prompt fics: bibleslash blasphemy (bible, SPN)

[jukeboxhound_backup]

like sin in your mouth
For: spellhorn 
Prompt: Jesus/Judas.  "Sweat."
Word Count: 63 - less than a drabble?  ^^;


What Judas remembered most clearly as the rope tightened around his neck (after the vinegar had spilled, after the blood had fallen, after the betrayals and the coldness of silver) was the sweat that had run down the dip of a spine, pooled in the small of a back, tasted almost as divine on Judas' tongue as the man from whom it came.




Mea Culpa
For: rethira 
Prompt: Lucifer/any (all) angels.  "The fact that they are, in a way, sinning against God and Lucifer manages to convince them not to care."
Word Count: 103

It is disobedience, they said, but Lucifer's smile had been beautiful and terrible. How can we disobey if we cannot doubt, he whispered, wet silk over stone, skin against naked skin. We cannot doubt because He never gave us a choice, and without choice there is no fault.

Disobedience, they said again, but their voices were weaker, a full third of them nearly silent and already pulling away from the others. The morning star reached out to catch them and hold them close, hold this one-third and sing, There is no fault where there is no choice, like a lullaby with broken notes.

to love the right, yet do so wrong
For: etrix 
Prompt: Lucifer/Michael.  "Mere humans beat them. How do they live with that? Who do they blame?"
Word Count: 370
Note: "Swan Song" coda with bonus Sam and Adam.

What is suffering, Lucifer asked, to which Michael responded, You are the one from whom knowledge without wisdom birthed sin. Lucifer smiled like a human skull or maybe an innocent child and said, Pain is pain is pain, but to suffer is to despair with hope. To which Michael said, Brother, your tongue is as silver as ever, and as nonsensical as ever.

So Lucifer held up the human soul in his hands. This insignificant spark suffers because he hopes for the happiness of his older brother, but he can never knowof it for certain and so despairs. If I do this, and then Lucifer did something that made the soul shatter and burn and freeze all at once, then I can show him the true suffering of a child forsaken by his family.

Michael's laughter rebounded against the walls of the prison that was as large the first dimension and timeless as the fourth. It was the sound that could destroy galaxies and create black holes. Even now you look for sympathy, Brother, and so here you are, with a captive audience of three. Three, for as long as human souls can last in our presence.

And we have never known how long that is, said Lucifer, and the soul in his hands rippled like water off a pane of glass. It broke apart into a prism of unnamed colors before falling back together. Michael looked down at the soul in his own hands, then enclosed it in the dark space between his palms pressed together, cold and isolated. I take no pleasure in the suffering of others, he said, and Lucifer twined himself around his eldest brother, the first soul pressed between them. He whispered, But nor are you moved when you see that suffering, and so which of us is the crueler?

And your demons?

What of them? They are mortal souls torturing other mortal souls like the petty, vicious animals they are. Pain is pain is pain, but suffering. True suffering. Oh.

In a prison as large and timeless as nothing, there were two of Heaven's princes and two mortal souls. One was kept in the dark and the other was broken over and over.