Disclaimer: Original Dogma, not mine. Metatron, not mine. New character, mine.

Thanks very much to those of you who've read and reviewed! Updates may be slow coming in the next few months, so here it is while I've got some spare time. I think this is my sharpest chapter so far, but I'll let you guys decide.

chapter 5: Déja Vu

Behold the Metatron. Herald of the Almighty, Voice of the One True God, the seraph began, as he had so many times before. As he looked through his surrounding flames, hands casually in his pockets, he noticed with a small bit of surprise that there was no one there. He took a cautious step forward after extinguishing the blaze, and the lights came on. Metatron surveyed the room only to be caught off guard by a very startling:



He nearly jumped backwards into a dresser at the sound from the twenty-something girl in pj's standing next to him.

For Christ's sake, do you always make such a lovely first impression?! he asked tetchily.

Like I haven't been expecting this, she said sharply, edging her way to her bed, never turning her back to him, as if he may attack at any moment.

Well at least you were expecting company, He gave her nightclothes a derisive look and placed a hand on his hip.

Oh, I know exactly who-what-you are. And I think you had better leave. She removed a (surprise!) baseball bat from behind her headboard. Metatron's smug smirk faltered a bit.

Real original. What is this? A hereditary condition with you people or something?!, he threw his hands up in exasperation. I suppose this is the part where I say Or what, you're gonna hit me with that f-f-f-fish?'

The girl's eyes widened for a split second at the salmon now in her hands, but she just as quickly dropped it and replaced it with a fresh bat and a self-pleased expression. Now it was his turn to stare wide-eyed.

Look, you can either put down your silly little stick, sit down, and listen quietly, or we can continue this mad charade a bit further, and maybe by the end of it, I'll get bored anyway and leave you to your batting practice.

She looked puzzled at him and let the bat go slack a little. To the angels' surprise, she seemed to thoroughly contemplate this for a moment. Unfortunately for Metatron, she came to the same old conclusion.

I don't think so.

Next thing he was actually being chased, chased!, through the bedroom door to a hallway, found himself scrambling down a stairway, and slamming short-breathed into a counter separating the dining room and kitchen. He wasn't even quite sure she still had the bat. Like she needed it.

God I need a holiday, Metatron breathed exasperatedly. But there was no time for day-dreaming; the girl had followed him and though she had abandoned her bat, she seemed just as intent that he leave her be.

Now leaned up against the counter's support beam almost defensively, he gave it a last shot, Haven't you people ever heard the phrase don't shoot the messenger'? For goodness' sake, you won't listen to one word I have to say?I think I've learned quite enough in my lifetime to know what strangers who show up all of a sudden in my bedroom mean. She scoffed. Holy messengers, wacked-out apostles and prophets. No. I don't want anything to do with it, thank you very much. The girl took a slightly more defensive stance. You've probably even got wings or something, right? she asked, almost as if the mere suggestion made him a lesser, unworthy life form.

Metatron gave a long sigh. That would be part of the job description given I'm an angel. He shut his eyes for a second and then looked back at the girl. So you've heard one too many stories from your mother, and maybe you got a bit disillusioned, he reasoned with her, but just because of that you're going to completely discredit everything I've got to say?

She took a few slow steps forward, looking thoroughly annoyed with him now. He raised a wary eyebrow.

I think I'll do just fine without having to worry about dumb, half-baked crusades to- she sputtered rather dumbly for a moment in thought of the right word, Cleveland, or whatever!I'll have you know it was a perfectly well thought out trip to New Jersey! Metatron stated irately, immediately realizing the irony of his own statement.

The girl gave her ultimatum.

And so, she had somehow managed to give the, albeit thin, six-foot-and-change seraph a last out the front door, where he subsequently overbalanced and tripped onto the sidewalk. He pulled himself back up and began looking over the damage to his suit. As Metatron dusted himself off, he tried to look on the bright side: At least the pavement had been dry.

Only, when he thought he couldn't think of anything that could possibly kick this night just another notch downward, it turned out there was something. Someone.

Well, look who it is! came the dapper and alarmingly cheery voice of none other than Azrael.

The night had just gotten worse.