Title: The Devil's Lament

Author: Sidewinder

Fandom: Brimstone

Archive: yes

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Blasphemy, I guess. No real smut, just angst and longing. This definitely has SLASH overtones, however, so don't read if you aren't into that kind of thing.

Summary: A tiny POV piece, set around the ending of the episode "Mourning After". It probably won't make much sense if you haven't seen the episode, I'm afraid.

Disclaimers: As usual, written just for fun, not for profit. Dialog lifted directly from the episode, I just re-interpret it to my suiting :-)

Notes: I should warn that I don't particularly care for Valentine's Day. So I took comfort spending the afternoon with my favorite fallen angel...

The Devil's Lament

by Sindwinder

I watched him leave the house, dirty, disheveled, head cast down in sorrow and defeat. I had watched everything that happened--from a distance, of course, and with no small disappointment as Ash slipped through Ezekiel's grasp once more.

If only he hadn't hesitated the first time he'd had the chance with her. Maybe I should have given him a clue, months ago, as to who she really was. But I was enjoying watching them far too much, neither one aware of the other's true identity for so long. She'll only get harder to stop the longer she's left free on Earth, but not even I can go back and change history.

As much as I might want to, sometimes.

Walking across the street, he looked...like Hell, quite frankly. I'm sure I was the last person he wanted to see, which should have made this little encounter all the more fun. Tugging on my gloves and summoning up a huge heart-shaped tin of chocolates, I slipped out from the darkness and into one of my best smiles.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Ezekiel!"

He stopped, looked up and stared blankly at me, barely giving off the slightest hint of irritation at my presence. There's no fun in that. "Well, I called it, didn't I?"

"So you were right."

"...As usual. And you're still wearing Ash's name, aren't you?"

"Yeah." He looked truly miserable. Of course, he'd just walked out on his wife before she could wake up and see the husband she'd lost fifteen years ago. That had to hurt quite a bit.

I decided to be nice, for once. "Third time's a charm?"

"It will be," he answered, summoning back some reserve of confidence as he spoke. I was concerned that perhaps he'd lost his nerve, but apparently not. That's what I like about him; he's so damn stubborn. He won't give up, no matter what obstacles are in his way, not with Rosalyn as the prize dangling before him.

Still, his sadness bothered me. I shouldn't have felt that way, but looking into Ezekiel's eyes--into his soul--I felt the ache in his heart over leaving her behind once again. I found myself actually telling him, "If it means anything, I'm sorry."

I could have left it at that. I should have. There was something between us, for a moment, something close to...understanding. I sensed his surprise that I would speak to him with such apparent sympathy, and sensed he was beginning to wonder what it could possibly mean.

So of course I got scared. "Sort of... Well, no, I'm not."

It's so easy to twist the knife in and just hurt him some more. Yet I felt no joy, only guilt as he turned away, the momentary understanding we'd shared completely gone.

The situation was turning awkward. Fortunately I was saved by Rosalyn's return to consciousness. "Look, there she is!" I diverted his attention, offering a small glimmer of hope in exchange for my unkind words.

Ezekiel turned, all thoughts of me forgotten as soon as she appeared in the doorway. I knew he would do what he must and leave before she saw him. I, too, left before I had to see or feel any more, disappearing into the darkness, the void between this world and my own.

I've been spending too much time away from my world, I think, with all of this trailing after Ezekiel and watching his progress. I should spend more time back in the comfort of home, listening to the cries of the damned all around me. I think I need that, to remind me of who I am, the things I should feel--not sympathy, nor the desire to comfort one of mine when he is suffering.

And most certainly not...love.

Never, never love. That is not something I have to give or to feel for anyone. What did my lovely Gwendolyn tell her psychologist, before Ezekiel sent her home to me?

'I can't love. All I have to give is fire.'

We are alike in that way, she and I. I loved, once, and knew greater joy than mortals could ever imagine. My love died in the fires of Hell, tossed aside for the unpardonable crime of daring to think, to challenge, to want those same freedoms for the mortal beings He claimed to cherish. But He only loved them as long as they obeyed and served His will...only loved me if I, too, followed and never dared. Fire turned my love into nothing but hatred and rage. From the fire I eventually was reborn, shaped into this twisted version of who I once was.

For so long I have not even thought of love, except to amuse myself watching mortals do the most ridiculous and often damning things in its pursuit. I watched them and laughed, and congratulated myself for being rid of the need for such a pointless emotion.

And then along came Ezekiel...

I'm starting to wish he'd never become one of mine.

It's rare to find one so close in the cosmic balance, caught between Heaven and Hell and with an actual chance to redeem himself after death. That's why I chose him to bring home my one-hundred-and-thirteen. I knew I could trust him. I knew inside he was inherently *good*, smart--not blinded by rage or insanity as so many of his quarry are.

What I didn't know was how he would come to affect me, how his capacity for love was so strong, so unyielding, that it would begin to make me yearn to know that feeling once again. I feel his love for his wife and it angers me--I want him to feel that for *me*, not for *her*.

I could take him, I could rape him, I could do anything to him...but I don't think I could ever make him love me. And perhaps that's for the better, if all I can offer him in return is pain...pain and fire.

If I really could love him, I'd want him to succeed, to go back to the world of the living and be with Rosalyn again. But I'm selfish. Now I find I *want* him to fail, so I can hold onto him in my world, forever. I would treasure his capacity for love until the fires claimed it as it did my own. Then, perhaps, we could find something together in the pain, something close to love, if that's possible. As close as two damned souls can know, at least.

Ah, now I'm growing sentimental. Things are even worse than I imagined. Well, Happy Valentine's Day, Ezekiel. You'll be in my thoughts, even if I am so very far from yours.

*End*