In The Beginning
Title: In The Beginning
Rating: PG
Length: One-shot (887 words)
Pairings: Michael/Lucifer
Era: Pre-pre-series
Warnings: None
Summary: In the beginning, they had each other, and that was all either of them needed.
Note: Written for the "Damned" challenge on spnland; prompt - 'beyond repair'
Note 2: Received Third Place!
In the beginning, everything was good.
Everyone was happy; everyone was together. There was no fighting, no hatred, no anger between any of them.
There was no reason for such emotions to exist.
In the beginning, they had each other, and that was all either of them needed.
Heaven was at peace while its two brightest and strongest sons stood side by side, while they flew together and spent every moment that they could in each other’s company.
From the moment Father had told Michael to watch out for Lucifer, to look after and protect his little brother with every part of him, Michael knew no other purpose. He placed Lucifer above all others, above Raphael and Gabriel; Michael gave a love to his little brother that rivaled that of the love he gave to his own Father.
But Lucifer had no qualms with returning such affections. Every fiber of the younger archangel’s being was made to love; he was made to shine bright and guide, and love with a burning passion that few would ever be able to truly grasp. And it was that love - that all-consuming, passionate love - that Lucifer gave to Michael.
Freely, selflessly, and without any hesitancy.
For they both knew - just as all of Heaven knew - just as their Father knew - that the Leader of the Heavenly Host and the Morningstar were meant to stand together, were meant to be one.
Separate, they would not shine as bright.
*
But every story had its purpose, its plan.
Every life had its ending; every person had their destiny, their fate, set in motion from the very moment that they first came into existence.
And Michael and Lucifer were no different, here, than anyone else.
*
In the beginning, it was good …
And then God created Man.
*
Heaven no longer knew only peace and pure bliss. The realm of the Heavenly Host was torn apart by emotions never felt before.
Anger.
Hatred.
Betrayal.
The love between the two most powerful angels was suffering, was being shredded and destroyed with each passing moment, with every single thing that happened, be it in Heaven itself or upon the newly created world below.
Micheal and Lucifer’s devotion and love for each other - their need to stand by one another forever and through anything, until the very end - was being tested.
And they were failing the test.
Every. Single. Day.
Brothers were turning against brothers; sisters were being forced to side against sisters. Love and loyalty towards their Father was turning to doubt and questioning.
Until the moment came when everything seemed to slow, when the gazes of all of Heaven were drawn to the symbolic meeting of the two sides.
Lucifer stood on the right, Michael stood to the left. Both angels kept their wings closed, their weapons sheathed, and they appeared - outwardly, at least - calm … for the most part, anyway.
“Michael,” said Lucifer, his eyes gazing beseechingly at the taller, elder archangel.
“You know what He has commanded me to do, brother,” said Michael, before Lucifer had a chance to get his plea out.
But Lucifer was not to be denied.
“And why, Michael, does it have to come to that?” he asked, stepping closer to Michael as his hands reached out for his brother. “Why can you not just see what I have been trying to show you, what I have been trying to show Him?”
Michael shook his head, trying to force himself to step away and out of Lucifer’s touch. “No. It can no longer be that way, Lucifer,” he whispered, one hand reaching down for his blade while the other went to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Not anymore.”
“But you’re my brother, Michael.”
Michael closed his eyes as he kissed Lucifer softly on the forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his blade sliding free from its sheath. “But I am His son first.”
*
Heaven fell into darkness for days … or perhaps it had been weeks, months, maybe even years. (Time, as Mankind measured it, had no real meaning for them.)
But the point was, upon losing its brightest light, darkness descended upon Father’s home for a time. Those who felt that pure happiness and bliss and peace would immediately return once Lucifer had been imprisoned were quickly proven to have been mistaken.
All of the angels felt the darkness, felt the sadness and the lack of light.
But none felt it more strongly than the one who had cast the light away.
And Heaven mourned with Michael.
*
The cage was locked and sealed with angelic magic, the bonds and chains themselves constantly burning into his Grace, causing him to experience that continuous assault on his essence. Markings kept him hidden from the rest of the dark underworld, just as they cut him off from even the slightest feeling of Home.
Of his Father.
Of his brothers.
Of Michael.
And as the name entered his thoughts, Hell grabbed a hold of it. It latched on to the negative emotions that seethed around the name, the feelings of betrayal and rage, the looks of disgust and words of hatred that had slipped his way from the elder archangel.
Hell held onto "Michael" and wouldn’t let it go … and with it, Hell changed him.
It made him the Devil.
~*~
Finite!
~Megan
Rating: PG
Length: One-shot (887 words)
Pairings: Michael/Lucifer
Era: Pre-pre-series
Warnings: None
Summary: In the beginning, they had each other, and that was all either of them needed.
Note: Written for the "Damned" challenge on spnland; prompt - 'beyond repair'
Note 2: Received Third Place!
In the beginning, everything was good.
Everyone was happy; everyone was together. There was no fighting, no hatred, no anger between any of them.
There was no reason for such emotions to exist.
In the beginning, they had each other, and that was all either of them needed.
Heaven was at peace while its two brightest and strongest sons stood side by side, while they flew together and spent every moment that they could in each other’s company.
From the moment Father had told Michael to watch out for Lucifer, to look after and protect his little brother with every part of him, Michael knew no other purpose. He placed Lucifer above all others, above Raphael and Gabriel; Michael gave a love to his little brother that rivaled that of the love he gave to his own Father.
But Lucifer had no qualms with returning such affections. Every fiber of the younger archangel’s being was made to love; he was made to shine bright and guide, and love with a burning passion that few would ever be able to truly grasp. And it was that love - that all-consuming, passionate love - that Lucifer gave to Michael.
Freely, selflessly, and without any hesitancy.
For they both knew - just as all of Heaven knew - just as their Father knew - that the Leader of the Heavenly Host and the Morningstar were meant to stand together, were meant to be one.
Separate, they would not shine as bright.
*
But every story had its purpose, its plan.
Every life had its ending; every person had their destiny, their fate, set in motion from the very moment that they first came into existence.
And Michael and Lucifer were no different, here, than anyone else.
*
In the beginning, it was good …
And then God created Man.
*
Heaven no longer knew only peace and pure bliss. The realm of the Heavenly Host was torn apart by emotions never felt before.
Anger.
Hatred.
Betrayal.
The love between the two most powerful angels was suffering, was being shredded and destroyed with each passing moment, with every single thing that happened, be it in Heaven itself or upon the newly created world below.
Micheal and Lucifer’s devotion and love for each other - their need to stand by one another forever and through anything, until the very end - was being tested.
And they were failing the test.
Every. Single. Day.
Brothers were turning against brothers; sisters were being forced to side against sisters. Love and loyalty towards their Father was turning to doubt and questioning.
Until the moment came when everything seemed to slow, when the gazes of all of Heaven were drawn to the symbolic meeting of the two sides.
Lucifer stood on the right, Michael stood to the left. Both angels kept their wings closed, their weapons sheathed, and they appeared - outwardly, at least - calm … for the most part, anyway.
“Michael,” said Lucifer, his eyes gazing beseechingly at the taller, elder archangel.
“You know what He has commanded me to do, brother,” said Michael, before Lucifer had a chance to get his plea out.
But Lucifer was not to be denied.
“And why, Michael, does it have to come to that?” he asked, stepping closer to Michael as his hands reached out for his brother. “Why can you not just see what I have been trying to show you, what I have been trying to show Him?”
Michael shook his head, trying to force himself to step away and out of Lucifer’s touch. “No. It can no longer be that way, Lucifer,” he whispered, one hand reaching down for his blade while the other went to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Not anymore.”
“But you’re my brother, Michael.”
Michael closed his eyes as he kissed Lucifer softly on the forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his blade sliding free from its sheath. “But I am His son first.”
*
Heaven fell into darkness for days … or perhaps it had been weeks, months, maybe even years. (Time, as Mankind measured it, had no real meaning for them.)
But the point was, upon losing its brightest light, darkness descended upon Father’s home for a time. Those who felt that pure happiness and bliss and peace would immediately return once Lucifer had been imprisoned were quickly proven to have been mistaken.
All of the angels felt the darkness, felt the sadness and the lack of light.
But none felt it more strongly than the one who had cast the light away.
And Heaven mourned with Michael.
*
The cage was locked and sealed with angelic magic, the bonds and chains themselves constantly burning into his Grace, causing him to experience that continuous assault on his essence. Markings kept him hidden from the rest of the dark underworld, just as they cut him off from even the slightest feeling of Home.
Of his Father.
Of his brothers.
Of Michael.
And as the name entered his thoughts, Hell grabbed a hold of it. It latched on to the negative emotions that seethed around the name, the feelings of betrayal and rage, the looks of disgust and words of hatred that had slipped his way from the elder archangel.
Hell held onto "Michael" and wouldn’t let it go … and with it, Hell changed him.
It made him the Devil.
~*~
Finite!
~Megan