Genre: gen, though lol possibly random demon UST, 12x12 tag
Characters: two C-list demons, Crowley, Lucifer
Word Count: 700
Summary: Sometimes you're just a C-list demon trying to make sense of someone else trying to make sense of your existence.
Does it bother you? asks Sebastian one night--early on, because he's smart like that, always thinking, so early the way the light made entrails shine still fascinated you. (Why would God let them shine?)
The entrails? you reply.
The generosity, says Sebastian.
I wouldn't call it generous, you say. You took this body, after all. It wasn't given. You found her outside a stucco building, pacing frantic on the sidewalk. In her hands a small white--you're not sure what it is. In her mind, visions of coathangers, unbent and sharp. Lots of blood. (You found that attractive about her.)
When you take her, you kill the thing inside her as a courtesy.
Oh, that, you say. Well, I don't want kids either.
Sebastian dismisses you. He'd only been in his body a few days and he'd already mastered fine motor control: His eyebrows say Fuck You.
I mean us, says Sebastian. Our power! We would be unlimited if only--
Sebastian paces about, a trait you barely recognize as having function but a thing Sebastian's vessel clearly has some deep investment in.
We're only powerful when giving gifts, Sebastian seethes. Generosity! Is the Devil's mark on the world! GENEROSITY!
You met Janus once, long ago, and you can say from personal experience that your generosity is a lot like his. But when you argue your point, Sebastian shakes his head. For him, it's about the principle of the thing. Why should they have to give in order to take? Why can't they simply break a neck and sip away a soul like marrow?
Ambition is what gets demons like us killed, you remind him. It scares you when Sebastian forgets that. When he's not on a tirade he's very good company and the same cannot be said of many of your colleagues. Half are pre-verbal and the others you have nothing in common with but your boilerplate demon nature, and that's hardly a strong basis for partnership.
You're not sure if you like the ideas Sebastian's new vessel is putting in his head, though, because he snarls back at you: Ambition is what makes you king. Crossroads demons! We're worse than the dogs. At least as a hound, you don't--
You know, in certain older cultures, giving was the utmost declaration of power, says a voice you don't recognize.
Given the flow of international debt, I suspect it still is, it continues.
You've never heard the voice, but of course you know the aura.
Crowley, you whisper.
Crowley, the voice agrees. (The man--the man who makes the voice. Sometimes you forget that bodies matter.)
How can we be of service? asks Sebastian, having regained some modicum of decorum. Perhaps his handle on his vessel is not so great as you'd thought.
What is that? you ask, because you are not skilled either, and your vessel is an inquisitive girl.
Crowley looks down at his hands.
Lance of Michael, he says.
What happened to it?
Generosity, says Crowley.
You're not sure what he means by that, but Sebastian reads it as he wills.
Exactly! he crows.
This is why I pledged my loyalty to you, and not the Morningstar, Sebastian continues fervently. He says, He may be Satan but he will always be an angel. Tainted in that way.
Crowley raises an eyebrow.
Sebastian bows his head. We can't be led by any angel. Because of him, ours is an incomplete evil, he says.
Crowley glances at the lance of Michael, splintered in two before he tosses it away.
So I'm beginning to realize, he says.
Sebastian is dead. You have been the guard at the mouth of the Cage for 23 days.
Can I ask you a question? you ask Lucifer, though of course you're not supposed to talk to him.
Lucifer doesn't respond. He can't appear too eager, after all. You know more about Lucifer than you would have ever dared dream.
I have a question about generosity, you say. You think about what Sebastian would have said you sounded like.
Then I have a story to tell you, he says. Just between God, and me, and--
He stops, and looks you over, both vessel and smoke.