LUCIFER ◆ N. Mikaelson

13 // Take Me To Church

A/N

Hey, sorry for the long wait. Quarantine has me feeling all sorts of lows, but here it is! A new chapter. We're at 40k+ reads now omg! Thank you to everyone reading this. Please vote and/or comment if you can, it makes my day reading them :) Stay safe and we'll get through this. Xx

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The church doors open and chatter settles down. All eyes turn in curiosity, wondering who made the sudden disturbance. A few smile, seeing the familiar faces of the other Angel's. Then all Hell breaks lose when they see me. Angry words are thrown around, blades drawn, and one even has to be held back.

"What is she doing here?" An Angel says, trying to break free of the hold.

"I know you must have some questions, regarding our new visitor. Some of you might recognize her; as a sister, a fellow soldier, maybe even an enemy. But she is not our enemy. This is the Archangel, Lucifer."

That silences the room, apart from a couple gasps. Looking around, I can see all eyes on me. Another feeling I don't particularly like. Magiel, the red head from the pond, gives me a nudge. I clear my throat and nervously step forward. Speech it is, I guess. I could give a good one now and then. Lets hope this is one of those times.

"Hi," I wave my hand, "Um. Lucifer here."

My eyes scan the crowd, noticing that though most look angry, some actually look interested in what I might have to say. It gives me a confidence boost. That maybe, even though we aren't on the best of terms, they are willing to give me a chance.

"Look. You guys don't like Michael," I hold out my hands like a scale, "I don't like Michael. It's like a match made in Heaven."

An Angel in the back scoffs and makes a comment about not liking me either. Fair enough. I sigh, and place a hand on my forehead. It moves to pinch the bridge of my nose, then I recompose myself.

"You guys don't like me, then fine. You don't have to. But I know how you feel, to some degree. I know what its like to be kicked out from my home, the only thing I've ever known, and thrown away like its nothing.

"I know what its like to fall, to have my wings be cut by my own blood. I know pain, and fear, and loss. And yet here I am, crawling right back to those who've hurt me. You know why?"

I can see some confused glances go around the room.

"Because I give a damn. I don't like all the fighting anymore than the next guy, but it has to end somehow. Think about what you've lost. Now I want you to look around, and see what you still have."

An Angel steps out from the crowd, "What do we have?"
A few voices pipe up in agreement.

"Each other. As long as there's still one of us out there, there's hope. That things can change, from all this war and madness, and go back to how. . . before the fall." Tears prick my eyes as memories arise.

I step down from my fictional podium, and find a spot in the church away from the crowd. Luckily there is a set of stairs leading to a basement. I go downstairs, not caring that the only light source comes from the candles on the walls. If anything, the ambience only further sets the mood. Melancholy. Longing for something so far behind me, that I can no longer run to. It's gone. He's gone.

Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. I, the fool who thought she could love and be loved, have the easy life with family and without fighting. Perhaps the Fates are cackling down at me right now, swirling their gin in hand. Whatever the manner, I need to find something to ground me right now, keep me going.