Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You grunt when they hit you again and you fall to the ground. You can barely breathe, and you know you have several cracked ribs. You grimace when one of your assailants grabs your hair and pulls it until you rise to your bruised knees. Pure cruelty shines in the men's eyes.

"Awww... did the poor priestess get a boo-boo?" The leader asks mockingly.

Blood trails down your face from the many injuries they caused. One of your eyes is already swollen and your other one isn't faring any better. How? The question repeats in your mind over and over again. How are they so strong? They decimated the whole church, from the strongest to the weakest.

He slaps you so hard that your vision blurs. You make contact with the ground again and the cold seeping into your abused flesh from the floor is almost soothing.

"I hope you are ready, priestess. We will torture you for a looong time" he says and starts laughing maniacally, the symbols on his skin glowing.

The runes are foreign to you, but one thing is for certain they don't belong to Heaven or Hell. If they belonged to Heaven, they wouldn't have attacked the church, and you fought enough Hell followers to know the symbols that they have.

You gather all the strength you have left "Angel, see the glow of my beads" you whisper and the rosary around your neck glows a sky blue.

"O-ho! Look, boys! She is bringing us another angel to slaughter!"

The males cheer and you gaze briefly at the fallen corpses of the angels next to the priests and priestesses that summoned them.

"Hear my voice and use it to guide you to me."

"Bring a good one! Dear Gabriel here was pathetically easy to kill" the leader declares with a crazy laugh as he hits the angel's bloodied head again and makes his gold blood splatter more as his brain is turned into a pulp further.

"Bind yourself to me as I bind myself to you." You start going through angel names in your mind, trying to think which one to call upon.

Rage bubbles in you. These animals need to be killed like pigs for what they did. Not only murdering the whole church and angels but also the townspeople. From elders to children, it didn't matter to them as long as the scarlet blood turned the streets into red rivers.

You settle on a name, hoping with all your might that it will work and the angel will accept since no one dared summon the angel before.

Your tone turns cold with fury "I summon thee..."

The leader is giddy, nearly jumping in joy at the prospect of killing another angel "Here it comes!"

"... Lucifer!" You shout the fallen angel's name, and your rosary instantly turns a garnet color.

"What?!"

An earthquake seems to hit and the ground cracks. Flames as tall as trees erupt from it creating sinister shadows on the church's walls. The smell of sulfur replaces the metallic one of blood as a dense black smoke settles over the destroyed church.

A deep laughter rings out and heavy footsteps are heard, like a giant entering the once beautiful place of worship. You see the symbols on the men glow the sickly green color through the smoke as they prepare to fight. You stop breathing when He makes his presence known for a fraction of a second by causing the flames to burn brighter. All His depictions seem to have merged into one, giving Him such a frightening look that you feel your blood to curdle in fear. The red eyes burning with the very fire of Hell lock into His targets. His mouth twists into an evil sneer, exposing the sharp teeth that could easily bite off a head clean off. A forked tongue comes outside briefly, almost mocking the men who are shouting battle cries and running toward the towering figure as He allows the shadow to engulf Him again.

You close your eyes, fatigue overcoming you. You don't know how much time passes, but when you open your good eye, you only see the dense smoke. Did you die? Did He? The ground shakes again and you faintly register the booming sound of steps coming closer to you and the immeasurable heat that now abuses your injured skin. It's agonizing, and you think that this was what Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun.

Something comes under your cheek and lifts your head. You focus enough to register that it's a sharp nail as big as your head belonging to his pinky finger.

"Well, isn't this a surprise?" The voice is so loud that the Earth itself seems to move on its axis with every word He intones "A follower of His summoned me. Do you even comprehend the magnitude of your actions?" He asks almost conversationally as he takes away his finger and makes your head rest again on the ground.

You have no strength to answer or even shake your head.

"Hm... too overwhelmed, little lamb?" Is inquired in an amused tone "Maybe something else is needed."

The desert-dry air seems to disappear, and you take a stuttering breath in relief.

*Step

*Step

*Step

You frown when you hear a pair of fine shoes hitting the now-cracked marble floor. You see a pair of well-polished black leather shoes coming toward you. Slowly you register the simar and your heart rejoices. A priest of His survived! You aren't the only one.

The figure stops in front of you and through great pain you force your hand to move toward the hem of the simar. The figure crouches down and your hand stops its advancement. The face in front of you is unknown. Is he a priest who came to help? He doesn't seem from around here with his exotic features and his black-as-sin eyes study you with such curiosity that you are almost dumbfounded.

Long fingers grab your chin "I see you approve of this form." A deep baritone voice escapes the heavyset male almost in a purr.

Form? What is he talking about? Form of what?

"I'll ask you again. Do you realize what you just did, little lamb?"

Your good eye widens and with great shock you realize who is in front of you, parading as a priest of His.

"N-no."

You don't know if the word you uttered was to answer his question or to show your disbelief at the Ruler of Hell who decided to parade as a holy priest.

His face twists in a smirk that makes you uneasy, but surprisingly less anxious than the grin of the leader of those murderers.

"You, a devout follower of His renounced your belief when you summoned me." A long finger traces your cheek "My sweet little lamb, by doing that you made me as strong as Him." He announces and you feel sick before your world shifts into darkness as you faint.

Chapter Text

You wake up with a groan and quickly pull the pillow over your head to stop the sun's mischievous rays from waking you up completely. You're nearly back to dreamland when flashbacks of violence and blood make you bolt up in bed. You breathe rapidly as your mind tries to process everything you went through.

Your eyes narrow when you notice the lack of pain. You look down and don't see even a bruise, let alone the bloody injuries you remembered.

The faint sound of paper being rustled catches your attention and you slowly turn toward the window. You swear that your heart gave its last bow and decided to retire and not beat ever again. You pale and pure unadulterated fear grips you so hard that you are surprised that you are still frozen in place and not trembling so hard that an earthquake starts.

There, sitting in a chair, and looking entirely bored by the book in his hands is the very man you saw yesterday. Lucifer himself, still dressed like a Bishop of the holy church seemingly mocking his Father, sits serenely almost without the slightest care in the world.

"I wouldn't move too much if I was you. My healing abilities are a bit rusty" he utters nonchalantly without lifting his dark gaze from the pages.

Your lungs decide that you stayed long enough time without air and take a deep stuttering breath for you. You grip your rosary and bring it to eye level. The garnet-colored beads confirm, as well, that this isn't a figment of your imagination.

"It wasn't a dream" you whisper to no one in particular.

"It wasn't" the baritone voice confirms as long fingers close the book "This is the worst piece of fiction I ever encountered" he comments as he glares reproachfully at the tome.

You focus back on him and your eyes zero on the book "That's the Bible!" You try to hiss in outrage, but it comes off as more of a high-pitched squeak.

He chuckles "No wonder it's so boring" he rests his chin daintily on his proped-up hand, watching you with mild interest "I'm curious, does your human mind comprehend what you did yesterday?" He asks with benign curiosity.

Your throat works, but no sound escapes your lips. If you are to be truthful, you can't fully grasp what happened and are still in denial that the man before you is Lucifer, the Ruler of Hell.

"Your silence speaks volumes, little lamb" he stands up with a staggering grace for someone so well built "Allow me to shed some light on this matter" he speaks coming toward your bed like a lion cornering its prey "You summoned me," he says bluntly "And all the faith you had for Him transferred to me" he grins and it's as razor-sharp as a shark's "But the fun part is that desperate faith is more raw, primal and you were right at that point, weren't you, little lamb? You summoned me, desperate for a miracle that could help you" he holds out his hands in a theatrical gesture "And here I am. In the flesh, so to speak, and with so much power that I equal my Father. I would thank you, but I hardly think you, a former follower of His, are happy with this outcome."

You are certain that your lungs collapsed, and your heart isn't faring better with the onslaught of information. Your pulse rushes through your veins and your ears ring like mad when his hand grips your rosary, pulling at it until the beads dig into your flesh almost painfully. Your hands fly to his, trying to stop him, but he is unfazed by your feeble attempt. His body's heat seems unnatural as it seeps into your flesh. He brings you closer to him, his face an inch away from yours. His dark-as-sin eyes bore into your very soul, savoring your distress the same way a cat playing with a helpless mouse would.

"You are bound to me, little lamb" he utters the sentence, and you feel like he engraved it on your very bones.

Even though you are scared witless, your throat finds the strength to answer "I am not a little lamb." You reply definitely naively and not even focusing at the actual problem you face.

He smirks in such a way that his true nature bleeds through for a few moments "You are a little lamb who foolishly decided to summon me as a last resort" his hot breath hits your face with every word he speaks "If I am to guess, you thought that you will die either way and decided that you had nothing to lose in the end. Well, little lamb, I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news. I won't allow you to die on me. I want to spend as much time as I can on Earth, and you need to be alive so I can do that" he states, and you feel your blood ice over at the thought of Lucifer walking among humans.

It's clear from his set mouth that what he said is a very well-veiled threat. Again, the bloody scenes from yesterday flash before you and you see the surprise seeping into his black gaze when your eyes darken with ire.

"You can do that and anything you wish with me under one condition," you say and wonder where all this courage came from.

"Which is?" The lion asks bewildered that his prey doesn't cower.

"I want to find the source of those men's power and destroy it" you declare solemnly.

He tilts his head and searches your gaze for something that you don't know. He ultimately just chuckles lightly "Very well. I will help you, but after that, I will do as I please."

You try to nod, but his grip is still firm on your rosary.

He smirks devilishly "This is going to be interesting" he declares, releasing your garnet-colored beads and strolling back to his chair like nothing happened "Go to sleep, you need to recover."

You don't know if it's his order or if exhaustion overcame you, but you find yourself resting your head on the pillow and slipping into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

The next time you wake up you are alone in the room. For a few blissful moments, you think that everything you experienced was just a bad nightmare. That hypothesis is quickly squashed when you see paper planes, origami flowers, and animals made from the pages of the Bible.

You grind your teeth at the blasphemy he committed, gather the pages, and place them neatly on the table, intent on smoothing them after you shower.

The chilly water is soothing, and you stay under it unmoving for a few moments as you try to come to terms with what happened. You survived, but at what cost? Lucifer walking among mortals was very far down your list of possible outcomes when you summoned him. He was right, though. You summoned him only because you were sure you were on the brink of death, thus allowing him very little time to waltz on Earth like he has wanted to do for millennia.

You wash yourself absentmindedly, wondering if there is any way to break the bond between you. The obvious one is your death, but as much as you are tempted to end your life right here and now, you can't. You huff angrily. You need to find out how those monsters had so much power before you can go ahead and die peacefully. Well, as peacefully as one can when their destination is Hell with THE fallen angel bonded to them.

You step out of the shower and grab a towel, drying yourself up. You freeze, your eyes widening so much that they resemble platters in size. You trace the red mark under your navel with a trembling hand. You don't know what the symbol means since you aren't versed in Satanic marks, but you are sure that it's bad news. You swallow down your anger and your impulse to seek out the fallen angel to shout at him since you know that it's useless.

You dress in the pristine white nightdress yet again and ponder if he did it on purpose to mock you. The sacrificial virgin served on a silver platter to Hell's Ruler. You enter the room and are grateful that he didn't come back. Your fingers lift your rosary gingerly, and you study the garnet beads with ire. In a fit of madness on your part, you take them off and throw them as hard as you can against the opposite wall. You grin with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction for what you did and timidly turn to the East. You easily fall to your knees and bring your hands together in prayer, hoping that what you are about to do will be heard up in Heaven. "Our Father, which art in Heaven," you manage to breathe out reverently before you feel like someone slapped your face so hard that you fall to your side. You clutch your now bleeding cheek and stare at the empty air in front of you. Undaunted, you try again. Only to be slapped again by an invisible force from above.

"I know that they teach you to turn the other cheek, but did you have to give them an excuse to punish you twice, you silly little lamb?" he asks casually from behind you, as you resume your position on your knees before twisting to see Lucifer leaning relaxedly against the door with his hands in his pockets. "Did you forget that you renounced Him?" He asks, nearly bored to tears by the conversation he is having with you. He unhurriedly walks to where your garnet rosary lies on the ground. Long fingers take it, and he strolls toward you, his digits fingering the beads with every step he takes. He stops in front of you, black-as-sin eyes looking down at you "Heaven isn't forgiving," he informs you, and for less than a second, something flashes over his face as if he is reminiscing a memory tied to what he said.

He pulls the rosary over your head, letting the now inverted cross fall over your heart "You hoped that you could ask for forgiveness for what you did", he states, leaving no room for you to argue the contrary, not that you wanted to "Heaven and my dear Father," for all intents and purposes the endearment sounds like the most vile insult "Aren't good at listening" he grabs your chin, holding your face in place with little effort "If I see you on your knees ever again, I will give you something to worship" he intones with a devilish grin, driving his point home by waving to the front of his pants.

You pull away, climbing to your feet faster than a wink "In your dreams!" You hiss with surprising bravado.

If anything, he seems amused by your brief display of courage "You refuse something you never encountered. How do you know that you won't like it?" He inquires, quite surprisingly without sounding condescending, more curious if anything.

"I am certain that I would not like it with the likes of you!"

His dark eyes flash red for a moment as if to remind you with whom you are speaking before he again regards you with hilarity shining in his dark gaze "I could give you a long, long list of individuals that were with me carnally and enjoyed it-" he waves his hand dismissively before you can say anything "This conversation is dull and far from the issue we need to asses so this deal between us can be completed. Dress, and let's go downstairs to eat." He moves past you and toward the door.

"Dress? Dress in what?!"

He snaps his fingers, and the wardrobe door opens to reveal, to your bewilderment, a nun outfit of His. He notes your confusion "It would be odd if you were dressed as one of mine since I am presenting as a priest of His."

"You could always change your clothes", you mutter, hoping that he will, in this way sparing you the reminder of your renouncement of God.

He shakes his head, soft dark brown hair moving around with his gesture "No. I like this. It's fun", he tells you before placing his hand on the doorhandle "I will wait outside."

He exits, and you ball your fists, utterly annoyed by the situation. You grab the clothes angrily and change hastily. Before you leave, you stop in front of the mirror to make sure that your red rosary can't be seen. You stare, surprised when there isn't a single sign that your cheeks were hit and bleeding a moment ago. You step out of the room and find him looking at a painting, uninterested.

"This is a fake", he informs you when you join him.

"Now you are an art critic?" You blurt out only to bite your tongue a second later. Have you gone mad?

"I'm a fan of art" he says casually before starting to walk toward the stairs.

You can't believe what you are about to say, but you know you must in order to stay on his good side "Thank you", you whisper, and feel like puking after saying those words to him.

He stops walking and dark as night eyes regard you with a raised eyebrow "For?"

"My cheeks."

He doesn't answer for a few moments, probably trying to gauge if you are being sincere "Hm", he finally replies before resuming walking and leading you toward the dining room of the hotel you are in "You are most certainly hungry after what you went through" he says, taking a seat at a long table filled to the brim with all kinds of food.

"I'm not that hungry!" You declare, waving frantically at the set table.

"I haven't been on Earth for a very long time. I will indulge in the things I like", he says as he puts food on his plate "Among them, food."

"Glutton", you breathe out as you sit.

"Guilty", he concedes, taking a bite of his food and closing his eyes to savor the rich taste.

You shift your attention to the many dishes and can't help but think that it's a tremendous waste. You place your hands in prayer, the gesture engraved in your being from all the years you spent in His church.

"Don't," his deep voice rings from his seat "Is your memory really like a sieve, or did you forget what happened upstairs?" he continues.

Your cheek ticks from how hard you grind your teeth "It's a habit", you hiss lowly as you grab your dinner utensils.

"Forget it. I won't heal you again for making the same mistake twice."

The sharp retort remains on the tip of your tongue when an elderly couple shuffles timidly toward the portly man.

"Bishop?" The kind-looking white-haired male says "Can we ask for your blessing?"

You pale, your eyes darting from the couple to the Ruler of Hell parading around as a follower of His.

"Of course." Lucifer stands up, offering his hand to the elderly people to kiss his ring, and your jaw nearly hits the floor when he makes the sign of the cross on their foreheads, whispering softly "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."

They smile gratefully at the tall man "Thank you, Bishop", they say with bright smiles before leaving.

You lean toward him when he takes his seat again "H-how?!" You manage to articulate through your stupor.

"How what?" He asks, more preoccupied with his food than answering you.

"You are the exact opposite! How were you able to say that with no repercussions?"

He chews his bite agonizingly slow, more than likely prolonging your annoyance on purpose "I am a fallen", he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you are an idiot not to realize it. He sighs "Do you think the healing I did was fueled by the nature I now have or the one I had before?"

"But your followers can heal!"

"Not to the extent I can with the holy influence I still have. Life-threatening wounds can't be healed by demons", he informs you casually before pointing with his fork to your plate "Eat, little lamb."

"Will you stop calling me that?" You grumble as you put some food on your plate.

"Since you didn't introduce yourself, I will continue to call you little lamb."

You blink several times. He has a point.

"F/n L/n", you state, knowing that there's no use in denying him your name since you are bound to one another.

"Y/n..." He utters, testing your name on his lips "... I still prefer little lamb", he concludes, and you glower at him "You may call me Manuel."

"Manuel?" You parrot incredulously.

He regards you with a raised eyebrow "Can't really use my name, can I?"

"You were Samael before..."

He scoffs "And anyone with more than two brain cells will catch on if I use that. Are you really so naïve, or are you under the impression that playing stupid with me will earn you brownie points?"

You bristle "I am not naïve nor stupid."

"You could've fooled me", he says impassively “Eat and stop scowling at me. Besides having your features twisted in an ugly way, you won't gain anything else by frowning at me."

You are so tempted to let your rage loose, to use the blunt-tipped knife to gouge his eyes out, but you are aware that the only thing you would accomplish is angering him. You start eating reluctantly, ignoring his existence as best as you can, but it seems that tranquil silence isn't an option.

"How long have you been a follower of His?"

You grind your teeth, the question feeling like he is pouring salt over your bleeding heart "Since I was 5."

"Why so young?"

"My parents died in a car accident, and no relatives wanted me. The church took me in and raised me", and in the end, you betrayed God.

"So you were basically brainwashed from an early age."

Your head snaps to him, your eyes burning with ire "How dare you?!" You hiss, a step away from throwing the plate at his head.

He is utterly unbothered by your wrath. "You weren't allowed to enjoy life's blessings," he says, too calmly for your liking.

"Blessings?! I had plenty!"

He chuckles, and the smirk he gives you is utterly wicked "Have you ever been in love?"

"I love God," you reply quickly.

He rolls his eyes "You know that isn't what I asked. Have you ever had someone? Has your gaze ever lingered on another? Has your heart skipped a beat when you saw someone who tickled your fancy?" Your silence is a good enough answer for him. "If God is love, then why does God deprive his followers of it?"

"He doesn't!" You protest, but your attempt is feeble at best, and he catches on.

"Mm-hm. You thought of it as well", he states as if he can read your very thoughts.

You look away, refusing to admit that your mind drifted to that topic when you were younger.

"He is self-centered", before you can argue, he adds "If he weren't, he wouldn't have allowed so many, both humans and angels, to die in the massacre a few days ago."

You huff "And if it was your church the one under attack, would you have come to save your followers?"

"Yes", he intones without an ounce of hesitation, and you are shocked to your very core.

You recover when you remember that the devil would do anything for gain, including lying "You expect me to believe you? That would be naiveté at its finest."

A beat passes, and a deep, rich laughter escapes his raspberry-colored lips "Well, well, you are much more fun than I originally thought, little lamb", he intones between chuckles.

You grind your teeth and resume eating, but you feel his smoldering gaze on you, almost singeing your skin. You glance in his direction, and, as expected, his dark eyes are on you, studying you with a critical stare "Eat," you breathe out, pointing your fork at him threateningly.

He tilts his head, amused by you, but surprisingly, he listens and picks up a bread bun "So, our deal. Do you have any leads about the men who attacked the church?"

While you prefer to discuss this instead of the previous topic, you are irritated that you have no useful information that could help complete this deal quickly. You shake your head "No. They attacked without warning."

A mocking chuckle escapes his pink lips "Did you really expect them to announce their attack? Maybe put a notice in the local newspaper as well?"

You scowl "Ha-ha", you react, completely unamused by his statement "Your lot, for example, isn't good when it comes to hiding their affairs," you state.

He leans forward, stapling his long fingers under his chin, and giving off an air of severe professor "Why do you think that is?"

"What?"

"Why do you think my people leave a trail of breadcrumbs for His followers to be clued in about my plans?" His lips curl in a sneer "My followers aren't idiots- far from it. Every single thing they do is a calculated move made by me. Up and including the attacks you, oh so luckily, found out about."

You feel like the sky fell on your head "You mean to tell me that you plan everything?"

The frown line between his arched eyebrows accentuates slightly at your surprised tone "Yes...? Doesn't my Father do the same?" He has his answer the moment he utters the question, your face displaying the negative response vividly "You mean to tell me, that all this time, I fought only against humans and the angels they summoned, not against my dear parent?" He shakes his head, anger blooming inside him at this information as he slowly fists his hands on the table.

You watch, shocked, as a vase near the entrance simply explodes in a million tiny pieces. You know that the man is to blame since his eyes flash a crimson red. While the other customers yelp in fear at what happened, your hands jump on his clenched ones to squeeze them lightly, as you always did when one of your brethren was upset.

Everything seems to stop suddenly as his gaze shifts back to normal, and he focuses on your small hands on his. Gingerly, he lifts his dark-as-sin eyes to yours and sees, to his bewilderment, concern mingled with an ounce of annoyance.

"You will give yourself away, Manuel", you whisper through gritted teeth.

He regards you for a few more moments before turning to the scared people "Don't worry. It was just an evil spirit. Our presence made it leave its vessel in a haste", he smoothly lies and waves off the many thanks that come his way. He turns his attention back to you "You must be aware that this revelation is most upsetting for me, little lamb. My own Father didn't deign me worthy to be his opponent in this millennia-old battle! He sacrificed humans like pawns without guiding them!"

You pause, a tad surprised that he seems, dare you say, bothered that humans died "Why are you upset? You fell because you hated humans", you state, confused by his tone.

Dark as night eyes focus on you "I told you that the Bible is a badly written piece of fiction. I didn't fall because I hated humans", he declares solemnly, but doesn't deign to elaborate further, which makes you question his statement.

"Uh-huh", you slowly realize that your hands still rest on his, and you pull them away as burned, choosing to ignore how soft they are "The green runes are odd. Do you know what they mean?"

His intense eyes study you, and, for a second, you think that he didn't even hear your question, but his deep voice erases that notion "I never saw them before. Not even when I was an angel", he drums his long fingers on the tabletop "Which is strange, to say the least. The power they wield isn't new", he waves his hand airily at your inquisitive gaze "It felt ancient."

You nod slowly, and a thought crosses your mind "If it wasn't for my desperate faith, as you put it, would you have been able to win against them?"

He sips his wine "Yes, but I can't guarantee that I would have done so unscratched. They attack like a pack. You can imagine that it isn't ideal to fight many opponents at once."

"Your followers do the same."

He smirks "Exactly."

You huff "What will we do? How do we find out who is responsible for the massacre?"

He takes a deep breath and, for all intents and purposes, looks like he sucked on a lemon "We need to go to Mount Zion."

Confusion strikes you "Why do you want to go to the site of the Last Supper?"

His arched eyebrows slowly ascend his forehead "Because the entrance to my dear Father's kingdom is there...?" Your jaw clatters to the floor in shock while he continues "As much as it pains me, we need to ask Him about these erratic individuals, and I have a bone to pick with him regarding his battle conduit."

Your eyes simply shine "We... will... meet... God?!" You ask breathlessly, utterly starstruck.

He looks at you unimpressed, even a tad irritated that you focused on that part "Yes. He will be delighted to see you, I'm sure. The very one that renounced him and summoned me" he says with a wide wicked grin.

You pale "I can't go! I can't face Him after w-what I did" you stutter distressed.

He stares at you impassively "Very well. If you won't come with me, this deal will become null and void", he declares nonchalantly.

You grit your teeth "That isn't fair!" You hiss under your breath.

"Life isn't fair", he replies, and, again, something flashes in his eyes like a long-forgotten memory briefly emerging from the shadows of his mind.

You take deep breaths to center yourself, hating him and the fact that you can't pray for strength anymore "Fine."

"Fine? Fine what, little lamb?"

You shoot him a dark glare "I will come with you to Mount Zion."

He smirks, and takes his wine glass, saluting you "Perfect."

Chapter Text

You grind your teeth, watching how people flock to Manuel. How can they be so taken with him?! You never saw people gather in such big numbers for the priests you had the pleasure of working with. And yet, here they are going to God's enemy like he is a beacon of light.

You glare, annoyed that he is smiling and giving his blessing to clueless parishioners instead of walking away so you can go to Mount Zion. You sigh. You barely made it a few blocks, and even in that distance, you didn't have the opportunity to ask him how you would reach Jerusalem.

You tap your foot, impatient with your travel companion. He's been holding court for the past half an hour. You huff and whirl around on your heels. Without hesitation or a backward glance, you storm away.

You contemplate whether it wouldn't have been better if you had died instead of summoning Lucifer. Your train of thought is quickly nipped in the bud, anger flooding you when you remember the animals that killed your brethren.

"Mmpf!" You squeak when a heavy hand comes over your mouth, a strong figure dragging you into a dark alley.

You quickly step on your assailant's foot and elbow them hard in the ribs, effectively distracting them enough to dislodge yourself from their hold.

You turn, fists balled, and you pale when you see a dozen men, their faces twisted with wicked smirks that send chills down your spine. You are fully aware that a band of miscreants came into town, doing nefarious deeds that are far from legal or moral. Your church actually planned to search for them again and take care of them the very day the attack happened. But you never thought that you were a target for them. Apparently, you were wrong.

You swallow hard, instinctively moving to grab your cross and coming empty-handed since it's hidden from view. You do not pray for help, knowing that God will only punish you for daring to turn yet again to Him after summoning His child.

"Well, well, feisty, aren't cha?" The man who pulled you into the alley says, spreading his arms theatrically "Well, chicky, you were lookin' for us. Do your worst! What will you do, huh? Pray for my eternal soul?" He asks sardonically, clearly aware that your church passionately advocates first for the peaceful course of action.

He grins "You can't do anything!"

"But I can", the deep accented voice reverberates in the alley, and you turn to see Manuel leaning casually against the wall.

How did he know where you were?!

He straightens, strolling toward you, his steps ringing deafeningly. It's evident that he is doing something, because your assailants cower, trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

Dark eyes focus on the ringleader, a devilish smirk blooming on the tall man's face "Tsk. Murder, sexual assault, stealing... you were a busy boy, weren't you?" He leans forward just slightly, his grin widening "Why don't you drop dead?"

As if his question was actually an order, the man crumbles to the ground lifeless, his eyes staring into the distance unfocused.

You watch the sight in shock while the other men start running like headless chickens, trying to get as far away as they can from Manuel.

"Oh, no, no, no~. We can't have that", the false priest utters in a sing-song voice, and your other assailants meet the floor with a loud thud, dead as their leader.

"W-what did you do?" You stutter.

He looks down at you, an arched eyebrow poised up, surely wondering if you aren’t blind "Helping you... yet again, might I add. Don't stray away from me next time."

"You killed them!" You hiss.

He crosses his arms "Do you have any idea how many sins they committed? How many people they murdered in cold blood?"

"Everyone deserves a chance at redemption!"

He scoffs, his ire rising "Is this what God told you?"

"Yes!"

"Then why didn't He give me one?!" He roars, looking every bit like the devil you met in church, only in human size.

You take a step back, frightened by the sight, not daring to say anything further.

He notices how terrified you are and shifts back to his human form "Stop praising Him for things he doesn't do. All the sinners you naively thought were redeemed are in my kingdom. God isn't merciful, little lamb."

You look away, the information throwing you off center. Is he telling the truth? Did you spend so many years trying to bring stray souls back to the path of righteousness just for all your work to be in vain?

"You are lying", you try to say defiantly, but it comes off as a feeble attempt at best.

"You know I am not", he utters solemnly before moving past you "Let's go, little lamb."

You follow him, your mind in a jumble as you ponder his declaration.

After a while, he shakes his head lightly "I do hope that you won't walk into trouble again. I have no desire to be your knight in shining armor", he pauses briefly "Weren't you taught how to fight? I thought you lot knew how to defend yourselves."

You are certain that your teeth will be damaged from how hard you are clenching your jaw "I know Light defense and attacks, Manuel", you put strain on his name, making it sound like a derogatory term.

He looks down at you, amused, if anything, by your angry chihuahua attitude. He waves his hand, and instantly, a black covered book appears in his palm.

He hands it to you, and for a brief moment, you think it's the Bible. You open it and are greeted by His runes.

"What is this?" You hiss, offended by what you see.

"A book for you to study my fighting style."

If your glare were a punch, he would be dead. In your fantasy, at least.

"I can't read them", you inform him, trying to push the book back into his hands.

You yelp when one of his large hands comes over your eyes. You groan when a stinging pain overcomes your eyes.

You try to wriggle free, and he doesn't protest, allowing you to step back.

"What was that for?!" You growl, pissed beyond belief.

He focuses on you with an odd expression, as if he prefers this side of you - feisty instead of demure and afraid.

"Look in the book", he utters calmly.

Confused and partly curious, you open it yet again, and instead of cryptic runes, you see words forming complete sentences.

He pats your head and resumes walking "Now you only need to learn. You can do that, can't you?"

You are close to throwing the book at his head "I refuse", you reply, catching up to him.

He shrugs. Although in his deep brown eyes, annoyance swims.

"Suit yourself. I won't save you again."

"Then, if I die, you go back to Hell."

He doesn't falter in his stride "If you die. You can be tortured, for example, and I won't interfere."

You hate him. You really do.

"How will we get to Jerusalem?" You inquire, changing the subject "Do you perchance have some wings tucked somewhere?"

His jaw ticks, before a wicked grin blooms on his face "Please correct me if I am mistaken, but aren't there planes that can take us there?"

"It will take over 10 hours!"

One of his elegant eyebrows goes up "Are you in a hurry?" He questions almost mockingly.

You huff "Weren't you eager to have a talk with your Father?"

His eyes flash, but he quickly waves dismissively "It can wait."

It is official, you hate his guts.

Chapter Text

You grip the armrests like your life depends on it – which, technically, it does.

Ohdearohdearohdeartheplaneismoving-!

"Afraid of take-offs?" He asks from next to you with an amused tilt to his baritone voice.

"Shut up", you hiss, not even deigning to open your eyes to look at his smug face.

He hums, and suddenly, you feel his hand on your head. As if by magic, your anxiety begins to fade as his thumb gently strokes your forehead.

Your eyelids snap open and you quickly glare at him "What are you doing?"

He retracts his hand and gets more comfortable in his seat "You do realize that my dear parent resides in Heaven, yes? Which is beyond the clouds?" He states close to monosyllabically, as if your brain was underdeveloped and you couldn't understand if he spoke normally.

If your gaze could throw daggers at him, he would be decked with them "What of it?"

He narrows his eyes "How do you plan to reach it if you are afraid of heights?"

"I will close my eyes until we reach it", you retort defiantly, aware that he has a point but fully refusing to give in.

He stares at you impassively, blinking slowly "I refuse to believe that you are that stupid", he averts his gaze and looks ahead "Stop playing dumb, it's unattractive."

You roll your eyes "Because I am so very keen on being perceived as attractive by you", you retort sarcastically.

"I wasn't referring to myself, but to men in general", he replies shortly.

You point to your clothes "I am a priestess. Men don't interest me."

A hint of humor shines in his dark eyes "Oh? Do you swing the other way? Are women more up your alley?" He asks, fully aware of the truth, inquiring just to ruffle your feathers.

You repeat to yourself that violence is not the answer – it’s becoming your mantra in his presence.

You narrow your eyes at him "That's none of your business."

He staples his fingers as if in prayer - the bastard "It actually is. Lust is a powerful tool."

A scoff escapes you "Lust never afflicted me."

His arched eyebrows jump on his forehead "Didn't it? Ever?" He replies doubtfully.

You pause to consider his question and, the more you do, the more convinced you are that ‘lust’ has never flowed through your veins. You've observed it in many people, including those who claimed to be devoted followers of His- hypocrites. But you’ve truly never experienced it.

You shake your head "No."

"I find that hard to believe."

You pull out the book he gave you, might as well learn to defend yourself at least "I thought we’d established that I don't care what your opinion of me is."

He drags a lone finger over his lips, watching you as you read his book "Are you angry with me for challenging your beliefs?"

You close your eyes tightly, taking a few deep breaths and reminding yourself that you can't hurt him despite how much you want to "My faith is unwavering."

The bored expression on his face tells you that he sees right through you "Do you really believe what you sputter? Because I know that you don't."

You grind your teeth "You don't know the first thing about me!"

He sighs and rubs his eyes like a parent tired of their child's tantrum "Little lamb, did you forget who I am? I can see sins- and you, my dear, covet."

"What?" You answer confused.

A smirk worthy of his true nature twists his lips "Your eyes linger, your heart yearns~", he says in a singsong tone.

For a brief moment, the air remains trapped in your lungs. He is right, though you are loathe to admit it to him. Every single time you saw a happy family pass you down the street or in the park, your eyes would linger. But isn’t that normal for orphans? To yearn for a family of their own?

"And let me tell you, self-stimulation is considered a sin by my Father", he adds oh-so smug. You pale and quickly avert your gaze, refusing to acknowledge his allegations. He chuckles "Hide your pretty eyes all you want, little lamb. The truth hovers above your head like a neon sign."

You bite your inner cheek, nearly drawing blood, annoyed that his words shake your faith. However, you can't help but feel like there is an ounce of truth to everything he says.

You divert your focus and begin reading his book, quickly becoming absorbed in it and the incantations listed.

Something or someone shakes you awake lightly, and your eyelids snap open instantly, looking around frantically. When you see the man gazing down at you with a serene expression, your mood sours.

"What?"

"The plane’s landed", he waves around to the empty seats "We are the last ones. Do you want to remain here or...?"

You huff and discard the blanket. Wait... you didn't have it on you when you fell asleep. Maybe the stewardess put it on you when she saw you sleeping- you know the devil didn’t.

"Are we finally in Jerusalem? Thank G-", you stop yourself and a flicker of a smile appears on his face.

"You are finally learning. Good girl. Come along."

Without further ado, he spins on his heels and marches out of the plane, leaving you to scramble after him. You rush and curse his long legs, but you absolutely refuse to ask him to slow down.

Perhaps he realized that you can't keep up with him, or maybe he's just trying to irritate you more by stopping to look at a Duty-Free shop window.

"So? How are we getting to Mount Zion?" You inquire not at all breathless from your impromptu jog.

He throws you a brief look before resuming his stroll out of the airport "Maybe I will catapult you there", he answers flippantly, opening the door to a taxi and looking at you expectantly.

"Ha-ha", you snarl unamused, entering the cab.

He closes the door and slides into the passenger seat "קחו אותנו להר ציון. במהירות. (Take us to Mount Zion. Posthaste.)"

Of course he can speak Hebrew, you think annoyed.

Your jaw clatters to the floor when he pulls a stack of money from his cassock, and the driver has a reaction similar to yours. The only difference is that he recovers faster, takes the money without a word, and starts driving at top speed, making you dig around for the seat belt.

"Is he trying to kill us?!" You are close to shouting when the driver passes a red light.

Your 'dear' companion is utterly unfazed by the tremor in your voice or by the reckless driving.

"Not at all. I told him that if he gets us there in less than 30 minutes, I will give him double."

"Are you mad?!"

His onyx eyes glance at you and an insolent smirk twists his lips "You just now notice?"

You grind your teeth "Make him drive like a normal person!" You demand when you hit your head on the ceiling after the car hits a bump in the road.

He twists toward you, looking at you from between the front seats - it seems he deemed the seat belt unnecessary while you cling to yours for dear life "Why don't you make him? You read the Coercion chapter in my book. Make him listen to you."

The ire bubbling inside you shines brightly in your eyes and, in a fit of madness, you grip the front of his cassock with one hand "You know that only works when the same language is spoken, you bastard! Tell him to stop!" You shout in his face.

He blinks slowly at you, then his eyes travel from your incensed gaze to your fingers fisting the front of his clothes. When you see this, you abruptly remember to whom you are actually talking, and dread fills you.

Gradually, he lifts his head, and his lips twist in a pleased smirk "Didn't you learn Hebrew, lamb?" He asks casually, your rage seemingly amusing him.

"No", you reply, quickly letting go of the cassock and trying to make yourself small in the back seat lest he becomes enraged at you.

"No, no, no~", he tuts in a sing-song voice "Don't let fear guide you. Let that anger out, little lamb. You are utterly boring when you are like this", he says indicating your docile figure.

You don't reply, focusing instead on the window and the speeding landscape.

He rolls his eyes and shifts back in his seat. He says something in Hebrew and the driver slows down a tad.

"Thank you", you mumble after a beat.

A hum is your answer, and then silence until you reach the base of the mountain. To your bewilderment, he hands the taxi driver another stack of money even though it took you more than 30 minutes to arrive.

Once you step out of the cab, you refrain from mentioning how nice it was of him to do that. Who knows what he would do if you did bring it up?

You look up at the mountain "Now what?"

"Didn't I tell you?"

You look at him unimpressed and then puzzled when he grabs your arm and maneuvers you in front of him. You jump startled when bat-like wings sprout from his back, extending until their full length is revealed.

"You actually have wings?!"

He stands to his full height and crosses his arms "Did you already forget that I was a seraphim?"

You glare at him "If you have wings, then why did we take the plane?" You needle.

"Why should I fly all the way here and tire myself?"

You narrow your eyes, his retort sounding false "You are lying", a frown appears on his face, but there's a flicker in his gaze that you saw many, many times "Are you scared of Him?"

He scoffs "Me? Scared? Did you forget who I am once again, little lamb?"

"No, but I also didn't forget who your Father is."

He grinds his teeth, and you grimace when his strong hand cups your chin almost painfully "You should keep in mind that I am far from benevolent. Don't anger me, or I will make you regret ever being born", he hisses, his tone alone making you shiver in fear.

He releases you and your yelp falls on deaf ears when he picks you up and bats his huge wings.

You cling to him, terrified as the ground gets farther and farther away "Oh G- dear!" You shout, burying your head in his simar.

"Dear? Yes, you may call me that" Normally you’d get mad at his quip, but you are far too scared to react.

Finally- after what feels like hours but truly were just a few minutes - he lands and releases you unceremoniously. You fall on a soft surface and, when you open your eyes, you see that you are on a cloud.

Your eyes dart around, taking in the tranquil scenery and stop at the massive gold gates "Is that...?"

"Heaven's gate", he answers, retracting his wings and gazing at the gold structure with narrowed eyes "That's odd."

You get on your feet and shift your attention to him "What is?"

One of his arched eyebrows climbs his forehead as he looks at you, "The gate is open", he states plainly, his tone contemptuous at your lack of perceptiveness.

You focus on it again and, sure enough, it's wide open "Wait, isn't St. Peter supposed to be here?"

He walks past you toward it "Indeed."

You rush after him on wobbly feet- the fluffy floor was clearly not made with strolls in mind. In your struggle to stay upright, you fail to notice when he stops, so you bump into his back.

"Sorry", you mumble, but he doesn't reply.

With a frown, you peek from behind him to see what has rendered him mute all of a sudden. You feel the blood leaving your face when you see a river of gold blood and a gigantic number of angels slaughtered. But that isn't the most terrifying sight: there, right in front of you, in the middle of it all, is the figure of a man as old as time itself with long gray hair matted with sweat and blood. The lines of His face carry the wisdom of eons, but that is overshadowed by the vivid fresh bruises. His figure would look majestic if it weren't chained in heavy shackles and battered. You needn't ask who the broken man is - even in this horrible state, His status is as undeniable as the sun and moon: God.

Naively, you refuse to believe it. It can't be, surely. The most powerful being in existence can't be in this state, can He? Subconsciously, a thought occurs to you: why does He look so… human? Even when Manuel first appeared, he had a different form. Wouldn’t God be a being of light or something? Why does He look like this and, more importantly, who was strong enough to beat up God Himself?!

Slowly, you turn and look up at His son to voice this very thought. While his face has settled into a perfect poker face, his dark eyes betrayed his stupor. It seems that he is as shocked as you.

"M-Manuel?"

His gaze flickers to you before focusing back on his father "This is very, very wrong."

A shiver goes down your spine at his tone, the shock and disbelief palpable in his accented voice.

A sudden shift in the air sends a jolt through your entire being. Though silent and unseen, the sense of being hunted grips your very soul as if a fierce predator was lurking in the shadows, its piercing gaze fixed on you. A primal fear ignites in you, pulsing through your veins and making you nervous.

"What do we have here?"

Both your head and Manuel’s snap toward the speaker. A wave of crushing nausea floods you as your heart starts pounding wildly with terror at the staggering sight before you.