Lucifer Resplendent

The other humans were beginning to stir with unease. One female in particular was staring up at their old comrade in betrayal. Apparently this was too much for Nancy, who stumbled into a sprint. Lucifer, still chuckling, snapped his fingers and broke both of her legs. With a scream she tumbled forwards, and with a crack splintered one wrist. Lucifer hissed in false sympathy. This has been fun. Unfortunately, I do have a rather busy schedule, so we will have to move on now.

Castiel was trembling now, just a little. His wings dropped back down into a submissive pose, his chin dropped to his chest. Lucifer clasped one hand to his neck, holding him still, drawing him closer. Oh, and make it hurt. Castiel looked up to him, eyes dry and flat and empty. A perfect angelic soldier.

He flicked one wrist, summoning his angel blade, and turned to the humans, composed. As the screams began, Lucifer settled into a conjured throne, ornate and gilded. The prophet Chuck Shurley appeared collared and chained by his feet. Sam was chittering in the back of his head, unaware of the outside world for now. Lucifer smiled, watching his reluctant ally butchering the humans. His little brother could be stubborn, it seemed. Lucifer could definitely respect passion.

It was such a shame all that loyalty and love had been channelled into serving such unworthy creatures. No matter, Lucifer would correct him soon. This was only the first step to breaking the bond permanently. It was around an hour later that the last of the screams cut out. Castiel stood in the middle of the slaughter, covered in blood and entrails, hands sticky with it. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that he could magic it all away in an instant, preferring to soak himself in the visceral proof of his guilt and shame. Lucifer could only roll his eyes at the melodrama of it. That was no reason to remain so messy.

Lucifer stood from his throne, approaching his little brother. Catching his eye proved difficult. Castiel seemed determined to stare into nothingness and sulk. Unimportant, and most of them were damned anyway.

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Seconds later he fell silent, panting heavily. There was still defiance there, still misery, but it was overshadowed by exhaustion. You spent years among these humans. They were bound to contaminate you. However, I will not stand for you showing me such disrespect. I have offered you a wonderful opportunity, one you could not possibly have by yourself. I have been lenient. Do not throw my generosity back at my face. As Lucifer spoke, Castiel seemed to compose himself, emotion draining from his expression.

His Grace shimmered, vanishing the dirt and gore from his visage, mending the cuts and tears in his clothing. He stepped away, adjusting his shoulders until he stood tall. All at once, he was an angel again, and not simply a broken fallen thing. Castiel nodded, waiting for further instruction. Castiel had spent too long with Dean Winchester as his only master to be able to assume true obeisance again. Castiel was inebriated, dozens of empty gin and whisky bottles scattered across the room. Meg, who had been smirking at the drunken angel, suddenly paled and excused herself, running from the room.

Castiel was staring up at him, apparently unperturbed by his impertinent inquiry. Lucifer stared down at him. Behind his eyes, Sam stirred, listening, and apparently more coherent than usual. A potential ally rather than a pet in the back of your mind?

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Sam was watching him, waiting for an answer nervously. Sam knew him, knew how he would answer. Castiel was suspended by his Grace, suffocating as the alcohol was burned out of his system. Still, his eyes were challenging, accusative. Lucifer snarled, stepping closer and tightening his grip until the angel began to struggle. Sam had begun to struggle too, trying to pull him back, trying to prevent this punishment. Despite it all, Castiel was glaring back at him through tears. Slowly, reluctantly, Lucifer pulled back. Castiel suddenly gasped, still unconscious, Grace swirling madly within his vessel before settling again.

Even if he never shut up when he should. Lucifer found it interesting to note that it was only ever among humans that Castiel ever displayed mercy. He had no reservations whatsoever when it came to slaughtering or even torturing demons. The disparity was really rather amazing, especially across the mental landscape of his celestial companion. The demons were shrieking now.

Three of them, begging him for forgiveness or reprieve or mercy. Lucifer ignored them easily. Fiery sparks illuminated the skin from within as the blade damaged the very essence of the demon itself. The screaming was so constant as to fall into the background, unimportant. The angel Castiel was calm, as if he was merely tracing a brushstroke on a piece of fine artwork, instead of inflicting terrible agony on an infernal being.

More demons stood silently at the edges of the hall, watching, cowering, indifferent. Some of them perhaps believed that the little angel was showing off, attempting to intimidate ranks only ever impressed by power and savagery. After the last of them had burnt up, Castiel stilled, crouched over the bloody corpse, a vicious doll wound down. Lucifer watched him for a second, before addressing the room. You are supposed to be the elite.

The very best of the worst of humanity. And you let one little prophet get the best of you? He escaped from a literal horde of demons? I mean, come on! Disappoint me, and the angel will tear you to pieces. There was a chorus of agreements and adoration, before the demons began to stream out, still cowering.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, moving to lounge across the throne once more. Castiel was still where he had frozen, wings arched and motionless. Lucifer smirked, shifting his gaze up to the ceiling. You were rather broken up over torture when we last brought in human rebels. You just seem twice as invested in the task, this time. Castiel dropped his eyes, staring at the floor.

His shoulders and wings hunched forwards in a way that, while signalling acquiescence, made it clear he wanted wholeheartedly to lash out. Where will we find another prophet? I could have left you for the demons. Given you to Abbadon, maybe, as a semi-immortal chew toy. Yes, I collected them both years ago. Castiel fell silent, staring down at hands once more sticky with blood. Lucifer pulled away from his thoughts when they began to drift back into pining for the elder Winchester.

It really was unfortunate that such unending, fierce loyalty could be channelled in the service of such an unworthy being. Laughter echoed throughout their shared space, harsh and grating. Lucifer could feel himself growing irritated, Grace twitching to lash out and silence him. You told me once that you would never lie to me. Why do you even bother to ask my opinion? Some sense of exhaustion seemed to overcome Sam, his presence beginning to fade back into a murmur.

Lucifer shifted, gripping the soul firmly to stop it slipping further. He was unable to say why the idea of Sam drifting unaware and indifferent was so repulsive to him. Castiel lay sprawled across a chair and table, a remarkable tableau of human indolence. Kevin Tran was quiet, trying not to attract attention. His mother stood beside him, vigilant.

I did give you a chance to keep one. Castiel stared at him, loathing bubbling behind his eyes. Lucifer smirked, gazing back until Castiel looked away. I picked up a rather interesting device when Meg was liaising with the Styne family. A compass of sorts, used to track objects.

Lucifer eyed him, watching as the blood drained from his face. His mother, a rather idiotically brave woman, shifted as if to block Kevin from his sight.

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Solid old school black metal Malphas. If you like Malphas, you may also like:. The Density Parameter by Mesarthim. This album defines going against the grain of the normal genres of metal and creating something new, unique and beautiful. Ruin by Cor Scorpii.