The Neutrality of Betrayal
Title :: The Neutrality of Betrayal
Word Count :: 845
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters are copyright Joss Whedon and ME. No infringement intended.
Prompt :: Sulien
/BtVS, Supernatural/Illyria, Castiel/ “I haven’t seen you in eons.”The Neutrality of Betrayal
Castiel was uncertain how, because he believed his Father infallible, but his Father’s first creations had, to put it simply, come out wrong. His Father had created beings that possessed his grace, but none of his benevolence and from them spewed nightmares and eons of devastation. It was then that one of the greatest battles had been fought on Earth, a battle between the Old Ones and his brethren in a time when Lucifer and Michael had fought side by side and brought paradise to the world.
He had been young then, young and eager for war. His innocence washed away by the blood of the Old Ones and stink of ash as the Earth burned—at times he could still smell it. Paradise had come, but perhaps too late for those that fought in that war and survived because it had changed them, forged newer, harsher creatures then what his Father had intended them to be. They had destroyed the Old Ones, ground their bones to dust and buried them in the Deeper Well, but the Angels, his brethren, had, in the end, risen to take their place.
Lucifer had been the first and now Michael was placing himself above all others, a being to rule, a being to be followed when he was to be the follower. They all were and now they were something else. They were not to be trusted which made his discovery of an Old One, free of the Deeper Well, and aiding humans all the more confounding. He and his brethren were to be the hallowed ones, to be revered, but this creature had taken their place in the hearts of many.
It was disquieting.
The Illyria of old would have slaughtered the humans surrounding her, for daring to utter her name and forcing her into menial tasks. Blood would have coated her scales, limbs striking true and bold, leaving utter destruction in their wake as the monarch slaughtered every living, and un-living, creature within too close a proximity. She had been magnificent and terrifying to behold as she laid waste to all that stood in her path to victory. The God King had once been a creature to be feared, something that had made even Michael wary to commit a frontal assault, instead they had used subterfuge to destroy her—she had also been male.
It was not the change in her sex that marveled Castiel, though he found that an interesting facet of the creature she’d become, but it was the manner in which she regarded the world and his Father’s creations. She stilled believed herself their better, and to some extent Castiel conceded she was, but rather then reveling in their apparent weaknesses she was aiding them in fortifying themselves for the coming battles.
Diminished as she was Castiel still found her to be a thing of grace—perhaps more so now.
“This world is a broken thing,” her voice, sleet against stone, pulled him free of his internal musing and Castiel inhaled before he made himself known to this place, this Los Angeles, by simply materializing beside the Old One as she stared up at the darkened sky above them. “You risk much to save it.”
“Don’t you?” He took a step forward, toward her armor-encased form and questioned her loyalties, “Lucifer called upon you.”
“He did.” Her head inclined, straight hair slipping forward and brought the streaks of blue into sudden focus. Castiel recalled that her scales had held the same mixture of cobalt and silver, but the pale marbling of her flesh was completely new and alien to his perception of her. “And together we could have done a great many things. Destroying your kind as you destroyed mine,” she paused, mouth thinning as she finished, voice devoid of emotion, “He would have betrayed me. Eventually.”
Castiel stiffened, confused by such a statement from her and found himself rebutting, “Betrayal is a neutral word to your kind.”
“My kind?” her voice dragged low with the question and she turned, boot heels scrapping across the cement roof they were perched on as she regarded him with distain. “My brethren are ash! Locked away beneath this Earth and trapped for all time.” She took a step forward, her armor groaning as she balled her hands into fists—he suddenly found it odd that she had hands—before she spoke again, “I am nothing of what I was. I am an echo. A shadow. I was a God and now I am,” she paused, her voice losing momentum as she stated, as if suddenly tired, “I have no kind. I am all that is.”
“I am not sorry for that.” Her head lifted, gaze narrowing, but before she could retaliate, whether with fist or word, Castiel finished, “I did not come to do battle with you.”
“Then why have you come?”
“I need your aid.”
“Just as Lucifer,” she scoffed.
“No,” he shook his head, “I will not betray you.”
“And if I betray you?”
With great understanding Castiel replied, “That is your nature.”
“It is.” The end.