. The bastard never should’ve put my name on the title as co-owner. So, you want it?”
I couldn’t help but share her smug grin as I reached into my purse and pulled out the requested amount. “‘Thou shall not commit adultery,’” I quoted, handing her the bills while she handed me the keys. “You got yourself a deal.”
Thank you, Jesus.
~*~
Mark 14:49
Every day I was with you, teaching in the temple courts, and you did not arrest me. But the Scriptures must be fulfilled."
Genesis 6:2
the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose.
Deuteronomy 33:19
They will summon peoples to the mountain and there offer sacrifices of righteousness; they will feast on the abundance of the seas, on the treasures hidden in the sand."
** for those of you not familiar with the Bible, in the Book of John (New Testament), he [John] always refers to himself in the third person as “the one who Jesus loved”. My own personal translation for that is “cocky bastard”, which is why he’s the one I pick on at the end.
Once again, this story is complete *fiction* - it was written simply for fun and not at all to be taken seriously. If you think Dogma was scandalous and heretical and nothing more than a Shame to Christianity's Good Name - well, chances are you will like this story even less and probably don't want to read under the cut. If you do anyway, and decide to flame me for it, I will ignore you. If you don't read it, and still decide to flame me for it, I will also ignore you.
Original version can be found and the reasons I wrote the story in the first place can be found here.
~*~
My name is Gabe. 24 year old penniless college student, internet junkie, and admitted sci-fi geek, minus the glasses and the zits. A few weeks ago the local mechanic informed me that my car was now a death trap and that I really should look into getting a new one in which the wheels aren’t likely to fall off at any given moment. So I started looking. And looking. And looking some more. Unfortunately, there just aren’t that many reliable used cars around here that you can get for $1500 or less.
And that, my friends, is how I ended up down here. One minute I was driving home from a god-awful Psych exam, then next I was zipping straight down through earth, bedrock (and at one point what I swear was a wormhole of some sort if the glowy lights and warp-speed effects were anything to judge by, and as I mentioned I was a huge sci-fi dork, so I knew my wormholes) to... here. Huge, dark, cold, scary cavern complete with bottomless pits and a feeling of general despair, as well as a few rather painful looking torture devises scattered here and there for effect...
Wait a sec; darkness, despair, echoing screams of agony, cold ... Aw, man. If this is where I think it is then-
“Welcome to Hell,” a voice said behind me. I would have said it scared the living daylights out of me, but at that point I highly doubted there was anything “living” in which to scare. I did, however, let out an embarrassing squeak and jump around so fast that - had I been alive - I probably would have given myself a nasty whiplash.
“Excuse me?” I asked, though whoever he was had already confirmed my worst suspicions, so it was mostly just so I could prolong the inevitable.
“I said, ‘Welcome to Hell,’” he responded. “The 9th level of Hell, to be exact. The level reserved onl-”
“...only for the Devil himself and the Great Traitor Judas, I know.” Yes, I was a bit snippy. I had just been damned to Hell; who wouldn’t be snippy? “And judging from your ‘Ye Olde Jerusalem’ fashion sense and a distinct lack of horns and a tail, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you’re Judas?”
The man smiled at me and straightened from where he had been leaning against one of the dreary, drippy, probably not at all sanitary walls. “The Devil has many guises,” he answered, walking toward me, “Not all of them come standard with horns and a tail. However, you guessed correctly. I am Judas. The question is, what Great Evil have you done to receive a fate such as my own?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Masturbation, premarital sex, public support of homosexuality, Evolutionist rather than Creationist, eating meat on Fridays...”
That got an amuse smile out of him. “All very great sins indeed, especially that last one.” At least if I was damned to eternal suffering, it was nice to know the guy I was sharing it with had a sense of humor. And a really cute dimple in his left cheek. “However, great as they may be, none of them sound extreme enough to warrant Eternal Damnation with myself and the Devil in the frozen pits of Hell. I had to murder God’s only son to get down here.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.” I nodded wisely, because really, what *could* you do to respond to such a statement? “A pretty Major League sin you got going there. However, in all honesty, I swear to God,” I pause for a second. Hmm, maybe not the best phrase of choice there, Gabe. Regardless, I’m already damned to Hell, so cleaning up my language probably isn’t going to get me anywhere at this point.
“However,” I continue, sans using the Lords name in vain, just in case, “I am just as stumped as you are about how I ended up down here. Rape, pillage, and murder were just never my thing, you know? I even donated time and money to charity a few times. And I’m *damn* sure I didn’t kill anymore of God’s biological children.” Or, well, pretty sure. There was that spider I accidentally squished in the shower a few days ago, though I hope God would have the courtesy to give any new children a more durable body and longer life span than that of the average house spider. “At least you have someone to keep you company, now. Maybe Lucifer thought you were lonely?”
“It is not in Lucifer’s character to provide sympathy of any sort,” he answered, shrugging off his concealing robes. He wasn’t naked underneath, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), but for all the effect it had on my hormones, he may as well have been.
What *was* underneath must have been the New Testament’s version of a wife-beater - a tight shirt made of some sort of light material with it’s sleeves torn off - that revealed chiseled, muscular arms that put the Statue of David to shame and stretched over a set of abs that I so totally was *not* going to ask if I could lick even though I really really wanted too.
“Good point,” I answered, trying desperately to seem nonchalant. So this was Hell, spending an eternity lusting after a man I can’t have. God is such a bastard.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I suddenly became very interested in the gunk growing on the wall. “Speaking of the Devil,” I continued, attempting to picture one of my crusty old relatives naked to ebb the raging flow of estrogen in my system, “where is ol’ Luie? You’d think he’d want to meet his new torture victim in person.” Uncle Earnie in a Speedo... Uncle Earnie in a Speedo... Dammit, Uncle Earnie in a Speedo! “Also, if I may ask, where is all this fire and brimstone I hear so much about? For the 9th level of Hell, I have to admit I expected a bit worse.”
Judas shrugged, a simple rise and fall of his oh so muscular shoulders that I just wanted to--STOP IT! “Satan is his own man - or woman, depending on his mood,” he answered, seemingly unaware of my internal struggle with hormones. “As with any CEO of a giant corporation, he is often heard rather than seen.”
He twisted slightly to point toward a door that hadn’t been there before. “That is where your Eternity lies. Fire, brimstone, and far more unpleasant things await you with time.” His body motion gave me an excellent view of his perfect butt, which in turn caused the hormones I *had* thought I was getting a grip on thanks to Uncle Earnie and his damned Speedo to flood my system again. I whimpered quietly.
He must have assumed my whimper was for the horrors that waited behind that door (and hey, who was I to correct him), because when he turned back to me, there was a sympathy in his amazing dark blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. He stepped closer, putting his hand on my shoulder (which is exactly what I *didn’t* need but oh, God, I wanted it so much and wow does this level of Hell suck). “We do not have to go in there yet,” he continued, entirely oblivious to my dilemma. Hands turning into fists in my pocket, I used every ounce of will power I had (and all things considered, I really must have had a *lot* of it) NOT to tangle my fingers in his long, dark hair and fuck him senseless.
Thankfully, he stepped away after only a few seconds, turning away and using the hand that had been on my shoulder to gesture around the room we were standing in instead. “This here is a kind of limbo,” he said, continuing what he had been telling me before. “A waiting room, so to speak, while we try and figure out what, exactly, to do with you. For many years, only myself and Lucifer have existed down here. A third person rather puts a bit of a strain on our resources, and we still aren’t entirely sure *why* you were damned here in the first place.”
Well, okay then. It was nice to know they were just as stumped as I was when it came to Damning my Soul to Eternity with a psychopathic, power-obsessed Fallen Angel and the Great Traitor who I was trying desperately *not* to fuck into oblivion. God must have a sick sense of humor.
“I accidentally killed a spider in the shower a few days ago.” I managed to say in a surprisingly non-chalont kind of voice considering my raging hormones. “Does that count? I mean, I don’t *think* it was Jesus’ new half-sib, but who knows what kind of twisted personality God has.” I was babbling. I knew I was babbling; it was something I was very good at. But if it distracted me even *slightly* from the insanely strong desire to nail poor, damned, incredibly freaking hot apostle in front of me, I was going to keep doing it, darnit! “After all, he did kill all the first born of Egypt. Admittedly, Rameses was a bit of an asshole when he became Pharaoh, and as with all pharaohs, the whole God Complex would’ve put me in a bit of a tivvy, too, had I been the One True God. But killing innocent kids for the sins of their parents? And here I thought God was supposed to be loving and caring of all his children.”
Maybe that’s why he stuck me down here. If God is, in fact, All Knowing, he would’ve figured out my rather un-Christian thoughts about him and his sadistic tendencies in the Old Testament. In fact, I haven’t considered myself a Christian since I was old enough to realize that God was more than a bit of an asshole himself in the olden day.
Judas shrugged. “As with any ruler, sometimes many have to suffer for the greater good. How does a flock stay strong without the wolves to weed out the old and the weak? Had He not sent the Angel of Death among the children of the Pharaohs, those children would have been raised up to repeat the disregard for human life that their parents had. Many more would have suffered, for many more centuries, and the life you enjoy today as a free, independent woman of the 21st century likely would not be possible. And so, a handful suffered for the freedom of many. Perhaps it was a bit extreme, but even as His human children learn with each mistake they make, who’s to say God doesn’t learn as well?”
Nothing like a good theological discussion to get a girl’s mind off her libido for a bit, and despite my aversion to talk about such thing in the first place, he was making a lot of sense.
I was opening my mouth to continue the discussion when I realized that Oh My God, I’m talking theology with JUDAS. In Hell, no less. This was so totally going to the top of my Things I’m Finding Hard To Believe But Which Are Actually Happening List. I was rather surprised my brain hadn’t decided to fully shut down at the prospect.
Or maybe it had, because it took me a second to realize that while my mouth was still open, there were no words coming out of it. I had completely forgot what I was going to say before the Freaky This Can’t Be Happening realization, so I latched on to the first thing that came to mind.
“But... Isn’t God infallible? He’s not allowed to make mistakes, or the world will end.” Apparently the first thing that came to mind was Dogma. “Or something,” I finished lamely.
I’m not entirely sure what such focus on controversial Kevin Smith movie said about my state of mind. Maybe I was in the right place after all.
Judas smiled again. And there go my hormones again... Seriously, if God wanted to damn me to Eternal Suffering, I really don’t think He could’ve picked a better torture, a smile that seemed to tell me without words that he knew *exactly* what I was basing my side of the religious argument on. I was a bit curious as to how he might have gotten access to a theological comedy down here in Hell. For that matter, how he got his hands on *any* movie down here - cinema just didn’t seem to fit into the whole eternal damnation idea.
“The Bible has been translated and retranslated many times over,” he finally responded. “Passages have been taken out or added as saw fit by the priests who were the ones responsible for those translations, and the original copies of the gospels we wrote were not in the greatest shape to begin with when the first of those priests sat down and started transcribing what would one day become the Holy Bible. The parchment was torn, the words faded due to age and our own scribbled out mistakes. The book you recite passages from today in your Christian churches is a far different version than the one written out thousands of years ago, by a handful of ignorant young fishermen following the words and teachings an equally young - but perhaps not quite as ignorant - young carpenter.”
He smiled again as is eyes focused on those distant memories, shaking his head like one might when one recalled the indiscretions of their youth. I did my best to ignore the results - the physical *ache* his boyish smile and bemused expression had on hormones that were already raging.
“From personal experience,” he continued, completely oblivious to the battle raging inside of me, “I know that Jesus was far from the Perfect Son of God your scriptures make him out to be. While I never met Him in person - for which I am grateful - I can’t imagine that the Father would be much different, but I do know that he always had the best interest of his People at heart. What more can one ask of their God?”
We both fell into silence then, Judas lost in his memories and me drowning in a flood of pure, unadulterated lust. The fact that I still hadn’t jumped the man and started tearing his clothes off with my teeth must’ve meant that I have a will of iron. Still didn’t make the predicament I currently found myself in any better, though.
After a minute or two, some of what he had mentioned managed to filter its way further into my head, past the torrent of estrogen and into what ever small part of my brain was dedicated to analyzing information. He said gospels *we* wrote, not gospels *they* wrote. Meaning...
“Gospel of Judas,” I finally broke the silence with. He looked up, startled, so I repeated myself. “The Gospel of Judas. Some of the people up top believe they might have found the Gospel of Judas, and since I imagine you’re the only Judas around these days what with parents not wanting to name their children after the Great Traitor in any language, I can’t imagine who else it might have been written by.” Distraction. Distraction good. Distraction means using my head and ignoring anything from the neck down.
Judas nodded slowly, a frown replacing the bemused smile that had been on his face. “I did write my own portrayal of the events that happened while I was alive, but I assumed that it was tossed aside with the rest of the written verses that the priests didn’t agree with. After all, as you said, I am nothing but the Great Traitor; my opinions never mattered after... well, the events sent me down here in the first place.” The last was stated with bitterness, and no small amount of sadness. I resisted the urge to go over and hug him, not because I didn’t think he could have used one; on the contrary, he had the whole Lost Little Boy look going on, which only made him all the more endearing. Oh no, I stopped myself because I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t be able to stop myself after just a hug.
I did, however, go over and lean against the wall beside him; provided I kept my hands to myself, tightly balled into fists in my pockets, I figured he was as safe from me as one can be in such a situation, and it looked like he could’ve used the support, silent or otherwise. “As you have probably guessed, the transcript wasn’t in the greatest of shape,” I continued, “and again, experts are far from sure that its yours in the first place. You know us humans as a majority; we like ourselves some solid evidence before we declare something absolute to the rest of the world - politics not included, of course. But at least now you’re getting a hell of a lot more consideration than you have for the past two thousand years, and a lot more press, too. Though you’ll never convince the religious fanatics or most of the devout Christians, the seeds of doubt - if you’ll allow me a little biblical parsimilie - have been sewn when it comes to the idea of your ultimate betrayal against God.”
“But I did betray him.” He looked up at me, eyes big and blue and so full of pain that my heart clenched. “I handed my beloved friend and teacher off to be crucified by the very people he was trying to protect.”
I was helpless against those eyes, dark with loss and great sorrow, even after two thousand years. Against my better judgement, I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder. Pleased when the contact didn’t unleash the sex-crazed animal lurking just below the surface (and if he noticed how my hand was no doubt radiating heat into his shoulder, he was too polite to mention it), I looked him square in the eye and responded, tossing back the same line he had used on me. “ ‘A handful to suffer for the freedom of many.’ You did what had to be done. He knew this, and he accepted it, in the end. The Scripture had to be fulfilled; I don’t think he begrudged you the part you had to play.”
He gave me that *look* again, all wounded and lost, and suddenly he was moving forward and wrapping his arms around me and sobbing into my shoulder with the force of two thousand years of repressed emotion. And I wanted to help him, to hold him and comfort him because it had been *two thousand years* since he had been allowed contact with another human being and it *wasn’t* fair! But I couldn’t. Because with his arms around me and his body pressed against mine, I lost what little control I had left.
Lust was supposed to be fun; a rush, a pleasant exchange of pleasure for pleasure between two people. Usually, at least. Unfortunately, the world was full of sexual deviants, those who prayed on others, using the terror of their victims to further their own release. That’s what scared me the most. Because that’s exactly what I was turning into. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t pleasant. This was my soul watching helplessly from the sidelines as my body rode the wave of pure, terrifying, all-consuming lust that would wash away everything in it’s path. Lust that was focused entirely on Judas. Broken and defenseless Judas, forsaken by God and damned to an eternity of suffering and loneliness because he was the only one strong enough to sacrifice a man he loved for the greater good. It wasn’t fair at all.
I tried to warn him, tried to tell him to back off and run for safety before this terrifying... thing inside of me broke through and devoured him whole, but all that escaped was a pitiful whimper before the wave crashed over us. One moment he was clinging to me like a man drowning, the next I had his back against the wall and my hands halfway up his shirt. I forced my mouth against his, hard enough to split my lip against his teeth. “I’m sorry,” I whispered between kisses. I realized I was crying when I tasted my tears on his lips. “I’m so sorry... I’m sorry. I... I can’t stop.” I was kissing his neck now, pressing myself against him. His body, at least, was reacting quickly to the attention it had been denied for thousands of years, even as he stood frozen in shock, trapped. My body was enjoying the sensation; my mind was screaming in horror at what I was doing to him. This wasn’t me.
“I want to stop,” I said against his throat as my hands tangled into the fabric of his pants. “I want to, because you don’t deserve this. But I can’t.” My lips searched out his again, and found them... “Oh, God, I can’t...” and took control of them and I was crying and everything was salt and tears and helplessness... “Please forgive me,” I whispered into his mouth, “please forgive me... please...”
And then he reacted. Not by pushing me away as part of me had hoped (or feared), but by wrapping his arms around me, pressing our bodies together in one solid line from mouth to thigh as he started kissing me back. But his kisses weren’t with the same primal, animalistic need that mine had been. They were soft and gentle, almost brotherly, meant to give comfort rather than to take advantage. He kissed away my tears, and I was surprised when the animal inside didn’t object when he finally broke away. “ ‘And the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were beautiful^,’” he whispered, and his eyes were even more amazingly blue up close. Cupping my cheek in his hand, wiping away stray tears with a callused thumb, he continued. “And so they are. You are beautiful, Gabriel, beautiful within as well as without, one of those treasures hidden in the sand^. But my loyalty remains with my friend and teacher, even if I can never again listen to his lessons or share in his story.”
And suddenly I could breathe again, and my body was my own, and the lurking beast was banished by pure white, glowing light. Everything was so *bright*... after the eerie half-light of Hell, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The dark, dank grey cold cavern faded away, to replaced by - I kid you not - marble pillars and crystal globes. Engraved golden panels on the wall depicted some familiar and some not so familiar Bible stories from my youth, with stained glass windows evenly spaced between them, each and every one of them lit up from the outside, telling even more tales. Some I recognized from what little I knew of other religions, others I couldn’t place if my life depended on it, but all of them were beautiful.
That was when I noticed Him. I really shouldn’t have been surprised, what with the bright light and the golden streets (okay, so they were golden walls, but I figured that was another tidbit that might’ve gotten lost in translation), but I was. And there He was, walking toward us. Didn’t much look like all the pictures I had seen of Him in every church I had ever visited, but it was most definitely Jesus Christ.
It was about that time that I realized I was still in a rather intimate embrace with one Judas Iscariot. Doing my best *not* to look like a guilty school girl caught snogging her boyfriend underneath the bleachers, I stepped not so discretely away from the disciple in question, trying to retain at least a little dignity in the face of Jesus Christ, this is *JESUS CHRIST*!!! What the *hell* do you say when fucking *Jesus Christ* is walking toward you!!! Did I bow? Pray? I’ve not been very Christian over the last few years, so maybe that meant I didn’t have to do anything. Or maybe I was supposed to fall to my knees and kiss his feet, begging him to forgive me for straying from the One True Path of Light. I settled for staring in shock.
However, it appears that my crisis of faith went unnoticed. The two men only had eyes for each other, and I might as well have not even existed. Figures.
“Judas,” he said, voice holding all the warm, sweet comfort of real hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night, “Judas, my old friend... it has been far too long.” And then they were the ones in the intimate embrace, and the light surrounding them turned golden, and atmosphere of comfort and welcome increased a hundred fold; the ultimate Happy Ending if ever there was one, and I was doing my best *not* to bawl like a baby because of it.
Then there was more hugging, and a little bit of crying, and even a few (supposedly chaste) kisses, and after awhile I was starting to feel distinctly awkward, like maybe I should leave the two of them alone for a few minutes. Problem was, I really didn’t have anywhere to go. The hallway we were standing in stretched out in either direction, no sign of a door, and you really couldn’t see much out the stained glass windows. Not even a little shadowy alcove behind one of the huge marble pillars to go hide in. Also, I was a bit timid about wandering around aimlessly in Heaven; didn’t wanna get God ticked off at me for snooping or something, you know?
Always aware to the feelings of those around him, though, Jesus stepped away from Judas just as I was seriously considering rather loudly clearing my throat. And then his attention was directed toward me, and for a second I kinda wished he would go to back to Judas.
“Um... hi,” I said to him awkwardly. Yeah, Gabe, way to make an impression... What the heck else am I suppose to say to the Son of God?
“Gabriel,” he responded, smiling, his warm chocolate voice wrapping around me, soothing away my discomfort. “I bid you welcome, and give you my thanks,” he continued as he stepped forward, put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks, and it was like being wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer, all warm and fuzzy. No wonder (almost) everyone adored this guy. He practically oozed warmth and love.
“Thanks for what,” I asked quietly, still all muzzly and comfortable in a cocoon of comfort, because his hands were still on my shoulders, and I kinda wondered if he had that effect on everyone, or if it was just a backwash of all the love he obviously felt for the man standing next to me. Either way, it was awfully nice and cozy.
He smiled again, and turned his eyes toward Judas. “For finding my lost sheep, and bringing him back where he belongs.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said rather dumbly. Then I shook my head to clear a few of the extra warm fuzzies from my brain. The feeling of comfort was still there, mind, but now it felt more like standing in a beam of dusty sunlight and absorbing the warmth rather then being totally engulfed in it. Either Jesus was toning it down, or my body was finally getting used to standing in the presence of the King of Kings. Yeah, now that was just weird. One more for the Things I’m Finding Hard To Believe But Which Are Actually Happening List. “You mind telling me what just happened?”
Jesus stepped away from us, and had the grace to look a little sheepish. Sheepish? Is the Emmanuel *allowed* to look sheepish? “Ah, right...” He said, fiddling with the hem of his robes. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve swore the man was nervous. Of course, I really didn’t know better, so maybe he was. “It was a kind of... test, so to speak.”
“A test...” Judas and I said together.
Jesus was fiddling with his hem again. Oh yeah, the Son of God was definitely nervous. “Yes, a test,” he said. “You see, Lucifer and I have been having the occasional meeting, you know, just to catch up. ‘Know your enemies,’ that kinda thing. I mean, we’re both immortal, so its not like we’d kill each other or anything, and he’s really not that bad a guy once you get past the whole Devil thing, and we both like Kevin Smith movies, though I admit to not being crazy about all the swearing, and hey, if you humans have one thing going for you, its that you distill a darn good brandy, and...”
“Lord,” Judas interrupted him before he could babble any further, “get to the point.”
“OnenightwebothgotdrunkanddecidedtofindawaytogetyououtofHell,” he said in a rush. Then he took a deep breath, regained some of his composure, and continued. “You didn’t deserve to go down there in the first place, but it was written in the Scripture, and I admit, my Father was a bit of an asshole back when the Scripture was first written.” Ha! Take that, God! The hallway we were standing in shook a little in protest. “Well, You were!” Jesus shouted at the ceiling, before turning his attention back to us. Or, more to the point, back to Judas.
“My dear friend,” he continued, eyes and voice full of sympathy and maybe even a hint of pleading, “hadn’t you suffered enough?”
Judas didn’t say anything, just dropped his gaze to the floor and angled his body more toward me and away from Jesus. If I hadn’t been looking right at him, I doubt I would’ve noticed the split-second flash of hurt in the eyes of the Almighty.
“Right, then,” I said, breaking what was fast becoming a painful silence, “So what the hell - woops, sorry - what the heck does any of this have to do with me?”
Jesus sighed and turned his attention back to me. “Though we did finally manage to convince God to let Judas out of Hell, He refused to let him into Heaven without some kind of test of his loyalties. That’s where you came in. Though I doubt he’ll admit it out loud, you’re exactly his type.” I glanced at Judas at that last part, and was slightly amused to notice his face flushing, and I admit, I got a little thrill when I realized that he found me attractive. “Smart, independent,” Jesus continued, oblivious, “often times with her head in the clouds,” Hey! “And ever since Science Fiction has hit the big screen, he’s had the Devil smuggling him movies, and DVD box sets as soon as those were available. And Lucifer did; after having him down there for so long, I think he had a bit of a soft spot for Judas.”
I wasn’t going to laugh. No, really, I wasn’t. I did have to swallow a smile, though. Too bad the boy was so obviously taken with his old teacher. And, you know, dead.
“You already had a natural attraction going for you,” Jesus said. “That, along with the... ahem,” now he was looking rather guilty. The expression looked incredibly out of place. “... along with a little bit of extra ...lust - Satan’s idea, not mine!” He was quick to amend when my face went from quiet amusement to sheer anger in the space of a heartbeat, “- we figured if Judas could resist you after being denied human contact for the last two thousand years, there wasn’t anything he could be *but* loyal to the Light.”
“Great,” I snapped, “So you used me. Isn’t that against some eternal decree of yours? ‘Thou Shall Not Take Advantage’ or something like that? Or how about the simple prospect of *Free Will!*” Under other circumstances, I might not have minded being used so much considering who was doing the using, but I was severely pissed about that whole lust thing. I *never* wanted to feel like that again. “Did you even *consider* what might have happened if Judas hadn’t been so damn loyal?”
Judas flinched a bit at that last part, and I kind of felt like I had kicked a puppy. Jesus just looked ashamed (yeah, add that last part to the List, too, only substitute ‘thinking’ for ‘doing’. This whole situation was beyond surreal, and I kept wondering when I would wake up). I took a deep breath to control my anger, and when I spoke again, my voice - albeit a bit tight - was otherwise pretty normal. “Okay,” I said, “okay, I get it. I don’t *like* it, but I get it. This is me turning the other cheek, giving up my shoes as well as my shirt or whatever the fuck that biblical reference is.” Swearing in the face of Jesus Christ. Yeah, so it wasn’t my greatest moment, but I wasn’t taking it back.
Turning to Judas, I continued. “You didn’t deserve to spend another two millennia in Hell. For that matter, in my *personal* opinion, you never really deserved to go down there in the first place,” I sent a quick glare at Jesus when I said this, causing him to look even guiltier. Petty, yes, but the man had participated in a scheme that had almost made me a rapist. He deserved every bit of guilt he felt. “If by turning me into a raving, sex crazed lunatic for a few minutes - which really, *really* sucked by the way, and I am so incredibly sorry, even if it wasn’t my fault - meant that you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your eternity suffering for a sin you didn’t have any choice but to commit in the first place, then I get it. I understand.” I turned back to Jesus, taking a deep breath before finishing. “It was for the greater good, and I forgive you. Just don’t do it again, because that forgive and forget thing isn’t one of my fortes.”
Jesus smiled at me, and that warm fuzzy feeling increased a few notches, kinda like the sun peeking through the clouds after a month of grey, rainy skies. Then he turned to Judas, smile fading to be replaced by a look of entreaty. “And you, my old friend,” he asked, eyes bright with what might have been tears, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. “Might you find it in your heart to forgive me for all that I have put you through?”
The silence descended with all the subtlety of a guillotine slicing through the middle of a poor, unsuspecting watermelon. I wasn’t breathing, Jesus didn’t look like he was, either, and I’m not even sure my heart was daring to beat - though whether that was due to the gravity of the situation or the fact that I was still dead is anyone’s guess.
The silence stretched on, or at least it seemed it did. In all honesty, it was probably only a few seconds, but it was like the whole of Heaven, Hell, and Earth herself had paused to hear the answer.
“Of course, Lord,” Judas finally breathed, and I felt the whole world sigh in relief. “Under one condition,” and then it stopped again.
Judas sighed tiredly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Next time you decide to sacrifice yourself for the good of mankind, make John call in the authorities.”
Jesus tipped his head back and laughed, and if his smile had been like the sun breaking through the clouds, his laughter was like bathing in liquid, golden sunlight, and it was contagious. Around the world, Heaven, and Hell over, I wouldn’t have been surprised if people suddenly found themselves chuckling under their breath for no apparent reason, or choking on their coffees and teas. I certainly wasn’t immune.
“I’m not sure what John will have to say about the matter,” Jesus said after he had caught his breath, “but perhaps he has become a little too sure of his place**. I think something can be arranged,” he smiled.
“Then consider yourself well and truly forgiven, my friend,” Judas smiled back, offering his hand, “even if I feel that I am the one who should be asking forgiveness of you.”
Jesus took the offered hand and pulled Judas into another tight embrace. “Judas, my friend. My disciple. My pupil. I gave you my forgiveness even before we last broke bread, when fate required I lay such a heavy burden across your shoulders. It was written that a sacrifice had to be made, and that meant someone had to do the sacrificing. I never once resented you for the part you were forced to play.”
Judas caught my eye over his shoulder, and I mouthed an ‘I told you so’ in his direction. He smiled. ‘And so you did,’ he nodded, then let himself be held.
“Well, then,” Jesus said after they had separated with one last slap on the back, “I suppose it’s time to return you,” he pointed at me, “back down on the surface where you belong.”
“Really?” I asked, startled. “You mean I’m not dead?” And here I’d spent the last hour figuring I’d be stuck up here (which is way better than Down There, so who am I to complain?) for the rest of eternity - I had been in a car accident, after all - though I admit to not liking the idea much. Too much left undone, too many things left unsaid down below. But then again, I’m sure everyone had those regrets in the hereafter.
And now Jesus Christ himself was telling me I might have one of those rare second chances after all. “Not precisely, dead, no” he stated.
And then I was waking up, and I was sitting in my car, and my car was still sitting in the parking lot on campus, rusty and unreliable, yes, but most definitely *not* smushed into a twisted pile of metal. And yes, I did pat myself down to make sure everything was in the right place and that there weren’t any gaping wounds anywhere, heaving a huge sigh of relief when nothing was amiss. My head still ached a bit from that stupid psych test, but everything else seemed normal.
Or, well, as normal as anything can be after being damned to Hell, being turned into a raving sex manic by the Devil, almost molesting Judas Iscariot, being wooshed away to Heaven by Jesus Christ and finding out I was simply a test to get Judas back into Heaven, being Royally Pissed Off at the Son of the Almighty for a few moments before forgiving him for being a bit of a bastard, and witnessing first-hand Forgiveness of the Great Betrayal. Okay, so maybe my headache wasn’t totally due to the psychology test.
“No fucking way you can pull that one off as a dream, Son of God or not!” I shouted at the ceiling of my beat up Chevy Celebrity. “Not even my dreams are that messed up,” I added as an afterthought, and my dreams can get pretty messed up.
Taking a deep breath, I buckled up and turned the ignition. She coughed a few times, then the engine started and I high-tailed it out of there before the Chevy could change her mind. “Could’ve at least given me a new car for all you put me through,” I grumbled as I turned out of the university parking lot.
I was turning onto 11th street - as close as my small town got to Snob Hill - when I noticed a shiny eggplant-colored Jeep Wrangler convertible with roll up windows! Yay! sitting in someone’s front yard, and a middle-aged but still attractive woman walking up to it with a “For Sale” sign in her hands and a stormy expression on her face. I knew it was out of my price range, but I figured I’d take a look anyway simply because it’s the kind of car I’d always wanted. A girl can dream, after all, and - no thanks to the Higher Powers - I was still driving a death trap.
The woman noticed me turning into her driveway, and switched direction mid-step to walk over and give a very civil greeting despite her obvious anger at someone who, thankfully, I was pretty sure wasn’t me. In fact, she almost looked a little smug beneath the anger.
“Hey,” I greeted her, stepping out of the car with a smile. “I’m in the market for a newer vehicle,” I gestured in a ‘and you can see why’ kind of way toward my Chevy, “and I couldn’t help but notice the Jeep you have sitting there. Is it up for grabs yet?”
“It is,” the woman nodded. “Almost brand new, with not even a hundred miles on it yet. It’s a five speed, with air conditioning, CD player and AM/FM radio, anti-theft alarm, power windows and locks, and a decent sized engine from what I can understand, but I’m not much of a car person.”
The more descriptive she got, the more I wanted the beautiful machine sitting in front of me (wasn’t the happiest with the power windows, but hey, everything has its flaw). Of course, because of all those extra features, I was pretty sure I could never, ever afford it.
“Sounds like an amazing machine,” I said, looking at the Jeep rather longingly. “How much are you asking?”
“Twenty-five dollars.”
I blinked, shook my head, and stuck one finger in my ear just to be sure there was nothing blocking it that might’ve made me mishear. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me right,” she said, “Twenty-five dollars and it is all yours.”
I was stunned speechless. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to wrap my tiny little brain around this big honkin’ unbelievable offer. “Twe... Twenty-five dollars?” I finally managed to stutter.
The woman smiled, and she looked downright devious. “That’s right. Twenty-five dollars.” She must’ve saw the next question I was going to ask written all over my face, because she continued before I could say anything. “No catch. You give me twenty-five dollars, cash or check, and the car is yours. My husband is a doctor, and he bought it for his secretary, who just happens to be small, blond, beautiful, and *entirely* too involved with him for my comfort. The bastard never should’ve put my name on the title as co-owner. So, you want it?”
I couldn’t help but share her smug grin as I reached into my purse and pulled out the requested amount. “‘Thou shall not commit adultery,’” I quoted, handing her the bills while she handed me the keys. “You got yourself a deal.”
Thank you, Jesus.
~*~
Mark 14:49
Every day I was with you, teaching in the temple courts, and you did not arrest me. But the Scriptures must be fulfilled."
Genesis 6:2
the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose.
Deuteronomy 33:19
They will summon peoples to the mountain and there offer sacrifices of righteousness; they will feast on the abundance of the seas, on the treasures hidden in the sand."
** for those of you not familiar with the Bible, in the Book of John (New Testament), he [John] always refers to himself in the third person as “the one who Jesus loved”. My own personal translation for that is “cocky bastard”, which is why he’s the one I pick on at the end.