Stating the Obvious: The following fanfic is a sequel to "Final Prophecy" (because, apparently, I can't quit these two).

Disclaimer: I have no right over the Prophecy franchise, the movies, the characters and whatnot. Nor am I versed in the mythology of the movies as a whole.

Author's Note: I remember writing this epilogue for the first time, then going to bed, triumphant, only to stay away for almost an hour (happens a lot) thinking, "Oh, no, I need to rewrite that...big time," and so I did and, I think, the end result, is far better than what it originally was. I realize it's rather lengthy for an epilogue (and probably not an epilogue at all, by definition), but I felt the need to give you all an idea of where things stood, after the battle, for all parties involved (well, most of them, at least). Enjoy :-)

Epilogue

How can blood be our salvation
And justify the pain that we have caused throughout the times
Will I learn what's truly sacred?
Will I redeem my soul, will truth set me free?

"The Truth beneath the Rose" Within Temptation

"And that, my friends, is what brought you all here," the old man still wears the same dark robe, his beard a little longer than it was a year ago, white as snow.

He stands in the very front of the room, a room once known as the United Nations General Assembly Hall, now occupied by people from all around the world - people chosen by groups, those who survived the company of demons, living in districts and trying to rebuild what once was - and yet, the amount of people still doesn't fill the room, not at its full capacity of 1,800.

"You expect us to believe this? That the devil himself fell in love with a woman, a half-angel, and their child granted us God's mercy? Is this some kind of sick joke?" The man leans forward, his accent clearly not American, or English; he seems young, but his face tells of an older age - of having lived too much, too soon, his eyes dark and weary.

The old man smiles, and the room jumps as a bird flies in through the open door behind them, its flapping wings echoing in the room as it perches itself on the old man's arm, which he had lifted in order to receive the bird. It's a raven, and it caws, its eyes observing the room around it. Merlin hadn't closed the door, or any door, in the building, finding no need for closed doors or secrecy, knowing full well the building's windows were broken - secrecy is not something that can be easily gained in these times.

"You once believed in a man, a carpenter, one who died for your sins, who accepted the accusation of leading a rebel faction against the government of man so that he could die for your sins. Do you truly find it difficult, signore Devicci, to believe in a battle between angels, between demons? A battle that only ended thanks to the product of the love between two creatures belonging to both worlds. And tell me, can any of you find anything purer, and greater, than the love that creates a child?"

"You have to understand, Merlin-sama, for us to believe this, it is...difficult." An older man, older perhaps than anyone in this room, speaks next, his eyes barely opened under his bushy eyebrows.

Merlin nods, letting his finger trace a line on the bird's back and whispering something in its ear before moving his hand towards the middle of the hall, towards the door, allowing the bird to fly away. "I understand this more than anyone, Haku-sama. Yet, here we are, survivors and leaders of the world's districts, rebuilding what demons once tore down, demons some of you faced and survived, all of you becoming slaves in a nightmare we all experienced. The demons have gone and we are the casualties of that war, myself included, a character known from myth, considered to be unreliable history from a Welsh cleric," he smiles, "I am flesh and bone, and by transporting you here, I have proved the roots of my identity. I am Merlin, the Wizard, and you are here, not just to hear this story, but to tell it to your children. They need to understand..." He looks down, pausing a moment, his age - no, his entire existence - finally catching up. He looks up, looking around the room, making eye contact with all of them, "With understanding comes acceptance, comes learning, comes the chance of a new age."

"Tell your children that Satan, Lucifer, is nothing but a name, a title, a punishment once given, now forgiven. There is no evil to hurt them, no more demons to haunt their nights, no more wars or battles. There is nothing that can condemn or take away their right to live, to fight, to love, for as long as they remain kind and good. There will be no division of class, of politics," this causes a stir, each person glancing at the other, "everyone has a right to a home, everyone will have a job to do, a duty, a responsibility, and none above the other. But they must prove deserving of this second chance and not sully it as their forefathers did before them. It is time humanity learn to live in peace, to not give famine another chance to plague our society, for in the end, if there is one lesson I wish you to understand...Lucifer...Allison...the characters of this war, they were just the pawns, the chess pieces, if you will, and god the ultimate player, but you, my friends, humanity as a whole...you were the cause of the disease. Choose a better life, for the children you've yet to have."

"And if we don't live by your rules?" A man in a dark hat speaks, a toothpick in his mouth, arms crossed, leans back, challenging. "If we make our own rules, do what we will, what then?"

Merlin smiles, his eyes shining, startling one of the women, but then it returns back to its wondrous azure quality. "Well, then, you will be responsible for your own demise. You always have been. And may whatever deity you believe in have mercy on your ungrateful souls, for these rules are not my creation, as I am sure I need not create a rule indicating for you to be kind in order for you to realize the importance of being kind...is that not what allowed you to survive for so long? Helping each other to survive, that is being kind, even when the circumstances gave very little room for such things." There is a sudden silence, no one dare respond or challenge that statement, at this point. They know he knows what helped them survive, as they had all met him and gotten to know Merlin, not just through his stories, but his actions. He healed many, helped them bury their dead and he listened to their stories, how the demons would prey upon them and the oldest people, the bravest, would often volunteer to take the place of the young - it was their sacrifice that had kept them alive, their kindness. Merlin sighs, "There will be sorceress assigned to each of your districts...for your protection, of course, and for our abilities to heal and assist in you in rebuilding your homes. You are more than welcome to reject our assistance," Merlin glances at the two, more traditional sort, that had already refused such an offer. "But I will be watching, if only to be aware of any dangers that you may bring upon yourselves. I will not intervene, unless asked, you may do as you will and be responsible for that which you sow. And one more thing, before we arrange for your return to your respective homes...Lucifer may no longer be the evil he once was, but know, where once was evil, there will always be another to take his place."

"But you said, the baby, she killed them all, didn't she? There aren't any more demons, you said," a younger woman, possibly in her twenties, chosen from one of the smaller districts, speaks up, her doe eyes soliciting a smile from the wizard.

"Did I? I said to tell your children this, the innocent, the hope for mankind, but you, my friends, you are not children, and you are far from innocent. But to ease your concern, Miss Pond, no, there are no more demons here on earth...but they were not killed. They were banished. There is a difference. And they will remain where they are for as long as they are not called upon, by words or by your actions, so take care, for evil exists for as long as we give it a name...for as long as we give it a cause...for as long as we echo its existence within our own."

With a wave of his hand, his eyes glowing, each person disappears, one by one, until none remain.

From the shadows, a woman with a dark green cloak emerges, throwing her hood back, her black locks cascading over her shoulders, "Do you think we will succeed, finally, in creating a peaceful era?"

He chuckles, before descending from the high chair, "Who knows, Morgan. This period of humanity is full of such wonder, such fear, such hate...I hope they choose to not repeat the history of their forefathers, of our forefathers. I can only hope they make better choices."

"Perhaps we should not help them." She remembers a time when they attempted to create a peaceful era, with Excalibur, with Avalon, with Camelot...all they accomplished was the death of that era, to where it became only a fantasy, a tragic myth. "They should make their own mistakes, Merlin, even if they should lead to their own demise," Morgan whispers, having watched while in the shadows, unseen, and having very low opinion of this generation.

"We would not have been allowed to stay, to use our full potential, to gain abilities beyond our knowledge, if we were not meant to watch over the flock of the Gods. Though I am not helping them, Morgan; I am helping the earth, and the children, for I believe they are the meek that shall inherit it." He has used his time wisely, reading as many works as he can find in this world. "They will decide, in the end, if this world is worth saving." When he is finally at her side, he places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, and she smiles, her demeanor softening somewhat.

"Forgive me, Merlin...we have seen so much in one year...it is hard to believe that there is still hope."

Merlin clicks his tongue, looking up at the ceiling, a small testament to what humanity is capable of, "There is always hope, for as long as there is life."

Now it's her turn to shake her head, chuckling, "First, it was faith, and now, it is hope. We truly are a marvelous species depending solely on that which we cannot see."

"Indeed...now, have you heard from her?" He meets her eyes, and she looks down, shaking her head with a frown. "We will. Someday."

"I don't believe her dead, Merlin. Although, before the battle, when she learned of your involvement...she reached out to me. She told me of her plan. I knew what she intended to do and it should have killed her. Channeling that much power should have killed her and yet..."

"It didn't," he reassures her, "Nimue is alive and she is not alone."

"Do you think...do you think he captured her?"

"Ha!" The man's laugh echoes in the room, and he holds a hand to his chest, beaming, "Nimue has never been known as anyone's captive. If she is with him, she is willing, and perhaps that means her task will be greater than ours."

Morgan's eyes widen in realization, "Indeed. Let us go. There is still much to do."

Both of them hold hands before disappearing as well, the room silent, no one to negotiate or conduct treaties of any kind.

That world is now gone.

Most ravens travel in flocks, or with a mated pair, but that day, a solitary raven flew circles around a particular house, on a hilltop, surrounded by trees, it's windows intact, therefore allowing no easy access, as it continued to fly around the two-story house.

A man walks up the stone steps leading to the first level of the house, and the winged creature flies down to greet him, landing safely on his shoulder. The man stops, listening for a moment at the caws from the bird, a language only he can discern.

Lucifer smiles, whispering words to the bird who had traveled so far, letting it fly away before jogging up the rest of the steps.

He takes his keys out of his pant pockets, unlocking the front door, seeing the living room empty, the chimney still smoking from its recent use. He walks through the dining room next, the kitchen, and ignores the guest room and study, knowing he'll find them both somewhere else.

At the upper level, two bedrooms, a bathroom and another study wait for him, but he chooses the one where he can hear giggling and the laughter of a woman - the woman he claimed as his wife.

He stands under the doorway, leaning his side on the frame as he sees Allison wearing her nightgown, tickling Danielle who is wearing the most adorable sunflower dress - not that he'd consider anything adorable, really, but when it comes to her...well, he has no choice.

Allison is trying to help her walk on their bed, but Danielle simply holds on to her fingers and gets ready to sit again, her knees bent, making him smile as she babbles incoherently. Allison notices him finally and beams, pulling the baby to her, "Look, Dani, it's daddy!" And the baby babbles again, though he catches the "dada" in the midst of a foreign language even he doesn't understand at times.

He moves towards them, kicking off his shoes, as he lands on the bed and lies next to her, leaning close enough to Allison for a kiss, before setting his eyes on Danielle.

He had been happy with the chosen name - a beautiful name, even if it came with a memory of something lost, it also reminded them of what brought them together.

"Hello, Danielle. Shall we try to conquer any more of that horrible mushed food mum makes you eat?" Being that there are very few to operate the factories responsible for the creation of baby food, Allison had to improvise, using fruits and vegetables from her garden and making it easy to digest for a growing toddler, though now that she has outgrown some of that mush, Allison allows some liberties.

"Oh, shut up," Allison softly slaps his ribs and watches as he pulls the baby into his arms and then lifts her into the air, evoking laughter from the child. Her hair had grown out enough to cover her head, a beautiful shade of brown, like her mother, and her eyes had acquired a different color, a grey-like blue, depending on what color dress she wears - that she got from him. Her skin is fair, her smile is pure light, and she is healthy, alive, and completely theirs.

They both lie next to each other and Danielle - Danielle flies - in the arms of those who love her most, those who needed saving, those she saved most of all.

Lucifer lets the baby lie on his chest, his hand on her back, and he kisses the top of her head before turning his head to gaze at his wife, her smile.

They hold hands, and Allison takes her free hand to touch the small bump on her stomach - after months of being afraid of the prospect of another child, she had given in, accepted this chance at life, this opportunity of peace...where no one could tear them apart.

This would be their little piece of heaven.

That night, when Danielle is asleep, Allison brushes her hair in the bathroom and Lucifer - no, John, to any mortals they come across - looks out the window he feels...like very much the wolf he's always been.

He can see something lurking in the shadows - possibly one of Merlin's apprentices, watching them, guarding them, as if they needed it - but he won't tell Allison that.

He feels her arms before he feels her coming - she's getting very good at sneaking, or he's getting far too comfortable in this safety net they've created - and he lets her arms embrace him from behind, feels her cheek against his back as he rubs her arms, gazing into the darkness.

"Can we stay like this forever?"

He smiles, "I'm afraid not. One day, she'll start thinking for herself, she'll want an education and, eventually, discover her father was once the-" he laughs when he feels a jab in his ribs and he pulls her to the front, to him, where he can see her amused glare - how she can combine the two, he'll never know.

"I mean it, Lucifer," and his smile widens when he hears his name - his name, though, they had agreed, he would remain John to anyone they crossed paths with...including their children. After the battle, Merlin made it clear to them he would spread the word of what had happened - in order to rebuild society, to give people hope in the faith that had abandoned them, the story must be told. And so, Allison would have to use a fake name around people - now that the world doesn't really use passports, it's easier to do - and she had chosen Laura, in memory of someone she lost, so that she'd never forget. The only name Lucifer had demanded Merlin keep out of his stories was their daughter's. For her safety, and for their attempt at a normal life, Merlin would allow them this, and he did. Allison sighs, content, "It's been a year since...since we won."

"If you call that a win," he quirks his brow - they had lived, yes, but he didn't trust it then, he doesn't trust it now, in spite of the excellent turn of events: Lilith gone, his comrades gone, the sorcerers remained to assist them in finding a home and rebuilding what was left of mankind and the earth. But there was still His will, one very few could run away from, and he doesn't trust that He's done with them, with any of it.

He cups her face, "Allison, your mental state has been compromised long ago, but if you continue to question the present with concerns of the future, I fear you will lose whatever sanity you might have left."

She wrinkles her nose at him and buries her face in his chest, "Fine, I guess you have a point."

"I usually do," he smiles, "but I can tell you this. We are safe here. No one can harm you, or Danielle. Here, we are a family, and out there, I am a dashing professor trying to rebuild the education of the brainless sheep and you the doting housewife who's secretly trying to find a magical babysitter so she can track down literary works to restore the city library."

"So," she bites her lip, "You found out about that?"

"You're not difficult to read, Allison," he kisses the top of her head, "I don't disapprove. I simply ask that you wait for me before you select someone, I'd like to make an assessment of them personally."

"Look at us, being domestic, picking out babysitters together," she looks up, and she looks positively radiant - pregnant and glowing.

"Yes, a babysitter with supernatural abilities and parents with supernatural skills, and lets not forget about the potential of our children."

She groans, as she had not been looking forward to the idea of her children inheriting her skills, his skills or her mental state. Lucifer had already told her, her Schizophrenia would not be an issue, because it was never real - Simon had not been a figment of her imagination, and therefore, her mental state had simply been a veil to hide her true nature.

"Come," he brings the back of her hand to his lips, "to bed," before looking out the window one last time. The shadow has gone for now, at least.

He knows Allison's desire for peace is a dream - a beautiful dream - but he won't be the one to tell her what will or will not be, not now, not when they can just enjoy this for as long as they can.

She is the mother of his child, soon to be children, and he...he is an archangel, and while he had questioned Michael and Gabriel of its meaning - did it mean He had forgiven him, finally? Would he be welcome in heaven? Could he have both heaven and Allison?

Michael hadn't answer, simply smiled and said, "Live your life, brother, and when it's time, when you're ready, you'll discover the truth for yourself. For now, have faith, it is all He has ever wished from us."

At least that meant, if he played his cards right, for once, he'd no longer be known as the damned...and his family...they would not carry the burden of his choices.

That would always mean more to him than peace.

Gabriel whistles as he walks through the dark desert, the memories of a battle echoing in his wake, and there's a dark figure with his back turned, hands behind his back, waiting.

Gabriel smiles, "Azazel, how is hell these days?"

Azazel smiles, looking up at the dark sky, clear of clouds, but he remembers the storm that waged there...the storm that once was.

"It's good. A little boring without Lucifer, but it's good, we have lots of new recruits to build up morale; it'll keep us busy for a bit," the demon turns to gaze at Gabriel, noticing the man's gaze at the sky, probably remembering the same thing he does - from another perspective, of course.

"And Nimue?"

Azazel looks away, not partial to the question, "She is well, where she belongs, by my side."

"By choice, I hear," Gabriel sounds impressed, almost.

"She's always been quite bold, even for her kind," Azazel looks down, chuckling, and glances at the arch.

Gabriel looks at him, finally, smiling, "Yeah, she is. I heard you made a room just for Lilith."

Azazel smirks, "Yeah...that one's fun, Beelzebub helped design it, so the depravity is endless."

"I also heard you made a room for Procel, too...did Beelzebub design that one, too?"

Azazel's smile widens, "No, that was me, and you can imagine my disappointment when I couldn't sense or find her...but I'm sure you already heard that, too, didn't you?"

Gabriel shrugs, still smiling, hands behind his back, "Well, lets just say, Lilith should've chosen her advisers more carefully, as I'm sure you know from experience. Speaking of which, how is Nimue adjusting to the change in scenery?"

That makes Azazel quirk a brow, as he understands more than Gabriel is willing to say - Procel and Nimue had more in common than Gabriel is willing to admit, that much he knows, but Gabriel's not going to shed any more light on the matter. He always did like to toy with humans and demons alike. "She's adjusting just fine, but you didn't meet me here to talk about hell and its accommodations, unless you're planning on visiting?"

"No," Gabriel sighs, pretending to be slightly disappointed, "I'm just here to pass along a message." Off Azazel's quirked brow, "Call it...common courtesy, if you will. Stay away from them."

Azazel looks down, smiling, "You're watching them, too, aren't you?"

"The nephalim that turned the tides of a war over hell? The fallen who rose from the ashes? The child whose purity had every demon scurrying into whatever hole they came from?" Gabriel feigns ignorance, which is quite the feat, considering, "Now, why would we need to watch over them?"

Azazel shakes his head, laughing, "It's not over, is it?"

"It is," Gabriel shrugs, "For now. God cleansed the world of sin with a flood once. This time he did so with the fire from the very pits of the hell He created for him. The next...well, that'll depend entirely on the monkeys. But it won't be years...decades...centuries, maybe, until that happens. We will just have to wait and see."

"You and I both know..." Azazel's face is solemn, his brows furrowed, "It doesn't matter how long it takes, they're tied to this as much as we are; we will meet again."

"Possibly, and their children, and their children's children, they will have responsibilities to bear. And I'll be there to whisper in their ear," he leans closer, his voice lowering in a warning, "You won't win."

"We'll see, friend," Azazel whispers back, walking backwards, hands behind his back, "Don't forget. I'm not going anywhere." When he disappears, crows fly from whence he once stood, and Gabriel, he smiles, because he knows, he's not going anywhere, either.

Well, maybe he is going somewhere: breakfast, with an ex-angel who owes him.

Gabriel smiles, dancing as he once had, when he himself had been human and old, before he himself disappears.

Author's Afterword: First, I hate keyboards. I hate thinking I know what I'm typing and somehow, either having refreshed the page or accidentally hit the back button through my keys (I had proofread this, and then lost the progress of that proofread...sigh) but, there. All done. Finally. I know, it's a bit odd, my approach, but with my idealism comes my firm belief in second chances...if we've had these many chances to prove ourselves to be a race worth of life, then what's one more, in spite of all the darkness? I had thought about giving Lou and Allison a bit of a love scene, but there is something so pure about them now, in this moment, that I didn't think...I didn't feel it would fit, so I hope none of you mind that. And yes, Azazel is now stepping into Lucifer's shoes, and with a sorceress by his side, hmm, interesting indeed! I hope you all enjoyed it, all of it, including my silly attempt at humor at the end and if none of you have seen Christopher Walken dancing in Fatboy Slim's video of Weapon of Choice, please, I beg you right now, watch it, if you can. Watch it, let it be my last gift to you, for now :-)

Again, thank you for your continued attention, kind words and for sharing your time with me. I won't lie and say there's absolutely no chance for a sequel (actually, my mind has some ideas, and part of it has some potential), but I'm currently unemployed (attempting to find a job) and cultivating the idea of actually writing my own original work (ah, the dreams of being published), but I must say, I owe FanFiction, and reviews, for the confidence, the improvement and the hope that has grown from the very moment I started writing...so I can't really say I won't be back. Until then, good night and, again, thank you.