Little Dark Child [1/1]

[theinsaneeraser]

Title: Little Dark Child
Author: theinsaneeraser 
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Angst
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Mentions of Hell, and a bit of torture. Character Death.
Word Count: 600 
Summary: She smiled down into the crib, her child-like voice betraying the demon within, withering and moaning as she basked in the knowledge of what was about to happen.
Notes: O.o, Lilith before she got messed up with the winchesters, always wanted to write something like this. Link to my Massive Archive of Bingos, Exchanges and BigBangs HERE
 

 

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She was as old as time itself, but she always chose children, little girls to be more precise, there was just something about them that held this eerie fear. They were innocent darlings everyone trusted; it made it so easy to stow away in the dark, to hunt down her prey like a wolf and take her prize. Still, sometimes she craved a challenge; sometimes it almost wasn’t fun to sneak into a house, climb the stairs quietly and pushed open the door to their bedrooms.

Sometimes she whished the floor would squeak, that the door could groan, that she were older, less trustworthy; only sometimes. She’d always quickly realise she wouldn’t get away with half she did if she didn’t appeared as a child, a sweet innocent child; she liked what she did. She liked walking over to the bed and gazing down at the sleeping baby boy as he dreamt of power and authority; something all men dreamt about, even if it was dulled down to childish themes.

Lilith hadn’t always been a demon, no but she was the first. She had been Adam’s first wife. But she had refused to bow down to Adam and become his lesser, and had fallen prey to the snakes will and Lucifer’s corruption, she gave herself willingly to the darkness and became the first, the pure demon untainted by time or torture; it had been her choice and hers alone. She had lay down at his feet and called him her God, her Father; she’s taken him in completely.

She wasn’t tainted with hell, no she walked along its edges, dancing in the flame and death and turmoil as humans succumbed to their needs and wants, stripped raw and left to rot. She watched souls twisted by time, tortured and screaming; it was like a drug. Many a times Alastor had told her what a good canvas she would be, untouched by any before; she would laugh, place a hand on his shoulder and she’d rise above him, he was her lesser.

All men were lesser, aside from her father.

He was the only one she’s bow too, the only man who would have a ruling over her life. She’d sit back and watch the rest squirm under her, watch them scurry like mice as her reputation preceded her. She’d watch men fall while she stood tall, dancing in the fires and ashes of their lives as it tinkled away into a trickle of blood and memories long forgotten and dried.

“You have no power, no authority, just the air of it.” She smiled down into the crib, her child-like voice betraying the demon within, withering and moaning as she basked in the knowledge of what was about to happen.

The child stirred and sat up, staring at her with huge brown eyes, frightened and yet intrigued. She smiled and ran a finger down his clothes stomach, cooing soft sounds of reassurance, while she watched the cloud of man cover his eyes before he smiled up at her. She waved her fingers, a smile not to be trusted slipping onto her lips as she leaned in, swiping a dagger from her boot. She dragged it down the same path her finger had traveled before plunging it deep into his stomach.

She heard him scream for a moment before the light left his eyes. There was thumping of feet and she turned a smile on her lips as his parents screamed in horror at her blood covered form.

“Boo.”

The End