The Lies We Tell
Chapter 11: The World Upstairs
Written by RippleInThePond
Lyriel opened her eyes, expecting to see a drabby hotel room as she woke from her dream. However, she found herself outside of a cabin in a deserted area, curled up under a blanket in a porch swing. Her eyes opened just in time to see a car pull up the driveway. When it came to a stop, Chuck stepped out of the car in a white three-piece suit and waved to Lyriel. As he walked up, she timidly waved back.
"You know, it has been a long time since you've dream walked. Last time, you came with a shrouded face." She stood up and hugged him. "So, why are you visiting my dream, father?" They sat down next to one another on the swing and she curled up next to him. "Lyriel, this isn't your father." She looked up at Chuck and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled and smiled, looking away. "I am an image created by your subconscious to remind you of a small detail before you forget it; before you fail to investigate."
He closed his eyes and rested his head on top of hers. "If your father didn't create the prophecy about Michael and Lucifer, who did?" He ran her fingers through her hair in a comfortable silence. The waves crashed on the shore as a bird somewhere fluttered through the trees, a joyful tune erupting. She jerked her head up right as he looked down at her sharply, his eyes black. The dream exploded into flames as Chuck morphed into Lucifer.
"You know, Lyriel, you were always a pain in the ass. The do-gooder that Father adored, but I can't believe that you think that Father didn't order our deaths. You're so blinded by your love for him."
"He didn't! He would never!" Astonishment shone in her eyes as she realized who it had to have been; there was only one person that it could have been if God did not order the apocalypse. She looked quickly up at Lucifer and opened her mouth to speak,but Lucifer jammed his hand into her chest and pain exploded in her chest as her sight started to fade away...
Lyriel jerked upright, her heart pounding with fear, her mouth open in a silent scream. She sat silent for a moment, fear gripping her heart like a vice, before feeling a hand on her shoulder. She yelped quietly and bolted off the bed, jamming her elbow on the nightstand next to the bed and falling the the floor. "Fuck, ow." She rubbed her elbow for a moment before peeking at the alarm clock, its bright green digits blinking 2:38. She looked up to see who had touched her shoulder.
Sam stood sleepily next to where she had been laying. After seeing her reaction, he rubbed his eyes to make himself more awake. He walked to the other side of the bed and kneeled in front of her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" He asked, concern laced in his voice. She nodded, "I'm fine. Just had a bad dream." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really, Sam, I'm jus―." Her eyes widened as she remembered her dream, the fear seeping into her eyes. She looked up at Sam. He smirked. "So, not fine?" He stood up and extended a hand. She grabbed it and he pulled her up.
As soon as she was standing, she raced over to her duffel bag and started shoving her belongings inside. Dean groaned from across the room before talking, his words slurred with sleep. "Why are you up? It's too early for this." He grabbed a pillow and shoved it on his face, falling back asleep. Lyriel snorted before turning to Sam.
"I don't have any explanations. I don't even know where I'm going yet, but I know how to end this bloody war." She looked Sam in the eye before groaning. "And you are still going after the colt. Great."
She picked up her bag and handed her key card to Sam. "If anyone decides to almost die, you better start praying. I won't be answering my phone." She opened the door and turned to look back at Sam. She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
She closed the door and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Lyriel took a deep breath before spreading her wings and flying to the heavens.
Sam stared at the door that had just shut, confusion clouding his senses. He numbly walked back to his bed and laid down, slowly drifting back to sleep. As soon as he was asleep, Dean slowly removed the pillow from his face and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. He would have never admitted it, but he was grateful for the outburst; he had been dreaming of hell.
He slowly sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. He stood up and walked to the door before slipping outside and sitting in the impala. He grabbed a beer and took a slow swig before hearing a flap of wings. He groaned. "Morning to you too, Cas." He made a toasting motion, but paused mid-way when he heard the angel speak.
"I am not your rainbow, gay angel." Dean jerked around and groaned as he saw Gabriel. "Get the hell out of my car, man." Gabriel shrugged. "No can do, man. You see, you and I need to have a little heart to heart. You see, Lyriel came up to me a little while ago and said something that really baffled me." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the tops of the front seats. "She told me that y'all have seen Daddy-O."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "God? She told you that we've seen God," Dean scoffed. "That, is hilarious." Gabriel went to grab one of Dean's beers and Dean swatted his hand away. He pouted and conjured a blue, fruity, alcoholic drink with an umbrella and took a sip. "I thought it was ridiculous too, but then I remembered something you told me. You met a prophet, right, Dean?" Dean nodded. "Yeah, Chuck." Gabriel sighed. "Chuck, Chuck, Chuckitty-Chuck. You wanna know something cool, Dean-O? Angels, we know all of the prophets. Their names, their appearances, even their birthday. So, I took a trip to visit Chuck at a very,very small book-signing." He took another swig of his drink. "He isn't Chuck." Dean looked at him shock. "Excuse me?"
"Again, that's what I thought. Then, I thought, how could he write these books if he isn't a prophet. That's when it hit me! Chuck is God! Next thing I knew, my memory changed, just a little bit. The image of Chuck I met became the actual Chuck Shurley. That is when I became sure." Gabriel smirked. "Thought you might want to know." Gabriel vanished, his drink dropping to the floor of the impala.
Dean glowered. "You asshole!"
Lyriel arrived in heaven and was immediately grabbed by angels. "Ah, Adonael! Long time no see." He glared at her. "Who are you? How are you trespassing in heaven?" He looked closer at her and his eyes widened. "What are you?"
"Sorry, no time to chat. Gotta fly!" Lyriel broke out of the angels' grasps and flew away, laughing at her own joke. She searched heaven for the presence of the archangel she wanted and flew to it. She arrived outside of the heaven of a 15 year old named Barbara who had been killed for homosexuality and walked inside. It was a large library, books as far as the eye could see. Barbara was at the far end, curled up with a book and a cup of what appeared to be tea. Michael and three angels were at a desk in a corner of the library. Michael stood as she walked in, a glimmer of fear entering his eyes before disappearing. He turned to the other three angels in the room. "Leave." "But, sir." "Leave." They nodded and flew away.
Lyriel walked forward and sat in a chair in front of the desk. "Long time no see, brother." Michael gulped and slowly sat back down. "Why are you here? How are you here? Lucifer should have killed you!" Lyriel stretched, resting her feet on the desk.
"Simply put, I am here for a chat. How I am here, that is another matter. I do know that Lucifer did not kill me, but I should have wasted away from lack of contact with heaven. I suppose that was a gift from Father; my grace is self-sustaining and stronger than it ever was while being dependent on heaven."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "I highly doubt that you are here for a mere chat." She smiled, her eyes cold. "Oh, but I am here for just a chat! You see, I found Father and he told me something very interesting. He did not write a prophesy nor did he order for your battle with Lucifer. That got me thinking. 'What could that possibly mean?' Then, I understood. Someone lied. Someone created a false prophecy. Someone that all of the angels trusted."
Michael stood sharply, anger in his expression. "You suspect me?" Lyriel snorted. "Come now, don't take me for a fool. You are and were too devoted to Father to commit an act like that. No, I don't believe that it's you." She calmly stood and then placed her hands on the desk, her eyes blazing with cold rage though her face was blank.
"Tell me, brother, where is Metatron?"
Raphael burst into the room, 5 angels trailing behind him. "Brother, I heard there was an int-." Raphael stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight of Lyriel before narrowing in anger. "You." She turned and looked at him. "Oh, look, the asinine angel has arrived!" Lyriel turned and looked back at Michael. "Maybe he can shed some light to the subject."
Lyriel threw Raphael into a chair without touching him, and the angels around him back away from Lyriel in fear as she walked towards Raphael. She turned and looked at them. "Leave." They scampered away and Lyriel turned to Raphael who was still securely in the chair. She threw her hand down and her angel blade came out. Raphael and Michael looked at it with disgust, shock, and anger.
Raphael shouted. "What have you done to your angel blade!? You have desecrated it." Lyriel looked at it in shock for a moment. It was no longer a blade of a typical angel. Thin silver veins decorated the handle over an opalescent hilt, the blade a silver so pale it could have been white.
Lyriel turned to Raphael. "You think that I made my blade look like this?" She snarled. "I haven't used my blade since you, my brothers that I loved and trusted, threw me from heaven to rot. My defense came from my grace and my own hands." She stalked towards Raphael until she stood in front of him and held the blade to his chest, kneeling over the chair. "You know, if I were too kill any of you, it would be you, Raphael. You went along with Lucifer's plot for kicks. Or, is it because it made you feel stronger than me?" She stabbed his leg and he screamed.
Michael looked at her in fear. "Who are you? You are… you are not Lyriel." She looked at Michael, the fire in her eyes cooling slightly. "I am Lyriel. I am what you created me to be. I watched nations rise and fall firsthand. I saw death, love, sadness, and joy. I experienced pain and loss more deeply than you could ever understand. I lost everything because of you. I fell in love, had a child, and you killed her because she was different — a nephilim. You threw me into a world that I could not possibly know how to live in, and I was forced to adapt. You expect me to be the same? How foolish of you." She pulled the blade out and Raphael yelped.
She laid a hand on his wound, her blade still in her other hand, and healed it. Her heart raced with fear, but not of them, but of herself. "I'm not a monster. I have changed, but I refuse to be a cold monster." Her eyes began to water and she fell to her knees. "I am merely trying to fix that which you have broken." She began to cry and she released Raphael, her hands shaking as she thought of what she had almost done out of hatred. She fell to the ground in front of Raphael, her head cradled in her hands. She numbly saw Raphael move and heard Michael scream for him to stop as he attacked . She felt the cold tip of his angel blade touch the base of her neck and she felt the world enter into slow motion as adrenaline overtook her senses.
She threw her hand up above her head, pushing arm away from her neck, before grasping his arm, pulling him towards her. She pushed her other hand to his chest, sending her grace into his chest. His grace burned hot and furious against hers. Carefully, she subdued it before sealing it so that it could only be accessed again once he had learned compassion. She sent him into Heaven's Maze, a long, twisted pathway that one could very easily get lost in.
She leaned her head against the seat of the chair, a gash on her neck slowly leaking blood. Tears continued to stream down her face as she felt Michael lay a hand on her neck and heal her wound. He wrapped an arm around her, wiping away her tears. "We can find him." She looked at him, confusion in her eyes. He squeezed her and then held her face in his hands and looked her straight in the eyes.
"Metatron. I know not why you need him, but we can find him."
A/N: Hey my pretties! I am so sorry about the long wait and I am sure that you want to strangle me. However, my pseudo plot bunnies are gone and you should (hopefully) get a chapter every other weekend. I am welcome to ideas and will try to squeeze them into the plot if I can. Constructive criticism and loving reviews are welcomed as well, but flames are terribly bad for self-esteem. Please review!