Chapter 1: It's your time to be
Chapter Text
The garden of Eden was a pretty nice place to live, if you were the first humans ever to live on the planet earth. Plenty to eat, plenty to drink, beautiful weather all year round…all things considered, it was well and truly paradise.
Until Eve ate from the forbidden tree, of course. And then shared it with Adam.
Which got them both kicked out of that paradise, AND severely punished for their transgressions.
And the rest, as they say, is history. Literally.
What isn’t widely known, however, or even widely CARED about, is that an angel and a demon watched them go, from atop the Eastern wall of Eden.
The angel and the demon were both much older than time, but the corporations that they wore in order to inhabit the physical plane were brand new, and they wore them uncomfortably—the demon had too many claws, the angel had too many eyes, and neither had any sort of concept of what a gender was. It was rather like wearing new clothes that hadn’t been broken in yet.
Regardless, there they stood, watching the humans blaze a new trail out into the shifting sands.
“Phew, what a mess,” noted the demon.
“…Huh?” said the angel.
“I said what I said,” They said, defiance in their voice, “What a mess .”
“You’re a demon, right?” said the angel, looking them up and down, “I’m sure you LOVE messes.”
“Of COURSE I’m a demon, you nub , who ELSE would be hanging around the garden of Eden right about now?” hissed the demon, sticking out their snake-like tongue.
The angel gasped. “Are YOU the one who tricked Eve into eating the apple?!”
The demon puffed out their chest, and flicked an errant golden lock of hair back in a display of pride. “Yep! Puck the demon, part-time serpent of Eden, at your service.”
“Benthiel,” said the angel stiffly, “Benthiel the angel. Except…NOT at your service.”
“Ooh, I see how it is, you only serve the Big Guy , don’t ya!”
Puck poked Benthiel in the face with one of their fingers, while said angel attempted to keep their composure.
“Stop it!” they finally scolded, swatting the hand away, “The human’s exile from Eden is a SOLEMN time!!”
“Fine, fuck me for being a bit irreverent!” said Puck, smiling at the glare that Benthiel threw their way, “It’s only my JOB to be that way.”
“Or your NATURE,” said Benthiel scathingly.
Puck fell silent, scuffing the wall with the bottom of their clawed foot.
“You know, considering YOUR nature, I’m surprised you’re still talking to me,” Puck said, after a moment’s silence.
“What am I gonna do, ignore you? You’re making that pretty difficult ,” Benthiel noted with a tiny smile.
“Well, I dunno. I’m a demon . I sort of thought you would…strike me down, flaming sword and all-“
Puck froze, looking back out at Adam’s retreating figure.
They squinted at the little spark of flame that he was holding like a weapon, and then back to a suddenly very uncomfortable, very unarmed Benthiel.
“You-y-you-“ Puck garbled in incredulity, “You GAVE it to them?!”
Benthiel nodded miserably.
“Wow. What did…y’know…” Puck pointed upward, “ They say about that?”
“What God doesn’t know won’t hurt Them,” mumbled Benthiel.
Puck went slackjawed. “You…lied? To GOD?!”
“Aw, come on Puck, God cast them OUT!” Benthiel outbursted, “For just…eating from the wrong tree, that was SMACK DAB in the middle of their habitat! The least I could do, y’know, in sympathy for them getting tricked by a DEMON,” Benthiel sent a pointed look at Puck, “Was to give them something that would help them survive out there.”
Puck whistled low.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Puck said, slightly awed, “But holy shit .”
“Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel right now,” Benthiel trailed off, looking pointedly out to the horizon.
Puck followed their gaze, brow furrowed deep in thought.
“Y’know what, Benthiel?” Puck declared, “I bet…God WANTED this to happen.”
Benthiel turned to her in alarm. “What?!”
“Well…like you said yourself,” Puck said airily, “Smack dab in the middle of their habitat. God must have KNOWN that it would only be a matter of time.”
“That’s-that’s BLASPHEMY!” Benthiel gasped.
“Duh! Demon! I LOOOOOVE blasphemy!” Puck said, pointing at themself with both of their corporation’s hands, AND a few extra hands that they had manifested to make a point.
Benthiel rolled about half of their eyes.
“SPEAKING of blasphemy, by the way,” Puck continued, miracling away the extraneous limbs, “I bet you that God wanted you to give them your sword. They knew, I bet you, that the humans would die out there without it.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Benthiel said, holding their temples in the Earth’s first iteration of a stress-induced migrane.
“Just sayin!” Puck said, in a sing-song way, “God’s plan.”
Benthiel rounded on Puck.
“It wasn’t God’s PLAN to have them eat from the tree, Puck, it was YOURS!” they declared, “You tricked her into eating it in the first place, right?”
Puck snorted. “I didn’t even TRICK her! She did it by her-“
They suddenly clapped a hand over their mouth.
Benthiel raised a slow, curious eyebrow.
Puck seemed to fight internally for a moment, and then sighed.
“I didn’t really…trick her into eating the fruit,” Puck admitted.
“What?” asked Benthiel, in genuine curiosity.
Puck flicked their eyes downwards. “I took credit for it, to get my boss off my back,” they whispered, “But it wasn’t even my idea.”
A silence, charged with crackling energy, fell between the two of them.
“What did you do?” asked Benthiel, in a hushed whisper.
“Well, I was PLANNING on playing the long game,” Puck explained, “You know how it is. Strike up a friendship with Eve, make her trust the friendly old garden snake, get her to turn her back on God, laugh maniacally all the way back to Hell. The works. But one of the first things she said to me was, and I quote, ‘I wanna eat from the forbidden tree.’”
Benthiel leaned forward, hanging onto Puck’s every word.
“So I played along, and said ‘nooo, don’t eat from the forbidden tree’ and she said, ‘don’t tell me what to do, foul demon’ and then she ate from the forbidden tree!”
Benthiel blinked. That was…NOT what was sent in the company memo.
“I still don’t know if she knew I was a demon, or was just insulting me, or what!” Puck said, gesturing wildly, “But, either way, I am SO proud of her.”
They both looked out at the ever-shrinking humans, walking on toward the infinite horizon.
“That’s the thing that your side doesn’t really understand,” Puck said quietly, “Humans REALLY don’t like being told what to do. But it only takes a…subtle nudge to move them in the right direction. Or the wrong one.”
Benthiel stayed quiet, processing this new knowledge with a furrowed brow.
“You are…terrifyingly smart, Puck,” they concluded.
“Well thanks, angel,” smirked Puck, “I’ll be sure to use that intelligence to thwart the forces of good for all eternity.”
Benthiel rolled their eyes, but still extended their wing to shelter the demon as the first ever thunderstorm rolled in above them.
Chapter 2: show me what you can become
Summary:
Benthiel and Puck meet up at Noah's ark.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Like two sides of the same coin, they kept on coming together.
Like two sides of the same coin, they were complete opposites .
They settled into their quasi-human life, settling loosely in various societies, and settling loosely in the human concept of gender. Benthiel preferred to be perceived male, while Puck preferred to be perceived female, with a few notable exceptions. And despite their opposite natures, their approaches were both informed by that one day in Eden--the smaller the gesture, the better humans responded to it.
Which meant that, by the time of Noah, they were very, very good at cancelling each other out.
-
Noah’s great boat, being loaded with all sorts of animals, was something of a public spectacle. Certainly, it was the most interesting thing to happen for miles around, so everyone who had heard of Noah’s plan had come to see it, bringing their entire family to gawk at the madman with a boat in the middle of the desert.
Including Benthiel himself. The final animals were being loaded, the clouds above were stormy, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t make himself feel good about what was coming next.
Just then, a group of loud, raucous children ran by, engrossed in one of their little games, completely unaware that this was most likely their final day on Earth.
Benthiel watched them warily. Puck was the one who actually liked children. If pressed, and very drunk, she might even admit to it, WITH the addendum that she only liked them for how much potential for evil they contained. She DID invent the phrase “children are cruel”, after all.
Benthiel, on the other hand, loved all of God’s creatures.
At least that’s what he told himself through gritted teeth, when one of the more... rambunctious children came up and kicked him in the shin.
He groaned as pain burst through his leg. He really didn’t know why his corporation had to come with pain receptors, he made a mental note to file a formal complaint to Body Assignments later.
“Heyyyyy Benthiel,” the child said, her eyes flashing from dark brown to yellow.
Benthiel blinked in surprise.
“Puck?!” he asked, “Why are you...a child?”
“I’m spreading chaos amongst the young folk! The youth are the future, after all, and I want to make sure that the future contains as much chaos as possible. I taught them a song that never ends,” she said smugly, her yellow eyes shining through her disguise of a dark-haired child.
Benthiel heaved a heavy sigh. “Too bad most of them won’t live to pass it on.”
Puck cocked an eyebrow, and shapeshifted into her preferred adult form.
“Wh….why not?” she asked, voice carefully casual.
“Well, God has this...has this PLAN,” Benthiel began, just as carefully, “They’ve been umm... not happy with all the, y’know, violence and other-other behavior of some of the people down here and-aw, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, youre a demon .”
Puck flung her arms out to the side. “What am I gonna do about it? Try to thwart God’s plan? That’s waaaay above my pay grade, angel. Spill.”
“Good point,” Benthiel acknowledged in relief, continuing on, “Well, God’s planning to...um...flood the world. Forty days and forty nights. They’re only...only leaving Noah’s progeny and all of the animals in this ark left alive, to repopulate afterward.”
“The WORLD?!” said Puck, jaw dropping.
“I-uh, I’m not sure, actually,” said Benthiel, looking around, “all I know is that They're definitely flooding the locals, the whole-whole Mesopotamian basin.”
Puck took a glance back at the little gaggle of children that she had just been among, moments ago. They were singing the song that doesn’t end to their parents, who were looking less than thrilled.
“Even the...kids?!” she asked, her voice attempting to stay steady.
“Yeah,” Benthiel sighed. He felt tired.
“Why the KIDS?” she exploded, “They aren't violent, despite all of my efforts! They didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I don’t know, I don't know, don’t shoot the messenger!! I have no control over it, Puck! I’m just here because-”
He sighed.
Puck leaned in, sensing a chance to humiliate Benthiel before it even left his mouth.
“Yeah, Benthiel,” she asked, leaning in close to his ear with a smile, “What IS your job in all this?”
Benthiel crossed his arms. Must be one of her demonic powers, being able to tell when he was about to say something embarrassing.
“I’m supposed to be the dove ,” he grumbled, “Upstairs gave me an assignment to shapeshift into a dove, and then be thrown out of a window in the ark as a sign of peace, once the Great Flood is over. They said...they can’t trust the real doves to make the flightpath correctly.”
“Mascot duty?” asked Puck amusement in her voice, “They’ve got you on MASCOT duty?!”
“Shut up, Puck,” grumbled Benthiel.
“Whatever. I’m sure it’s a VERY important job, or they wouldn’t give it to a rule-following little nub like you,” Puck said, her teasing tone betrayed by a dark storm brewing in her golden eyes.
“Always nice to see you, Puck,” Benthiel spat her name like a curse.
She smirked. “M-hm, likewise. I gotta go now, though. Lots to do...lots to plan .”
Benthiel didn’t trust that look.
“What are you up to, Puck?” Benthiel called, as she walked away. “Don’t TRY to go against the Almighty’s plan, it won’t work.”
“I can’t change Their plan,” Puck said evasively, “But I’ve got my own...stuff. Waaay below Their pay grade. They won’t notice it, I promise!”
When Benthiel boarded the boat himself, he was surprised to find that the inside was much, much bigger than the outside.
Another of God’s miracles, no doubt.
He made his way down to the bottom levels where the animals were kept, walked down the rows to the very last cage, and settled down behind it.
That’s when he heard a giggle, and a SHH.
He froze. Was Puck here? Trying to mess with him, on the ark?! Oh, he would smite her back to hell for this-
“Let there be light!” Benthiel called, and a tiny golden orb floated above his palm.
Deep in the underbelly of the ark, behind the very last animal’s cage, was Puck, with her wings out protectively.
Upon seeing that it was Benthiel, she relaxed from fight-ready to merely tensely coiled.
Benthiel cocked his head to the side in a silent question.
Puck slowly lifted one of her wings, and dark eyes peered out with interest at Benthiel.
The same gaggle of children that Puck had been playing with earlier that day, had taken refuge behind her demonic wings.
Puck looked at Benthiel.
Benthiel looked at Puck.
He nodded once.
And he extinguished his light.
What could he do, but look the other way?
If the Almighty ever asked (and They never did), Benthiel would say that yes, he had been thwarted, but wasn’t it for the best? Interbreeding amongst humans could get very dangerous, and wasn’t it actually a GOOD thing that Puck had brought these interlopers along, for the continued survival of the human race?
He practiced this little speech in his head often, but never had the chance to actually use it. No one ever asked.
Notes:
Hey everybody, I'm back at it again! The next three chapters will be these two's "cold open", as it were. I was going to put it in one big giant Hell Chapter, but decided against it because it was frustrating me too much. Since they are shorter, I hope I'll be able to get them out quicker!
Huge thanks to Cal (who did the illustration last chapter) for giving me some inspiration on how their conversation went.
Chapter 3: I can make you change your mind
Summary:
Our dynamic duo meet yet again in 15th century Germany, where Benthiel learns how thoroughly Heaven reads his memos, and Puck learns to appreciate the written word.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
If asked, Benthiel would say he was pretty good at his job, especially when Puck hadn’t caught up to him yet. He could influence souls with the best of them, and had a knack for performing the right blessings at the right time. But his passion was human innovation. Heaven never adopted anything new, they never needed it—their long-distance communication was just fine, they could get anywhere they needed to go in the blink of an eye, and thoughts could simply be implanted into another angel’s head if need be, thought it was considered rude to do so without asking.
But the humans had no such luxuries. They had to fight for every convenience, for every connection, and the processes that they dreamed up for it FASCINATED Benthiel. Reading, writing, horse-drawn carriages, and clocks , the wondrous things. Benthiel would often take assignments in places strategically close to known centers of innovation, JUST so he could explore more of them in his downtime. In fact, the only redeeming factor of his disastrous 9 th century China assignment* was the fact that he had assisted a very sweet Buddhist man in the invention of the printing press, which revolutionized the written word for centuries to come. Even though he had to report that one as a loss officially, he still left with a sense of having been useful, and important.
*He was trying to convince the emperor to change his ways, and bring prosperity to his people, but Puck had gotten there first—the entire nobility was too mired in sloth and greed and selfish thought, and it lead to the downfall of the entire dynasty.
If asked, Puck would say that she was very good at her job. She had no reason to be humble about it, she was the Serpent of Eden, for Satan’s sake! She could rake in the souls with the best of ‘em, and she understood wh at the rest of Hell was slow on the uptake to get—small actions lead to big consequences. But her passion was chaos.
Sure, her coworkers would spend a full decade to carefully lead one soul into damnation, and there was a certain...art to doing it that way. But she was the one who always brought in the big numbers. Humans were always just ITCHING to hurt each other, and they were better at it than she was, so all she had to do was just...tempt a few of them the right way, perhaps encourage some revolts amongst the poor and downtrodden*, and boom! No matter the outcome, there’d always be plenty of souls to make Downstairs happy, and utter madness in the streets that she could watch with undisguised glee.
*Whether this was an encouragement of the sin of wrath or the virtue of justice was the subject of many a drunken argument with Benthiel, and to this day they still disagree.
And so the centuries marched on in this way, as the human population grew and flourished all over the globe. Puck and Benthiel c ontinued to butt heads, compete over souls, and simply watch as humanity grew ever more complex.
1490 A.D.
“Stop that thief!” came a shout from the street.
Benthiel looked up from his typesetting work to see a little boy ZOOM into his shop, hiding behind a precarious stack of vellum.
“You there!” asked the local shopkeeper, pointing a finger at Benthiel, “Have you seen a little boy run this way?”
Benthiel looked back at the boy, whose eyes suddenly flashed an unearth l y yellow.
He looked back at the shopkeeper, and sighed deeply. He didn’t want to ruin this man’s day by subjecting him to whatever P uck h ad planned .
“No,” he Suggested, “I think you should look...elsewhere.”
The shopkeeper’ s eyes unfocused for just a moment, then he snapped back to himself.
“Alright then, carry on,” he mumbled to Benthiel, and sauntered further down the cobbled street.
“Awww, do you ALWAYS have to ruin my fun, Benthiel?” said the little boy, shapeshifting before his very eyes into Puck’s preferred adult form—a woman, with long golden locks.
Benthiel rolled his eyes at the sight of his adversary.
“Petty theft, Puck? Really?” Benthiel said, crossing his arms.
“Hey, it’s the perfect crime!” she said, shrugging, “It’s low-effort, gets the rich all hot and bothered, I love it.”
B enthiel tutted with disapproval.
“And, it’s even worse if they CATCH me,” she said, cackling with evil, “Because once I’ve got you in my clutches...all HELL will break loose.”
Benthiel narrowed his eyes with suspicion.
“Waaaait a minute,” he said warily, “You’re not here to thwart me, are you? I will KILL you if you mess with my typesetting. And stop touching my vellum!”
“Naaah,” Puck said, deliberately running her fingers along the thin sheets of vellum, “Ball’s in your court right now, anyway.”
Benthiel pursed his lips as he remembered the last bit of “thwarting” Puck had done.
“I can’t believe you started a WAR just to get back at me,” he said, putting the stamps away with a little more force than necessary, “I had to FLEE England because of you!”
“Hey!” Puck scoffed, offended, “I didn’t start the WAR!”
She paused, and twisted one of the perfectly-aligned paper stacks by five degrees.
“I simply...encouraged a few peasant revolts,” she explained, “Barely anything in the grand scheme of what it turned out to be. In fact, it was YOUR side that turned it into a stupid war.”
Benthiel bristled. “ My side had NOTHING to do with-”
“But even if I did, you deserved it. For destructionnnnn of property,” Puck said, narrowing her eyes at him as she twisted ANOTHER stack of his vellum by ten degrees, “And psychological damage.”
“Replacing your salted meat stash with fruits and vegetables was doing your stupid corporation a FAVOR-”
“Ow!” Puck shouted, holding her finger.
“Ohhh, did you get a PAPERCUT?!” Benthiel mocked. ‘Serves you RIGHT, for rubbing your nasty demonic hands all over my SUPPLIES-”
“No, it’s...it’s HOLY,” she said, wincing in pain, “Why do you have HOLY paper in your shop?!”
“I do not-wait, what?” he asked, suddenly noticing the unnaturally blindingly white piece of paper on top of the nearest stack.
Benthiel peered down at the holy envelope, and gasped, excitement flooding his body .
“It’s-it’s a commendation!!” he said, unable to contain his joy.
“NEEEERD!!” Puck called from the opposite side of the shop, nursing her finger by lounging across a workbench like the lazy apprentices she so often influenced.
“Shut UP, Puck, I hardly EVER get acknowledgment from Upstairs!” he said, tearing the envelope open in his haste.
“Ooh, good, they’ve FINALLY recognized you for being the ULTIMATE goodie-two-shoes,” Puck said sarcastically, “Yippee for you.”
Benthiel ignored her, straightening the bright white paper out and beginning to read.
“Commendation awarded to Benthiel the Angel for-”
Benthiel deflated as he read the next line.
“For...the printing press,” he said finally.
Puck raised her head up off the bench, looking askance at Benthiel.
“You did that?” she asked.
“No-well, yes,” Benthiel said, putting the paper down with a sigh, “I did, six hundred years ago. In China.”
“Hah. I remember that,” said Puck smugly.
“But this commendation is for the Gutenberg machine,” he gestured out to the one he was working on, “For ‘better spread of the Lord’s word’.”
Benthiel flicked his eyes upward. “Wow. THANKS Michael.”
“Could you put that thing away? It stinks of Good in here,” Puck said, wrinkling her nose.
Benthiel placed the commendation in the typesetting drawer, and she relaxed.
Puck put her head back down. “That just proves my point, you know. That they’re not reading your stupid memos.”
“Don’t even start, Puck,” Benthiel groaned.
“Come on, Benthiel! Don’t tell me you haven’t thought at ALL about what I’ve said.”
“Oh, you mean the Arrangement?” said Benthiel mockingly , wiggling his fingers at her, “For one, it’s a stupid name-”
“Shut up, angel, it’s stealthy!” said Puck, “And? It would save you a lot of time, if you’re only willing to lie a little on your memos that they DON’T READ ANYWAY.”
“Lying is against the rules, Puck,” said Benthiel, turning back to his typesetting.
“So?”
“All God’s angels are solid and true, and lying’s a thing we never do!” he recited.
Puck laughed. “What was that, another one of Michael’s little rhymes?”
“Maybe.”
“Come on, Benthiel, don’t you get tired of thwarting me? I get tired of thwarting you!”
She sat up, abandoning her laid back stance.
“How many times have we been in the same city, doing equal and opposite assignments?” she asked him, gesturing wildly, “Bless this priest, CORRUPT this priest, build this church, desecrate this church! Every single time one of us does something, the other one just...comes along, and undoes it! We might as well have just-just both stayed at home!”
“I-I can’t just let the forces of evil-” Benthiel gestured at Puck, “Run RAMPANT. It’s my JOB!”
“And yet, we’ve been drinking together for the past few MILLENIA.”
“That doesn’t count, that’s...off-duty hours,” Benthiel grumbled, “Besides, I-I can’t just make a deal with the DEVIL. Do you KNOW how badly that’d go over with Michael? Or GABRIEL, for that matter?”
“It wouldn’t be a Devil’s Deal, you nub,” Puck argued, “you don’t even have a mortal soul to barter! It’d be our own….thing. Maybe we could even cover for each other, sometimes. Satan knows that it’s hard enough to transport these fleshy prisons around the physical plane sometimes, and I’d rather perform a MILLION blessings than go all the way to Scotland on horseback again.”
“Please don’t call our corporations ‘fleshy prisons’, Puck,” Benthiel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Whatever, Benthiel,” shrugged Puck, “You know I’m right.”
Benthiel opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again.
“It’s-It’s getting late,” he finally said, setting down his tools with a sigh, “And your DEMONIC PRESENCE is distracting me from my work. I’m going to get some wine.”
“Ooh, you have wine??” she said, perking up considerably, “Bring me back some too!”
“Only if you don’t touch my stuff!” he spat, before turning around and heading to the cellar.
Benthiel spent the entire walk to and from the cellar trying very hard not to think about how easy it would be to just agree to Puck’s arrangement idea.
Even he had to admit, they weren’t exactly...mortal enemies, despite being on opposite sides. His interactions with her on the clock were less FIE, DEMON FROM HELL and more of...well, he hated to say it, but it could be better described as a PRANK WAR. If she tempted a local governor into sin, he would bless his entire staff. If he created a charity for humans to help each other, she would tempt someone at the top to embezzle the money. If she caused unrest in the city that Benthiel was supposed to attend a lecture in, well, he would replace all her meat with fruits and vegetables. But he could never bring himself to do her any real DAMAGE, because...because…
Because of that night on Noah’s ark. Anyone who did what she did...well they couldn’t be ALL bad, could they?
WOULD there be any harm, really, in working with her? Just to lessen his own workload, a little?
Benthiel shivered, and not from the cold.
“Don’t let her tempt you, Benthiel,” he said to himself, his voice echoing off of the cellar walls, “It’s against the rules.”
When he came back up, he was surprised to find Puck completely engrossed in a copy of Das Narenschiff.
“Are you...READING?!” he asked incredulously.
“These things are great, it’s like live theater in your head!” Puck proclaimed, looking up at Benthiel with wild, yellow eyes, “Why the Heaven didn’t you TELL me, you nub?!”
“W-what?! I’ve been TRYING to tell you since the written word was INVENTED-”
“Shut up, Benthiel!” she interrupted, golden eyes flicking back and forth across the page, “I’m reading.”
Benthiel rolled his eyes, but poured two glasses of wine with a fond smile.
P uck didn’t touch her wine until she was finished with the book, Benthiel noted with joy.
Later on, Benthiel watched as Puck convinced a man to not only nail his theses up to the door of the Catholic church, but also to use the printing press to better disseminate his controversial statements, and Benthiel regretted even TELLING her about the written word in the first place.
Notes:
I'm back, after four months, with some iCarly of all things.
This chapter and next chapter are kind of like a two-parter, that discuss how these two in particular came to have their version of the Arrangement. I'm going to be very, very heavily drawing from one of my favorite iCarly episodes next chapter, so...considering I can update it in a reasonable time frame, get excited for that!
I'm sorry that there are SO MANY CHAPTERS of these two's cold open, this is just the way I've chosen to structure the story. No going back now! Antichrist stuff begins in a chapter or two.
Thanks for reading this crossover! I appreciate every last one of you.
Chapter 4: so make it right(maybe you're right)
Summary:
Benthiel and Puck's tenuous truce is tested, by promotions and new angels and the threat of extinction. What really happened in the sixteenth century that made Puck hate it so much? Read on to find out.
Notes:
thanks so much to scout (jimmycoded here on ao3) for the final once-over :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When asked about the sixteenth century, Puck would usually reply with some variation of ‘Man, FUCK the sixteenth century!!’ and change the subject.
But if she were to go into any more detail, she would say something like this:
GERMANY, 1530
“Puck! Puck!!” Benthiel called, pushing through the crowd and waving an arm to catch her attention.
“What is it, Benthiel?” she said, shifting in annoyance, “I’m kinda busy right now.”
“I’m up for a promotion!” he said excitedly, waving a blindingly white piece of paper in the air, “There’s a vacancy in the nebula department!!”
Puck regarded him with a look. “The nebula department, nice. Off planet?”
Benthiel’s enthusiasm waned, just a smidge.
“Yeah,” he said, looking deep in thought, “It’s very prestigious.”
“Neeeerd,” Puck said, sticking out her forked tongue.
Benthiel rolled his eyes.
“Anyway. So sorry to interrupt,” Benthiel said, snapping his fingers in order to affect the crowd gathered, “Nothing out of the ordinary here, folks. Carry on.”
“BURN THE WITCH!!!!” the townsfolk cried, and lit the pyre underneath the tied-up Puck.
She really did put on a good show, if she said so herself. She screamed, she spoke in tongues, she “melted” into the firewood—only to slither her way out the back in her snake form.
The real witch, watching in the crowd, stole away too—book of prophecies in hand.*
*This will come back to haunt us later.
Puck slithered around the corner, following the trails of angelic aura, and snap-transformed herself into her preferred form in front of Benthiel.
To her dismay, that little trick didn’t startle him this time.
“Nice of you to take the fall,” he noted, with that little infuriating smile.
“I’m not nice!!” Puck hissed, “Being burned at the stake is my favorite HOBBY, and no stupid, flammable human is gonna take that away from me!”
“Come on, what kind of hobby is getting burned at the stake?? ” Benthiel argued, “Do you find it fun to liquefy your brains??”
“You should try it,” Puck shot back, “Give that brain cell of yours some exercise. ”
Bickering like mad, they walked out of the little town together.
-
A few days later, Puck was wandering around, causing mayhem in the streets as was her wont, when she noticed that all of the people coming out of Benthiel’s favorite inn were...blessed. With inner peace , of all things.
Puck peeked through the heavy doors, reading to roast him for his blessing choices, but stopped in her tracks.
Sitting with Benthiel at his usual table was another supernatural presence.
And if Puck’s aura-sensing was up to par, the being was an angel.
She almost turned around right then and there. Two angels, on assignment in the same location? She might as well pack her bags, jet off to another continent for a while, save herself the trouble and the shameful memos back to Head Office.
But Benthiel just looked so immensely uncomfortable with the other angel’s presence, that Puck just couldn’t leave him there without making it a hell of a lot worse.
She lingered by the door, eavesdropping on their conversation.
“So, Misrael,” Benthiel said, “What, uh...what exactly brings you to the area?”
“Oh, you know. I’m on assignment,” the other angel, Misrael, said as she waved a hand, “Thought I’d catch up with an old colleague. How are things?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain,” Benthiel said, the liar , “Securing souls for heaven, fighting the evils that lurk in the shadows, the usual. But, just between us, I may be up for a promotion soon.”
Misrael gasped. “Really? That’s so interesting! ”
Okay, that was enough biding. Time to inconvenience two angels, for the price of one.
Puck moved quickly, and slammed down at their table, right between the two angels.
“What the FUCK is up, Benthiel, I knew I smelled something HOLY when I saw all those people come out BLESSED with something as boring as INNER PEACE-”
“Puck!” Benthiel said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Puck looked around exaggeratedly, her eyes landing on the other angel.
“Ohh, am I interrupting something?” Puck asked, hand to her chest in fake shock, “Who knew?”
She leaned over to a mortified Benthiel, and jabbed her thumb at Misrael. “Who’s this?”
Benthiel’s face was slowly going red with rage, but he took a deep breath, presumably to preserve his manners.
“Puck,” he said, with a hard-fought politeness, “This is Misrael . She’s my coworker. ”
“Pleasure to meetcha, Missy,” slurred Puck, throwing an arm over her shoulder.
“And this is PUCK, the DEMON,” Benthiel said, glaring daggers at her, “And she REALLY SHOULD BE GOING.”
“Nah Benthiel, Mama’s not encountering TWO angels at once and leaving SOBER,” Puck said, pointing her finger in his face, “I’m drinkin’ some WINE before I skedaddle.”
She swiped the bottle from a neighboring table, to the disapproving looks of both her tablemates.
“What, a demon can’t have a drink with her mortal enemy?” protested Puck, uncorking the bottle and pouring a glass, “Satan help me, I didn’t think you’d ALL be such sour sticks in the mud like Bennie over here.”
Benthiel gave her such a horrible look for the nickname that she choked on her wine.
No, wait. It wasn’t Benthiel. It was the wine . It was burning her!
Puck spluttered, and spit the wine out all over the table, confirming what she thought. The wine was blessed!
“Fine,” she said, trying to hide how much the holiness boiled on her tongue, “I know when I’m not wanted.”
She stood up quickly. “See ya later, Bennie. I gotta go put something evil in my mouth. ”
-
She couldn’t taste right for a WEEK after that.
And that? That was an act of war . If Benthiel wanted to play dirty? Oh, Puck could play dirty.
But oh, Satan, it was haaaaaard to keep up. With Benthiel and Misrael working together on their little inner peace project, the whole blasted TOWN was going to church, spreading good will amongst their neighbors, and being good little Christians .
It pissed Puck the fuck OFF.
And it meant she was going to have to clock in some overtime.
Unpaid overtime.
“Ughhh,” she said, putting her head in her hands.
-
She sowed her discord. She messed with people. She cast minor curses, unlucky spells, bad vibes, all to combat the angelic nature in the town.
She really gave it her all , but it didn’t seem to matter. She just couldn’t seem to stamp out the angelic inner peace! It was absolutely everywhere, making her skin crawl at every turn!
And eventually, she headed to her favorite corner table at her favorite seedy tavern, and just...put her head down with a thunk on the smooth wood.
Satan help her.
-
“Puck?”
“Hm?” she grumbled, her sour mood turning even more sour as she realized who ti was.
“The owner told me to check on you,” Benthiel announced, “Said you haven’t moved for seven hours . He thought you were dead.”
“Yeah, well. Can’t get rid of me that easily,” she mumbled, “I’m just tired . Go away.”
To her chagrin, Benthiel didn’t go away.
“There’s...there’s a festival out there,” Benthiel said awkwardly, “People are, uh...drinking, dancing...indulging in vices and sin…”
He trailed off.
“Okay, what’s wrong with you, Puck?” he finally exploded, “Usually you should be jumping at the chance to encourage mayhem! But you’re just-you’re just sitting here, like a...lump on a log.”
‘I’ll be as lumpy as I want, Benthiel,” Puck said, “Combating you two do-gooders is running me ragged. I don’t even feel like drinking.”
Benthiel let that admission sit in the air for a moment.
“W-well,” he said hesitantly, “Isn’t this just, uh...proof, that Good always wins over Evil every time?”
“UGHHH, I don’t care about your reverse-psychology philosophy shit, just leave me aloooone,”
Puck moaned.
Benthiel did, but not without a lot of nonverbal hemming and hawing before finally heading out the door.
Puck didn’t pick her head up for another twelve hours. If there was one thing she was good at, it was sulking.
When she finally picked her head up, and shook off the dust, there was a note on the table, in very loopy script.
“Puck,
In case you have a change of heart, meet me in Hieselburg tomorrow.
Regards,
Benthiel.”
Puck shook the dust off of the rest of her corporation, and finally staggered out of the tavern. She mentally reoriented, reshuffling the map in her mind of the local outlying villages. Hieselburg. A short walk along the western path. She could do Hieselburg.
-
Benthiel was not in Hieselburg. The little nub must have told her the wrong place, cause there was no angelic weirdo in sight. The only familiar face was a man in the town square, wearing a tall black hat. Where did Puck know him from?
As she was trying to remember, he noticed her, and pointed a long finger in her direction.
“THE WITCH LIVES!!” he screamed.
It was all coming back to her now. He was the witchfinder. He was the witchfinder who had just caught her the other day.
And he was currently working up the gathered crowd into a frenzy to give chase, torches and pitchforks materializing seemingly out of nowhere.
“Shit,” Puck muttered, and turned tail to run, narrowly avoiding a priest armed with holy water.
And when she staggered back into town, exhausted...the whole bloody town had been blessed with inner peace.
Puck’s jaw dropped. That dirty, cheating little Benthiel! He only lured her away from the town so he could do a mass-blessing on the whole place!
Puck sagged in defeat. She couldn’t even blame him, since she literally walked right into that one.
“Well played,” she said with a sigh, trudging toward home, “Well played.”
Her sour mood made four nearby youths erupt into a fight, which did lift her spirits just a little.
-
By the time she reached her front door, Puck was feeling quite defeated, and more than a little run down.
So it was a welcome surprise to find a container of dried meat at her doorstep.
Well, she wasn’t that surprised. It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for Benthiel to drop something at her door, claiming he was just “getting rid of” it.
And boy, it was the goods. Cured meat, aged to perfection.
The events of the day pieced themselves together in her mind in a new way. Perhaps Benthiel had lured her out of town so that he could do Heaven’s dirty work, therefore she wouldn’t get caught up in the angelic crossfire...and then rewarded her with some meat on her doorstep.
Even Puck had to admit, that holy nerd had a heart of gold at times.
But that was enough contemplation. Puck’s human stomach was grumbling with the hunger she couldn’t really feel, but indulged on whenever she got the chance anyway. She TORE into it like a rabid animal, wolfing it down without a care in the world for decency, savoring the spiciness that built up on her tongue.
Wait.
That wasn’t the spice of over-shaken pepper. It was burning, it was burning like-
Like consecration.
And, unlike the wine, she had already swallowed some.
Her carefully crafted digestive tract burned , and Puck screamed.
She thought she would die. She earnestly thought that this was it for her, as she sizzled from the inside out, twitching and dry heaving on the floor, using whatever miracle energy she could to prevent her human organs from shutting down.
And by the mundane miracle that was the human digestive system, she managed to digest it all and nutritionally break down its holiness--over the course of several agonizing hours.
And finally. As she lay there on the floor, sizzling faintly, using all of her dwindling miracle energy to keep her chest breathing and her corporation in one piece...she remembered something.
She remembered Benthiel’s excited face, as he waved his heavenly paper in the midst of the unwashed masses of the witch-burning crowd.
I’m up for a promotion!
As the holy burn subsided, a boiling hot rage bloomed in its place.
This was pre-meditated.
“Benthiel,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
-
Benthiel was just calmly reading a book in his home, wearing the glasses he didn’t even need, as if Puck hadn’t just had a near death experience at his indirect hand .
She kicked in his door, startling his book from his hands.
“Consecrated meat?! ” she screamed, “CONSECRATED MEAT?! That’s low, even for YOU!”
Benthiel widened his eyes as she threw the whole container back at him, hitting him in his stupid human head.
“Ow! Puck!” he said, rubbing his head in annoyance, “What was that for??”
“Ohh, ho ho ho, like you don’t KNOW,” Puck laughed.
“Really, I don’t, what-” he paused to taste a piece of the meat.
“This is blessed ,” he said in awe, “And strongly, too.”
“Yeah, no SHIT, Benthiel!” Puck shouted, “You’re the one who blessed it!”
“N-no! I’m-I didn-” Benthiel garbled, as Puck gripped the front of his shirt with a hand, raising up her fist, “Gah! I-I didn’t DO this, Puck! I wouldn’t!”
“Suuuure, like I’m just going to BELIEVE that!” Puck said, fist hovering threateningly in the air, “I know you’re up for a promotion, Benthiel, I’m not stupid! I connected the dots!”
She roughly shoved him back, fighting back a wave of disgust and betrayal, “I just didn’t think you would stoop that low .”
“W-w-what-” sputtered Benthiel, staggering to his feet, “What does my promotion have to do with MEAT?”
“Oh, Satan, do I have to spell it out for you?” Puck said, “So Upstairs would pick you for that nebula gig! I get it! I’ve seen it before! Get rid of a demon, Heaven rewards you! It’s a real occupational hazard for a demon, you know, my coworker Zephin got killed the other century by an angel looking to climb Heaven’s ladder of success. An angel’s up for a promotion, so they poison a demon to death and then do some good deeds, so they edge out the competit-”
Puck abruptly stopped, as her brain suddenly realized who would fit this description better. Benthiel was too much of a goodie two shoes, a stickler for the rules. But there was another local angel, who suddenly appeared when Benthiel announced his candidacy, whose reason for even being there was a vague ‘on assignment’…
All of Puck’s red-hot anger turned cold as ice.
“I gotta go,” she said, turning and walking back out of the room.
She paused at the doorway.
“Sorry about the door,” she said, and continued on her way.
-
It wasn’t hard to find her. All she had to do was follow the trail of her preferred blessing—inner peace.
Puck stepped back into Benthiel’s inn, and slammed her hands down on the table across from that cherubic little face.
“Misrael,” she said.
“Puck,” the angel said back.
“You’re up for a promotion,” said Puck, circling her, “Let me guess. Nebula department?”
“So what if I am?” Misrael said haughtily.
“Don’t you play dumb with me,” Puck continued, tightening the circle like a vulture zeroing in on her prey, “You might have Benthiel fooled, but I’ve been around the block a few times. You’re trying to edge out the competition, and getting rid of the local demon would be a sure-fire leg up.”
Misrael didn’t deny it. She just sat back, and crossed her arms.
“So, what’s your plan?” Puck continued, circling back around to the other side of the table again, “Discorporation?”
“No, no,” Misrael said, “Benthiel is Michael’s favorite . I’ll have to take more…drastic measures, in order to secure my place in the nebula department.”
She pulled a celestially-issued golden flask from her hip, clear liquid sloshing inside, and placed it on the table.
It was clearly full of holy water.
“You’re proving hard to get rid of, Puck,” Misrael smirked, her voice sickly sweet,“So...I’m going to have to up the ante.”
Puck took an involuntary step backward.
“You-you wouldn’t ,” she said, staring at the golden flask, “The-the heavenly rulebook you all follow won’t let you directly KILL a demon-”
“What Michael doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” said Misrael, “We’re not ALL above breaking a few rules to claw our way to the top.”
She spun the flask on the table idly.
“Plus, if anyone asks?” she said, looking back up into Puck’s eyes, “It was self defense .”
Puck’s aura darkened the skies around them.
Misrael uncorked the flask.
“Just give me a reason, I am BEGGING you.”
Puck’s fists clenched at her sides, instead of around Misrael’s smug little NECK, as she forced the thunderclouds to clear.
“Thaaat’s right,” Misrael said, corking it back up, “Nothing, and no one, will stop me from getting that promotion, and finally off of this STINKING planet. And I think killing the little darling of Hell, the snake of Eden, might be the only stand-out deed that can overcome Michael’s...favoritism.”
Misrael pocketed her flask.
“Nothing personal, Puck,” she said, “Well, I lied. It’s personal now. Cause you’ve gotten on my NERVES.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly my favorite person either,” Puck said, stepping closer to the table, “I’d rather you be MURDERING me than hearing your annoying little voice for one minute longer. ”
Misrael leaned forward in interest, and Puck felt her stomach drop. Why did she say that??
Misrael leaned back in her chair, and shook her head. “Mmm...no. Not yet. It’s too early.”
Puck blinked. “It’s what?”
“I can’t do it now,” Misrael explained, “Can’t let Benthiel take any of the credit. He’s Michael’s little favorite . If he was anywhere around, she would just have tunnel vision and heap praise on him that he doesn’t deserve. Again .”
She huffed in frustration, staring off into space in contemplation for a moment before turning her eyes back onto Puck.
“But I promise you, when the time is right? You’ll be nothing but a steaming puddle on the floor. And you know why I’m telling you all this?”
She didn’t wait for Puck to answer, she just leaned forward with her hands on the table and looked deep into Puck’s eyes.
“It’s because there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop me,” she whispered.
Misrael shot Puck one final smirk, then stood up from the table.
“Enjoy your night, demon,” she said, and turned to leave.
“I could tell Benthiel about this, you know,” Puck said, calling after her, “He’s such a square that he’d tell on you.”
Misrael huffed a laugh. “Oh, please, don’t make me laugh. You and him might be...friendly, to an extent, but he’s still an angel. Like me . Who do you think he’s going to side with?”
Puck had no answer, and had to let Misrael just...walk away into the cool evening.
Puck submitted her official request for concealed carry hellfire that same night.
-
It was one of the most stressful weeks of Puck’s very long life. The hellfire made her feel a little bit safer, but it’s not like she wasn’t still on her toes. She didn’t eat, she didn’t drink, she didn’t sleep, she was constantly vigilant about her surroundings, just in case.
And when she was at home, alone, and suddenly detected a sharp smell of ozone, signaling an angelic arrival right behind her-
She screamed and whirled around, tossing her hellfire like a baseball-
Benthiel ducked at exactly the right moment.
She gasped in horror.
He straightened up, breathing hard, and looked at the wall behind him, scarred with an unholy black smudge.
“W-was that HELLFIRE?!” he said, eyes wild, “What the f-”
He looked down, and looked back up again.
“What the HELL is wrong with you??” he yelled, voice breaking with the force, “I just came here, to TELL you, that-”
Puck didn’t stick around to hear the rest, she just tore out of her own house, wiping her tears angrily. It wouldn’t do for an angel to see a demon cry.
-
Some time later, Puck stood in front of Benthiel’s repaired door, hand poised to knock. If he was going to understand, she was going to have to come clean. About all of it. No matter what came of it.
She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
“Benthiel?” she called, “Benthiel, I-I don’t have the-the you know what. I just...I just wanna talk.”
Benthiel, to his credit, opened the door—if only just a crack.
“What do you want, demon?” he asked, only a sliver of his distrustful face visible behind the ornate door.
“I-I wanted to say I’m sorry!” Puck said, forcing the apology out of her mouth, “I didn’t mean to use it on you. I...I didn’t want to use it at all.”
Benthiel sighed, and opened the door fully. His open-book face looked distrustful, yes, but mostly hurt.
“Then why?” he pleaded.
Puck swallowed, and took the leap.
“It’s because of Misrael,” she admitted.
“What ABOUT her,” Benthiel shot back.
“She...she has it out for me. She’s planning to h-” Puck choked, and cleared her throat, “ holy water me. For her fucking resume. ”
“You’re not allowed to do that ,” Benthiel scoffed, exactly how Puck imagined he would say it, “Killing a demon is against the rules , except for in-”
“-in self defense, I know! She’s TOLD me that she’s gonna claim that after I’m dead! She has it out for me, Benthiel! I started carrying the hellfire because...I didn’t know what else to do.”
Puck’s voice broke on the last word.
Benthiel closed his eyes and sighed.
“Look. I know Misrael is kind of...well, annoying, but...I think you’re overreacting here. I have a hard time believing that she would want to destroy you like that.”
“Benthiel, she SAID it to my FACE!” Puck argued.
“I don’t know that! I wasn’t there!” Benthiel blustered.
“ I was! And I’m telling you right now! Don’t you believe me?” Puck asked.
“W-well what do you want me to do about it?” Benthiel asked.
“I-I don’t know, I just-I just wanted to feel like someone on this stupid planet had my BACK!” Puck shouted.
“You should have thought about THAT before you tried to KILL me!” Benthiel retorted.
“I know, and-I’m sorry,” Puck said, dragging the apology through her teeth yet again, “I really am. But-but don’t you understand WHY now?!”
Benthiel looked around before ducking his head down.
“Puck, I’ve looked the other way for you before,” he whispered urgently, “But this isn’t some little influence, this is SERIOUS! Even if you WERE right, and ESPECIALLY if you’re wrong, I could get in SERIOUS trouble for sabotaging one of my own kind! We’re angels!”
“Is this not serious?? Is my LIFE, my EXISTENCE, not serious enough for you?” Puck shouted, “My extinction hangs in the balance!”
Benthiel opened his mouth, but then closed it again.
His silence was deafening as they stared at each other, until Puck lowered her eyes and sighed.
“Just forget it,” she said numbly, turning to go, “I knew it was a mistake coming here.”
Puck heard him sigh from behind her.
“Give me ONE good reason why I should believe you,” said Benthiel to Puck’s retreating back.
She froze, and spun back around, taking deliberate steps up toward Benthiel.
“Because I came here,” she said, holding eye contact with the angel, “Have I ever come to you for help before? For anything?”
His face changed, features softening ever so slightly, but he still said nothing.
“See ya,” Puck said, and walked back out into the night.
Misrael could come out from behind any corner, at any moment. But Puck just didn’t care. She’d lost the only person she could possibly call a friend, and that...well, it numbed her to the life-threatening danger that she was in.
So she just did what the humans did: went back to her house and went to sleep.
-
Puck woke up a week later.
It was a pleasant surprise, to her, that she woke up at all.
“Guess good ol’ Missy hasn’t come to kill me yet,” she said, stretching out the kinks in her back.
Upon opening the door, the crisp morning air didn’t taste quite as blessed as it did last week.
It was quiet and peaceful as Puck made her way to the town square, where she saw Benthiel talking to a different woman. Tall, thin, and pale, with shoulder-length brown hair, Puck froze in her tracks when she got a good look at the aura around her.
It was the archangel Michael.
She ducked into the shadows, keeping an ear on their conversation.
“Benthiel, thank you so much for that glowing letter of recommendation! It takes a real stand-up angel to admit you don’t have what it takes for the job! I’m a little disappointed we won’t be working so closely together, of course, but according to this? Misrael really is the best one for the job. Just look around, at what her inner peace blessings have done in just this area, genius! If all goes well, we won’t need her down on earth for another millenium or two!” Michael tittered, and zapped back up to heaven with a thunderclap.
Puck’s mouth dropped open. Had Benthiel done all that...just to protect her?
Puck slunk up behind Benthiel as he sagged in relief, and cleared her throat.
“You gave up your promotion?” she asked, in disbelief, “Your NEBULA promotion, just to get rid of Misrael?”
Benthiel whirled around, looking...well, looking like he had been caught red-handed.
“Uh-uhmm,” he said, eyes darting around the square, “M-Misrael was going to break the rules. Now, uh...now she won’t. I was just-just doing the right thing. Helping! Helping her do the-the right thing.”
Puck felt herself smiling. She couldn’t help it.
“Well, c’mon, Benthiel,” she said, gesturing, “Let’s celebrate your do-goodery.”
-
“Oh...fine,” Benthiel slurred after a few drinks, completely unprompted, “ I just like it here better.”
“Huh?” Puck asked, a few drinks in herself.
“I like being on Earth,” Benthiel shrugged, gesturing his wine glass out to Puck, “And...maybe I like the universe better when you’re in it, Puck.”
He uncorked the bottle, and poured himself a new drink. “Better the devil you know, right?”
Puck grinned. “Aw, shucks,” she said, scuffing the ground with her toe.
“Now about that arrangement,” Benthiel continued, setting his wine glass down, “I think...that we could work something out.”
LONDON, 1605
As stated before, Puck usually presented female, in her human alter-egos. However, there were a few exceptions to this rule, over the years, when she would pose as other mythical figures in order to sow discord amongst the dominant religions.
And then there was that one exception, that she had thought NO ONE would ever find out about, until that new Shakespeare play rudely shoved it in her face.
In front of Benthiel.
When her namesake came onstage, she went white with shock. Benthiel chuckled, but paid it no mind.
But when Oberon called him Robin, Benthiel’s jaw dropped.
Oh no.
“YOU!!! YOU were Robin Goodfellow??” he asked, looking back and forth from the real Puck to the fake Puck, prancing about onstage, “Is this what you’ve been doing out in the countryside?”
“I-I wasn’t like this ,” Puck garbled, gesturing at the stage, “I wasn’t some little WEIRDO, I spread chaos, and revenge, and the donkey-head thing was NEVER PROVED-”
“Is THAT why I caught you churning butter outside that peasant’s house in the middle of the NIGHT?” asked Benthiel through his tears of laughter, “Were you doing a good turn for him?”
Puck smacked his arm. “Shut UP, Benthiel!”
But Benthiel could NOT shut up. Finally, he had caught Puck doing something embarrassing, and he was GLEEFUL. It was wishful thinking that he would ever, ever drop it.
“I remember that time! I COVERED for you! You didn’t tell me why!! Were you busy being a-”
Benthiel tried his hardest to contain his laughter, shoulders shaking, face grimacing.
“Spit it out, Benthiel!”
When Benthiel finally spoke again, it was in a high squeak brought on by his internal mirth.
“ Merry wanderer of the night?!” he squeaked in disbelief.
Puck lunged at Benthiel, and that is the story of the first time that an angel and a demon got kicked out of a public theater.
It would not be the last.
Notes:
apparently Robin Goodfellow was some sort of benevolent imp that would "do a good turn" for a household if you were kind to him. Fun facts.
Also YES I KNOW ITS BEEN A YEAR OKAY I KNOW this chapter has been vexing me so intensely for all this time!! But finally it's smooth!!! and that means its postable!!!
I don't know how many of you are still reading this story....but if you are? I am so grateful for you. Thank you for reading. I don't care if it takes another year, I'm not giving up on this story.
Chapter 5: it's all for real
Summary:
Benthiel and Puck get transferred to the North American continent. Benthiel goes to jail.
And the antichrist is born.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
NEVADA, 1866
Benthiel was in a tiny jail cell, sitting on top of an even tinier stool.
Oh boy. He was in trouble.
He was already nauseous from the sheer discord that plagued the entire North American continent, he never wanted to come to America in the first place! But regrettably, he was assigned, because apparently Michael saw some exciting developments in organized religion or something like that. And now, look at him. Stumbled his way into a barfight, things escalated, he wrestled a gun from a very drunk man, and now he was being framed for murder. For which the punishment was a very, very public hanging.
He was just trying to help!
“Well, well, well,” came a southern twang from the shadows, “Juuust look what the cat dragged in.”
“Puck!” Benthiel exclaimed in relief, as Puck seemed to extricate herself from the shadows themselves.
Benthiel grimaced when he got a proper look at her.
“What have you done to your corporation?” he asked, looking her up and down judgementally.
Puck put an offended hand to her chest. She was in her preferred blonde adult woman form...mostly. She had grown a matching blonde, bushy mustache, and was dressed exactly like the local cowhands. With a tan jacket, blue jeans, a blue bandana, and a Stetson upon her head, she wouldn’t look out of place in the local saloon.
“I’m blending IN!” she scoffed, “And before you even SAY anything, everybody LOVES my mustache.”
“You mean that dead squirrel glued to your lip?” Benthiel shot back.
Puck huffed. “That’s not important. What’s important is, how come you’re in jail? It would be a SUUUPER quick miracle to get yourself out.”
Benthiel sighed. “It’s...against company policy,” he said, manifesting and holding out a copy of the Divine Rulebook to the proper page.
“No way, Benthiel. There simply CANNOT be rules for this particular-oh my fucking Satan, there are ,” Puck said, peering as close as she dared to the holy paper. “Interfering with human imprisonment is a reprimandable offense? Wow. I certainly don’t miss that thing.”
“You never even followed the rulebook when you WERE an angel,” Benthiel noted.
Puck just shrugged. “Some things never change.”
“Hey,” Benthiel said carefully, “Since YOU don’t care about rules, can’t YOU let me out?”
Puck shook her head. “Sorry, Benthiel. Helping an angel is like the ONLY punishable offense down there.”
“Hanging! Hanging! Public hanging at noon today!!” shouted one of the townsfolk, ringing the bell in the town square, “See the Grover’s Bar murderer hanged for his crimes!”
Benthiel paled.
“Oh, come on,” he pleaded, “You’re not HELPING an angel, you’re-you’re making me, y’know, break the rules!”
He flapped the pages of the Divine Rulebook in her direction.
Puck considered, with a raised eyebrow.
“Youuuu...make a valid point,” she admitted, “I DO love it when I make angels misbehave. Especially you.”
With that, she raised up a leg and violently kicked the cell door off its hinges, with a horrible metal-on-metal screeching noise that the whole TOWN probably heard.
“C’mon, you big hypocrite,” Puck smiled, beckoning him out, “Let’s get outta here so we can go get DRUNK.”
-
“I hate this whole stupid continent,” grumbled Benthiel, three drinks in, “It’s rife with discord, broken treaties, ill will…”
“That’s why I loooove it!” Puck exclaimed, “All these groups to turn against each other! Bad blood! I barely have to do a thing, it’s my dream assignment. ”
She sobered.
“But guess what? Your side isn’t the only one that doesn’t pay attention to where the commendations go,” she said uncomfortably, “I got one for the Western Expansion. Which I had NOTHING to do with, and don’t even want my name on!!”
Puck blew out some air.
“Let me tell you, Benthiel, I got sooooo drunk on the worst rotgut moonshine they have up in them there hills. Got it off an old guy, named Rattlesnake Jackson. He only had three teeth, and seven fingers.”
Benthiel did not care one whit about those details, so he just grunted in response, and they fell into a comfortable silence.
Puck swirled her glass, deep in thought.
“Y’know. It’s conditions like these that would make a perfect environment to unleash the antichrist,” Puck said.
Thinking about the antichrist always sent a shiver down Benthiel’s spine.
“It’s not time for that yet,” he said quickly.
“I know,” Puck said, “But, it is getting closer. Tick tock, Bennie.”
He nervously downed the rest of his drink.
“Have you made a plan yet?” Puck asked, “Y’know...for Armageddon?”
“No, why would I do that when the antichrist is so far off? We’re not even at the six thousand year mark yet, it’s still fine,” Benthiel said, speaking unnaturally fast, “It’s still...fine. I’m no... doomsday prepper. ”
“Just cause you aren’t thinking about it doesn’t mean it’s not coming,” Puck warned, “That’s why I like to think about the worst case scenarios early. Keeps me prepared.”
“How demonic,” Benthiel noted.
“Haha, yeah,” Puck said with a little chuckle, picking up the bottle and drinking straight from it.
“Ugh, Puck, I was going to drink that!” Benthiel complained.
“Too late, Benthiel. Already put my demonic mouth germs all over it,” Puck said, pointing with a finger in his general direction, “AND my demonic philosophies all up in your mind-hole.”
“Don’t call it a mind-hole,” mumbled Benthiel.
“Whatever. You KNOW I’m right. And that’s why when the apocalypse comes, with its rivers of blood and shit, I’ll be sitting pretty, ” Puck said, leaning back in her chair.
Benthiel grabbed the bottle and took a forceful swig, out of spite.
“Can’t you think of anything but yourself?” he grimaced.
“I can,” considered Puck, “But I choose not to.”
Benthiel sat back. It was going to be a long, long, century and a half.
-
America’s saving grace for Benthiel didn’t come until the 1940s, when some very intelligent people over in Pennsylvania created the ENIAC machine, and computing BOOMED as a result.
And finally, Benthiel was in Heaven.*
*Metaphorically speaking.
He finally felt like he was in his element, the rapid pace of development that computing allowed was scratching an itch that he didn’t know needed to be scratched. He traveled to technology conventions, signed up for newsletters detailing the most promising innovations, excitedly relayed the most interesting articles to a VERY bored Puck, and even started keeping a collection of the strangest pieces of tech that he came across. Eventually, he settled in Seattle, in a charming city location not too far away from the nearest Heaven portal*. He opened up an electronic parts store called Freddie’s Garage, integrated himself into the local community as the bane of every RadioShack’s existence...and for the first time, he felt like he had a home.
*Pioneer Square. Incidentally, this is also the same location as the portal to Hell—you just have to go down the stairs rather than up. It’s a very efficient system.
WASHINGTON, 1981
The antichrist was born toward the end of the 20 th century.
The plan had been set into motion long before the antichrist himself existed—the hospital picked out, the family selected, half of Hell was crawling around earth in the year prior to the Swap, making sure things went off without a hitch*.
*Puck and Benthiel kept their distance from each other, very purposefully, that year.
On that fateful day in November, the antichrist was brought from Hell in a handbasket, to Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma, Washington. He was handed off to a sympathetic nurse who worked in said hospital, and swapped effortlessly with a human baby who was born to the wife of a high-ranking military officer on the same day.
Many things could have gone wrong in this operation, but thankfully for Hell, none of them did.
So the military wife went home with who she THOUGHT was her own flesh and blood, the antichrist had a home in which to thrive, and as for the other baby?
Hell didn’t give a damn, ironically, what happened to that baby. But the sympathetic nurse who performed the swap just so happened to have a sister, who couldn’t afford to adopt through the usual channels but desperately wanted a child.
We could go over his story, if we were so inclined. His idyllic childhood, his enormous family, his move from Tacoma to Seattle, his enduring love of socks...but we need to stay focused.
The antichrist’s name was Spencer, a modern enough name, and he was loved well enough. His father worked for the US Navy, and his mother tended to him as he grew from a chubby toddler to a lanky child to an even lankier preteen.
And the whispers of Hell, of course, were a central feature of his childhood.
There was a moment, near age eleven, when Spencer nearly ended the world.
Puberty is rough, and it’s even rougher when you’re the antichrist. For one, you start setting things on fire with your mind, purely by accident. For two, your heightened emotional state and general distress make the whisperings in your head that connect you to Hell more pronounced than ever.
But then his mother announced that she was pregnant, and that event changed his life.
She was a miracle, everyone said. All of the doctors had told her that she had become infertile after Spencer had been born, but the ultrasounds and the imaging showed Spencer’s little sister kicking away inside anyway.
Little Carly showed up more than two months premature, fairly sickly, but alive .
Unfortunately, the same could not be said for her mother.
This should have flung Spencer into a world-ending rage, by all rights, but...all thoughts of Armageddon left Spencer’s mind completely the moment he looked into Carly’s little eyes.
Given the larger-than-average age difference, Spencer was more than capable of lending a helping hand. He changed diapers, he knew all her allergies, he once posed as her father to take her to the doctor, scrounging up coins for the bus fare and wearing a truly ludicrous fake mustache.
In fact, he was too busy with Carly to even think about the demonic whispers in his mind, the connection to Hell, cajoling him to begin the end of the world. No one could blame Spencer, really. As any parent can tell you—raising a kid is hard work, and sometimes everything else falls by the wayside.
And Hell was NOT happy about that.
So, deep in the bureaucracy of Hell, the powers that be finally got the approval to do something about that.
They sent for a tutor.
SEATTLE, 2000
Dagon found Puck outside of Pike Place market, supergluing coins to the sidewalk.
“Puck,” they said, the fires of hell sparking in their vocal chords.
“What is it?” Puck said, spreading superglue in a circular motion around and around a half-dollar, “As you can see, I’m kinda busy, here.”
She shoved the coin against the sidewalk, pressing firmly, making eye contact with Dagon's dragonlike slits the entire time.
Dagon cleared their throat, and some smoke shot out of their nostrils.
“You’ve been working hard, Puck, to sow discord in the lives of humans,” they said, “The I-5 through downtown Seattle? A prime example of your work. But we have a new, and different job for you.”
Puck cocked her head to the side, and straightened up to face Dagon completely.
“What is it?” asked Puck cautiously, fidgeting with the coins in her hand.
“It’s the antichrist,” Dagon said, “It should have started Armageddon by now, but it just…hasn’t yet. We haven’t been able to get through to it by the usual channels, and…well my boss is chewing me out about the deadline extension.”
They rolled up their sleeve to show off some truly gruesome bite marks.
Puck scoffed and put some glue on the next coin. “Ohhh, so you need me to bail you out again?” she asked, “Just like the War of 1812?”
Dagon shuffled awkwardly, pulling their sleeve back down.
“It’s not up to me,” they said, a touch defensively, “I'm just the messenger. This order comes from Satan himself. We just need an outside influence, one that’s on the ground, that’s good at what they do. We need someone who can teach young humans to be evil, and we are told that you are good at fomenting bad feelings in those.”
“Oh yeah. If it’s chaos you want amongst kids, I’m ya girl!” Puck cheered, pointing two fingers at herself.
The other demon blinked. “What’s a girl?”
Puck deflated. “Never mind, never mind. Just a little…Earth joke, ya know.”
"Who's Yah-no?" Dagon asked, no small amount of confusion visible on their face.
"Nobody," Puck sighed, "Nevermind."
She clinked the coins around in her hand. A nickel had somehow gotten glued to her middle finger.
“But don't worry your infernal little head about it," she said confidently, putting her hands behind her back, I’ll turn that antichrist evil so fast, they won’t even know what hit ‘em.”
“Excellent,” said Dagon in relief, “The antichrist lives in apartment 8-C of Bushwell Plaza, here in Seattle. Don’t fuck this one up, Puck, and you might be looking at a commendation.”
They drew themselves up, and self-immolated, right there on the sidewalk, as their true, fiery form shot off into the distance, presumably taking the non-corporeal shortcut back to Hell.
Puck watched them go, with a heavy sigh.
She suddenly wasn't in the mood for coin-gluing.
“Yeehaw,” she mumbled.
-
“Benthiel. Benthiel,” Puck said, barging into his garage, “Put away your nerd shit right now. I need to get drunk. ”
She held up her hand. The nickel was still glued to it.
“And some acetone,” she added.
“What’s the occasion?” he said, looking up from his circuit board assembly project. Satan help her, he was wearing those nerdy-ass magnifying glass spectacles, making his magnified eyes blink owlishly at her.
“You, making me look at your ugly face wearing those stupid glasses,” Puck said, causing Benthiel to scoff with offense.
"Nice to see you too, Puck,” he deadpanned, lifting the offending eyewear off his face and summoning a wine from his reserve with a snap of his fingers.
“Seriously, though, what is it? Has the antichrist come into their power?” he asked, already pouring a drink.
“No, no, that’s the problem,” Puck said, “It’s-it’s-gah, I can’t do this sober. Give me that.”
She swirled the wine, then slammed it back, damn near unhinging her jaw in the process.
“Hokay,” Puck sighed, “ Now I’m ready.”
-
“I feel like it’s been a while,” Benthiel said, on his third glass of wine, “How old even IS the antichrist, anyway?”
“Beats me,” Puck said, “I think it’s...it’s been a decade, or something. I feel like it was right before the fatcake factory opened. Wasn’t it?”
“I don’t keep track of time via fatcakes , Puck,” Benthiel said.
“You should,” Puck said, “Strap one to your wrissssst. Then you’d be like Oh? What time is it? Time to eat another fatcake? Don’t mind if I do.”
She then raised her wrist to her mouth and made a bunch of disgusting devouring noises, and Benthiel rolled his eyes.
“None of your little tech bros out in Silicon Valley could ever make a watch that good,” she declared.
“ My little tech bros?? Th-they are not MY little tech bros,” said Benthiel, looking offended at the very concept.
“Whassamatter? I thought you liked those San Franciscans,” said Puck.
“No. They’re the WORST part of Silicon Valley,” he slurred, “I’m TELLING you, Puck. The WORST.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“They just have this...this...this AURA of insufferability,” he said, “And it just...hangs over the WHOLE valley, like a thick FOG. Eugh.”
He took another drink.
“And they have no respect,” he continued through a grimace, “NO respect for the hardware that makes all their ideas work.”
Puck snickered. “That’s pretty rich, coming from you,” she said, “You’re the KING of insufferability, that all the little insufferable subjects bow down to. Insufferubjects.”
Benthiel scowled. “Why the ffffffrick haven’t I killed you yet?!” he complained.
“Duhhh! Because I’m a lovable person-uh!!” Puck said, sloshing the bottle.
“I almost let you cause Y2K,” Benthiel admitted, “JUST because I knew it would piss off the tech bros.”
Puck cackled, letting the laugh peter out into the silence before she paused, and let out a huge sigh.
“God, Benthiel,” she said, with a reminiscent tone, “Remember when our biggest problem was Y2K?”
“How could I forget?” he said, “It wasn’t that long ago. You kept trying to thwart my attempts to prevent it.”
“As I remember,” she said, “ You kept trying to thwart my attempts to cause it.”
“Yeah, well,” Benthiel said, “Neither of us had anything to show for it. After all that hype...nothing even happened.”
“Yeah,” Puck said.
Then she sat up, sobering up with a snap of her fingers.
“Wait,” she said, shaking her head, “Wait. What if we do that...with the antichrist?”
“Y2K?” Benthiel asked.
“Yeah!” Puck said, standing up and pacing, “I’m supposed to be teaching the antichrist evil. What if you swooped in and also taught them to be good?”
“Is that allowed?”
“I don’t fucking care!” siad Puck, “It would effectively THWART the Apocalypse, by canceling out the evil in this kid!”
“But-but the father’s Satan, how could we possibly cancel that amount of genetic evil out- ”
“Satan was born an angel, you nub! If you cut off a mouse’s tail, is it suddenly gonna give birth to tailless mice?”
“Uhhh….no?”
“No! Of course not!” Puck said with a smack, “It’s nurture, not nature! If the evil was guaranteed, they wouldn’t even bother sending a tutor! They’re worried, that it won’t come natural! ”
She was sat up, animatedly gesturing in her chair.
“And with you there, undoing all of my hard evil work-”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Benthiel said, hands up in defense, “We can’t STOP armageddon, we aren’t-we aren’t q ualified-”
“Who gives a shit, Benthiel?? This could be our only chance to even delay it, and to stay on Earth!”
“But-”
“I remember you saying, a long time ago, that you actually liked Earth,” said Puck, “Better than your little nebula cloud or whatever. Don’t you want more time to enjoy it?”
“Y-yeah-”
“Think of it this way,” she said, steepling her fingers in front of him, “I’m gonna be absolutely STUFFING this kid’s head with the most evil things known to demonkind, like a Thanksgiving turkey! Are you, as an angel , an AGENT OF GOOD, gonna just stand by and...let me do that?”
“Well,” Benthiel said slowly, a spark of something in his eye, “When you put it that way…”
“Then it’ll work!” Puck said, “But it will ONLY work, if we work together. ”
She stuck her hand out.
Six thousand years of the Divine Rulebook screamed at him not to do it.
But a thousand years of their arrangement begged to differ.
He reached out across the divide, and grasped her hand.
“Let’s do it,” he said, shaking it firmly.
“You won’t regret this, Benthiel,” Puck said, grinning wider than any human mouth should, “I promise.”
“I hope you’re right, Puck,” Benthiel sighed, “I hope you’re right.”
Notes:
i've had a terrible day, and decided to post the next chapter of this fic to hopefully lighten the mood. I've wanted to post the antichrist segment of this chapter for a long, long time. I'm trying not to get hung up on my perfectionist tendencies with this fic, which stalled me out for more than a year...but I'm still chugging along. And there's still stuff I've written in my document that I'm excited to get to. As always, thanks for reading!
Chapter 6: There's no chance unless you take one
Summary:
Puck and Benthiel meet the antichrist, and become Sam and Freddie.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Benthiel startled at the roar of a motorcycle, rolling down the street where he was walking.
“Please let it be a human motorcyclist,” he prayed, “Literally anyone else .”
But it was to no avail. He would recognize the sound of those particular pipes anywhere, and he would recognize that particular pattern of flames and skulls anywhere. Puck the demon, in her preferred form and on her preferred ride, rode right up onto the sidewalk in front of him and forced him to leap back with righteous annoyance, lest he be discorporated on the spot.
She pulled off her helmet and shook her long curls free, supernaturally untangled.
“Hey,” she grinned, “Ready to meet the antichrist?”
Benthiel sighed. “Not particularly,” he said reluctantly.
“Well TOO BAD!” she shouted, putting her helmet back on and gesturing behind her with a thumb.
Benthiel’s self-preservation instincts always clamored inside him, when she made this offer, to turn and run the other way, perhaps even screaming as he went.
But with a beleaguered sigh, he climbed on the back anyways.
“Strap in, angel,” she ordered.
“With what? ”
She answered by revving her motorcycle, and they were off.
Benthiel hated it. She had no regard for the laws of traffic, and no regard for the myriad of panicked criticism he shouted in her ear over the wind! She blamed it on the helmet, but he was extremely skeptical.
She finally pulled to a stop in front of a skyscraper of an apartment building, and cut the engine.
Benthiel got off of the back of the motorcycle on shaky legs, silently thanking every deity he had ever HEARD of that they both made it there alive.
Puck didn’t notice. She was too busy complaining.
“They just gave me an address! One lousy apartment number! Apartment 8-C, Bushwell Plaza! Didn’t tell me the antichrist’s name, or how old they are, not even their gender!”
“Has Hell even caught up to the concept of gender yet?” asked Benthiel.
“Not really,” Puck admitted.
She grumbled. “They KNOW that the antichrist isn’t detectable by occult forces. Y’know what Benthiel? I bet you they’re being vague about it, just to piss me off.”
Benthiel startled at his name, only halfway through his list of deities.
“Occult?” he asked.
“That’s you and me, Bennie boy,” Puck said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and tugging him in.
Benthiel made a face.
“I’m not OCCULT, Puck!” He protested, squirming out from under her hold, “I’m-y’know-ETHEREAL.”
Puck shrugged. “Two words for the same concept, Bennie.”
Benthiel glowered at her, but followed her into Bushwell Plaza all the same.
-
Walking into the lobby, there was a disgruntled man in uniform, mopping the floor angrily–if that was a state that one could mop a floor in.
Benthiel was going to politely walk around him, and not get his attention in any way, but Puck walked right up to him, an evil grin on her face.
“Lewpert!” she called, waving her hand at him.
“IT’S LEWBERT!” Lewbert screamed, “STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS!!”
Benthiel recoiled. Lewbert made absolutely no effort to disguise his inhuman voice, somehow sounding like he was gagging on each syllable AND screaming at the top of his lungs at the same time.
He looked like a…somewhat unkempt human, but the very sound of his voice outed him as a demon.
The wart on his face was inconclusive, either way.
“It’s me, it’s Puck,” said Puck, flashing her demonic eyes at him, “C’mon, we were stationed in Luxembourg together?”
Lewbert’s eyes widened.
Apparently, that wasn’t a very fond memory for him.
“NYEEEAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!” he screamed, notes of Hellish Roar in his voice as he leaped over the counter, hiding behind it.
“Relax, you old buffoon,” Puck rolled her eyes, “i’m just here for the antichrist assignment.”
Lewbert squinted at her. “YOUU? YOU’RE THE ONE TEACHING IT HOW TO BE EVIL?!?!”
“Yup! Downstairs must have thought I was the best one for the job!” Puck boasted, “That’s whatcha get for being the snake in the garden of Eden, and being just as awesome for the next six thousand years.”
She threw him a double thumbs up, but he just narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“NGHHHH I DON’T TRUST YOU, PUCK,” spat Lewbert, his voice taking on a growling undertone.
“Yeah, yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual, Lewbie. Now, I got a job to do, up on the eighth floor. Looks like we’ll be seeing each other a lot more often!” Puck said brightly.
“NYEAAAAAAGGGHHH!!” wailed Lewbert again, and Puck went on her way, tugging Benthiel behind her.
“A DEMON is the DOORMAN?!” asked Benthiel, once they were safely in the elevator, “Are you sure he won’t…NOTICE me??”
“Huh?”
“Oh, ya know, servant of God, strolling right on by every single day!”
“Relax, Benthiel, ol’ Lewbie is dumber than a box of rocks,” said Puck dismissively. “As long as you don’t perform a blessing in front of him, he won’t suspect a THING.”
“Or maybe I’ll just stand behind you, “Benthiel said, “and your disgusting aura will just cancel me out. ”
“Aw, is that the best way to start our working relationship?” Puck said.
“This already is our working relationship!” Benthiel said, gesturing back and forth between them.
“You got me there,” said Puck, finally falling silent. They both tried very hard not to think about the high, high stakes of this task that they were about to embark on, as the elevator whirred its way upward.
“So…” Benthiel finally clapped his hands together around the seventh floor, “What’s your strategy? On how to influence the antichrist? Nanny? Gardener? Private tutor?”
Puck rolled her eyes.
“Formal tutoring’s not my style, Benthiel. I’ve got my own way of doing things.”
Benthiel raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Well, from my research, the antichrist is a seven year old girl who lives with her brother,” said Puck, pulling a (most likely stolen) document from her pocket and waving it around, “So my plan is, become a seven year old girl myself, befriend her, and boom! She listens to all my ideas.”
Benthiel could not believe his ears.
“You’re gonna be a child, on PURPOSE?” he asked, in disbelief, “A.K.A, the humans with the LEAST amount of power in any given society, especially over other children?? Come on, Puck, I thought you were TRYING.”
“Are you kidding? Being a little kid’s gonna be GREAT!” Puck said, grinning mischievously, “Do you KNOW what hellish little agents of chaos they can be? I’ve been a kid THOUSANDS of times, JUST to cause trouble, and you know what? It always works .”
Benthiel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I remember, but this is IMPORTANT, Puck! If I want a plan to go off without a hitch, I would DEFINITELY not want to be a CHILD.”
The elevator dinged . They had reached the eighth floor.
“Your loss,” said Puck, as her corporeal form shrunk to approximately the size of an average seven year old. “Hi mister! I’m Sam Puckett! I’m off to first grade! I’m gonna cause trouble, and say a bunch of swear words!!”
She flipped off Benthiel, and ran out of the elevator down the hallway.
“Pfft,” he said as she ran away, “Children have no power in society. How is SHE going to influence anything with a corporation like that?”
No matter. He had a job to do.
Benthiel stretched his corporation a little, smoothed his hair, created a mustache…and knocked on the door of apartment 8-C.
A disheveled twenty-something answered the door.
Must be the brother.
“ Hello , my good man,” Benthiel said, disguising his voice slightly with a British accent, “I heard you were looking for a tutor.”
The brother stood, and blinked at Benthiel, the gears turning in his human mind trying to formulate a response.
“For Carly?” he asked, hesitantly.
Ahh, there was the name. Doing great, Benthiel.
“Of course,” he nodded sagely. That’s what the tutors of old were always doing.
“I-I mean, I guess she’s been having some trouble with science,” the man said, shifting uncomfortably, “But I-I don’t think we need-”
“Science is my SPECIALTY, Sir,” said Benthiel, pushing his way into the home, “Now, let’s meet this charming little hellion.”
Sitting on the floor behind the couch, was what Benthiel assumed was the antichrist--a little dark-haired girl, small for her age, playing around with a barbie doll.
Benthiel faltered, just for a millisecond, but he pushed on anyway. She was…a little bit young, for the tutoring angle, he had to admit, but he had been a tutor in many an estate for young royals who were barely themselves out of diapers. He just hoped that Spencer’s sensibilities would be…open, to this style of learning.
As he approached, Carly didn’t look up from her task of brushing the hair of her barbie doll.
“Hello,” Benthiel beamed.
She finally looked up at him, her dark eyes curious.
“My name is Ben T. L.,” said Benthiel, keeping his smiles as kindly as possible, “What’s your name?”
Little Carly immediately started crying, and scrambled to her feet to go bury her head in her brother's legs.
“That’s it, it’s ok,” he said, picking her up and reassuring her as she shot a fearful glance at Benthiel.
“Hey man, no hard feelings,” said the brother, shrugging sympathetically, “Most kids don’t like me, either.”
That didn’t make Benthiel feel any better.
He cleared his throat.
“I’ll contact Ridgeway if we need a tutor in the future,” the brother said, and showed Benthiel to the door–Carly still clutching his sweater with fear.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Benthiel sighed.
“The mustache was a little much,” said Puck, from two feet below Benthiel’s face.
“Agh!”
Puck grinned. She still knew how to get a little jump out of him, all these thousands of years later.
“But thanks, Benthiel,” Puck said, crossing her little arms, “Because of your SPECTACULAR failure, I now know what school to enroll in. See ya later!”
She flipped the bird at him again, and raced off, her curls bouncing as she ran down the hallway.
-
Against all odds, “Sam Puckett” and Carly grew thick as thieves. No matter how much Benthiel tried to influence her over the next couple years, assortments of babysitters and after-school tutors (with and without the mustache) couldn’t ever compare with her best friend.
He blamed it on the fact that they were both creatures of Hell.
Benthiel held out, for as long as he could, but even an angel had to admit defeat sometimes, and switch tactics.
“Hi, my name is…Freddie Benson,” he sighed, shifting awkwardly in front of the class, “I’m eleven years old, and I just moved schools from…somewhere else. Any questions?”
“Are you related to the Freddie Benson from Freddie’s Garage?” piped up a little voice from the back of the class.
“No more questions!” Freddie blurted, and raced to his cramped little seat at his desk.
A normal human could not achieve the type of smile plastered across Sam’s face, it was far too wide.
-
When the bell rang, Sam confronted Freddie in the hallway.
“Admit it! My ideas are good!” she crowed.
“No, no, MY ideas are Good,” Freddie emphasized, “But your ideas…sometimes…work.”
She punched the air. “DAMN RIGHT THEY DO!”
“No swearing in the hallway, Puckett!” shouted one of the nastier teachers.
“What are you gonna do, fire me?!” Sam shot back.
“Detention!” the teacher snapped back, and Sam rolled her eyes.
“Why do you even go to detention? You’re not actually a fifth grader,” said Freddie.
Sam shrugged. “It’s part of the fun.”
“Fun? This is a serious situation!!” Freddie protested.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t live a little,” Sam argued, sticking out her leg and tripping one of their classmates, who hit the ground with an OOF!
“Be serious, Puck, The fate of the Earth depends on our actions here,” Benthiel said gravely.
He frowned, and cleared his throat.
“I think I made this voice a little too high,” he muttered.
“Well, you’re stuck with it now!” Sam said, punching him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he whined, but she was already gone–catching up with Carly, no doubt influencing her to do all sorts of nefarious things.
But the war wasn’t over. Benthiel had a few more tricks up his sleeve, to tip the scales toward the side of the good.
-
He learned, the hard way, that children do NOT like being told what to do. So he took advice from a parenting book that he found at the local library, and he decided to model kind and good behavior, so Carly would see it coming from a peer–-and hopefully, like the book said, she would take his advice.
She was a kind soul, Benthiel had noticed. Despite her unfortunate circumstances of birth.
So he did things like bring her water bottles during hot days, offer to carry her books, show kindness and affection toward her, hoping she would do the same to the other people around her.
It didn’t take long for such a kindness to backfire.
-
“Freddie, are you like…in love with me or something??” Carly asked, one day.
Freddie wrinkled his nose. “What? No!”
Sam looked at him, wide-eyed, a look of what the fuck are you doing?! On her face.
A look that he saw every single time he was about to botch a social interaction, and miss another opportunity.
So, based off of nothing but her face, he switched gears.
“I-I mean, sure, yes totally in love with you,” he said, hitching his voice up a couple of notches, “And you only see me as a friend, of course, and I’m totally cool living with that constant pain!”
“Aww,” said Sam, patting his face, “poor Freddie has a crush.”
Freddie glared holy daggers at her.
“I don’t know, it’s kind of…cute, in how sad it is,” said Carly.
Freddie just sighed. The indignity of pretending to be a preteen with a crush would be unendurable, if it wasn’t for something so important.
He worried, at first, that spending so much time with a demon would be…destructive, truce or not. But instead, he and Puck settled quite nicely into their roles as Carly’s sidekicks. They had a fun, easy dynamic--push and pull, argue and bicker, fight and fight back, Sam and Freddie. Sometimes she got on his last nerve, of course, but it was hard to truly stay mad when their fights were over silly, teenybopper issues that would be forgotten about the next day. They embodied their characters, and even Benthiel had to eventually admit, being best friends with Carly was a lot more fun than many of his previous assignments had been.
At least nobody was forcing him to travel via horseback.
The webshow, as pivotal as it would become, was actually an idea borne by accident.
It was Sam’s idea. As part of her grand plan of turning Carly to the dark side, she got her in trouble at school by convincing her to take the fall for Sam’s little prank. Their detention was on Saturday, judging potential talent show hopefuls, and whispering their side commentary between the performances. Then Freddie made the honest mistake of uploading the side commentary onto SplashFace, it started getting thousands of views…and the rest, was history.
iCarly was born.
And, they all just genuinely liked it. It was freeing, in a way, after all of their careful work, to let loose and do something stupid and immature once a week.
It was enough to almost make one forget, that Armageddon was approaching.
Notes:
Hi everyone, it is 4:30 AM and I am having the craziest insomnia that I haven't experienced for...well a long time. I am way too old to be doing this and I'm gonna regret it tomorrow but at least my solace will be that I got to update this fic after almost three years. This is another one where I do not care how long it takes me to finish, I am not abandoning it. My Seddie heart from 2011 will not let me. Thank you all for reading this extremly niche fic <3 <3 <3
CalculatorMenace on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Mar 2020 11:06PM UTC
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Sequesters on Chapter 1 Wed 04 Mar 2020 01:52AM UTC
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PapukaDex on Chapter 1 Wed 04 Mar 2020 04:31AM UTC
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SomeTrasno on Chapter 1 Wed 04 Mar 2020 10:30AM UTC
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Our_Love_is_God on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Feb 2021 09:11PM UTC
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CalculatorMenace on Chapter 2 Tue 19 May 2020 05:46AM UTC
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SomeTrasno on Chapter 2 Tue 19 May 2020 06:32AM UTC
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CalculatorMenace on Chapter 3 Wed 11 Nov 2020 02:48PM UTC
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Sequesters on Chapter 3 Wed 11 Nov 2020 10:49PM UTC
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PapukaDex on Chapter 3 Fri 13 Nov 2020 05:21AM UTC
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Lady_Skynet on Chapter 3 Mon 23 Nov 2020 07:38AM UTC
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SomeTrasno on Chapter 4 Sun 28 Nov 2021 07:01PM UTC
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s (Guest) on Chapter 5 Fri 02 Sep 2022 04:17AM UTC
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Sequesters on Chapter 5 Fri 02 Sep 2022 07:51PM UTC
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business_inator on Chapter 5 Mon 19 Feb 2024 07:22AM UTC
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business_inator on Chapter 6 Wed 07 May 2025 10:23PM UTC
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virfujiwara on Chapter 6 Fri 09 May 2025 03:42PM UTC
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