Showdown

He shunted his wings away the second Father appeared. Michael was smart enough to know that his plot against his brothers had backfired big time if Amenadiel had stopped time flat out and done a big enough job on Dad's favorite universe to draw Father's attention from whichever corner of the multiverse dear old Dad had set out. He might have had a shot at taking both Amenadiel and Samael, until his asshole of a twin had knocked Maze out.

Yes, for one moment, Michael thought that something might go his way.

Well, even he knew what happened when one made assumptions…

His brothers still had their wings held high and their feathers drawn tightly into blades. They were glaring more at him than they were at Dad.

Fair enough. Samael was probably worried about his pets in general and the miracle in particular. While she was immune to the Devil's powers, she was susceptible to most angelic gifts, including his own. She would remain as frozen as the rest of the humans around them until Father fixed it or Amenadiel snapped out of his spiral. Considering how idiotic his older brother could be, Michael bet that Father would snap his fingers and set it right first. And, for the record, he didn't hurt infants. Human spawn were beneath his consideration. He'd simply seized on Amenadiel's rampant fears about Chucky's opportunely-timed fever.

That was all.

Sucked that the only Nephilim any of them had heard of was as fragile as any other human infant, but that wasn't his fault. Menny should take that up with Father if he was so upset.

Michael swallowed hard and, out of the corner of his eye, kept track of both brothers' sharpened feathers. However, when the Almighty Presence was in the room, one had to give Him the most deference.

Father eyed all of them and shook his head. "I do hate it when you fight."

Samael opened his mouth to bitch when Father waved his hand, and Sam went blessedly silent.

"No, Samael, I don't want to hear arguments, and I already know about Uriel. How could I not? If you'd delivered your mother to Hell as asked, then your brother would be alive."

Michael didn't say a word and neither did Amenadiel even as Samael fumed. His twin tried to speak again, but he brought his hands to his throat and coughed as he tried to say a word. Even though he loathed Sam, Michael hoped his brother had enough sense to avoid reverting to rude hand gestures to convey his point to Father. It wouldn't net his twin anything in the end.

Defying Father never did.

"And you, Amenadiel, I can understand fatherly worries, but you have to take control of your phobias. My grandson won't grow up at all if you freeze time forever."

"I apologize, Dad. I don't know how to stop it."

Their father smiled, giving a beatific look to all of them, one that Amenadiel eased under and that literally ruffled Samael's feathers. Michael kept still. He was neither furious with Dad nor desperate for His attention. Granted, he'd embellished the truth when he'd told his idiot siblings that he had Father's ear. He hadn't communicated with Dad since at least the 1960s by human standards, but the Host always bought what he spun.

However, he was neither sibling, and he wanted to see how this would all play out and to see what his tantrum was about to cost him. Just, damn it, someone had to see for once that Samael was as he'd always been, that he was still the entitled brat who had torn their family apart, led Mother to her own damnation eventually, and ruined him.

Yet now most of the Host-even Remiel-were singing Sam's praises?

Unforgiveable.

So, he'd tried to break Sam's life. A lot. So what? Samael should be in Hell. It was his twin's damn (quite literally) job.

"Yes, well, if you give me a moment, Son, I'll be able to fix the universe you've frozen."

"You mean I didn't only freeze all of Los Angeles?" Amenadiel yelped.

Father laughed, and Michael wasn't sure what Yahweh gained by projecting a sitcom dad image, but He was married to that aesthetic for now between the fuzzy sweater, graying beard, and deep belly laugh. Michael would have asked who Dad was fooling, but Amenadiel was regarding him with such large, hopeful puppy eyes that Michael already had his answer. Then again, he wasn't surprised. His brother was the First Born and the current favorite if the rumors were true. Menny was the one so keenly aware now of fatherly duty and that he was made first in father's image.

Amenadiel was as easily manipulated to love Dad as Samael was to curse Him out.

Predictable, both his brothers, and Uriel would have hated that.

Not that Michael had ever cared much about Uriel, but his brother hadn't deserved what he'd gotten, not exactly. Idiot had gone too far and tried indirectly to kill a human-Sam's miracle no less-and that was an affront to all the Host stood for. However, sometimes Michael missed Uriel's company. Both of their gifts set off the bulk of the Host. Fear more so than patterns of course, but it was…if not friendship, then misery loving company in their semi-exile in the Silver City.

Blame that on Samael too.

"Yes, Son," Father continued, focusing on Amenadiel. "You were so worked up that all time has stopped in this realm. I couldn't have that, so I'll be happy to get it restarted. Perhaps stay around a bit if you need help you adjusting to fatherhood. I might know a few things about that."

And like clockwork, his moron of a twin brother did flip their father off or, at least, gave him the British equivalent (as if that weren't the most insane affectation) of his forefinger and middle finger making a reverse V.

Father narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Oh, Samael, you don't want to start off this way."

His brother's eyes flared red, but at least the Devil opted away from any rude hand gestures this time. Well, more of them.

"How aren't you happy? I've been rooting quite hard for you and my gift. Do you not like Chloe? Is there something I can change there?"

Samael shook his head vehemently and tried to speak again, although all his brother managed to do was gasp.

Michael admitted that Father's question turned something even in his stomach. He and Chloe Decker did not get along. He'd tried to fool her, she'd shot him four times (waste of bullets honestly), and then she'd hated the zoo accommodations for the day, but there was a spirit in her-a bravery-that even Michael admired. The thought of Dad just snapping his fingers and changing all that Chloe was on a whim was disturbing. It reinforced how, at the end of the day, all of them-Celestial and human alike-were either tools or playthings at Father's discretion.

Father eyed Amenadiel again. "And you? Is there something about Charlie's mother you'd like tweaked? She's awfully short, isn't she? Maybe make her a little younger? You have such a short amount of time with mortal life spans involved. I can fix that."

Amenadiel showed the first sign of a backbone when he shook his head. Keeping his eyes low and making his supplication obvious, the First Born spoke. "Father, some would say that's a generous offer, but I like Linda exactly as she is."

Father shrugged. "I was merely offering. You two have been blessed with such charming companions. Don't forget who allows that." Finally, he turned his attention to Michael, and he felt his throat go dry. "And you, my former Sword…" Father chuckled to himself. "Although, I suppose that was eons ago, wasn't it?"

Michael did not miss how Dad's eyes both raked over his slouched posture and then focused in on Samael before turning back to him. "Michael, you've made so much trouble here for your brothers, and I do not appreciate you pushing Amenadiel until he froze the universe."

Honestly, Michael had just been going for Los Angeles at most. He had no idea that Amenadiel was capable of such a feat, and he suspected that their father hadn't realized the extent of the First Born's power either. Interesting. Michael wondered if Dad knew how much self-actualization could do to His children. If what he'd read of his twin was true-if how Samael could make himself look and be to survive millennia in Hell had actually happened-then Michael wagered Father had no idea how much their odd peculiarity could warp them.

He filed that away for later. It might be useful someday.

Michael then answered, "Father, I understand, and I just needed the Silver City to realize that Samael has not reformed, that because he did one thing to protect his pet Chloe, …he's still everything he ever was. Just as selfish and broken."

Samael still could not speak, but he did point at Michael and roll his eyes.

Michael interpreted that as You're one to talk.

True enough, but Michael had never hidden his brokenness. Since the Fall and Rebellion, it had been on full display for all to see.

"Yes, well, this has been less than ideal for me. I had no intention of having to interfere, but your manipulation of Amenadiel has forced my hand. Besides, Samael's sentence is still between him and me." Father concentrated harder on him, and Michael felt as if they were the only two beings in creation at that moment. "Unless you'd rather discuss your own sentence, which I think we need to do."

"Father, really-"

Michael wasn't even sure what tactic he was going to try or which words would keep his father from smiting him where he stood. However, he didn't get to finish his sentence when an oddly familiar voice rang out in the precinct:

"Holy cow! What the heck is going on?"

All four of them turned to see Ella Lopez, decked out in Peanuts pajama pants and a long yellow t-shirt, staring at them. Her attention was focused most prominently on Samael's wings, and Michael frowned at her. Something was wrong with her, something very different than any human he'd met, and how had he not noticed it when he'd been around her before? She'd seemed too naïve and child-like to be of use in his plans. Like Chucky and Trixie, she was someone a bit too innocent to sully. However, if she were able to move around freely despite his brother's power and wasn't a babbling, incoherent mess at the sight of the First Born and the Lightbringer's wings, then something was very different about Ella Lopez.

Something utterly inhuman.

Father waved a hand, and Sam coughed, now able to speak again. Samael took a step forward, but he did not retract his wings in their Father's presence. Then, his twin held up his hands toward Ella.

"Miss Lopez, I suppose I should explain what's going on here, though to be rather fair, I think you owe one as well."

Ella blinked between all of them from the wings to Father and, mostly, as she did a ping pong routine with her neck between Sam's face and his own. "You're not a method actor?"

Sam offered her a small smile. "No, I'm afraid not."

Michael shrugged. "On the bright side, at least Sam's not delusional or a terrible actor. I mean, what? You've been watching him for three or so years, trying and get that Devil part, and that show Diablo had a way crappier devil for a while."

Ella blinked between all of them. "So Amenadiel-"

His eldest brother nodded. "Yes, Ella. I…can you explain how you got here?"

She nodded so hard that Michael legitimately feared she might sprain her neck with her enthusiasm. "Totally! I forgot my best pair of headphones here. I wanted to rest at home with my favorite books on audio and some podcasts… you know, heal up?"

Michael frowned at that. He'd been busy staging his plans and stealing the miracle. If something had happened to Ella Lopez-not that it concerned him-but anything like that had escaped his notice. Of course, now that she mentioned "healing," Michael took note of the ring of purple discoloration around her throat, but those had to be a week or more old, didn't they?

Sam glared at Father as if daring Him to stop him, and then he stepped lithely across the floor to sweep Ella up in a hug. "I…of course, that makes more than enough sense. I should have…if all Hell hadn't broken loose, I'd have called you and asked if you had need of anything."

Ella nodded against his chest and, despite everything, she reached out and stroked the nearest primary she could reach. It twitched a little and she gasped. "Holy crap. It's warm."

Samael sighed and stepped back. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Is it glowing?"

"A bit."

Michael rolled his eyes. Oh yes, the Lightbringer and his perfect, still blessed wings. What a tool his brother was. Seriously.

Ella sniffled a little and gave Amenadiel a quick hug as well but didn't touch his wing. "I got on the elevator and everything was normal. I try and get off and the door is like stuck half way open. I was able to shimmy through, and when I do? Poof! It's all frozen…I mean even the clocks aren't working!"

Father stared intently at her but hadn't yet addressed Ella. "Yes, well, that would be my son's fault."

Ella blinked and looked directly at Father. "What?"

Dad didn't move closer to her but studied her with a furrowed brow. "How interesting. What are you, Miss Lopez? You're not one of mine."

She stumbled a little then, and Michael couldn't explain why as he was hardly one for chivalry, but he was the one who lurched forward to keep the (well not exactly) human from stumbling. Ella ended up in his arms but stilled as she regarded him, her body stiffening at the sight of his scarred face.

Oh thank you so much, Samael.

"I…if you're Lucifer and Amenadiel's dad then…"

"Yes, I am the Alpha and Omega, Miss Lopez, but what I can't quite discern is who you are. I can't say I am pleased by it."

She blinked, and Michael steadied her. It cut oddly to see her tear up. If he were completely honest with himself-and he would never be with his brothers-it hit him a bit like Chucky's wailing in the pediatric ward. He didn't necessarily want small, fragile creatures to suffer. He would take advantage of it, if needed, but he wasn't a fan of it. It wasn't the way he got his kicks. While he'd only worked with Ella for a week or so, he knew enough about Sam's Miss Lopez to know that she was a devout Catholic, and that she'd devoted most of her adult life to his father.

Ouch.

Such a load of devotion to be misplaced; Michael would know.

However, Father's rejection and downright suspicion of whatever Ella was clearly had gutted her. Michael didn't even need his gifts to understand that.

"I don't understand," Ella croaked.

Michael helped her stand straight and backed away slowly with his hands held up. His twin took his place at Ella's side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as well as his right wing. And didn't that just burn? How utterly perfect that one was.

"Miss Lopez, I suppose you've noticed but maybe not understood. My brother's ability to freeze time only affects humans. Demons and Celestials are immune. If Mazikeen were conscious, she'd be up and moving too. Most angelic gifts only work to a certain degree, and often not at all on beings that are more than human-angels, demons, the Endless, gods of other pantheons…all of those come to mind."

She blinked between all of them. "I'm really confused. Let me try this again. I was almost murdered by a serial killer yesterday, I was super tired so I must have dozed off, and now I'm having a weird and kind of very Wizard of Oz nightmare with 'and you were there and you were there' right now. I mean, you're not really the Devil and Amenadiel isn't an angel and I'm not apparently being rejected by the Big Guy."

Her voice wavered on that last part, and Samael gripped her closer.

Michael frowned. "Okay, so do humans get brownie points or something for how well they deny reality because, chica, I hate to tell you, this is all real. Oh, and sorry about that serial killer thing. That sounds like a bitch."

And it explained the neck bruises a fuck ton more.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who even are you?"

He rolled his eyes and gave her a stiff, shallow bow. "The archangel Michael, not exactly at your service, but nice to re-meet you."

She blinked. "Huh? I think I'd have remembered dealing with you before."

Sam shook his head. "He has a bit of a Parent Trap approach to my life. Michael took my place whilst I was in Hell recently. You must have worked a case or two together under his false pretenses."

Michael nodded. "You hit me with your shoe and, well, there was that whole space station case. That was me. It was a 'ships passing in the night' kind of thing."

"Now that's a thought," Father said, looking between her and him. "Actually, that solves two of my problems at once."

Michael frowned. "I don't think I follow." And, honestly, considering the whole vibe his father was giving off and the general wrath of it all, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Samael flared his wings wide, as if those could affect the Almighty Presence worth a damn. "Father, I don't want you messing with any of my friends. In fact, if you could just restart time and go back to whichever part of the multiverse you've fucked off to, that would be preferable."

Ella's eyes widened comically and she slapped-actually slapped-the Devil's arm, even though she knew full well what he was now. "Dude, you can't just curse at the Big Guy!"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Amenadiel lamented.

"No, my prodigal son has never learned to cut his losses," Dad replied. "However, I would like to start time again and get on with my work."

"Away from us," Amenadiel said, and it was somewhat pathetic and perhaps maybe a bit sad to hear the First Born so wounded. Like most of the Host, his brother still wanted Father's affection. Perhaps it was something he had in common with his twin, besides mostly their looks and the Demiurgic power they shared between them. Michael was pretty sure that, after the Fall, his twin, had stopped hoping for Father's affection as well. "You can stay if you want to see Charlie. I…I'm sure Linda would love to meet you."

Michael wanted to snort at that. He figured Dad had little time for mortals and Amenadiel's very human, very banal family wouldn't interest Father in the least. But, again, the eldest had always been such a Daddy's boy. More's the pity that hadn't changed.

"No, Son, I don't have the time."

"And a shocker," Samael said.

Michael said nothing. It was naïve, but he was hopeful that if he just said nothing his father would forget to punish him, not that Dad had ever forgotten to do that before.

The Almighty Presence pointed at Ella and gestured for her to step forward. Sam gripped her tighter and re-wrapped his wing around her. "Ella Lopez, I want to see you more closely."

"Really, Dad, you've come all this way from wherever to harass mortals? How tiresome. At least Mum had a bit more machinations in her games," Samael huffed.

"I won't ask again," Father said, the faux cheeriness of His tone beginning to slip. That wasn't surprising. Father's will be done and all that. "Now, Ella, please do as I ask."

Samael finally relinquished his grip but only after Amenadiel touched his shoulder and nodded for him to comply. For the best. Knowing Father's lack of patience, Sam was already skating on thin ice for leaving Hell again. , Michael figured that He could do far worse to the Devil than He already had. Sure, Sam's face was parboiled, but there were worse things than just being extra crispy.

Ella stepped forward, and she really was so tiny. Her massive, sunny yellow t-shirt swam on her, and Michael studied her with intense curiosity. After all, she was something, and none of them-even Father-quite had an idea what yet. Sighing, Michael let his walls down a bit to allow the fears in the room to hit him. At least with the mortals frozen, he only received so much.

From Samael, the fear was predictable: a mix of fear for his pets, especially his miracle, and fear for himself and Father's verdicts. From Amenadiel, both phobias about watching his son grow old and die as mortals did, but also anxiety that he'd been flawed somehow, that he'd ruined Chucky and denied him his Celestial birth rights. From Father…and how odd. Father was usually unreadable, but perhaps in his walkabout the Presence had grown sloppy, or perhaps He was so preoccupied with time stopped and Ella's unnerving condition that the Almighty for once was readable. Or that Dad wanted Michael to read Him. There was always the outside chance that Dad was playing games.

Always that.

But Father was concerned, though not truly scared as He was basically untouchable, but still dismayed by the scientist's presence and her abnormal resilience to Amenadiel's gift.

From Ella, Michael read the intense fear of her attack, the powerlessness she'd felt with some twerp's hands around her throat. And that incensed Michael in the same way that kicking a puppy or someone like him-with all his abilities intact-going after Trixie or Chucky would have. It just wasn't fair. The mismatch was beyond not sporting; it was downright cowardly and an affront to any sense of honor at all. The part of him that had once been the Sword of God so very long ago couldn't stand it. But there was so much more there, a fear tinged with overwhelming grief, the pain lancing through Ella that she was so very broken and wrong that even The Big Guy (as she called Father) couldn't stand her either.

He frowned at her and wanted to say that Dad didn't really care for anyone, but that would get him smited and wouldn't ease her woes anyway.

Dad reached out, stroked Ella's cheek, and offered her a calm yet distant smile. "Well, well, Miss Lopez, is it?"

"Um, Ella's fine."

"Yes, well, Ella, do tell me. Do you have any powers?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek, and Michael felt it, that sharp spike of fear inside of her but not of him and his siblings and not even of Father. It was of herself. "I-"

"Dad, really, this is absurd," Samael said.

Michael held his hand up. "Wait for once, Sam. Just be quiet."

"I don't appreciate you or Dad coming here to ruin my life and threaten my friends. Not one bit!" Samael said, his eyes flashing red behind his forensic scientist pet, as if that would scare either him or Dad.

Nice try, but no dice.

Father sighed and shook His head. "Twins, silence."

Michael felt it then, the soreness in his throat, and he knew damn well if he tried to speak, he'd be unable to. Behind Ella, his twin was gaping like a fish on land, and wasn't making any sounds. Ugh, well, hopefully Father would find enough good humor to return their ability to speak before He fucked off for decades. Then again, if this was a way to finally shut Sam up, maybe Michael didn't mind that either.

"Now," Dad said, his attention focused solely on Ella. "Do you have powers, child?"

Michael noted the lack of "my" before Dad spoke about "child." Nope, whatever Ella was, Dad hadn't made her. Again, interesting, but it opened up a fuck ton of other things she could be. Although, probably not any Endless. That group was pretty insane and unstable, and Ella seemed more glued together than someone like Delirium or Death.

Ella frowned back at Sam, and Michael felt shame flare in her since it was so closely linked to her fears, so acrid and bitter on his own tongue. "I speak to ghosts? I mean, the one ghost? I haven't seen her in a year or more, but I used to see her all the time as a kid and in high school and even in Detroit. I just…I'm a not very interesting medium. I mean, like the Long Island Medium on TV speaks to tons of dead people. Sometimes celebrities. I just talk to the one."

Dad considered her. "That's not all I'm gathering from you, but I can't quite…what an unusual lineage you have."

Ella shook her head. "I really don't."

"Michael, come forward." Dad said, turning his sharp, probing focus to him. Joy. "Don't make me ask twice."

He didn't need to hear any clarification on that threat. Pissing Dad off got you banished. Technically, Michael couldn't rule Hell so his chance of banishment there in Sam's place was less likely. His wings didn't work reliably enough to either aid him well in crossing between planes or getting to the Celestial throne at Hell's heart. However, there were so many other things Dad could decree, and the last thing Michael wanted was to take Mother's place as Hell's top prisoner and be tortured daily by Sam or some lowly Lilim for eternity.

So, even as tired as he was, Michael slumped forward and edged up near Ella. She shuddered instinctively and stepped to her right. He tried not to take offense. Michael hadn't put his walls back up, and she was feeling the intrinsic wrongness of him for the first time. Taking a deep breath, Michael forced his mental barriers in place and tamped down his power. It was always with him, a low thrum through his body that made humans and Celestials alike avoid him on sight. It was the opposite of Sam's gift, and oh to be living desire incarnate.

How fun that must have been, but it was far from his lot in life.

And trying to pretend to be Samael had been quite the mistake.

Apparently, even now, Father had a favorite twin and it was not Michael. Well, that wasn't surprising? Not.

"You had no right to come here and mess with the miracle that I made, Michael," Dad started.

Michael nodded and looked at the floor, trying to show the contrition he only felt because he was terrified of God's wrath.

"And you used your power against both of your brothers, and now I have to clean up the mess you've made. After I restart time, I will have to ensure this universe will run properly after Amenadiel lost hold on his power. Do you think I want to be worried like that, Son?"

Michael bristled at his Father's condescension but struggling desperately to hide it.

"I cannot trust either of you. You, Ella Lopez, who feels like a Trojan Horse to me, since even I have no idea what you are."

"I'm really not that weird," she defended. "Sir…Big Guy…I swear I'm just a scientist who, you know, happens to speak to one ghost. It's not a huge deal."

Sam frowned at Amenadiel, who shrugged at him. Oh, so neither brother had known until now.

How interesting.

Maybe Samael didn't understand his pets as well as he thought. It had been very easy to manipulate Linda, Chloe, and Daniel after all. Well, maybe not Chloe, but the other two were very fearful, and there was power to be gained in poking at them both.

"But I can't trust either of you. You, Ella, because I don't yet know who made you."

"Um, pretty sure at Catechism I learned that was You," and her tone was flippant, but her words barely came out as a squeak.

His father offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes and shook his head. "No, I assuredly did not." He turned his focus to Michael. "And you will attack your brothers if I leave you to your own devices. You, Michael, will continue to exact plots as part of your ancient feud with Samael."

Michael tried to talk about his ruined wing but grimaced when he couldn't make a sound. You know why, Father. You know he ruined my wing and my side. That will never heal.

His father shrugged. "Be that as it may, Son. You cannot remain as you are. I need to have you both monitored while I attend to an issue in another part of the multiverse." Dad smiled, and it was supposed to come across as the amused expression of some insipid sitcom father.

Michael wasn't fooled.

It chilled him.

"I…what are you going to do?" Ella asked.

Father chuckled and stroked his beard, and Michael darted his gaze enough to catch his twin's gaze. Sam's eyes were glowing red, and Michael could feel the barely contained rage from here. No, Samael wasn't buying the Father Knows Best act either.

"First," he said, snapping his fingers. "If the twins will cooperate, I've given them back their voices."

Michael felt the lack of pain in his throat after Dad did that. He breathed a bit easier, but only so much. After all, his Father always had other plans.

"Now are you bloody well going to leave?" Sam demanded.

"After I set a few things right. You should be glad, Son. I'm the one making sure that your brother won't be a bother for you." Father turned to Michael and shook his head. "My Sword, I'm so very disappointed in you."

Michael nodded and stared down at the floor again. "I know."

Father snapped his fingers again, and Michael frowned. He knew something was different, but he couldn't quite ascertain what had changed about him. "Yes, that will do nicely. You can keep your wings, such as they are."

Oh, how generous. Busted wings were barely better than none at all.

"And, of course, your own gift."

Michael would have loved to be rid of his fear mojo. It did nothing but isolate him from the Host and from humans even here on earth. Not that he cared much for humans, but who wanted to be feared all the time? Who wanted everyone that came near to scurry to the other side of the street or clutch their children's hands tighter?

It was insulting.

But Father, at least by His own estimation, was showing mercy. Michael needed to be grateful for that.

"Thank you, Dad."

"But your strength and invulnerability-not your immortality-but your impervious nature assuredly is now forfeit until I say otherwise. That will make you hardly any match at all for your brothers, make it easy for them to keep an eye on you."

"Father," Amenadiel started. "Perhaps it would be best to take Michael back to the Silver City."

"There are many fine rooms in Hell. If he hurries, he'll make it down in time for testicle stomping Thursdays. That was always Mazikeen's favorite," Sam chimed in.

Ella looked ghostly pale and gulped at all of this, but she didn't dare speak. Tears were falling slowly down her cheeks, and from what little Michael knew of her, she'd always been such a dedicated believer. Had so very much faith. Even without reading her currently, Michael was sure that Father's suspicion and rejection had gutted her.

Oh yes, he could relate to that.

"Boys, stop. Michael will stay on earth as I see fit. It did such wonders for both of you, and so he too shall remain here. However, I do agree that he needs not to be a burden for you both to sit constantly." Father eyed Ella and tsked to himself. "I have a being I don't understand and a son that I cannot currently trust-one half of the Demiurge, at that. I've been here before at different times. I have learned from Samael acting out-"

"Oh, that's what we're calling it now?" Michael bit back. A Rebellion in which agitators like Sandaphalon murdered fellow siblings, and he lost so very much of his own body and power was hardly just "acting out," but Sam was the favorite so…

"Yes, well," Father said, straightening his sweater. "You will watch each other." Dad clapped his hands together and Michael felt a jolt of electricity run through his body and nothing more after that. "Until I figure out what to do with Ella Lopez…what kind of threat she may be-"

"Father, please. Miss Lopez is the most harmless being I know," Samael said.

Father narrowed his eyes and replied with a booming bass, the kind of voice that had driven mortals mad eons ago and only been allowed to be funneled through a burning bush. "Do not test me, Samael. I will rescind my decree that Hell no longer needs a guard, at least not for the next fifty years or so, and you will spend the rest of your miracle's life below. Is that understood?"

"But Miss Lopez hasn't done anything!"

Ella seemed to gather her wits a little and looked back at Sam, whose eyes were normal again. Probably for the best. Even if she wasn't quite human or whatever she was, Ella had had more than enough shocks to the system today. Better not to deal with Sam's Devilishness too.

"Lucifer, it's okay. I don't want…whatever the Big Guy says is fine. I'm not here to hurt anyone and, okay, world's lamest medium here, but I'm not a threat, and I'm sure your dad will figure that out."

"But Miss Lopez, you're innocent."

She nodded and, reaching behind her, touched his twin's forearm. "I know, so whatever your dad wants, well, I always tried to listen to the Big Guy before." She blanched at that. "Maybe didn't do a great job when it came to relationship rules, but you know what I mean." Ella turned back to their father and held her chin up high. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I have no idea why I'm not stopped or frozen or whatever too, but do what you need, God, um, Sir. I'm going to prove I'm no threat."

Father paused then and quirked His head at her, as if He'd never met anyone like Ella Lopez before. Michael was pretty sure that, personally, he hadn't either. "How brave of you and sincere, I hope, Ella. Well, so let it be written and so let it be done. Until I deem otherwise-until I am sure you are no threat at all-you and Michael will be bound together. Wherever you go, he will go, and vice versa. You have 200 cubits of separation between you, and that is all. Let whatever you are and my wayward angel be your own jailors. That should suffice for now."

"Wait, about that-" Ella stammered. "Not to upset you, Sir, but I have a tiny apartment and…also what's a cubit?"

Amenadiel took a modicum of pity on Ella and answered, "He means about 100 yards. That's a football field, Ella."

"Oh."

Michael wanted to object to this idiot punishment. He barely knew the woman, and he certainly wasn't quite sure he could trust whatever she was. Also, he did not need a sitter. Wasn't being as weak and vulnerable as any mortal debasement enough? "Father, really, I don't need-"

"Silence, Michael Demiurgos! Do not test me, my Sword."

Father spoke again with that voice that could shatter the world apart if He so chose. Ella shuddered but didn't curl up into a gibbering ball of madness any more than she had spying his brothers' wings. Another big tick mark in the "not human" column. If she were even as mortal as Sam's miracle, she'd be insane by now.

What the Hell is she?

His father continued and focused all his attention on him. "You've made a mess of everything, and if I weren't here, this universe might remain frozen for decades or longer. You've set off the balance of the multiverse with your stunt. You should be glad this is all that I do. Now, you've had the verdict rendered." Father looked between him and Ella. "You both figure it out."

With a final snap of his fingers, Father disappeared in a blinding ball of light, as he was wont to do.

Michael barely had time to process it all and his brothers a moment to shunt their wings away before time started up again. Obviously, Father's doing as Amenadiel clearly had fuck all idea how he'd managed to stop all time in the universe. As the bull pen adjusted to the utter destruction around them, Michael shook his head and limped to the stairs. He had no place better than his empty zoo to go to, but he didn't give a Dad damn about the 100 yards limit. He'd test it out himself.

There was no way he was being bound cheek-by-jowl to a mortal or, well, whatever Ella was.

Grumbling, he slid into the elevator, rode it up, and eased out to the street. Michael made it about halfway down the city block before everything around him flickered, and he found himself popped back into reality in the center of Ella's lab. She was there talking quietly with Amenadiel and Linda. Michael assumed Sam was off checking on Chloe Decker.

He sighed and swallowed at the utter disdain Linda Martin was sending his way. Now that he wasn't invulnerable, Michael wasn't sure that he wanted to tempt her Momma Grizzly rage. Holding up his hands, he sighed again. "If I had a white flag or handkerchief, I'd wave it. I didn't give Chucky the measles or whatever, and I am not going to hurt an infant. What kind of asshole do you take me for?"

Linda glared at him with fury. "You do not want me to answer that."

Amenadiel sighed down at Ella. "I…honestly, I needed to check on Charlie anyway." He turned to Linda. "Let's give both of them a minute. Obviously, Father was serious about the yards limit."

Ella nodded. "I need a minute too." She frowned at that and shook her head at him. "I'll just pretend Michael's not here."

"But I am," he groused, pulled up a stool, and sat on it. At this point his side was too sore for him to argue much, and he had no interest in trying to escape again, only to pop into her lab once more. The teleportation didn't hurt, but it was disorienting and not something he wanted to repeat.

Amenadiel and Linda apologized to Ella and slipped out, promising they'd be back with the stroller after they made sure Dan was taking okay care of Charlie.

"So," Ella said, setting her hands on her hips. It would have been more intimidating if she weren't in Snoopy pajamas. "You're the Defender of the Faith and the Sword of God." She snorted. "You're a saint?"

Michael arched an eyebrow back at her. "I didn't get a say in the canonization."

"I bet."

He drummed the fingers of his left hand against the metal of her table. "Look, just so you know since, apparently, we're going to be best friends for the foreseeable future, my power is over fear. I don't mean to use it sometimes, but that's why you felt uncomfortable around me earlier…my walls weren't up. I'll try not to read you, but sometimes I can't help even that. I really am sorry about that serial killer crap. You're too nice for it. I think."

Ella frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, the 'you think?'"

"Well, I assumed till today you were human. I'm a bit embarrassed I didn't read anything else off you, although you have even Dad stumped so good on you. But yeah, for now I have my wings at least and I can control fear…not a great party trick, I know. What do you do?"

"I told you. I just talk to Rae Rae and-"

Michael blinked. There was no way. No fucking way. "Hey, about Rae Rae? She's not about five feet tall with a bowl cut, glasses, and loves to say 'smell you later,' does she?"

"How'd you know? I'm not even scared of her!"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh well, Father's mystery just got deeper because whatever you are, you were never a medium. Rae Rae is also Azrael, my sister, and the Angel of Death. So, I guess I have to repeat: what are you really, Ella?"

"I don't know! I just see a ghost, who is apparently an angel somehow and my life is getting weirder, and I didn't even think that was possible."

"Well, my life has always been odd, such is the so-called joy of being part of literally the first family. However, we better figure out what you are and the sooner the better. We won't stop being each other's shadow until we do. And, you know, I have all of eternity, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to be basically my conjoined twin here."

"Longer tether, and that's a shitty analogy."

"Whatever, chica. So, I want out of this arrangement and fast. Let's figure out what you actually do besides being immune to some angel abilities and Dad's Presence. Lopez, we're going to figure out everything about you, and I promise, we'll start with any powers you're holding out on me."

"I don't have any."

Michael shrugged, and the effect was ruined by his right shoulder barely responding at all. "I don't believe you. Now, let's get to work."