Author's notes: This episode is based off season 2 episode 20, The Devil and Peter Tork. One quick note; I am not trying to shove my religion down anyone's throat, although I am a Christian and proud of it. I simply figured that if the Devil was real in this chapter, God would be real as well. If you don't like it, feel free to send me hate-reviews. I don't mind in the slightest.

If you haven't already, I highly recommend reading the fic Red Sky: Take Warning, by Crystal Rose of Pollux, in which Mr. Zero returns to get his revenge on the boys. I don't exactly mention it in this fic, as it hasn't happened in the Monkees' time line, but it's a very good read none the less.

Also, I would like to say that my prayers are with all the families in Newtown, Connecticut who lost loved ones in yesterday's shooting. This is a horrible thing to have happen, especially right before Christmas, and I pray that God will give them peace and joy throughout this hard time. Nobody knows how much time they have left, these children had their entire lives ahead of them. I pray that God will spread his Love over that community, and the lives of those children will be remembered in the years to come.

Peter didn't trust himself to sleep that night. Lying awake in the dark and listening to Davy's quiet breathing (and the occasional snore) from across the room, he could barely close his eyes for fear that when he opened them, he would find himself gone, lost, finished.

His heart was still beating quickly, he could feel every precious thump that was keeping him alive. He was breathing faster than he usually did, too, and with every breath he took, he sent a small prayer of thanks to God for giving him one more breath at all.

He had never really believed much in God before. Not that he particularly disbelieved either, it was just something he never thought about. Life was here, now, he could think about stuff like that when he was older. He had plenty of time to figure out just what he did and did not believe.

But today had scared him more than he would admit, even to himself.

Today, it had been much too close.

Mr. Zero, the man who had sold Peter a harp for just the promise to come and work for him had showed up at the pad, to collect the debt, and had revealed himself to be the Devil, and Peter's promise had amounted to little more than selling his soul.

Peter had been duped by con-men before, but that was a new low for him.

And of course the other Monkees had come to bail him out, and Mike had finally gotten him off the hook with his speech about the power of Love. But the fact remained that Peter had sold his soul to the Devil, albeit unknowingly, and now he was afraid that even though the contract fell through, even though the Devil had been thwarted for now, he would be back with a vengeance, because that's what the Devil did.

He tried to trip you up and make you believe you needed his power, that he wanted to help you. And then he would wait until you were defenseless and swoop down for the strike. To steal, to kill, and to destroy. That's what the Devil was all about. And Peter had fallen for it.

If it weren't for Mike, he would be in Hell right now, forever burning and screaming while Mr. Zero looked on and laughed at the object of his cruelty.

If it weren't for Mike... No. As grateful as he was to Mike for making the speech, he had to give credit where credit was due. If it weren't for Love, he would be finished.

Love... that abstract thing that people liked to believe in. That idea, that one hope, that's what had truly saved him. And if all the old things his gran had used to tell him were true, he knew where that Love had come from.

But that was the real question, that was why Peter couldn't sleep tonight. If Love had truly saved him... why?

He already had admitted to himself that he'd never really believed much in God. But if the Devil was real, than God must be real too. And if God was real, and God was Love, he had saved Peter, a man who had never believed in him. Why?

Deciding that lying around in bed wouldn't do any good at all, Peter got up and crept down the stairs to the kitchen. He turned on one lamp so he could see, and then he went into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea. Davy had said once that nothing helped insomnia like a nice cup of tea, so Peter was willing to try it, and as he heated some water on the hot plate, his mind strayed back to his previous train of thought.

Why would somebody you didn't know save you from anything? For all intents and purposes, he had been saved by a complete stranger, someone he'd never met. No, even worse. He'd been saved by someone he'd scoffed at before. Why?

Pouring the hot water into a cup, Peter was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the cup was getting full until it spilled over onto his hand. With a slight yelp, he dropped the cup, which fell to the ground with a crash, pieces of porcelain flying everywhere.

Peter stared at the mess for a second before grabbing a towel and hastily trying to soak up the tea, which would have been easier if there wasn't a bunch of porcelain shards all over the floor. A sharp pain shot through his hand.

"Ouch," Peter muttered, pulling it away and seeing a little bit of blood. He must've cut himself.

"Peter?"

Peter turned to the stairs and saw Mike leaning over the railing, looking down at him sleepily. "What are you doing up?" He asked.

Peter chuckled nervously. "I, uh... couldn't sleep, so I was trying to make tea... I dropped the cup. Did I wake you?"

Mike sighed, looking at the mess, then looked at Peter's hand. "Did you cut yourself on the porcelain?" He asked, wide awake now.

Peter nodded sheepishly as Mike came down the stairs towards him, watching the floor so as not to step on any shards himself.

Grabbing a clean towel, Mike got it wet and wiped the blood off Peter's hand. "It's not very deep," He said, examining the cut. "You should be fine. I think we've got a band-aid in the bathroom."

"Thanks," Peter said, taking the towel and holding it to the cut as Mike began carefully picking up the porcelain shards out of the tea. "...Mike?" He said.

"Yeah, Shotgun, what is it?" Mike asked.

"Do... do you believe in God?" Peter asked hesitantly.

Mike let out a dry laugh. "Kinda have to, after today," He said.

Peter didn't say anything. Mike noticed.

"That's what this is about, huh?" He asked quietly, looking up at Peter, who nodded.

"It's just, I can't figure it out," he said. "Why would he do it? Save me, I mean. I never did anything for him. I wasn't even sure I believed in him until today. Why would he save me?"

Mike stood up. "Look man," he said. "I can't pretend to have all the answers. I didn't believe in him either. The important thing is, we made it. We don't have to worry about that anymore. It's over. Just don't sign any more contracts, and we can figure all this out some other time."

"But... but what if we don't have as much time as we thought?" Peter asked. "What if something were to happen tomorrow, and it was too late to think about it?"

"Peter, nothing's gonna happen tomorrow," Mike said.

Peter sighed. "But what if something did?" He asked. "Something almost happened tonight, Mike. I almost didn't make it this time. What if next time, I'm not so lucky? The Power of Love saved me this time. What'll happen if next time something happens, it doesn't come because I never took the time to think about it?"

"Man, I don't know!" Mike said. "I guess you just gotta ask yourself if you believe or not. Now, Peter, I'm not all that big on superstition and all that stuff. I really don't know what to tell you. This is something you've gotta decide for yourself, I can't make this decision for you. All I can say is if God is real, and if he's the one who saved you tonight, then he must have had a reason for helping us out back there. So don't keep looking over your shoulder like that!"

Peter, who hadn't realized how on edge he really was, smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "I just keep feeling like Mr. Zero's gonna show up to take me away again."

"Yeah, well stop it," Mike said. "I'm not saying I believe in him, but for whatever reason, God decided it wasn't time for you to go yet. So you can rest easy, Mr. Zero isn't coming back any time soon."

"But he will come back, won't he?" Peter asked, voicing his worry.

Mike sighed. "I don't know, Shotgun," he said. "Maybe he will. But not tonight he won't. If anything, he's got to retreat and strategize."

Mike instantly regretted the words as Peter stiffened visibly at the idea of the Devil plotting against them. "I'm not saying he is," He amended quickly. "All I'm saying is you can go to sleep without worrying about the Devil coming to get you. You don't need to lose sleep over this. Now, go put a band-aid on, and then try and get some sleep."

Peter smiled, feeling a bit better. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, Mike. For everything."

Mike smiled back, recognizing the deeper meaning of Peter's thanks. "Any time, Peter," he said. "Just don't sign any more contracts, got it?"

Peter nodded and began heading for the bathroom.

"Oh, and Pete?" Mike said. Peter turned around to where Mike was now carefully mopping up the tea. "Next time you decide to make a hot beverage in the middle of the night, try and be more careful."

Peter smiled. "Sure thing, Mike," he said.

As he found the band-aid and carefully placed it over his cut, Peter looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He still had plenty of questions, yes, but Mike was right. This was a decision he and he alone could make. And while it was true you never knew how much time you had, that just made him even more resolved to live his life to the fullest now.

Yawning, Peter suddenly realized how very tired he really was. Deciding that he could search for answers in the morning, he went up to bed. Davy was still asleep in his bed across the room, the crash hadn't woken him up. As Peter slipped under the covers of his own bed, he marveled once again how precious life was. You could have years ahead of you, you could be the youngest person on the planet, and life could be taken away in an instant.

Peter breathed in, and he breathed out. And as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he sent one last thanks to God for the sound of his calming heartbeat. For whatever reason, like Mike had said, Peter's life was spared today. He was determined to make it count.