SPN FIC: Kali embraces God (G)

[fannishliss]

Title:  Kali Embraces God
Rating: G
Spoilers: that episode with Kali in it
Notes: This was inspired by a prompt at the cuddle comment meme, hosted by elizah_jane . Thanks to the op lassiterfics , and to chibifrieza   who fulfilled the prompt but then graciously invited me to do my story as well.  Thanks!

1138 words

Disclaimer: I made this up inspired by the show Supernatural, not for profit.  Thanks, Kripke, you are one cool dude!  Also, Philip Pullman, I revise you.  And Neil Gaiman, you totally rock. 

SON OF DISCLAIMER:  Please do not mistake this story for religion.  It's really not!!  Storytelling only, not meant to reflect reality.  I apologize if I offer offense.

Summary:  in which God has Paul Newman eyes and a Charlton Heston voice, and Kali does something about it.


~*o*~


God is an old man.  Wizened, gnarly, and he walks with a cane.  He has teeth, perfect, straight and white, but they’re false.  His hair is short and neat, no beard.  His posture is stooped at the neck, sloped at the shoulders.  His large, veined hands, so powerful once, floating omnipotent over the dewy Garden, calming the waters after the Deluge, tremble a bit. God wears khakis and a blue button down, with a tiny US flag pinned to his collar. His eyes are Paul Newman blue.
Kali pities him more than she pities herself.  Kali knows she is one great iteration of the Divine, an incarnation within the eternal cycle of creation, destruction, and glorious rebirth. This old-mannish God thinks he’s the end-all, be-all, alpha and omega.  He’s forgotten how diminished he’s become.  Once he was the sky, and time, and fire, and wind, The Word and Wisdom and Holy Love, all existence in one grand unified song. Now he’s little more than a god of One Nation, jingoistic, and dwindling fast in the face of arguments from skeptics, atheists, and most intelligent agnostics.
When he speaks, his voice is still rich and strong.  He sounds, as one might expect, like Charlton Heston.
"Kali. To what do I owe the pleasure."
Kali bares her own perfect teeth. Hers, however, are all her own, sharp and brilliant.  Her smile, though pleasant, doesn’t reach her eyes, which are flat as the sea before a tsunami.
"I'm here to lodge a complaint.  Your Heavenly host have over stepped themselves.  My brother, Lord Ganesh, has been murdered by one of your thugs.”
“Oh, yes.  You must mean Lucifer.  I’m sorry, but he was cast out eons ago. I’m afraid he’s not my problem.” 

“Not your problem?”  Kali responds, feeling her rage ignite.  Her hands begin to flare, but remembering how her fire failed to singe his wayward son, she controls her anger.

“Bit of a prodigal, Lucifer,” God murmurs.  “Graceful, silver-tongued, and an aspect that made my Angels weep to behold its beauty.  But so much pride, so much rage.  He cast himself out of my Presence and blamed his brother for it.” 

“But now he walks the Earth,” Kali says. “If he and Michael fight, half of humanity will die.”

 “Why do you care?” God asked.  “This is the Apocalypse of the West.  It won’t reach much further east than Iraq.  Your people will largely go unscathed --Asia, the Pacific, plus a good bit of Africa-- and you’ll be rid of Europe and the Americas. You Hindus, along with the Buddhists, will be sitting pretty.  Maybe, if the Koreans let me go, I’ll be able to get some sleep.”

 Kali stares at the old God in shock.  She’s met his brothers, Yahweh and Allah, but of all of them, the American God is the worst. So smug, so self-centered. 

 “How can you abandon your people like that?” she asks, horrified despite herself.

 “Abandon them?  They’ve been asking for the End non-stop for centuries! There’s only so many times their prophets can point out the signs of Certain Doom before I give in and bring it to pass.”

 Kali shakes her head in disgust.  “You people of the Book.  Always prophecy this, prophecy that. How can you live inside such a narrow trajectory, always headed for the End?”

God heaves a sigh.  “Depressing, isn’t it.  I thought I’d made it clear that the Kingdom of Heaven was always immanent, but they just didn’t get it.  They rush toward the End as though it were ‘a consummation devoutly to be wished.’” 

Kali peers at God, her anger banking a little.

“You want it too, don’t you?  To fall asleep, never to awaken?”

God’s old, tired head falls forward. His blue eyes well up with tears.  “They don’t love me any more.  They twist my words to suit themselves.  All they do is petition for wealth and power. They pray for themselves and nobody else.”

 “You are a God of jackasses,”  Kali says, not as meanly as it sounds.

 “You said it, sister,”  God agrees. “And with so many internal contradictions, I wink in and out of existence from day to day.  They are ripe for Apocalypse.   No one even dreams of the City anymore.”

 “What about my petition?   Can you stop your children from destroying the world?”

 “If anyone destroys it, it should be you,”  God whispers. 

 “That’s what I think,”  Kali agrees.  “In my fire, like a phoenix, the earth renews herself.”

 God is silent for a long while.  “Lucifer is so strong, in part because I’m so old.  He has become almost as powerful as me in their hearts.  So many of them have fallen to the ancient heresy, believing in evil equal to good.    Maybe, if I let go, Lucifer will also weaken, and we’ll make way for a new God.”

 “Yes,” Kali says, nodding.  “That is the way of things.  Destruction leads to rebirth.  Your own Son is a God of Love  -- his words may yet take root in the hearts of your nation. He is so like my Krishna.”

 God nods, the tears falling from his eyes.  “It is as you say.  Even as we speak, you feel your brother, Lord Ganesh, renewed in the hearts of his followers.  Maybe it will be that way for me and mine. Come, little sister.  Hold me in your arms.” 

 Kali moves toward the decrepit old god.  His energies are dying back fast as he lets go of his lukewarm followers.  Kali takes him in her arms as he loses consciousness.  Will his departure truly make way for the New Age so many have prophesied?  Will his death weaken Lucifer, Michael, and Heaven so that humanity may live?

 Kali holds the dying god in her arms, and her love wears away at him like the ocean against the beach head, like the wind through the slot canyons, like lichens into limestone.  God crumbles, and only the coolest of her flames dissolve his traces into dust. 

 Somewhere far away Kali hears the rushing of wind as a new god breathes into the hearts of thousands, and hundreds of thousands.

 She stands and brushes the dust from her hands, shakes away the last traces of the American God.  Already, the Apocalypse has turned as two Heroes and their friends selflessly offer up their lives to save the world.  The first chapters have already been written-- words of fire, and wind, and speed; passion and pain, music and ecstasy; sacrifice, triumph, and Holy Love; error turned to heroism in one grand unified song -- the Winchester Gospels, the first Book of the New God.