Fic: Devils to Adore for Deities
Title: Devils to Adore for Deities
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucifer, mentions of others
Spoilers: Supernatural 5.19; Paradise Lost
Notes: Kripke’s said he based his Lucifer off Milton’s Satan. That’s where this idea started, I guess. A new explanation for a certain scene that has people up in arms.
Summary: And Devils to adore for Deities: Then were they known to men by various Names, And various Idols through the Heathen World. (Paradise Lost, ln. 373-375)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show or its characters. I certainly don’t own anything about Paradise Lost other than my own copy. So… yeah.
The front desk. The hallway. The room.
It was funny, really. The way things had turned out. Fitting. It proved he’d been right, that the ones who escaped to Earth were the ones with black smudges on their Grace, dark and deep and putrefying.
They were angels. Angels he had known and angels that he had trusted, but they weren’t. They were worse than angels, worse than beings made of light and wind and fire, who betrayed each other for the love of a Father Who didn’t deserve it. Who didn’t care. They were worse than humans, worse than beings made of clay and love and bright, bright emotion, who took something beautiful and turned it hideous in such a small span of time. They were worse than demons, worse than creatures selfish and hopeless and totally warped, who killed for joy and would set a beautiful world to burn at his command.
They called themselves gods, and the blasphemy sat rancid on his tongue. Gods among men, maybe. Among the ones they tricked and lied to and bent to murder and sacrifice.
They were like him, and they weren’t. They were prideful, vain. They thought themselves equal to their Father, and he never had. He wasn’t equal, he just had clearer vision. He was smarter in ways. He saw things for what they really were, and these walking abominations did not. They only saw what they wanted.
They saw the power in twisting souls, following his example with Lilith to create followers of their own, humans that easily turned away from their Father and slaughtered, raped, pillaged in the name of false gods.
He hated them. He hated the angels he had turned to his side, the angels that had followed him into the depths of Hell only to escape and spread their own conniving brand of hatred. He hated them, so he killed them.
At the front desk. In the hallway. In the room. Angels that had turned their backs on Heaven and on him. Angels that had dared to dream themselves higher than their Father. Angels that took names like Odin, Ganesh, and Mercury.
Those weren’t angelic names, and their owners were no longer angels. They were wicked, tainted, stained.
Loki wasn’t an angel. Grace run through with black and red and brown. Darkness cutting through blue and gold and silver. Tarnished. Dimmed. A trickster. A monster. Daring to lower himself to their lies. Daring to compare himself to their Father. And that made him no better than the rest of them. It made him less. It made him a traitor.
It made him deserving of death, if only so he wouldn’t see what his brother had really become.
Arrogant. Murderous. Terrified.
The front desk. The hallway. The room.
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucifer, mentions of others
Spoilers: Supernatural 5.19; Paradise Lost
Notes: Kripke’s said he based his Lucifer off Milton’s Satan. That’s where this idea started, I guess. A new explanation for a certain scene that has people up in arms.
Summary: And Devils to adore for Deities: Then were they known to men by various Names, And various Idols through the Heathen World. (Paradise Lost, ln. 373-375)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show or its characters. I certainly don’t own anything about Paradise Lost other than my own copy. So… yeah.
The front desk. The hallway. The room.
It was funny, really. The way things had turned out. Fitting. It proved he’d been right, that the ones who escaped to Earth were the ones with black smudges on their Grace, dark and deep and putrefying.
They were angels. Angels he had known and angels that he had trusted, but they weren’t. They were worse than angels, worse than beings made of light and wind and fire, who betrayed each other for the love of a Father Who didn’t deserve it. Who didn’t care. They were worse than humans, worse than beings made of clay and love and bright, bright emotion, who took something beautiful and turned it hideous in such a small span of time. They were worse than demons, worse than creatures selfish and hopeless and totally warped, who killed for joy and would set a beautiful world to burn at his command.
They called themselves gods, and the blasphemy sat rancid on his tongue. Gods among men, maybe. Among the ones they tricked and lied to and bent to murder and sacrifice.
They were like him, and they weren’t. They were prideful, vain. They thought themselves equal to their Father, and he never had. He wasn’t equal, he just had clearer vision. He was smarter in ways. He saw things for what they really were, and these walking abominations did not. They only saw what they wanted.
They saw the power in twisting souls, following his example with Lilith to create followers of their own, humans that easily turned away from their Father and slaughtered, raped, pillaged in the name of false gods.
He hated them. He hated the angels he had turned to his side, the angels that had followed him into the depths of Hell only to escape and spread their own conniving brand of hatred. He hated them, so he killed them.
At the front desk. In the hallway. In the room. Angels that had turned their backs on Heaven and on him. Angels that had dared to dream themselves higher than their Father. Angels that took names like Odin, Ganesh, and Mercury.
Those weren’t angelic names, and their owners were no longer angels. They were wicked, tainted, stained.
Loki wasn’t an angel. Grace run through with black and red and brown. Darkness cutting through blue and gold and silver. Tarnished. Dimmed. A trickster. A monster. Daring to lower himself to their lies. Daring to compare himself to their Father. And that made him no better than the rest of them. It made him less. It made him a traitor.
It made him deserving of death, if only so he wouldn’t see what his brother had really become.
Arrogant. Murderous. Terrified.
The front desk. The hallway. The room.