SPN: "Believe"
Category: Supernatural
Title: Believe
Genre: General
Fiction Rated: T
Summary: Darkness has been separated too long from Light, and the separation cannot be allowed to last. Spoilers for 3x04, plus wild speculation.
They never believe. It is the curse of Darkness, to be disbelieved by mortals, as it is the curse of Light to be always believed.
That other Samuel, the one called Colt, the one who made the gun, he did not listen either. He was so convinced that the power lay in the weapon, not the ammunition, that he did not mention my role in the making of it. None of the hunters who inherited the gun learned the truth. Nor did any of the demons it killed.
The Colt is merely a gun with pretty engraving, a gun whose only special purpose is the unlocking of the Devil's Gate in Wyoming.
No, the power lay in the bullets, the bullets I taught him to make. Pure metal combined with blood of Darkness, the simmering pot blessed in languages long dead by the time mankind learned to walk upright, molded by a mortal and quenched in icy holy water, removed from that bath by the hand of she who shed the blood, at the cost of blisters and maddening pain, and blessed and cursed and blessed and cursed again. Only thirteen may be made at a time--thirteen, a sacred number predating the superstitions of man. The power in these small bits of metal is more than most demons--most angels--will see in their long lifetimes.
Bobby did not believe me. He wanted to use the first bullet on me, to prove its worth, but she who donated the blood to the metal is forever immune. Instead I lured a minor demon there, one who I knew had already damaged his host to the point of death (Bobby would accept no other), and he proved the power of the ammunition on that.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why do you want to help Sam?"
"I'm not," I answered, and gave him the answer he wanted to hear. "I'm helping myself. It just happens that helping him is the best way."
Mortals do not believe. They would not, even if they could comprehend. Hunters, especially, want a pretty world of black and white, the lines forever sharp and clean, with evil on this side and good on this side and never the twain shall meet. For all their knowledge, hunters have not the minds to comprehend.
For this is the truth of the universe: darkness is nothing without light, and light is nothing without darkness. We are the powers feared by demons and angels and gods, for we are the most basic, the most primal, the most powerful. From us they derive their powers. Without us, they are nothing, no more than the mortals they despise.
Light reveals truth. Darkness hides secrets.
I am no demon, no lesser creature skulking in a borrowed body for a desperate taste of air and earth and water. I am Darkness. I am eternal. Likewise, Light is no mere angel, pretending a superiority it does not deserve.
Light is eternally drawn to Darkness, as I am eternally drawn to him.
I need him, in ways no mere mortal lover ever will, in ways that are deeper than love. He needs me, as much as he denies it, as much as he despises what he thinks I am. We are incomplete without each other. We cannot exist without each other.
But his incarnation is yet too young to understand what he is, what he must become. I assume a host at birth, leaping from body to body over extended lifetimes. Light does not. Light manipulates, plays tricks on demon and angel and mortal eyes, works from afar. Light is not so blatant as Darkness; Light takes over gradually, gently, in a thousand small steps rather than a single fell swoop. Sometimes, Light fails; the host is weak, or dies before Light takes full power, or his strength is not matched by intellect.
My incarnation has lived lifetimes without his. Sam must accept what he is, must succeed on this path, must become Light. If it takes saving his brother to make him believe me, to believe himself, then so be it.
If Light falls, Darkness follows.
Without us, there is nothing.
Title: Believe
Genre: General
Fiction Rated: T
Summary: Darkness has been separated too long from Light, and the separation cannot be allowed to last. Spoilers for 3x04, plus wild speculation.
They never believe. It is the curse of Darkness, to be disbelieved by mortals, as it is the curse of Light to be always believed.
That other Samuel, the one called Colt, the one who made the gun, he did not listen either. He was so convinced that the power lay in the weapon, not the ammunition, that he did not mention my role in the making of it. None of the hunters who inherited the gun learned the truth. Nor did any of the demons it killed.
The Colt is merely a gun with pretty engraving, a gun whose only special purpose is the unlocking of the Devil's Gate in Wyoming.
No, the power lay in the bullets, the bullets I taught him to make. Pure metal combined with blood of Darkness, the simmering pot blessed in languages long dead by the time mankind learned to walk upright, molded by a mortal and quenched in icy holy water, removed from that bath by the hand of she who shed the blood, at the cost of blisters and maddening pain, and blessed and cursed and blessed and cursed again. Only thirteen may be made at a time--thirteen, a sacred number predating the superstitions of man. The power in these small bits of metal is more than most demons--most angels--will see in their long lifetimes.
Bobby did not believe me. He wanted to use the first bullet on me, to prove its worth, but she who donated the blood to the metal is forever immune. Instead I lured a minor demon there, one who I knew had already damaged his host to the point of death (Bobby would accept no other), and he proved the power of the ammunition on that.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why do you want to help Sam?"
"I'm not," I answered, and gave him the answer he wanted to hear. "I'm helping myself. It just happens that helping him is the best way."
Mortals do not believe. They would not, even if they could comprehend. Hunters, especially, want a pretty world of black and white, the lines forever sharp and clean, with evil on this side and good on this side and never the twain shall meet. For all their knowledge, hunters have not the minds to comprehend.
For this is the truth of the universe: darkness is nothing without light, and light is nothing without darkness. We are the powers feared by demons and angels and gods, for we are the most basic, the most primal, the most powerful. From us they derive their powers. Without us, they are nothing, no more than the mortals they despise.
Light reveals truth. Darkness hides secrets.
I am no demon, no lesser creature skulking in a borrowed body for a desperate taste of air and earth and water. I am Darkness. I am eternal. Likewise, Light is no mere angel, pretending a superiority it does not deserve.
Light is eternally drawn to Darkness, as I am eternally drawn to him.
I need him, in ways no mere mortal lover ever will, in ways that are deeper than love. He needs me, as much as he denies it, as much as he despises what he thinks I am. We are incomplete without each other. We cannot exist without each other.
But his incarnation is yet too young to understand what he is, what he must become. I assume a host at birth, leaping from body to body over extended lifetimes. Light does not. Light manipulates, plays tricks on demon and angel and mortal eyes, works from afar. Light is not so blatant as Darkness; Light takes over gradually, gently, in a thousand small steps rather than a single fell swoop. Sometimes, Light fails; the host is weak, or dies before Light takes full power, or his strength is not matched by intellect.
My incarnation has lived lifetimes without his. Sam must accept what he is, must succeed on this path, must become Light. If it takes saving his brother to make him believe me, to believe himself, then so be it.
If Light falls, Darkness follows.
Without us, there is nothing.