'That didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped,' Metatron thought.

He was referring to his first meeting with Eve and it had, in fact, gone terribly. She'd come to believe that he was her father, but then lashed out at him for "abandoning" her and her mother all those years ago.

He stood there in the backyard, going over their conversation in his head.

Metatron was upset. He had been put through a hellish transubstantiation only hours before receiving Eve's verbal onslaught. He crossed the yard and went out the gate, unsure of what to do next.

"So how'd it go?"

Metatron turned to find Serendipity the muse a few feet away. She looked the same as she had when she took on a human form, though she opted for a nice pair of pants and a lacy blouse rather than her former stripper outfit.

He was happy to see someone he knew, but cast her a withering look. "Not too well. How much did you hear?"

"Nothing, I just got here. What went wrong?"

"My whole life," Metatron groused as he started walking through the house's side yard and headed down the block. Jay and Bob weren't outside anymore; they'd probably gone inside to check on the girl.

Serendipity could tell that he wasn't in much of a talking mood, so she kept quiet as she followed a few steps behind.

Metatron watched Serendipity's shadow walk along with him, and though he didn't say anything, he was grateful to have her with him. It hadn't taken him very long to realize that he had been ridiculously impulsive when he had Reaper cut off his wings.

He was now a mortal man. He was vulnerable and very much alone in the world.

Only three humans even knew of his existence, and while two weren't exactly thrilled with his reappearance, one of them-the only one that actually mattered, in Metatron's opinion- absolutely despised him.

What to do now?

"Where's the nearest bar?"

OXOXOXOXOXOXO

Later on that night, after three shots of tequila, Metatron was feeling a bit better. Reaper must have known something like this would happen because she'd filled his suit pockets with cash when she conjured it for him.

"Gracias!" he called out once the bartender poured his first drink.

The bright sting of alcohol warmed him from the inside. It wasn't a solution in any sense of the word, but it reminded him of a happier time when the angels were free to walk the earth-drinking and screwing anything they chose.

Times change though. Metatron wasn't even an angel anymore, he was a man. He was a mortal, human man with no I.D., no job, no family, no house and no car.

He was nothing, and it was all his own fault.

"Bloody prat, why didn't I think this through?" he asked himself out loud as he left the bar and started down the street.

The tequila buzz had worn off and now he was hungry, so he went to the nearest fast food place he could find. The burger, fries and chocolate milkshake wasn't the ambrosia he was used to eating in Heaven. Far from it, but it settled his stomach and made him feel better.

Serendipity had been following along; he could still feel her presence despite the fact that she had stayed invisible since he set foot in the bar. During her three years as a stripper, she had lost her taste for liquor and drunk men.

Metatron didn't know what else to do-no one was waiting for him, he had nowhere to be-so he kept walking. He supposed that it was only natural for his feet to lead him into a church.

The same church that Bethany and Eve had been attending, the same one where God appeared to them all after being released from the human body She had taken. Metatron slumped down into a pew and stared ahead to the stained glass windows, lit candles, podium and crucifix.

"Oh, Metatron...our Voice, what has become of you?"

He searched for the one who had spoken, but Metatron was alone in the sanctuary. "Hello?"

"He's one of them."

"I told you," Said a second voice. It was colder, more rasping, but somehow familiar. "He can't even see us."

"Seeing isn't believing!"

"No, but it helps."

"Who is that?" Metatron called out.

"So far gone..."

"Silence the Voice, humans are not to hear!"

"He's gone, She has no Voice!"

"What will become of him?"

"He remains mortal, but he needs guidance."

"We knew it from this afternoon."

Their arguing went on for another few minutes. He couldn't understand what they were talking about; they weren't making any sense at all.

Perhaps they weren't trying to.

Metatron turned his eyes to the front of the church, where Amora and Reaper had just appeared. The two beautiful female angels were perched on the arms of the great wooden cross that hung from the ceiling down to just in front of the large stained glass windows.

They were a sight to behold.

Amora, an angel that was mostly concerned with love (thus giving her the nickname of Cupid), had been the one to help him on the first foot of his journey by taking him to Leonardo, New Jersey when he'd accidentally ended up in Africa. She sat cheerfully on the right arm of the cross, her legs dangling down, crossed at the ankles. Her blonde hair was wavy and held in place by a wreath of lilies, her fully blue eyes shining down to him. She'd folded her wings politely and cocked her head to the side. She seemed upset.

On the left arm of the cross was Amora's darker and wholly more terrifying counterpart. No white wings and flower adorned coif; Reaper was the Angel of Death, and had the appearance to match the title. She was crouched on the cross's arm, giving her the feral look of a great panther. Blood red eyes glared down at him, while her sharp black wings hung down to the cross's base. Her skin was a pale ivory, and a silver headdress held her dark hair back. She wasn't evil in any way-she was and angel, after all- but she could be a terrifying thing to behold.

"Reaper, Amora, what are you doing here?" Metatron asked.

Amora dropped from the cross and flared her wings to slow her fall back down to the floor. Metatron moved forward and she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Reaper came down off the cross in Amora's style and came to meet them.

"Metatron, what were you thinking?!" she hissed.

"Well obviously I wasn't." he replied.

It was so strange to speak with Reaper now. She had been the one to cut off his wings and make him human. She was his friend and they had known each other for thousands of years. Technically, he was even older than her.

He almost wanted to laugh.

"This wasn't a good idea." Amora said.

"Yes, we've established that," Metatron sighed. He'd already realized what an idiot he was, he didn't need all the angels in Heaven to agree with him! "If either one of you have any ideas on how to help, you could share now."

The two female seraphim stared back at him blankly.

"I thought so." Metatron said as he turned to leave. "Reaper, thank you for the cash, I'm going to find a motel. I'll see you when it's my time to come back home-"

"Wait!" Amora called out.

"What? Have you got some idea on how I can get Eve to accept me into her life?" he asked, holding back none of his sarcasm.

"I might, but we'll need help."

Metatron felt intrigued. "Help from who?"

Amora looked very pleased with herself. "Bethany."

"What?! Bethany? Amora, you've got to be kidding me! Bethany won't help me, she hates me. She thinks I'm the reason she's dead." Metatron said.

"Not to worry, all we have to do is allow her the chance to speak with Eve. If she convinces Eve to forgive you..."

Metatron rolled his eyes. "Don't you think that if Eve were to see her dead mother walk into he house she'd be a little scared?"

Reaper broke in, "Not if we do things my way."

Metatron was interested. "What have you got in mind?"