Seeing him take the bait, I decided to play with him a bit. Not to mention, I can't look too desperate.

"But if you really insist..." I slapped my thighs and got up, stuffing my hands in my pockets, "I'll just take my leave. I'm sure there are a lot of other angels who'd pay a pretty penny to sit on the Throne of Heaven."

Metatron gave me a conflicted look as a deluge of emotions flashed across his eyes. Finally, he sighed.

"I...would like to at least hear it."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Can't hurt." He shrugged.

I grinned.

"Wise choice."

I was going to sell his location to the angels if he had refused in return for them restoring my lifespan. Of course, that was the final resort. I had a lot of plans between this and that.

"So...." I sat back down, "Let's talk proposals...." I flipped open the folder, "Starting with what you know."

"What I know?" He gave me a puzzled look.

"You have hidden yourself away from the world these past what....200 years?"

"350-ish here. More elsewhere." He clarified.

"Complete blackout? No angel radio, no spying or day trips?" I asked.

"None. I have been holed up right here since before the settlers came." He answered.

I nodded.

"I see. Then am I correct to assume you know little of what goes on outside, particularly on the supernatural side of things?" I asked again, just to confirm.

"Nothing beyond what the news tells me and even then, I read scarcely any." He shrugged.

"Uhuh?" I processed the information as I chose my words carefully, "Are you aware that the Judeo-Christian Apocalypse has been averted?"

"I figured." He gestured around us, "Judging by the distinct lack of...."

"Fire and brimstone?" I offered.

"Eh...I was going to say stone cold dicks, but yes. Both would be littered everywhere like the trash they are if it had gone through."

"Wow, you really hate angels huh?" I snorted in amusement.

"With a passion." He huffed, "You would too, if you knew...."

"Hm?" I tilted my head in confusion, "Knew what?"

"How they truly are." He explained, "They are soldiers. Little puppets with no free will of their own. No love, no joy, no creativity.....just emptiness. It disgusts me. They disgust me. It's why I love humanity." He said wistfully, his eyes melting into the distance, "God's naked apes. Weak, vulnerable, with all the odds stacked against them." He laughed, as he continued with a fiery passion in his voice, "Yet with that one gift, that free will and creativity, they make miracles the likes of which I couldn't even begin to imagine! When they were young, I used to watch them, huddled around their little fires, telling stories to each other. They were primitive, crude, barely intelligible grunts and moans. But that was more than I could do, more than ANY of us could even think to do. They contained real emotions I couldn't convey with a thousand words of Enochian."

He let out a pleased sigh, a smile blooming on his face, "And they only got better. As their language developed, their societies grew, their world became larger and larger....their stories became worlds in and of themselves. Every book was a little world born of their imagination, with its own laws and they became gods in their own right." He summoned a book to his hand.

"When I first read them, these stories. Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Romeo And Juliet. Even some of these new ones, from the Far East." He tapped an early print of Spice And Wolf on the table, "Light Novels, I think they called them. The first time I read them, I felt an indescribable joy. It was like drinking water and feeling it parch a thirst you never knew existed.

So many little humans, writing so many stories in a thousand tongues. They put them out faster than I can read them." He said with a childlike fascination.

"Humans.....they deceive, steal, cheat, kill, destroy and honestly, disappoint...but they also love and create and sing and dance. It's beautiful. They're better than what any angel could hope to be. They're God's best creation."

Ugh. Listening to that tirade, I had to hold myself back from actively cringing.

He sounded like one of those rich white girls who support both Islamic law and LGBT rights without seeing the contradictions within. Or those vegans who say animals are better than us when in fact animals are far worse, just look at how many species violate or eat their own young.

But, I did need his sacrifice here.

Tch!

If contacting another angel wasn't so damn risky, I wouldn't even spare him a second look.

Putting on an impressed smile, I began flattering him to boost his ego a bit more.

I nodded approvingly.

"You're a good man, Metatron, and trust me, good people are few and far between these days."

"Why is that?"

"It's your angel pals up top. You wouldn't believe some of the shit they've been up to." I shook my head disapprovingly.

"Oh, I know how they are. It's why I ran away from Heaven in the first place." He agreed.

"It's why you're my first choice for the this project."

"Project?" He tilted his head with confusion.

"You're a smart guy, Metatron, so you've probably already figured this out, but the world, it's not well." I said in my most sincere tone, "Your dad, he's abandoned this world, but you knew that. What you probably don't know is that in the aftermath of this whole thing... Heaven and Hell are all tangled up in one big mess, and while Hell is....well, it's Hell, so they'll manage, but Heaven? It's in bad shape." I gauged his reaction and saw him gloat in a not-so-subtle fashion.

"They're down three archangels, the bureaucracy is all turtled up, there are warring factions at each others throats and it's just....well it's a mess. And that mess is pouring right on over, off the pot and into the plate. The people on Earth are suffering Metatron. They need help, hope.... light."

If I remember right, Metatron had this saviour complex. He wanted to be the chosen one of his own story. So let's tickle that portion of his brain a little.

"Someone to unite them. They need a hero, a saviour. A new God.

Your father abandoned this world, so obviously someone needs to take his place. Bring balance and order back to the world. And failing everyone else, I decided to take it upon myself to find that someone." I said, looking at him as I turned the page and pointed to his symbol.

"And in my journey, I came upon this little symbol here. It means 'messenger of god'. Recognise it?"

"Ah, my signature." He realised.

"Exactly. And at first I thought, 'hey, if this is a messenger of god, surely he must know where his patron god is, and I can just help that god ascend to Heaven, because at first I thought you were like the messenger of the Great Spirit, you know the one?" I lied, acting innocent, "But then!" I pointed at another part of the page, "I realised you weren't just any messenger, or the herald of some pagan god, you were Metatron, the fifth archangel-"

"I...uh, I'm not an archangel. Sorry. If that's why you think-" He began to shrink back.

"No. Nononono. I get it. I know. But, listen to me. You don't have to be an archangel, Metatron. You just have to be you. I realized this when I saw you, when I heard you talk....you are the right man for the job.

See, that is why I chose you, Metatron. You actually give a shit. You care. Only someone like you deserves to sit on the Throne of Heaven. To become the new god of this world."

He sucked in a cold breath and puffed up as his eyes twinkled and he briefly disappeared into daydreams.

I let him have his moment though, let him soak it all in before I squeeze all the profit out of him. As they say, can't squeeze a dry rag.

Soon, he came back to his senses,

"So your project is...."

I nodded and turned another page.

"I am willing to help you ascend to the Throne of Heaven." I explained, "I have a whole detailed plan in place, with step by step instructions and guidelines."

Metatron looked over the project with awe. I could see his secretary instincts tingle at the neatness and meticulous nature of the whole thing.

"You really came prepared. This is some good, thorough work. My colleagues could have learnt a little something from this, back in the day."

"Heaven's filing system can't be that messy..." I laughed.

"It's beyond messy. It's catastrophic." Metatron chuckled, "And probably even worse now that I'm not there."

Wow. The arrogance was just....wow.

And look who's talking. This is coming from the guy that wrote editor's notes in the margins of the goddamn Word Of God. I mean you gotta have some big cojones to think you know better than God, though in this case, he probably did know better. Really, anyone knows better than Chuck. He's a nutcracker on the best of days. Still, the cojones on this guy.

He has his head so far up his ass, he's not smelling his farts, he's smelling his food as it digests.

But I can use that arrogance to my advantage.

[It's like looking in a mirror.] PK giggled.

I'm not that arrogant! I was playing a part.

PK gave me a deadpan look.

Okay maybe I was underestimating them a little bit because they were literal medieval savages but still... I'm not always like that.

[Sure~] PK scoffed.

Shutty.

I'll deal with you later, mister!

Hmph!

I turned my attention back to Metatron and continued.

"I have a whole plan of action ready."

"You do huh?" Metatron asked, growing a bit more comfortable now as he leaned back in his chair and put down the file.

"Yup. So, I heard about this thing, called a Word Of God. There are three of them."

"Yes, I know. Scribe of God, remember?" He nodded, "Wrote them myself. Well, technically, I took the dictation when God spoke. You can't imagine what it was like, to be plucked from obscurity and placed at God's feet, sitting there in his glow, listening to him speak of his plans for the world. It's a shame I can't find any of them."

"Yes. I hear they were lost but recently, I managed to get a lead on one of them. The Angel Tablet. Said to grant nigh-omnipotence to its holders."

"Oh, is that why you came here?" Metatron perked up at the mention of the Angel Tablet.

Heh. Sucker.

"Yes. I read from a previous Prophet's notes that the Tablets can close the doors on their respective realms. Purgatory, Hell and Heaven." I played innocent.

"That's what you want? Stuff all the angels into Heaven and force them to make up and shake hands like good boys and girls? I'm sorry, but I don't think that's going to work."

"No it won't, but they don't need to know that, do they?" I grinned, "What I say we do is, we threaten to close the doors to Heaven forever if they don't agree to our demands. Make them submit to your rule."

"That is.... actually a good idea." He said, but I could tell he had already begun to scheme against me.

I smiled.

Scheme all you want, buddy. You'll never escape my palm.

"But I have a question." Metatron asked, "If you know about all this, why not just do it yourself? The position of God... it's no small temptation." He hesitated.

"Yes. It's very tempting. But uh...I can't do that myself for a few...reasons." I flipped to a page in the report and showed it to him. It contained a bunch of fake notes I had created and pasted together in post. 

"The Angel Tablet can only be used to it's full potential by an angel?" He read it out loud.

"Yes. Not to mention, I can't read whatever's on it and I don't know how to use it. So there's no point in me wanting it. It's far more useful in your hands." I lied.

In truth, it was because Heaven was a ticking time bomb and I wanted nothing to do with it or this world. I wanted to get what I wanted and be out of here by the time Chuck came back from creating the multiverse.

"But didn't you already know that?" I tilted my head in confusion.

"No. I just wrote whatever was told. Most of the creation of the Tablets was already done before I got there. I didn't get to see about that. I just heard they were meant to help humanity so I assumed they would work for humans too."

"Well, apparently not, if the Prophet was to be believed." I shrugged, "Either way, why take a chance? Besides, I believe in honesty in business. Heaven  is too much for me. You can have it. I'll just take my little cut from the proverbial pie, and be on my merry way."

"Your cut of the pie? What do you mean?"

"I mean my payment. For helping you ascend to the throne? It's a good cause yes, but I'm not going to do this for free you know?" I laughed, "Look, the hero..." I pointed at him, "Gets the girl, marries the princess, becomes the king of the world, yeah? But surely his friends deserve to get a happy ending of their own, don't they? A small reward for helping the hero through his journey? Or what kind of third rate story would it be if all the hero's friends live miserable lives while he feasts like a king? Right?" I preyed on his dreams and he folded like wet toilet paper.

"Yes...of course. Um...we can discuss a reward." He sat up straight, clasping his hands together, "What do you want?"

"Glad you asked. It's nothing big. Just a small, small, one-time service fee." I tapped a portion of the folder.

Metatron ran his eyes across the page and nodded.

"Yes, that is...yes....okay....weird, but sure.....hold on!" He suddenly exclaimed and looked up at me.

"Is this a joke?"

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Half of all angels' graces? 30 percent of all heavenly real estate to make your own extradimensional farm and resort? One in three souls admitted to heaven? Veto on all new divine mandates? This is exorbitant!" He squeaked.

"Let me assure you, you'll find that Heaven is well worth the price." I replied calmly, leaning back into my seat, "Besides, not all angels will take politely to you seizing power. I can name a few who'll be vehemently against this and I'm betting you recognize them. Naomi, Raphael, Bartholomew....." I pointed out, and his eyes glinted in recognition, "You'll have plenty of opposition to purge. Even some dissenters in your own ranks. Lots of reorganization to do and more than enough angels to send on 'secret missions' or convict for 'heresy' if you can't make the quota. It won't be easy, but you get nigh omnipotent power in return so I don't see why you're complaining." I shrugged.

"You don't see-" He spat, exasperated, "You're trying to turn Heaven into a banana republic!"

"And you get to be Pinochet. Congratulations!" I clapped.

"You can't-" He tried to protest but I cut him off.

"Unless you'd prefer being Allende?" I said with a pointed look.

That shut him up. He understood the threat.

I smiled menacingly.

This was all according to plan, even the forceful bits.

"You're a smart man, Metatron. I like smart people." I flipped the page with telekinesis, "I'm sure you know what's best for the both of us."

"Be reasonable...." He muttered meekly, running his hands over his face.

"And I spent so much work into hiding...." He muttered beneath his breath.

"I am being reasonable." I sighed, "But fine. I will add one more favor. I will kill Raphael, the final archangel for you. I'm sure you would have had a hard time dealing with that particular pest, yes? A special service for a friend, in consideration of our long and prosperous business relationship. What do you say?"

"I....this....." Metatron sputtered.

This won't do.

I stood up and walked over to him, towering over his chubby little frame, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Metatron, think about this. Really think about this. It's your call to adventure, your grand destiny! Your whole life has led you up to this point! Are you really going to reject this chance to make something of your life? Write a story of your own so grand it will eclipse all others ever written? Be the hero you knew deep down you were always meant to be?"

"I don't...." He hesitated, but I didn't give him the time to think.

"I chose you, Metatron. You. Not Raphael. Not Naomi. Not any of the other million angels!"

"There really aren't that many-" He interrupted.

"It's a turn of phrase man. Be cool, please?" I groaned.

"Okay." He sighed, raising his hands, "Okay. I will do it."

"Thank you." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "You chose well."

"It's not as if you left me any other choice." He grumbled.

"I..ugh." I sat down, "Look, Metatron, I'm sorry. I don't...I didn't mean to force you. I can come off as overbearing sometimes but it's....I have a good reason for wanting all of this. I ....need it." I rubbed my temple as I winced in pain. My flesh shifted on my arm, twisting into the desired shape as I prepared to remedy the situation and initiate the next step of my plan. Convincing him not to smite me the instant he has the angel tablet in his hands. And the best way to do that?

Make him believe smiting me isn't even possible in the first place.

"Care to elaborate?" Metatron asked, eyeing me curiously as I put on my act.

"Can I not?" I said with a nervous tone.

"Is it a touchy subject?" He asked, gaining a bit of confidence seeing me settle down, "Because if we are to work together, I think we should be open about such issues."

I sighed and pretended to think over it.

"No, you're right. A business partnership shouldn't be built on lies. I believe in honesty myself." I agreed.

[Who are you and what have you done to Ardwyll?] PK mock gasped.

Oh shut it you!

"Just, promise not to judge me." I said nervously.

Gritting my teeth I unbuttoned my sleeve and rolled it back, flipping my arm over to reveal it to him, simultaneously letting off a little bit of my Black Barrel aura to scare him off, stopping him from observing it too closely.

"The Mark of Cain!" Metatron gasped.

The Mark of Cain. The oldest curse in existence, and the seal that keeps the Darkness, the eldritch counterpart to god and embodiment of destruction, at bay. All bearers of the Mark were immune to smiting and other angel powers, even ones supercharged by the Angel Tablet. Not to mention, it gave its wielders near-absolute immortality, and immunity from anything short of reality warping.

At one point Metatron lied about knowing a way to remove it from Dean so he must know at least a little about its powers. This way, he will know not to try anything funny till he gets into the hotseat. And by the time that happens, I will have already gotten what I want, and he'll be able to do nothing but sit and watch from his empty throne as I take what I want and leave him with the scraps.

Of course, the one on my hand was a fake I created by transforming my flesh into its rough shape. Homunculi are very malleable creatures after all. I could transform my body in many different ways, so long as the core of it remained attached to the concept of 'human facsimile'. I can change my fingers into razor sharp claws, my tongue into a whip, my arm into a gun, as long as I look vaguely human.

There was a catch however. The whole process is slow and hurts like a motherfucker, so I am never keen on doing it. Just transforming my skin to look like that Mark almost made me bite my tongue off from the pain. I can't even imagine how painful it must be to change my hands into claws. Not to mention, I can always mess up while changing them back and end up with fucked up hands.

In fact, when I was training in the Godswood, I did transform my hands into claws. Couldn't lift a thing for the next two days, till I figured out how to turn them back. I even had to have my food delivered to my room the whole time and the Starks got super suspicious, almost blew my cover.

Why risk all that when instead, I can just use knives and reinforcement and avoid the unnecessary pain?

"So that is why you are immune to my powers. No wonder you were so confident coming here." Metatron frowned as he saw the Mark.

"Yes. And it's also why I think I can help you kill Raphael. The Mark is powerful. Very, very powerful."

"But if it was so close, why couldn't I feel it's power till now?" He asked, suspicious.

He was right to be suspicious. The Mark was so powerful you could feel its power from miles away. Even across dimensions sometimes. But there were ways to hide its powers. Cain did it, as did Dean.

"Because I hid it's power with a spell. You felt it just now, when I let it go a little didn't you?" I changed the flow of the conversation before he could think too deeply on it.

"You see, I....the Mark, it hasn't fully transformed me yet." I blinked and winced in pain again as I transformed one of my eyes into a pitch black color.

"I'm only halfway fallen, and I think I can still reverse this, if only I had access to a piece of heaven. The resort... it's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. I think that if I can just stay in Heaven and work on a spell to cure this, I can remove the Mark. I can be free. You understand what that's like don't you, Metatron? You've been stuck here for a long time too? I want the same thing as you. I just want to be free from the burning, searing pain, the fumes of sulfur, the hellfire of it all. I just want to be human again. Please?" I laid it all bare, shedding a lone tear, mixing a bucket of lies with a pinch of truth to make the act even more convincing.

It was an Oscar worthy performance if I may say so myself.

Metatron's expression softened and he nodded.

"I know how it feels." He gulped, "Okay. I will help you, but you have to promise me, once you're done with it, I get the heavenly real estate back."

I hesitated a bit and deflected the idea.

"We can discuss that after I'm cured."

It would have been suspicious if I just agreed to that immediately. I don't want him clueing in on my real plans till it's too late after all.

He narrowed his eyes at me and frowned but ultimately, gave in.

"After you're cured." He repeated softly, mulling over it as he began to scheme internally as well.

"Alright. I can do that."

"Thank you."

I grabbed his hand and said with genuine, heartfelt gratitude.

He wasn't expecting that.

"Y-you're welcome." He stuttered.

"Friends?" I asked, tentatively, with a smile.

Metatron looked at me with an odd mixture of surprise and confusion.

"I have never had a friend before." He muttered, and smiled, "Sure."

____________________

Yoooo!

I am back!

And with a 4400 word chappy!

I'm sorry for the shitty upload schedule these past ten days but I was on a trip across MP and for those who live there, they know how bad the signal can get. And honestly, it wasn't even the villages that were the problem. No. I had stellar reception in the rural countryside, but the cities, goodness.

Even Bhopal, man. The capital of the state. You'd think it would have decent internet but nope.

What bad signal does to a MF.

And the bad signal was tolerable, but the relatives?

Oh man. I hate social interactions. Especially when some granny I have never seen comes up to me and asks, 'Do you remember me? I changed your poopy diapers once 24 years ago.' and then they get all offended when you can't recite their whole family tree like the alphabet. Sheesh.

I am not a people person.

And my father was thinking of extending this with another 15 day pilgrimage to Kedarnath. By foot.

By Foot. Up a mountain road.

Can you tell my father doesn't value his own health? Yeah. There's being religious and then there's being suicidal.

Thank god that didn't happen.

Sorry, I don't mean to come off as an asshole, just, the past ten days took a lot out of me. Between a wedding, visiting relatives in three different cities, getting sick, navaratri celebration, a sick little girl coughing out rice into my food, having to eat that food then because I can't ask for a replacement or I'll 'shame' my father with my 'tantrums' (which is shorthand for me asking basic questions like what our seat numbers on the train are or if I should buy a water bottle for my father while I'm buying one for myself), then getting sick (who could have seen that coming!) and then being told it's my fault that happened, yeah, I'm pissed. I hate family trips.

Alright. Rant over. Now you know.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

Donate your powerstones.

Add the fic to your library, doesn't cost you a thing.

See ya later alligators!