Fan Fiction ❯ Amen ❯ Amen ( One-Shot )

They sat alone in the dark. One young, unkempt man with scraggly black hair and gold eyes in white leather coat, the other older but well aged, with picture perfect milky blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a priest's black garb.

Smoke curled up from the cigarette held between the lips of the black-clad man sitting at the steps of the cross. Seated in the first aisle of the shadowed building was the other man, his lanky body sprawled lazily with one leg loosely crossed over the other. His mouth moved to bare his teeth in a grin as he watched the priest.

"So, preacher man, will it be the same tonight?"

"Heh. Maybe so." Taking a long drag on the cigarette, the man in black inhaled the smoke into his lungs and held it there for a calm, contemplative moment, before expelling it in a sigh. "Don't you ever get tired of this damn cycle?"

The grin widened. "Such language for a holy place."

He was rewarded with a derisive snort from the smoking man. "Just your presence here makes that null and void."

"Heh. True enough," the lanky man replied lazily, and reclined back in his hard seat, golden eyes darting to take in the cavernous interior of the building through the frayed ends of his black hair. "So, shall we get it over with?"

Preacher man flicked some of the ash from his cigarette at his odd companion. "Why bother? It always ends the same." A heavy sigh fell from his lips, characterized by the expelled cloud of smoke. "We're both eternally damned to continue this."

Movement finally from the sprawled man as he stood up in a swirl of white from his trenchcoat, his lanky frame unfolding to a height that towered several inches over the priest, who by normal standards was a tall man himself. A very intimidating figure, even taking into account his scarecrow physique.

"Strange words coming from a man of God. One might think you're not what you claim," the taller said with an innocently devilish grin, ignoring the stiff posture and glare from his companion. The sheer predatory delight in those sharply defined features was enough to send chills down the spine of the priest.

With motion that seemed geared for the overdramatic, the scarecrow spun in a swirl of coat tails to face the tall stained glass window at the head of the church. Colored moonlight tinted his sharp features and played patchwork patterns of color on the white leather of his trenchcoat. A large silver cross on a heavy chain necklace hung around his neck, a red ruby in the center shining faintly in the pale glow. Smaller crosses made the fasteners on various parts of his coat. "It's a good night. Full moon. What do you say, huh?"

"I say you enjoy this way too much." The cigarette was snubbed out on the heel of his scuffed shoe as the priest stood, too. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you get some sort of sick pleasure out of this. Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if you did."

The white-clad man chuckled, lowering his gaze to the large silver cross that stood erect in front of them, backlit by the stained glass window. His hands crept into the pockets of his leather coat. His white, immaculate clothing stood out in stark contrast to the plain black cloth that made the holy uniform his counterpart wore. Simple; the priest wore no crosses or other symbols with it.

White shook his head in disgust. "How else can one survive this? Do you sit around and mope for all of eternity? Huh," he snorted, scraggly black hair falling about his face as he shook his head. "Pathetic. Just like your kind."

Drawing his narrow eyebrows into a brooding line, the priest's eyes sparked angrily; almost red in color. "Like you're any better, mocking and keeping us from doing our duty? You go so far as to pass Judgement on Them. What gives you that right?"

"Little manling," he growled in what was nearly a purr in its amusement, bringing a sharp glare of hatred from the priest at the nickname, "you cannot comprehend my duty. Scoff me if you wish; this always ends the same. Would you care to prove otherwise?" Grinning in a sudden fit of morbid humor and baring his teeth, the man stepped back and towards the cross, spreading his arms out in a welcoming, foreboding gesture. Colored moonlight from the window backlit his frame and made his coat glow an unearthly phosphorus. "Come now, prove me wrong! Come, fight me! Hurry!"

Though he still glared in obvious hatred , the priest remained standing firm, quietly staring down the baiting gestures of his counterpart. A vagrant breeze drifting through one of the small windows in the side of the church ruffled his pale blonde hair, the only trace of movement between the two.

Slowly, the black haired man lowered his arms, and the psychotic grin dropped in a similar way. They watched each other for a moment in silence in an unspoken duel before the man in white looked away and smirked. "This will never change. Stupid fool," he said in a fond tone.

A similar smirk turned up the priest's face. "I'd have to be that to still be doing this with you after all these millennia, monster."

"Guess so," he replied, still grinning. "But as they say, only monsters willingly fight monsters."

The priest stiffened again, narrowing his eyes before replying carefully. "Perhaps."

Strangely enough, the one in white sobered then, and turned around to stare through the stained glass window, watching the moon with an expression that was almost a frown in its intensity. "We have to do this for the Their sake, you know."

Silence reigned. They stood like that for an indefinable amount of time, simply watching the moon track through the sky. It played with the shadows inside, stretching the black shapes far across the gaping enclosure, contrasting sharply on the floor with the pale milky bands of moonlight. Even the normally cherry-colored wood of the pews in the church was reduced to a dull grey; somber, foreboding. Only at the head of the church did color play, blanketing the two silent figures with picturesque patterns from the colored glass of the window they both stared at.

The one in white spoke. "It will be dawn soon. You're stalling again. You know it does you no good."

Black snorted in response. "Are you afraid I might win?"

White grinned. "Stupid manling. You're always the same."

One fluid movement, and the lanky man's hand, in a clawed formation, shot towards the priest's forehead. Faster still, the priest's fist flew towards the white-clothed man's heart. They both stopped their hands scarce half an inch from each other. Tendrils of red light drifted around and through the priest's fist, while a brilliantly white ball of energy rested in the protected palm of the white man. In the heat of the moment, the priest's eyes glared wildly as he screamed point-blank at the grinning ghost before him.

"Die, damn you! Die and let me be at peace!"

Gold eyes narrowed and twinkled sadistically. Despite his resolve, the priest recoiled in horror as the mouth so close him opened in a grin of twisted humor, the lips pulling back to fully bare long and pointed canines.

"You always lose the same way." He heard it like it was disembodied, and his vision was fading fast to black even as sunlight surrounded him. Sunlight. Dawn. Burning dawn. Still, the vision of the bared fangs of the creature was etched into his mind as a final memory of this particular interchange.

The fanged creature in white merely watched on, amused as the pathetic priest dropped to the floor, red light fading away from his hand, and then curled into a shivering ball. Blue eyes flickered before turning red, coloring until each eye seemed wholly bloodshot. Screams finally tore their way loose from the ice-blonde man's throat as dawn's light shone down through stained glass window.

Unaffected by the light that was the hell-creature's demise, the other man threw his head back and laughed a dirge as spectral wings became apparent on the back of the quivering preacher, the batlike appendages spreading their leathery skin in a clawing, desperate attempt to escape the pain. He was granted reprieve when, with a final scream echoing still in the empty building, his insubstantial body faded, dustlike, and blew away in the metaphysical wind.

Alone now in the brightening room, the victor bared his fangs to the breaking dawn in a toothy grin. "Same as always. Dust to dust, huh," he said with a dark chuckle. His golden eyes narrowed as the sun rose higher, driving the last of the shadows from the room. Following suit, he bowed his head and wrapped his long arms around his chest. "Dust to dust," he murmured, fading out of sight as translucent white wings unfolded from his back and swept forward to encase his body in a protective shield of glowing feathers,

". . .and ashes to ashes."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"My children, you know the enemy. You know he is evil, for in your hearts is entrusted the power to shine light on his shadow tricks, the power to reveal his evil no matter what form he might take. Go and do thy duty, protect thyselves and thy neighbors. Protect what is holy, for the clarity needed to guide you in the future is there. Use it, use the guidance of the Holy Spirit directed through me, and you shall never fall prey to the monster's jaws.

"Amen."

"Amen," murmured the assembly in agreement. The book the priest had kept in front of him shut with a soft thump, and he let his hand rest there as he watched this week's attendees slowly mill out. He lifted one hand to smooth his pale blonde hair away from his face, a needless movement since it was already perfect, complimenting his young, smooth features.. An older woman came trotting up to the altar, face upturned to the priest in a rapturous expression as she pulled her young son after her.

"Father, your words are like a soothing balm after dealing with the problems of this world! Your words, they uplift the soul! I come every week, not just for my own need but for my son's! I know you're teachings will mold him to be a better person!"

"I only speak the word of God, madam," he replied smoothly, and bent to look at the young boy. "And what might your name be--?" He stopped cold, blue eyes widening.

An unholy grin lit up the boy's face, and his eyes shone with a devious twinkle, small promising flecks of gold present in the irises. Neither man nor boy noticed as the mother fussily pulled some of the wayward strands of black hair back from her son's face.

Quite a rousing speech. Dust to dust? I'll remember that.

The priest grit his teeth in reply.

I'll be ready next time.

Another, more subdued smile.

And I'll be waiting.