Disclaimer: I don't own anything, Kevin Smith does. I'm just playing in the View Askewniverse. Also paraphrased some lines from the movie, and I don't own them either.

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Chapter 4: Crisis of Faith

"There it is! Her house! Snoogins! She gots a nice place for a single chick and all." Jay clapped his hands in anticipation. "Come on, you tubby fuck. Quit dawdlin'. It's time to get some ass."

Silent Bob arched an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, you motherfuckin' tub-o'-lard." Jay pressed the doorbell and grinned as the sounds of footsteps sounded.

"Who is it?" An elderly woman opened the door and peeked out.

"Bethany?! What happened to your hot body?! You've shriveled! You get sucked through a fucking vacuum cleaner or something?" cried Jay, gaping at the elderly woman.

"My name is Edith, not Bethany," said the old woman, "and this is MY house!" She threw open the door, whipped out a cane, and began beating on Jay with it. "Get away! I'll cry rape!"

"Ah! Bob! Get her offa me!" cried Jay, dropping to the floor and turtling as the old woman continued to beat on him with her wooden cane. "Fuckin' crazy old hag!"

SIlent Bob only laughed.

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"Well, I know it isn't much," she said, "but you can stay here for the night. I'm assuming we're leaving to find the two prophets in the morning?" Bethany stood in the living room, as Bartleby reclined on the couch. She handed him a blanket and a pillow and stood back.

"Yeah. We're probably going to leave around six in the morning. I'll expect the prophets to be here by then." Bartleby snorted. "I wonder where the hell those morons are..."

Bethany lingered by the doorway, clutching her robe around her. "Thank you for coming back, Bartleby," she whispered, before turning and heading up for her bedroom.

Bartleby lay on the couch, wondering what Loki was up to, or what was keeping the prophets. Finally, after what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, Bartleby got up and stretched his limbs, unfurling his wings and stretching them as well. After sheathing them, he wandered around Bethany's house, and finally, up the stairs.

He gently pushed open Faith's door, and peered at her from the doorframe. Bethany's daughter lay tangled in her sheets, her small face illuminated with pale, silver moonlight. Bartleby smiled at her, warmly, and entered the room, kneeling by her bedside.

"You've got a long road ahead of you, Last Scion," he whispered into her ear, "but I know you're strong. How could you not be when Bethany's your mother?" Chuckling quietly, Bartleby patted Faith's soft, black hair and wandered down the hall, for Bethany's room.

Bethany murmured in her sleep, as she suffered through some nightmare. Bartleby touched her mind, and saw it was about her ex-husband. Coming over to her bedside, Bartleby put his hand on her forehead and pictured something else for her, something lighter, and happier. Replaced were the images of Bethany's ex-husband and his new wife. Bethany stirred in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes.

"What are you doing here," she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He smiled at her and sat down on her bed. "I saw your dream," he said, softly, stroking her dark hair.

"I dreamt about him. He was with his new wife, and they were laughing at me," she replied, nodding. "And then, suddenly, I was standing in a field of gold, holding Faith's hand. We were in Heaven, I think. And God was there. She was smiling at me. She wanted me to come with her, to Heaven. It was a wonderful dream, Bartleby. Thank you."

"No problemo," he intoned, gently brushing his fingers over her soft, downy cheek. "I'm glad I could help, Bethany."

"Lord knows I needed it," she muttered, sliding over in bed so that he could lay next to her. Patting the empty space beside her, she said, "Come on. There's room enough for one more."

Reluctantly, Bartleby joined her as she turned on her TV set, lowering the volume as not to wake Faith. "Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I watch QVC."

"You can thank Lucifer for that indulgence," quipped Bartleby.

Bethany smiled at him, nestling closer to him. "Do Angels sleep?"

"Not really. We have no need of sleep, although we do, sometimes." Bartleby said, softly. "I sleep, sometimes. Sometimes I eat human food, although I can't digest it. It usually comes back up later on." He flashed Bethany a winning smile.

"Oh God, thanks for the imagery," Bethany sighed, rolling he eyes as Bartleby encircled her in his arms and squeezed her against him. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, Bethany let out a contented sigh and allowed herself to closer her eyes. "I'm so tired," she whispered, smacking her lips. "Good night, Bartleby."

"Good night, Bethany." He whispered, softly, as he gazed down at her. "Good night, sweet dreams."

Bartleby glanced down at the lithe human form in his arms and brushed her hair from her face. He could hardly believe that the first time he'd met her, he'd almost killed her. Almost slashed that pale, delicate throat with the jagged end of a broken beer bottle. Bethany murmured in her sleep and pressed herself against his chest.

Bartleby instantly recalled their first meeting, on the train. She'd seemed so sad and vulnerable, just as he was. He was just drawn to her.

"When do you think you lost your faith," he'd asked her, as he pretended to drink his beers. Bethany hadn't noticed he was spitting the alcohol into a second glass. She was too drunk.

Bethany's eyes grew watery as she recalled the moment she'd lost her faith, and Bartleby had wanted to hold her, rock her like a father would rock his daughter in his arms. "I remember the exact moment. I was on the phone with my mother, and she was trying to counsel me through this...this thing. And when nothing she was saying was making me feel any better, she said something like "Bethany, God has a plan." And I... just got so angry at her. But I was like "What about my plans?" You know? Like, don't they count for anything? I had planned to grow old with my husband and have a family. Wasn't that plan good enough for God?" After a brief, pained pause, she answered her own question with, "Apparently not." She glanced at him, her dark, marble-like eyes swimming with anguish. "How about you? When did you lose your faith?"

"Oh, a long time ago... One day, God just stopped listening. I kept talking, but I got the distinct impression that He wasn't listening anymore." Bartleby had glanced into her soul, and sensed her pain. He'd wanted to soothe her so badly that time, on the train. It was the first time in a long time that he'd actually felt sympathy for a human being.

"How do you know She was listening in the first place," she'd asked, softly, her voice sounding so small and faraway.

After a long pause, Bartleby finally said, "I guess I don't."

As he looked down at Bethany, as she slept in his arms, and recalled their first meeting, he felt suddenly protective of her. Like he had to keep her out of harm's way. And of course, if he let harm come to Bethany, he'd never hear the end of it.

Leaning in, Bartleby planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'll keep you safe from harm, and your daughter, too." He brushed her hair out of her face and slipped his hand in hers, and willed himself to sleep.

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TBC

Alex