Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: None.
Pairings: None.
Spoilers: General Season 5, Minor 5.21 Two Minutes to Midnight
Note: 12th in the Old Ones 'Verse

History repeats.

Nothing truer has ever been spoken.

Death is old, older than angels, older than memory, maybe older than God (but that was long ago and its not worth the effort of remembering) and there is nothing new under this sun or any that rose and set before it.

Life is the same wherever he reaps, the same questions, the same people.

"My destiny demands that I fight Michael," pouts the insignificant brat who dares to bind him, the pale rider.

Emotion is almost gone, now. (He felt everything there was to feel centuries ago) But for this angel, for this whining arrogant mass of skin, blood, and flimsy grace, he feels nothing but withering contempt. He is Oldest, unfathomable, and Fate is not some spindly librarian with a book and a tally to fill.

"My fate," says the child, bandying about his sister's name as if it was the pass code into the fabric of reality and simply saying her name would make it true.

"My destiny," the self-proclaimed "Morning Star" repeats, and in the back of his mind Death can his sister laughing and, why. Why must everything be so old, so ordinary, done and said a thousand times before. He could shake off the flimsy strands of the spell that binds him (it is not the first time he has been bound, nor will it be the last), but he can feel a sub-current in the wind.

Something resting in the air, tasting of rebellion and brothers. Something not new (nothing is new), but perhaps something fresh.

Oh brother, Fate murmurs in the dark, You are going to enjoy this.

Don't forget to review!