About 6 weeks ago Snarkymuch and I sat down and plotted out a third story for the Samifer Heaven and Hell series. We got off to a great start and words came together well. Things recently took a turn, and I have since finished the story alone. All scenes written by Snarkymuch have been removed, so the story you read is written by me alone, even if the outline came from shared ideas.

Jenjoremy signed up to beta this for me – she's a real glutton for punishment – and Gredelina1 was in invaluable help with this.

Thank you for joining me on another story, I hope you enjoy…


Prologue

'And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain – probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata near where my subconscious dwells – comes the thought: He's here to see you.'

Metatron threw the book into the fireplace, disgusted. "Fifty Shades of Drivel! How is this a bestseller?" he asked the empty room. Human creation was incredible. Some of the books he had read over the years were awe-inspiring, but this was not one of them. The only thing outstanding about this story was the horrific abuse of adjectives.

He picked up an old favorite from the side table and opened to a random page. He was quickly lost in the story of following Oliver Twist's various misfortunes. This had been written when stories were good, in the time of Dickens, Twain, and the like. It seemed human's ability to weave tales had degraded over the years, particularly over the last decade.

He was peacefully occupied when he felt a second presence in the room. It was unusual for anyone to visit him here, the deliveries of books were left outside the door, and that was how he liked it. He was a very private individual, at first by necessity, and now by choice.

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. There was a demon standing opposite him. He managed to control his reaction well enough that the demon shouldn't have noticed, but he thought there was a smug look in its eyes. Behind the human visage, the rotted mess that denoted what the demon truly was flickered. Metatron felt slightly disgusted at the sight.

"May I help you," he asked with aplomb.

"Name's Crowley," the demon said. "Perhaps you've heard of me."

"No," Metatron replied flatly.

"No, I guess you wouldn't have," Crowley amended. "What with you being in solitary and all. Well, I'm King of Hell."

"And you're here because…?" he allowed the question to trail into the air.

"Because I thought, given that you're a little out of touch, that you'd like a heads-up on what's happening in the world."

"You were wrong," he replied. "I live a solitary life out of choice." That wasn't entirely true. He lived it because the opposite was to be among the other angels and to have his mind pilfered to satisfy the archangels. He was not going to confess that to the demon though, the so-called King.

"See, I've been thinking," Crowley went on without invitation. "If you've been tucked away in here, you're unaware of what Lucifer has been up to."

The name worked like an electric shock for Metatron, sparking through his grace. "Lucifer is trapped," he said.

"Was trapped," Crowley corrected.

"He's free!"

"Yep and he's currently living it up with his Winchester."

"What's a Winchester?" Metatron asked.

"A denim-clad nightmare," Crowley said. "There are two of them, brothers, and they're hunters. One of them is Lucifer's current squeeze. Well, that's probably playing it down a little. He's apparently the love of Lucifer's life. Sam's his name—right pain in the arse. Anyway, now Lucifer is free and living it up with Sam, and that's where I thought you would like to be caught up. Lucifer is back in Heaven with Gabriel, and they're running a neat show up there."

"Lucifer is in Heaven!" Metatron's voice was strained with anger. Lucifer was part of the reason he had fled Heaven, had lost his home and father, and now Lucifer was back there among the angels. And he had a human lover. How could that be?

"Yep," Crowley said with satisfaction. "He's nice and settled up there."

"How is this possible?" Metatron asked.

"Long story. Short version: Lucifer got out of the cage and fell in love with Sam. Raphael and Michael went to war and are now both dead. Lucifer has been welcomed back into the fold." His voice became cunning. "And there's you, here, left out in the cold as it were."

Metatron's anger spiked. It was beyond unfair; it was wrong and cruel. He, who had sacrificed everything, was here, alone, and Lucifer, who had destroyed everything, was back in Heaven. He wished he could kill him. He wished he had the power to hurt an archangel.

"See, now you're getting it," Crowley said, seeing his fisted hands. "And I was thinking to myself, who has more cause to avenge himself upon them than you?"

Metatron narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

Crowley smiled. "I was thinking, since you wrote the God tablets and all, that you might have a trick or two up your sleeve for dealing with them."

"I cannot kill an archangel," Metatron said, though he wished the opposite.

Crowley looked disappointed, but he quickly rallied. "No? But I'd bet you've got some other way to make them pay, right?"

Metatron considered. "Yes," he said slowly. "I might."

Crowley clapped his hands together. "Brilliant. Let's talk revenge…"


So… To quote Jenjoremy's words, Crowley is a real bottom feeder. He is, but I adore his character regardless. He has an important role to play in this story, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy reading him as much as I did writing him.

Sam is going to travel a very different path in this story to anything I have written before. Brace yourselves for some angst.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx