The door crashes open and into splinters. Ella knows this because the moment she blinks awake at the commotion, she's both confused as fuck to find Maze yanking Michael out of bed as if he weighed nothing and a little bit glad that sometime during the night, she slipped on her favorite sushi jammies. Michael never got anything on and is now pinned before Maze to a wall, eyes gold and angry and the rest of him still naked.
He hasn't shoved her off yet, but the fact Maze moved so fast and is at least managing to keep Michael pinned…
Ella pulls the sheets to her and blinks, trying to figure this all out, a huge, scared part of her sure this is a nightmare and she'll actually wake soon enough.
"You were supposed to leave her alone, whoever the fuck you are," Maze snarls and one of her scary-ass knives is held to Michael's throat.
Her boyfriend (weird word for a being as old as the universe but also true) glares that same, golden gaze at Maze and swallows. Hard. "Maze, you really don't want to make me bleed. It won't go well."
Her friend presses the blade tighter to Michael's throat but no blood wells. Yet. "I warned you. I don't give a shit which pantheon you're from: Greek, Roman, who-the-fuck-ever. You were supposed to leave. Way too much bull shit has hurt Ella, and she doesn't deserve this. You thought you'd outrun me, but…" and she smiles then, something feral and hungry and terrifying. "you didn't. So, I get to show you how wrong a tree you've been barking up, lady."
Ella looks between them both and tries to remember how to speak. She's a chatterbox, usually, but this is all too much. All the blanks filling in too fast. If Maze were just a purely normal but delusional person, Michael could have shoved her off in a second. If Maze hadn't seen something divine before, she'd be freaking out or apparently a drooling mess at Michael's eyes.
She's neither, just raging and…
"You really are a demon, right?"
Her voice is small in the darkness, and both supernaturals turn and finally regard her, seeming to remember she's there at all.
"Ella, look, I can give you speech about this later or, better, let Amenadiel do it when we're back in L.A. because he's good at the speechifying. Right now, this bitch has been using you, and she was warned not to do that."
"Michael," she starts again, her brain half broken from the fact that Maze is a demon so Amenadiel and Charlie too are angels, which means that… "I…what the fuck is going on?"
And the gold drains from his eyes then, and they are brown and large and sincere all over again. Broken. "Scraps, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I thought I had more time. I did and-"
This time, it's Maze blurting something out, not her. "Michael? No fucking way."
He regards Ella one last time and sighs harder, stirring up a breeze in the room. "Well, it's been a really shitty set of months, Mazikeen, so yeah…Dad felt like going the extra mile in the punishment department."
Maze stares up at him, though she doesn't move the blade an inch from near his carotid artery. She looks into his eyes but mostly studies his rigid posture, the hunch of his right shoulder and stiffness there, but she lingers longest on the scar on his face, the way it bisects from right cheek to his left temple.
"You bastard. What? So trying to steal Chloe and then weaseling out of town wasn't enough bullshit for you? What did Ella ever do to you?"
She should…what? Should she get on real clothes? Maybe rush to the toilet and barf her brains out because she feels sick. Maybe just throw the comforter over her head and never come back out. Ella can't even move, and saying anything seems impossible. Michael is Samael's brother. Samael is Satan, and if Maze really is a demon and works for Lucifer, the devil, then…
Fucking transitive properties.
"Lucifer's your twin brother. He was this whole time, and you just…you lied to me."
Her words are still so small. It hurts to breathe even that much out, to give life at all to how much pain the revelation has left her in. Michael has known her the whole time, has been in Los Angeles before…he…oh fuck. He's stalked her and chosen her and culled her out all this time just like Pete did in a very different way.
Michael looks at her, and sure, he looks sad, but he's a mentiroso. Nothing he says can be trusted. Not one fucking syllable. "Scrappy…Ella, you don't understand."
"You talked so much about your brother Samael, and you knew he was my friend. You knew it."
Maze rolls her eyes but keeps Michael pinned. "Lucifer hates that. He just gets all in a fucking snit if you mention his old name. But, okay, now I get it. That's, huh, something Lucifer would do too, you know. One of those bullshit I technically didn't break the rules or lie things. Fucker."
Ella nods, and she's standing now. She drifts over to Maze's corner of the room, putting the demon between her and Michael. Because Maze came to save her, and she owes her friend for this. Because the scope of all Michael's done is…horrifying. It's been a far longer game than anything Pete tried and for what? Because he hates his brother?
Fuck him.
Honestly, fuck both the twins.
"I know, okay, and Scraps, I never promised I wasn't a liar."
"But you swore you wouldn't lie to me," she said. "And everything you ever said was a lie. Every bit."
"None of it was," he replies, his voice small and forlorn. "Okay, so I didn't connect those dots where Sam is Lucifer but everything else? Shitty, abusive dad, Host of angels who hate me, and a fuck ton of punishment? That's all true, every word of it." He angles his neck just a little and stares only at her, as if the crazy, weird ass (so definitely has to be) demonic blade Maze has means nothing. "I love you, Ella, and that's the truest thing I've ever said."
She's on the floor so fast that she can't remember falling. Her legs just give out and her ass hits the carpet with a thud. And he's there then. There's a flash of movement and a crash. Maze is somewhere in a heap across the room and a lamp is busted under her weight. Michael's there now, at her side, his hands on either side of her cheeks as he appraises her.
"Scrappy, are you okay?"
She tears up at that. None of it was real-the nicknames, the ragging each other on their road trip, the busting incel noses after long nights trolling bars. The way he'd made love to her just hours ago.
She shoves at his shoulders, and it's impossible to make him move. He's a goddess, and she's a mortal, and he could do anything to her, and there is not one thing Ella could do to stop it. There is no syringe to grab this time, no last minute save for herself. Whatever fucking bullshit prank war is between Michael and Lucifer is driving all of this, and she can't fend for herself, not against someone almost as strong as God Himself.
Ella brings her knees to her chest and starts to shiver. "Don't hurt me."
Michael drops his hands instantly and scoots, normal speed, across the floor to lean against the bed. "What?"
"Don't hurt me, please," she says, and her voice is breaking. Sobs come soon after, and she's finally coming apart. Forty years of ghost friends and car accidents, of exorcisms and a serial killer, of fucking angels messing with her, and Ella has nothing left of her sanity or her soul to give. Whatever Michael wants, he's going to be able to take, so maybe he just… "Or, if you do, get it over with fast, okay? You owe me that."
Michael's skin seems paler then, fuck almost green in cast. "Scraps…Ella, I'd never hurt you. I'd rather let Maze stab me a hundred fucking times with her knife. Why would you even think that?"
She's still shaking, and it's hard to look at him, to stare him in the face, because now she knows, and it is so obvious now that she does. She can see it in the darkness of his eyes, and the set of his still prominent nose, the curls of his hair and the gentle shock on his face. That one most of all because it is very much Lucifer's expression too. The confusion and the pain when he didn't understand why (okay being super honest) many of his very bad ideas to impress Decker failed. They look wounded the same way.
And now that she knows, Ella can easily see the angel he was-the man he was-before her.
"You're only here to fuck up Lucifer's life. You chose me last because you'd fucked around with everyone else, right? And I was vulnerable and alone and this has all been for fun."
"This hasn't been fun," he says automatically. "None of this has been anything but torture-what I have to do, what I accidentally unleashed on you the second time we met. The Fear Vampire bullshit or the Creation I can't control…my fucking wings gone and my pain and my body being wrong and not mine. The fucking periods. Not one minute of anything since I left Los Angeles has been for fun or revenge or anything else. I was just trying to survive, Ella. That was it, and I…if you think anything we've shared together was about me trying to get at Sam…at Lucifer, then you don't know me at all."
She is still shaking, and maybe she'll never stop. Still, she is able to speak a bit more clearly as she wipes at her eyes and regards him coolly. "Michael, that's exactly my point. I didn't know shit about you, and you hid it. You knew, and you hid it this whole time. So how can I trust anything you try and tell me now?"
"Because I love you."
She shakes her head and curls up tighter in a ball, as if that could make any of this stop. "You can't love anyone, can you?"
"Scrappy-"
"Don't call me that! Don't talk to me at all. You had months, and all you had to do was tell me that Lucifer was Samael, that you were being punished because…Chloe's the Miracle." Her eyes widen, and she does throw up finally. She gets to her hands and knees and vomits on the carpet, retches until she can't stop tasting bile.
Michael says nothing as she does it, but even then, she can feel his intense, unblinking gaze-and of-fucking-course Lucifer is Michael's twin-never leave her.
When she finally stops, Ella scoots to the farthest corner of the room she can and curls up against the dresser. "You tried to rape Chloe. I…you couldn't pretend to be Lucifer, but you could lie, you could sleep with me and tell me you were someone you never were. I…oh." She breaks off then, mostly in an irate stream of Klingon because she's as angry and hurt as she's ever been. This is so far beyond Pete.
This is…she's not sure what this is, but she's collateral damage because Lucifer and Michael were having a pissing contest.
And it's ripping her heart out.
Michael's eyes are wide, and he seems so sincere, but he seemed sincere the whole fucking car trip too. So what does she know?
He speaks. "Ella, no. Fuck no. Of course not. I…I was going to explain. I really was when we got to Atlanta. I should have told you before we ever left Reno. But I was scared."
"Afraid you wouldn't be able to fuck with me like you did with Chloe? Afraid you wouldn't get another score against your brother? That's what this is, right? Notch in your bedpost, and you can just shove it harder in Lucifer's face." She'd vomit again if her stomach weren't empty.
"No, I…you saw me and didn't see him. Because of my father's punishment, for the first time in ever…in billions of years, someone just saw me, and there was no way to compare me to Samael and for me to always end up the lesser guy. Because I knew the second you really knew me, you'd pick him. They always do."
She rubs at her eyes again. "Maybe they always pick him because you're a monster."
Michael's face falls, and he looks at his lap, at the way his right hand hangs limply and somewhat at an off angle there. "I know, but you made me feel like I wasn't. I…I'm sorry."
There is a crash besides them both, and Maze stands, finally awake from wiping out against the lamp. She hops over the bed and looms over Michael.
"You gonna go easy with me or not?" she asks.
"I doubt human grade handcuffs are gonna keep me in place, Mazikeen," Michael says, that snotty edge of exasperation creeping into his voice. It's the same way he always sounded when they were pushing for one last hour of driving before dinner, and he was already hungry but not ready to admit it.
And Ella shudders again, realizing that whatever front Michael had put up, whatever pretenses, every other way she knows his tells. Can read him easily. And she isn't sure what any of it says about her, especially considering what a piece of shit he is.
"No, but I can see how well you can ride back to Los Angeles with this buried in your gut," Maze replies coolly, holding up one of her blades.
"It won't kill me," Michael replies. And he says it as if repeating a sports stat or talking about the weather.
Because it is just a fact, and not some weird death threat between ancient, immortal enemies. But there's a longing in his voice too, and Ella notices that. She doubts Maze does, as the other woman has always been bad at reading emotions-and that makes a fuck ton more sense now-but Ella hears it. Michael seems to almost wish the blade would do just that.
Maze nods. "It's fucking tempting. All the shit you've pulled; this was probably the fucking lowest. She didn't even know, Michael."
"And whose fault is that? Whose decree on high was it to keep her in the dark about half the people around her? Sounds like more of Lucifer 'I never really lie' Morningstar to me."
"I guess you both get it from somewhere," Ella croaks out.
Maze grits her teeth. "I can't just drive you home, but I can't leave you here to fly off and go for a third round of bat shit crazy. Ella?"
She frowns up at Maze, and she's so very tired. Anything that might have been adrenaline has worn off in her system, and all that's left is shame and exhaustion. Of feeling so very used.
"What?" Ella asks.
"I need you to pray."
"I don't think his dad is gonna show."
"Doubtful," Michael adds. "Pretty sure if He was gonna, He'd have come by in Texas to gloat about my first red wave."
Maze looks between them both and bursts out laughing. "Okay, I hate God, but that's…fucking hysterical."
Michael shrinks under the laugh, and for a minute, Ella feels for him again, for all his confusion and self hatred and pain. Then she remembers how he's preyed on her, and she looks away instead.
"He won't come, Mazikeen," Michael says, tone stiff.
"I don't need your dad. I need an angel or two. Ella, I can't pray. Not allowed for obvious reasons, but if you'd just ask for Amenadiel? He'd be happy to drag Michael back to Lux, make sure he doesn't fly the fucking coop to do anything else."
"I can't-"
Ella nods. "Totally, agree."
She closes her eyes and feels awkward and silly in front of her friend and her…in front of Michael praying. It's supposed to be something private and small and earnest. She's never even thought of using it like a walky-talkie for her friend.
Dear Amenadiel…hi? Sorry, this is weird. It's Ella and Maze said you could hear this cause you're all angels and stuff and you should have told me and I have so many feelings on that, Mister, and…can you find me? We're in the Commander's Palace hotel in New Orleans, room 204. I…Michael's here, and Maze can't get me home and drag him both. This is probably so not gonna work but-
She doesn't get to finish her rambling version of the world's worst prayer when there's a woosh noise and a powerful breeze. Strong, familiar hands are on her shoulders, and Ella admits that she's missed Los Angeles, missed her friends.
She looks up at Amenadiel who has already put his wings away. That makes sense; he just realized she was on the same Celestial page finally as everyone else. No way he could understand thanks to Michael and Rae Rae both that she's kind of inoculated to the Divine. Well, at least enough not to be a drooling mess if she sees angel feathers.
"Amenadiel, thank you for coming."
He smiles at her, and it's peaceful and calming. He has always given her a sense of peace, and she had assumed from the first time they'd met that it was more because he probably had dropped out of seminary or something earlier, that he'd been on a path to be a shepherd to others. She now knows it's more-she can feel that it is-but he'd always been so stalwart before. It's a relief to know a literal guardian angel is with her now.
"Ella, are you okay?"
She looks around him, big as he is, and at Maze and Michael. Maze has her blade back at Michael's throat in case he gets any ideas, and Michael just…he looks lost. She's not even sure if he's doing anything more by now than spacing out at all.
"I've been so much better," she admits, but Ella does at least find the strength to stand before he pulls her to his arms the rest of the way.
Amenadiel holds her tight, and it feels safe and that's the first time in a long time she's felt that. She thought she had with Michael but every hug, every promise…it's turned to ash before her. She buries her face in his broad chest, no longer wishing to see any of this, as Amendiel turns to Michael and Maze.
"I don't understand. What's going on, Maze? Where's Michael?"
Maze chuckles, probably still amused by how female Michael's become, but from what she can hear, Michael merely sighs and then speaks softly.
"Right here. Dad had a lot of punishments to inflict. I…do whatever you need. I won't fight you on any of it."
"What did you do to Ella?"
Michael sighs again, and Ella feels a breeze ruffle her hair. "I hurt her. I…I tried not to, but I did and I just…take me to Sam. I deserve Hell, and I'm ready to go."
Ella pulls away from Amenadiel then, or at least, he lets her go. She looks to Michael and shakes her head. "You what?"
Michael looks up at her and that same dedication, that wonder is in his gaze. Ella has never been looked at with such devotion from anyone-man or woman-before, and she has no idea how he's faked that for so long. But he has to have done just that. Right?
"Hell. Dad punished me once, and clearly I just fucked things up worse than ever. Sam should do the logical thing, the thing he's done before. I won't fight it, Menny. Just take me to him for judgment."
Maze snorts again. "If that's not fucking ironic."
Amenadiel holds up his hand. "Maze, drop it. I need you to watch him. I'm taking Ella to Lux first. Then, I'll come back for him." He looks to Michael, his own lips curling up in clear disgust.
Michael nods. "Well, get a move on, would ya? Sure there's a nice locked room down below just for me, right? Wouldn't want to deny Samael the giddy thrill of finally being able to throw me in Hell and forget the key, would we?"
"You never do fucking shut up, do you, Michael?" Maze said, digging her blade closer to the skin of his neck.
"You really don't want to draw blood," the goddess spits back.
Maze licks her lips. "Oh, I do."
Ella doesn't think making Michael bleed and accidentally unleashing Creation is a good idea. At all. Sure, so far it was just Pepe that Michael made, but yeah…probably not great to have unfiltered Creation spraying everywhere.
"Don't Maze, please. For me," Ella whispers.
"I mean, sure, I can get so much further with you when it's just you, me and your cell, Mike, but come on, Ellen, just a little bonus for now? Some damage to get started. You deserve it for all the shit he's pulled on you," Maze looks over her shoulder to Ella, and she…she can't think of anything she wants less than to see Michael in pain, even if the literal raw material of the universe wasn't involved.
"No, just I want to go home," she finishes, looking to Amenadiel and feeling like she's eight all over again, like she's screaming in pain on the cold asphalt and her funny ghost friend is promising to keep her calm. "Can't we go home?"
Amenadiel smiles at her and then nods brusquely at Maze. "Watch him. He moves, then you get to detain Michael however you need but don't hurt him while I'm gone if he just sits there."
"I can see the good doc is rubbing off on you. That and the, well, I won't say nephil. After all, little Chucky's still a dud in the powers department, isn't he?" Michael snarks.
Amenadiel glares at his brother and, rolling his shoulders, releases beautiful, smoky grey wings. Ella gasps at how gorgeous they truly are. "You try and touch Charlie or Linda ever again, and I won't wait for whatever Dad or Lucifer want."
"Aww, so that's a no on having wings or powers or the being less-than-useless front, huh?"
Ella feels the tears on her cheeks, and she can't…this isn't right. This can't be who Michael was all along, can it? How fucking stupid is she?
"Can we just leave?" she asks, and she wants to finish this…to get out of here before breaking into tears, but she can't anymore.
As Amenadiel wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, she breaks down into keening, incoherent sobs. Ones so loud, she's sure half of New Orleans has heard her tonight.
But even as Amenadiel starts to flap, and even with as loud as her sobs are, Ella hears it then. Hears Michael's last words to her:
Scrappy, I'm so so sorry.
But they have to be yet another trick. Because that's all Michael's capable of.
Isn't it?