Disclaimer: I still don't own any of it, damn it. Well, except for my twisted vision of what life with Maria may have been like.
Piercing screams underscored by the gurgles and grunts of the dying heralded their arrival: The terror of the Northern Mexico Deserts —
El Diablo and his minions.
Tonight was their victory celebration, their reward hard won, and they took what they wanted without mercy or opposition.
The devastation was quick, brutal, bloody, and the pale wraiths who so efficiently dealt it left not a single soul alive in their horrific wake.
Maria, their Leader, their Mistress, their Maker, watched on from a distant rise, a glint of satisfaction in her red, red eyes.
She was back, she was peerless, she was supreme once again. Nothing and no one could touch her now. And it was all due to the glorious being who waited, stoically watching, amidst the chaos.
Like the proud soldier he was, he stood, his eyes black, shoulders taut, and back straight, his pale hair reflecting the moon's silver light.
It would have been easy to mistake him for some avenging angel…
But no angel was he, nor would he ever be.
He was death.
He was destruction.
He was perfection in her eyes.
And it's true, he was all of those things…
And he belonged to her.
She'd known he would return one day, known he would never find rest or fulfillment in the shackles of an ordinary life.
After all, how does one chain the wind?
How does one bottle the raging sea?
How does one cage the storm?
If it hadn't been before, it was clear to him now…
She'd been right all along.
There would never be redemption for him.
He would never know true peace.
He would never know love.
He was El Diablo.
And he was damned.
A/N: Okay, calm down and stow the torches and pitchforks. lol This is just a snapshot of his time after returning to Maria. But - it's not the end of the story. More to come.
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Love and light,