#astarisms

“What did I say about buying that shit, kid?”

Natalie grinned over the top of the globe in her hands. Ensconced in the glow of blue and purple lights that painted an eerily tranquil solar system on the paint of her bedroom wall was what appeared to be a miniature jungle. At least, it looked that way from her perspective; unless there was a plant with a million petals that Satan never told her about.

Satan returned Natalie’s excited gaze with a look of pure exhaustion over the edge of his book.

“It’s pretty, though, right?” Natalie tried to reassure her prickly demonic friend, holding out the orb to him. The purple streams of light gently swayed across his face, like sunlight peeking through curtains.

He immediately shoved it away.

“Who cares if it’s pretty? If you bought it from that shop, it’s probably something I can guarantee that’s bad for humanity.”

Looking back, perhaps it hadn’t been a great idea to bring Natalie to that supernatural shop when he had been looking for Ipos and his book. In hindsight, he’d never really considered the ginger to frequent that place like a child looking for baseball cards to collect.

“Why did that asshole even sell this to you? It looks like Jurassic Park in a bottle,” Satan said scathingly, shoving the orb away from his face.

His cynicism didn’t deter Natalie, however, for she just held it closer to her face and sat down on her bed with it.

“Business is business, he said.”

Satan considered the shopkeeper’s words, lowering his book and watching Natalie as she became mesmerized with the mysterious plant inside of the glass ball. Something didn’t sit right in his stomach, but he pushed that feeling down in favor of the curiosity that seemed to be more prominent the longer Natalie examined her newfound purchase.

“What does it do?” he reluctantly asked after a long beat of silence.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Am I supposed to know everything?” he spit, narrowing his eyes at the surprise on her face.

“Yes - Well, I mean, no. I mean - You’re just really old,” Natalie said, quickly backpedaling when Satan’s expression grew more sour. “I’m just saying, I thought you’ve had a lot of experience with supernatural stuff since you are, you know, a supernatural stuff yourself.”

Satan raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“He said this would be useful to me, since I’m a human. He said if I’m ever in a pinch and I don’t like what’s going on around me, that this will save me. An opportunity presenter, I think it’s called. I can’t remember the technical term, but you get the picture,” Natalie explained rather triumphantly, giving Satan a broad smile and patting the glass beside her.

“I wouldn’t mess with something like that if I were you, kid. Nothing good comes from humans messing with objects from my world.”

The conversation died there with Satan’s resigned sigh and Natalie’s shrug.

The day passed uneventfully; homework, dishes, shower, bed.

The orb was a small nightlight on Natalie’s bedside table, a cosmos decorating the walls like slow moving clouds of galaxies blowing by on a breeze.

“G’night, Satan,” Natalie muttered into the silence.

“Night, kid,” Satan responded, his arms folded and his eyes shut from his place on the floor.

A small leaf trembled, then fell off of the side of the plant.

The night was peaceful.

XXXXX

Natalie’s morning was greeted with warm sunlight touching the skin of her cheek through her curtains. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head until she felt the satisfying pop of her shoulder.

The orb still sat, everglowing, beside her bed. Natalie smiled at it before swinging her legs over the side of her bed, her toes feeling the familiar mesh of the carpet.

It was only then that something felt . . . off.

Natalie peered around her room, noticing a couple of minor things that seemed a bit odd, but enough to draw her attention. The pile of books Satan kept stored on the shelf above her dresser was gone, and so was her ever present blue beanbag chair.

The two lacking items being out of place but not strange enough to linger on it, Natalie shrugged and pulled out her outfit for the day, getting ready for school.

Sometimes Satan grew antsy at night, though he never verbally admitted this to Natalie. He slept more now, but old habits die hard. Perhaps he had wanted to read but wasn’t willing to wake Natalie up with a light and relocated to Max’s old bedroom.

Natalie fitted her headband to her head and vacated her room, immediately bombarded with the smell of breakfast.

Since when does Dad have time to make breakfast in the morning? Natalie silently pondered, peeking her head around the corner when she heard idle chit chat and clanking of forks on plates.

Her jaw nearly hit the floor.

“No matter how I grade this it’s still going to hurt his feelings . . .”

“Who cares? The idiot didn’t get the material.”

“Max, please. Honey, you can’t mark him up just because you like him. If he didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand.”

“I know, but -”

“Mom, you just grade it for him, then,” Max frowned. He spooned a large mouthful of cereal up to his face when he his eyes flicked up, noticing Natalie’s gawking from the living room. He cocked his head to the side.

“What are you staring at? Mom made you waffles so hurry up and eat them.”

Carla McAllister, upon hearing herself mentioned, looked up from the papers her husband was gnawing his lip over. Natalie felt the air suck in between her teeth when she met eyes with her mother; her living, breathing, so very not dead mother.

Carla smiled, the aged wrinkles around her eyes becoming more prominent with the brightness of her grin. She looked just like the photos Alex had shown Natalie all throughout her childhood. It was different seeing it in person, though.

Natalie felt her heart stutter in her chest, like a car trying desperately to start but failing.

“Morning, Natalie. There’s no more butter, your brother ate the rest, but there’s syrup.”

Natalie hadn’t been aware that her legs were even moving forward until she stood in front of the table. Alex said something to her without raising his head from the reports in front of him, but Natalie didn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears.

Her mother laughed in response while she brought the syrup over to the table and cleared the empty plates. She felt like she was underwater, all sound dispersing through the static haze in her brain.

Natalie felt weightless . . .

Until a tug sharply pulled her into her seat. Natalie blinked, dumbfounded, at Max. He gave her a look of annoyance coupled with curiosity but didn’t say anything else.

Natalie ate her food on autopilot, preferring to watch the exchanges of her family as they shared what seemed to be a very normal family breakfast. The food tasted like nothing in her mouth, Natalie finding herself too far in awe of this bizarre situation to register the sensations of touch and taste.

There were talks of Max’s girlfriend, of Alex and the dog he was pestering them all to go along with purchasing, of a nice old man Carla met on her shift last night, and the vacation they’d all apparently taken to San Diego last summer.

Natalie wrung her hands together in her lap when Alex flipped through some of the pictures on his Facebook account, all of them on the beach or at dinner in a nice restaurant. Natalie’s sunburnt face grinned back at the camera, her arms flung around Max and Carla’s necks.

“If you keep zoning out you’ll be late for school. Get out of here, Nat,” Max reminded, excusing himself from his seat with a slap to her shoulder. Natalie jutted forward before catching herself, standing on numb legs and slipping her backpack on.

“Are you alright? You’ve been very quiet this morning,” Carla inquired, approaching Natalie with a bit of concern lingering in her gaze. She placed her hands under Natalie’s bangs. “You don’t have a fever . . .”

“I- I’m fine. I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well. Bye!” Natalie announced in a rush, overwhelmed to the point of breathlessness. Natalie sprinted to the front door, but she paused with her fingers around the handle for a moment of hesitation. Her feet turned her around and she ran back into the kitchen. Before Carla could voice her confusion, Natalie threw her arms around her and buried her face in her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and mentally memorized the sensation of her mother’s warmth against her skin, the smell of Carla’s perfume.

Natalie pulled away suddenly, her voice caught in her throat when she said, “I’ll see you after school, Mom. I love you.”

Carla waved awkwardly after her daughter, only then turning to her equally confused husband when the door slammed shut.

“What was that about?”

“I have no idea.”

XXXXX

“Mom’s alive, mom’s alive, mom’s alive!” Natalie found herself yelling as she ran down the street, almost tripping over her own feet in her exhilaration. In her frantic haste, she nearly knocked over a woman and her stroller, and a few of her classmates making their way up the school steps.

Natalie felt sweat sticking her hair to the sides of her temples when she reached the top of the steps, her eyes finding Mike as he tied his shoe outside of their science building. He glanced up when Natalie landed in front of him, pulling him up by his shoulders and shaking him with a grin.

“My mom’s alive!”

Mike’s teeth clacked together painfully at the jostling before he gently pried his friend’s hands from him, concerned confusion on his face.

“U-um, that’s good? My mom’s alive, too,” Mike responded, smiling at her uncertainly. Natalie could’ve kissed him in that moment, she was so excited, but instead she grabbed his hands and started jumping up and down.

“I went to the beach with her, Michael! And she makes waffles like I always thought she would. I heard she was a good cook, so obviously I’m jealous, but she’s alive and she’s funny and nice and - Oh my gosh!” Natalie stopped her rambling to gasp. Mike furrowed his brow in confusion, nervous from his friend’s outburst.

“Are you not mad at me anymore? You’re talking to me, and you haven’t talked to me since you saw God in that warehouse. Did Stan say anything to you, because I can’t find him, but here you are: talking to me again.”

Mike tried to form a coherent response as Natalie waited for him to speak impatiently, her gaze intent and wild as she hung on every word he had yet to speak.

“Saw who in a where now? N-Natalie, are you OK? I don’t remember being mad at you . . .”

“You were. Because I lied about Stan.”

“Who’s Stan?”

Natalie straightened, furrowing her own brow. Mike ran his fingers over the back of his neck, glancing behind Natalie to a small group of people watching the scene like a bunch of rubberneckers. Mike gently grabbed the bend of her elbow and guided her to the other side of the building for some privacy.

“Natalie, maybe you should take a few breaths. You’re very loud and very . . . sweaty,” Mike commented, jutting his hand inside of his backpack and handing her some Kleenex. Natalie took them with a thanks and wiped her face off, composing herself enough to speak softer.

“So, you started tutoring someone? That’s good. I was thinking about trying that out myself,” Mike smiled, his tone not belying how genuine he was about volunteering to help someone improve their academic standing.

“But I haven’t . . . shown you the guy I’m tutoring?” Natalie continued cautiously. Mike shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Not even once?”

Mike shook his head again. Natalie’s previous excitement died down into something heavy forming in her stomach. She had been too caught up in the shock of her mother in her kitchen to really think about why she was there to begin with.

Why Carla was there and why Satan wasn’t.

“I have to go,” Natalie blurted, gripping her backpack straps tighter as she pivoted around, intent on heading back to her home. Mike called out in surprise.

“Where are you going? We have class in five minutes!”

“I need to check on something really quick!” Natalie hollered back over her shoulder, disappearing out of the school gates before the office officials would lock her in until school let out.

Natalie tried not to dwell on the anxiety building inside of her as she hauled herself through her window, landing on her bed with an oof! She had no idea if her parents were at work already, so using the front door wouldn’t be conducive to her current situation.

Natalie was dumbfounded the more she looked at her room, this time, however, with intent to find flaws. It really was exactly the same, but with slight alterations. Not only weren’t there books or a beanbag chair, there was no birthday doll sitting on her dresser. There were no friendship bracelets tacked onto the wall. Her corkboard still had photographs and notes on them, but they all consisted of her friends from school.

Even the photos of Mike she used to have hanging on her mirror were intact where Satan had previously cut holes in them.

Natalie collapsed onto her bed, staring at her disbelieving expression in the mirror.

There was no sign of Satan anywhere. It was as if he had just . . . vanished from her life.

XXXXX

Natalie returned to school a few hours later when she managed to understand and accept the information presented to her.

Throughout the day she quizzed the people around her about Satan, but no one seemed to have a clue what she meant.

When Natalie brought up Felix to Laila, the girl stared at her quizzically and relocated to a table on the other side of the cafeteria. When Natalie brought up Hell exploding in the forest up in Oregon, Kristi laughed in amusement and leaned in, wondering what television drama Natalie was referring to.

Alex and Max didn’t know anything about a freshman boy she tutored at home.

Mike didn’t know about vessels or God or of the man with his face who’d eventually wear his body like a tailored suit at the End of Days.

When she laid her head against her pillow that night, watching the gentle waves of the orb flowing against her headboard, Natalie’s chest tightened.

Where could he have gone?

XXXXX

“What’s for breakfast, mom?” Natalie asked, yawning into her fist. It was Saturday morning so she remained in her pajamas, trudging into the kitchen on a terrible night’s rest. Normally she’d have slept in, but her mind was plagued with a hardened face with golden eyes. Sleep was just going to keep alluding her.

Alex was in the middle of pouring himself a cup of coffee, alone, when he went rigid and stopped tilting his cup. Hot coffee dribbled down the side of his mug and he hissed, returning the pot to the counter and sucking on his now burned thumb.

“That’s not funny, Natalie,” he reprimanded, his disapproval masked under a sheet of ever present misery at the mention of his wife. Natalie halted at the familiar sight of her father, wetting her lips and blinking away the tired fog from her eyes.

The kitchen seemed bigger, quieter, now. There was no warmth of conversation or food to be shared, just her father preparing for work.

“Sorry,” she muttered and lowered her eyes, trying to keep the mortification from bleeding into her face and tone. “I had a dream last night. I guess I wasn’t fully awake yet.”

The exhaustion still lingered in his face but Alex’s shoulders relaxed at his daughter’s nervous laughter.

“It’s OK, Pumpkin. I have those dreams too,” he reassured with a small smile, pulling out a chair for her. “I can make you some eggs if you want.”

Natalie nodded gratefully, confused as all hell but refusing to speak about it. It wasn’t until Alex placed her plate in front of her and adjusted his tie that Natalie finally spoke up around a mouthful of eggs.

“Is Max still in school?”

“Yes. I don’t think his summer break is until a few months from now. Why?”

“No reason,” Natalie lied, taking a large sip from her milk. When Natalie felt her father’s gaze persisting, she peered up through her messy bangs with a befuddled smile. “What?”

“I’m just surprised,” Alex laughed. “Usually you’re up early on Saturdays.”

“I am?”

“Yes. You have that Stan boy coming over to tutor and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this casual around him,” he explained, gesturing to Natalie’s oversized t-shirt and sleep tousled hair. She gaped at him, coughing when she choked on her food, eggs spraying the table.

“Stan’s here?” Natalie asked, wincing at how loud her voice was. Alex made a noise of affirmation, wiping off the mess she made.

“Well, not yet. He usually comes over in ten minutes, but I - Pumpkin, where are you going?” Alex started, jolting back in surprise when Natalie scurried out of the room.

She tripped and fell onto her carpet when trying to remove her pajama bottoms too quickly. Pulling a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt over her head, Natalie quickly threw her hair up and washed her face, the anticipation palpable.

She felt a grin pulling at her lips as she put on her deodorant when she peered around her room, the familiar doll and beanbag in place.

The doorbell rang when Natalie was making her bed. She forced the corner of her comforter into the wall and threw a pillow over it, yelling when the doorbell rang again and again.

“I’ll get it!”

Natalie hopped out of her room, smiling to herself when she approached the living room, Alex already answering the door and talking with their visitor pleasantly. Natalie sidled by her father, turning her eyes up to greet her best friend; it had only been a day but she missed him.

Her smile fell.

“It’s about time. Why are you so out of breath?” Satan asked, eyeballing Natalie with reluctance.

“Y-you’re tall,” was all Natalie could eloquently reply with. She glanced to her father anxiously, but Alex never stopped smiling at the two of them.

“Yeah?”

Natalie cleared her throat. “No reason. Just thought you should know.” She laughed mechanically, to which Satan pursed his lips in reply.

“I’ll let you two kids get to it, then. I’ll see you for dinner. Feel free to join us if you’re still here, Stan,” Alex said, draping his coat over his arm. Satan stepped out of the way and nodded, watching as Alex drove out of sight before shutting the door.

“I hate doing this. I can’t tell you how annoying it is to wait outside until eight every fucking Saturday,” Satan grumbled, knocking Natalie’s shoulder as he threw himself down on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair with a huff before looking at Natalie again. His upper lip curled back in annoyance. “What?”

“Why do you look like that?”

Satan appeared offended by Natalie’s obvious declaration. “Because I was born this way?” he supplied slowly, as if talking to a particularly dumb child.

“Aren’t you supposed to look like, I don’t know, some doofy alfalfa looking kid around my dad? Not some beefed out giant. Only my friends know ‘Stan’ looks like this, not my family.”

Satan made a face of displeasure, reeling back and cocking his head.

“The fuck? Since when?”

“Since always,” Natalie argued.

“You’re on crack, girl. You’re the one who made me set up this routine, if you remember correctly. I come over to ‘tutor’ you every weekend for your college courses and - What are you doing?” Satan explained, making sure to sarcastically air quote for effect before Natalie leaned in. She cupped his chin and turned his face back and forth to examine it. He slapped her hands away, getting flustered.

“What is wrong with you today, Natalie?” Satan demanded, moving down the couch when she made to sit, burying her face in her hands. Satan grew silent, watching Natalie’s shoulders starting to tremble.

He drew his hand up, hesitating over her back, then decided against it as Natalie sat upright. Satan tucked his hand protectively to his side and shot the teen a concerned frown.

“Kid?”

“It’s the same but it’s different,” Natalie spoke after a beat. She turned to Satan but she didn’t look like she was going to cry, much to his relief. She wasn’t smiling, however, and that was concerning enough.

“What’s different? You’re going to have to give me a little more information than that.”

Natalie took a breath and began to tell Satan of her day. He sat quietly, his expression unreadable as she recited about her mother and her family together, his lack of presence in her life with her friends and relatives, and his personal belongings vanishing.

By the time she finished, Natalie felt ten years older. She held out her hands, as if to say ta-dah! with no real enthusiasm. Satan folded his arms across his chest and hummed in thought.

“Are you sure you didn’t dream this or anything, kid?”

“I swear I didn’t,” Natalie denied, frowning that Satan would even doubt her on something this serious. When he saw the bitterness on her face he held up a palm in surrender.

“Alright. I believe you.”

Natalie didn’t know how much she needed him to say that until some of the pressure in her gut subsided. She wasn’t crazy and she hadn’t imagined yesterday. Something weird was going on.

“Did you eat anything or talk to anyone strange yesterday? You are the Prophecy Child. There is a possibility someone did something to you.” Even the idea of this possibility had Satan gripping his biceps until his knuckles turned white.

Natalie slowly shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Aside from everything being different, yesterday was normal. I didn’t see . . . anything . . . superna . . .” Natalie started, then her voice faded out. Satan raised an eyebrow.

“The plant.”

“The what?”

Natalie shot up from her seat, shocked that she hadn’t realized sooner. “Jurassic Park!”

Satan protested as Natalie began to drag him down the hallway, huffing and puffing while trying to maneuver the resisting hulk of a man into her bedroom. With a final shove, Natalie pushed him inside and gestured dramatically to the orb.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. I bought it the other day from that weirdo shop you took me to a while ago. You know, the first day of the end of the World?”

Satan stopped eyeballing the glowing plant to scowl at Natalie. Natalie waved him away dismissively.

“I know, I know. Humans shouldn’t shop there. He said this is an opportunity presenter. What do you think that means? Do you think it has something to do with your vanishing act yesterday or your relationship with my dad today?” Natalie asked, biting her nail in apprehension.

Satan picked up the orb and studied it, twisting it around before setting it back down.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

XXXXX

“Why must you insist on harassing me? You do know I lose customers any time somebody even hears about you two coming in here,” the shopkeeper sighed, sneering into a bookshelf he was stocking when Natalie and Satan entered.

“We’re not buying anything,” Natalie reassured, tapping her fingers together nervously. She glanced at Satan for help but he refused to look at her. Instead, he removed the orb from the backpack he was wearing.

Upon its reveal, the shopkeeper stopped what he was doing, the surprise evident on his face now.

“Where did you get that?”

“I bought it from you two days ago,” Natalie explained.

“No, you didn’t.”

Natalie scratched her head in frustration, messing up her hair in the process. “You did, but you just don’t remember it.” When the man made to open his mouth for what was most likely another scathing reply, Natalie beat him to it. “And I know that sounds stupid, but I really did buy this. I just want to know what it does . . . ‘cause I think it did something weird to me.”

The shopkeeper set the book down he was holding and regarded both Satan and Natalie like they were germs he was about to get infected with. Natalie stood with hope when she saw the gears slowly moving behind his gaze as he debated something internally before he moved forward, jutting his hand out impatiently.

Satan deposited the orb into his hands, watching him inspect his own product.

“So?” Natalie asked, holding her breath. “Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a plant that’s been blessed that used to grow on the edge of Eden, or so the rumor has it. Hatkhala Khadasha, or the plant of fate. New opportunities and such,” the shopkeeper explained, looking down his nose at Natalie like it was obvious to know this.

“Yeah, you said something like that to me before. But I don’t really get what it means. You said it might help me, though.”

“It will allow you to choose the fate you want.”

Natalie stared, long enough to make him visibly uncomfortable, so he sighed in exasperation. The shopkeeper gestured for Natalie to move closer, then pointed to the dead leaves on the outer portion of the orb.

“See this here?”

Natalie nodded.

“These are two dead fates. The Hatkhala Khadasha dies until you decide to nurture the fate you choose, according to the legends. The owner shall keep waking up to new worlds with new scenes, though it will be nothing too different from the original experiences you’ve had. When you like a world, you break the glass and water the plant.

“If you don’t water the plant once a day, more leaves will fall off and the cycle will continue. You happy now?”

Natalie floundered when he tossed the orb back, almost dropping it.

“So, it’s like an episode of Twilight Zone and every day is the same world, but the events around me are different?” Natalie asked.

“To dumb it down, yes.”

Natalie’s fingers flexed over the glass, leaving wet prints of sweat where her skin had been. She stared at the jungle-like foliage inside, tinted purple and blue as if it imprisoned fireflies inside of it.

“So, he’s not the Satan I spent the last year with? He’s just a version of him that could’ve happened?” Natalie asked, glancing at the man beside her. Satan frowned at her words, turning to the shopkeeper for answers.

“Something like that.” He sighed when Natalie’s expression fell to worry. “You don’t have to pick this fate. Let the plant die tonight and pick the one you want to live in. Christ, I can’t believe a version of me actually thought selling this to someone as stupid as you was a good idea.”

“What if I don’t like any of the fates I get?” Natalie asked, squinting at her reflection in the orb. So each of the many leaves inside held a different life she could live? Hard to believe.

“If you don’t let the plant completely die, come see me and I’ll fix it,” the shopkeeper said, clearly very bored with this conversation. He walked back to the bookshelf and began placing the books back up.

“Thank you!” Natalie said, no longer worried about this ball in her possession. She smiled down at it, holding it close to her chest.

If he could reverse this, then there wouldn’t be any problem in seeing all of her other options, right? In the end Natalie didn’t see herself picking any of these worlds. She’d always come back to the Satan she knew.

Satan eyed her quietly as they walked to the exit, suspiciously silent throughout this whole exchange.

He held the door open for Natalie, the bell jingling signifying their departure before Natalie snapped her fingers. She turned around and called out to the shopkeeper once more. He lowered his eyelids and stepped off of the ladder, looking to her expectantly.

“What happens if the plant dies?”

“Don’t let it die.”

“OK, but what if -”

“Don’t let it die.”

And that was the end of that.

XXXXX

Now that her fears had been assuaged, Natalie enjoyed the rest of her day like she would any other. All the while she did, Satan had hardly spoken a peep.

It wasn’t until Natalie was climbing into bed when he finally spoke up.

“You’re not going to break it?”

Natalie slid under her blanket, rolling her head on her pillow until she could see the two glowing lights that was Satan staring at her. Beside her bed sat the orb, looking as healthy as ever. It was hard to believe every day this plant was dying.

“Why? Did you want me to break it?”

Satan shrugged, averting his gaze.

“I don’t see a difference, dude,” Natalie spoke softly, trying to comfort her friend when she caught his eyes again. He was clearly upset, though she knew he’d never admit it out loud to her. “I don’t even belong here. Not with you. I have my own family and my own Satan. You’ll be fine when your Natalie wakes up tomorrow.”

Satan frowned, slumping down in the beanbag chair, but he didn’t protest.

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Night.”

Natalie rolled over, fiddling nervously with the edge of her pillowcase. For some reason a knot of guilt tied inside of her. She shook it off as best she could, however, choosing not to dwell on it.

Tomorrow was a new day.

Beside her a leaf slowly withered and died, falling to gather with the rest on the bottom.

XXXXX

Natalie adjusted quite quickly the mornings she was presented with. The shopkeeper had been correct; each day was her own reality, just altered slightly.

Some days the alterations were so minor that she’d barely caught on to it, such as Satan hating sweets, or Max living at home. Other days she woke to a life drastically different to her own in the personalities of her peers.

There were even some days she woke up still contracted.

Natalie grinned sheepishly over the scrapes on her knees while Satan scowled above her. She could see the patches of dried blood stained on his jeans from how she’d fallen down the stoop outside.

“I forgot,” she admitted.

“We’ve been contracted for a year now. How do you just forget this?” Satan retorted sarcastically, shuffling around in the first aid kit to find some bandages.

Natalie bit her lip and shrugged. All she could do was smile and hope the subject died every time. There was no point in bringing up her knowledge to any of these Satans. It was too much of a hassle and she didn’t need to give them any extra stress.

If they were just going to get their own version of Natalie back tomorrow, then it was probably best anyway that they weren’t aware she didn’t belong here.

“So . . .” Natalie started, making sure her voice was non confrontational. Satan bandaged her knees, only giving Natalie a brief noise of question in his throat in response. “I forget. What happened at Titus’ warehouse again? I mean, cuz we’re contracted and all.”

Satan’s gaze flicked up to hers, confusion on his face. Natalie beamed.

“Just curious. It was hectic there, you know.”

Satan must’ve been content with her answer because he didn’t look suspicious. His eyes dropped down to Natalie’s knees again and he continued wiping them with the antibacterial cloth.

“He wasn’t there. I just walked in and grabbed you, remember? I’m not sure what’s so ‘hectic’ about that, kid.”

“What? Weren’t there angels and fire and stuff?”

Satan snorted. “What are you talking about?”

Natalie fisted her hands against the material of her shirt. OK, so clearly there hadn’t been a confrontation yet . . . A shiver ran down her spine and she glanced behind Satan, suddenly more aware of her surroundings.

Was Titus still out there?

“You, uh,” Natalie cleared her throat, setting one of her hands over Satan’s. He stopped what he was doing to stare at her in surprise. “You won’t let me get taken somewhere again, right?”

Natalie took a moment to stop glancing around her street, finally allowing her gaze to settle in front of her. She flinched with how stony Satan’s expression was, but there was some comfort in that.

“Never.”

Her fingers flexed, then gripped onto his hand. She was satisfied with that.

XXXXX

There were days Natalie hated with this plant. But it wasn’t like she could do much about it, except for ride it out until nighttime.

These particular days were the ones where Satan hated her.

She sat on the other side of the room as the man who she had come to know as her best friend glared daggers at the television. This man, in this reality, apparently never found her personality quirky but charming, instead just finding her obnoxious. He didn’t find her laugh to be warm, he just thought it was grating and aggravating.

This Satan hated her for keeping him housed like some child or a dog on a leash.

Natalie kept to herself most of the day, avoiding eye contact. She had gotten too close when passing him before bed and he had grabbed her arm, making her wince. When she met his eyes it felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her.

No one had ever looked at her with so much contempt.

Satan had shoved her away and left through her window after that, but Natalie had a hard time bouncing back for a few moments. She didn’t ever want to be privy to that look ever again.

Not if she could help it.

She crawled into her bed and shut the light off, staring at the orb, willing another leaf to finally fall.

XXXXX

One of the most shocking days came when the orb was half full of dead leaves. Natalie shook it around between her palms like a magic 8 ball, trying to get a better look inside. Somehow it was still glowing, but she wasn’t sure what was causing the light to peek through the cracks in the leaves.

If it wasn’t the plant that was doing it, then was there something else inside of it?

Natalie heard the front door open, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the glass ball on her lap. She could see Satan in her peripheral and waved to him.

He hesitated when he approached, raising his eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t talk. Thinking.”

“You can’t talk and think at the same time?” he asked, unamused. Natalie shook the orb again, hoping that some of the leaves would fall away to reveal what was at the center.

“What is that thing, I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Natalie tapped the glass, putting her ear to it. It didn’t make a sound, no movement inside. She let out an exhale through her nose and finally put it down. When she glanced up at Satan something seemed different about him. He looked more . . . relaxed.

“It’s a night light,” Natalie lied.

“A night light,” Satan said, deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.”

He took one last look at the ball before she could see him lose interest. Satan shifted, moving towards the kitchen.

“Did you want a drink?”

Natalie leaned back against the sofa, pulling her legs in in a gesture to let him pass. “Sure, I could use a soda, I guess.”

She smiled at him.

Satan smiled back.

“OK, be right back.”

Natalie reached forward just as Satan walked in front of her, intending to grab the remote on the coffee table and turn on the television. She had not expected in doing so that her friend would bend down and kiss her.

Natalie froze, as if someone had poured ice down the back of her shirt.

It had only been a brief peck, barely a brush of skin on skin, but it blindsided Natalie enough to stare blankly ahead.

In what universe had he mistaken that for any kind of advancement towards him? Natalie pulled her arm back and ran her hands over her face, her eyes wild as she turned her head towards the sounds coming from the kitchen.

There was no way she had led Satan on just by leaning forward as he had tried to pass her. Unless . . .

“S-Satan!” Natalie shouted, sitting rigid on the sofa and beckoning her friend. Satan’s face emerged from the kitchen, slight irritation marring his features at the volume of her voice.

“What?”

It took a few attempts for Natalie to speak over the knot in her throat, her tongue feeling heavy and useless in her mouth. She wetted her lips.

“Are we- I mean, here and now, are- Do we . . .” Natalie coughed into her hand, trying her best to smile, despite the heat crawling up her collar. “Are we . . . together?” she finally supplied, rolling her wrist in a vague gesture.

Satan blinked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“O-oh,” Natalie gulped. “OK, then.”

Satan waited to see if Natalie said anything else, but she merely continued to stare at him with a ambiguous look of constipation. He shook his head, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Natalie gripped her shirt where her heart was, trying to compose herself before Satan came back. This was not good. She hadn’t considered any possibilities that she and Satan were . . . that they did anything like that together . . . that he loved her in the way that she . . .

Natalie shook her head and slapped her legs.

“Who cares? It’s not a big deal. If there are versions where he hates me, it only makes sense that there are versions where he loves me, too,” Natalie muttered to herself with a laugh.

Satan meandered into the living room a moment later, sitting beside Natalie and handing her her soda. Natalie took it with a mechanical jerk of her arm, nearly smacking him in the face. She apologized in a rush when he scowled, scuttling down the couch and putting some distance between the two of them.

What are you doing? He’s still Satan. It’s not like he’s going to do anything different than he normally would. We’re still friends. It doesn’t have to be weird. Natalie thought to herself while Satan surfed through the channels. He settled on some western movie that Natalie hadn’t seen since she was little.

“This is a good movie,” Natalie announced, keeping her eyes on the screen.

“Uh-huh.”

“I heard it actually didn’t do well in the theatre, but it became a classic, like, ten years later.”

“You don’t say.”

“Have we had sex?”

Satan spit out his beverage, his lap and the carpet getting soaked with Coca Cola. Natalie kept her eyes on the television, ignoring the way Satan swiveled to look at her. She sipped from her can.

“This is a good drink, thank you.”

“What is wrong with you? Who just says that out of the blue? Jesus Christ,” Satan hissed, standing up to get a towel. Natalie waited patiently for him to storm back to the living room, wiping off the sofa and the coffee table.

When she managed enough courage to look at him, he was staring at her, scathing. She looked back to the television.

“Is that a no?”

Satan scrubbed the coffee table harder, then threw the used rag at Natalie’s face. She squawked, removing it with a frown of her own.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do.”

Satan pointed to his face, unimpressed. “The Devil.”

“Regardless.”

Satan shifted his feet, staring forlornly at the television and his half a can of soda, knowing that his afternoon of relaxation was now blown out the window. With a heave of his chest, Satan plopped onto the cushion with an irritated grumble, staring at the floor.

“OK, what do you want?”

Natalie felt that foreign heat start to climb up her neck and rest in her cheeks again. At least he wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t think she could talk about this if he was looking at her. Instead, she fidgeted and ran her finger around the rim of her soda can.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You just asked me if we had sex.”

Natalie cringed, hearing how awkward it sounded shot back at her.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?”

OK, that was a stupid question. She’d admit it.

Satan gawked at her now. “I’d assume you’d have been present?”

Natalie groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face in her shirt, pulling the collar up above her face. She rolled away from him and tucked herself into a ball.

“I changed my mind. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we please just watch the movie?” she pleaded, her voice muffled through the fabric.

Natalie waited for his response in the darkness she shrouded herself in. Nothing but the sound of her own breathing and quiet dialogue coming from the television could be heard for a long beat. Natalie reluctantly uncurled from her position, removing her shirt just enough to peek out of the hole.

Did he leave?

Natalie’s nose bumped into Satan’s chin and she jumped, trying to curl back into herself.

“You didn’t leave!” she whined, kicking her leg out into his side. He caught it, pinning it to the side of the couch. “I said it’s OK! I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“How am I supposed to leave when you asked the most bizarre question on the planet?” Satan retorted, growling when her knee clocked him in the chin. “Stop kicking me!”

Natalie’s head was pulled out of the safety of her shirt, her hair a frizzy mess. She felt disoriented, but still managed to frown at him. Natalie tried to pull her leg back when they bumped into the orb, the item falling off the couch with a loud thump.

Her heart shot into her throat.

“Don’t let that break!” she shrieked, no longer willing to tease or go along with this anymore. Upon seeing the terror overcoming Natalie’s face, Satan recoiled, allowing her to squeeze out of his grasp and onto the floor.

“Did it break? Is there a crack? Do you see any cracks?” Natalie asked, frantically inspecting the glass. She held it out to Satan, worry palpable on her face, enough to make him hesitate.

“This isn’t a nightlight, is it, kid?” Satan said after a moment, carefully watching Natalie hugging the glass ball to her chest, her expression pensive. “Hey, look at me,” he ordered when she ignored him.

Natalie reluctantly peered up under the fringe of her bangs, pursing her lips.

“. . . No.”

Satan inhaled, long and deep, rubbing the back of his neck. Natalie expected a string of angry questions, interrogating her further on her behavior; to behave like her Satan would do. But he just remained silent.

Natalie set the orb down in front of her, taking her own calming breath.

“Hey, Satan?”

“Mm?”

“Can I just ask you one thing?” Natalie met his eyes, wondering briefly where she got the courage to say the words she’d even wanted to say back home; back where she really belonged, to a man with the same face but who was so very different. “Do you love me here?”

Never had her voice sounded so tiny to her own ears. She remembered the bus stop when she was sick; how she’d told him she loved him and was met with silence. The Satan there wasn’t much of a talker. He was closed off and broody and angry most of the time, but she was patient enough to never push him.

It didn’t mean the silence didn’t hurt a little, though.

The Satan here, sitting on the couch, was looking at her with a sense of subdued surprise. It was brief, but Natalie felt her heart thundering in her chest, waiting for that rejection, before he shut his mouth and nodded.

Perhaps, just a little bit, Natalie was tempted to pick this day to break the glass.

But only a little bit.

XXXXX

In some strange way, the opportunities plant was kind of like clothing shopping.

Every store she would go into would be different, but she would know that in every store she was looking for a dress. And even though every dress was something to wear, they were all different as well.

She could pick any dress she wanted, but they’d all suit the same purpose.

Some “dresses” were terrible bargains that Natalie would never even look twice at; like the reality where Satan died fighting Titus, haughty and distracted, left like some roadkill on the side of the road out in that field decimated by craters; or like the reality where he hated her for being a weak, revolting human that she was.

But some “dresses” were kind of tempting; like the reality where he held her hand more gently than she ever knew he was capable of; like the reality where he’d laugh more freely, as if unburdened for a change because Hell was never put inside of him to begin with. The realities where he kissed her, soft and tender under the moonlight in her bedroom.

In the end, though, none of these were her place to stay. She had gone into this thinking of it like a game. And it had been, at first. But Natalie felt guilty for all the mornings where she was hesitant. The mornings she was tempted to break open the glass and start watering that damn plant to stay with a different Satan.

She chewed at her lip, sighing to herself for even thinking about leaving the Satan she knew.

She was never going to pick one of these places.

“I might as well go return it right now,” Natalie murmured to herself, looking at the orb that was now more than half filled with dead leaves. She held it up to her face, a warped reflection staring back at her.

“I still can’t figure out where this dang light is coming from,” she huffed, shaking the ball around and disrupting the tiny plant that used to be a jungle once upon a time.

“I wonder if there’s a way to see,” Natalie pondered, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Maybe she just needed better lighting.

“Woah, watch it there,” Alex exclaimed, jumping back when Natalie ran into his chest. Natalie yelped in surprise, unaware that her dad had been home this entire time.

The orb hit the tiles with a loud crash, shattering at her feet.

Natalie’s mouth fell open, horrified at the shards now littering the floor. The opportunity plant lay on its side, the scattered leaves that had died surrounding it like lost feathers from a wing. The blue and purple light flickered, then faded to nothing.

“Holy crap,” Natalie breathed, fisting her fingers through her hair. “It broke . . . I broke it. I don’t even know what reality this is yet and I broke it,” she rambled hectically under her breath, bending down to collect the leaves and shards of glass. Her hands trembled so violently she nearly missed every leaf, cutting her fingers open in the process.

“Woah, woah, hold on. Natalie, calm down. What’s the problem?” Alex asked, kneeling down to see his daughter panicking.

“I broke it!” she yelled. Alex faltered.

“That’s OK. We can fix it. Here, I’ll get a broom,” he offered helpfully. Alex stood to get a dustpan long enough for Natalie to abandon the glass and dead leaves for the actual plant, shoving it behind her when he returned.

“Was this some sort of science project?” he asked awkwardly when Natalie remained quiet.

“Yeah, uh. It was. It was really important.”

“Oh.”

Natalie cleared her throat, standing on legs that felt as strong as twigs. She kept the plant hidden behind her back so her father couldn’t see. The plant was warm underneath her fingers, and Natalie almost jumped in her horror to feel it had it’s own heartbeat.

“Do you need me to get you another jar? I feel terrible. I don’t want you to fail because of me,” Alex asked, emptying the dustpan into the garbage. He looked to Natalie for a response but she just gave him a tight smile.

“Nope. Hey dad, is Stan coming over today?”

Alex cocked his head to the side. “Stan?”

Natalie swallowed around the terrified lump in her throat. Oh no, was this a morning where Satan wasn’t here? Her hands felt clammy against the waxy substance of the leaves in her palm.

Alex hummed and rubbed his chin. “I don’t think so. I didn’t hear anything about it.”

Natalie nearly collapsed in her relief. She kept herself composed, however, and nodded. “OK. I’m going to go out for a bit. Tell him to wait here for me if he comes over. I’ll be right back!”

When Natalie went to lock the front door, her hand missed the keyhole three times. She cursed until she finally got it, then started running for the bus stop.

“I’m done, alright? I won’t play with it anymore,” Natalie yelled to the sky. Hopefully that shopkeeper could reverse it like he said he would.

XXXXX

“You’ve got to be be kidding me.”

Natalie clutched the plant to her chest, gazing at a grocery deli in front of her. She circled around the building, even through the alleyways, but no matter the angle the reality was still the same: this building was a deli.

Natalie entered the store, the bell on the door jingling behind her. There were two other customers waiting in line, sparing her no attention. Natalie peered around the shop, seeing different meats on shelves and freezers. Nothing about this building was mystical or magical, but she could clearly see from the layout that it was, in fact, the shop.

“Miss?”

Natalie jumped, turning her attention to the bearded man behind the counter. She approached nervously.

“Do you just sell food here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Nothing else at all?” Natalie inquired, feeling desperate. She wasn’t used to feeling like this. The last time she did had been when she terminated her contract.

But in this reality, who knew if that was even true?

“I’m looking for a guy. Short guy, long nose, really tiny. He’s got crazy hair, like he’s never owned a brush before. Kinda looks like a bird?” Natalie rattled out, hoping that this man knew anything helpful. Anything at all.

He regarded her quizzically before nodding. “He used to own this building?”

Natalie smiled, nodding. “Yeah! Do you know where he is?”

“Nah, I’m sorry, Miss. I bought this place four years ago. Haven’t seen him since. I think he moved upstate or something.”

“U-upstate?”

“I think so. Sorry, I don’t really know. You gonna buy anything?”

Natalie pursed her lips, staring down at the plant in her hands. There was a tiny thrumming under her fingers where its heart beat. She covered it and pulled it back into her sweatshirt, retreating from the counter.

“Thanks for the help.”

The bell jingled as she exited, reminding her how close she would have been had she not been clumsy on this particular day.

XXXXX

Satan was sitting on her bed when she got home, arms folded and ankles crossed against her mattress. At first Natalie thought he’d been sleeping. His face was relaxed more than it usually was when he was awake, but upon shutting her door with a click, his eyes opened.

Natalie remained by the door, unsure of what he was going to be like today. There had been a day where he had slapped her. She didn’t dare approach him until she knew who it was she was forced to be with for all eternity.

Gosh, she’d never see the one she wanted to again. Her throat tightened on itself, Natalie drawing in a shallow breath. She kept her shoulders straight and her chest up, however. This wasn’t something she wouldn’t be able to handle.

“Morning,” Natalie greeted, but the lack of enthusiasm in her voice belied her weariness.

Satan glanced at the clock on her dresser. “It’s almost two.”

She smiled halfheartedly. “Is it? Sorry, dude. I lost track of time.”

“Where did you go? I was stuck playing chess with your father for two hours. Chess,” he complained, narrowing his eyes in displeasure.

Natalie let herself relax a little, stepping further into her room at the casual banter. So this Satan wasn’t one of the ones that hated her. That was a good sign.

“I was . . . out.”

“Out where? You don’t have anywhere to go,” he snorted. His eyes tracked her movements around the room, making her feel like an animal he was hunting. She wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans, removing her sweatshirt and draping it over the corner of her computer chair.

“I was out with Laila,” Natalie lied, hoping he’d drop it. Confusion colored his irritated expression.

“Who?”

“She’s a friend from school. You know Laila. We went to Oregon together; black hair. Remember? Gosh, you’re getting so old if you’re forgetting stuff like that,” Natalie laughed.

“You don’t have any friends,” Satan scoffed.

Natalie blinked at him, pausing. “I don’t?”

“No one except for that nerd who talks to you because he feels obligated.”

Great. I picked a reality where I don’t have friends, Natalie internally complained. Well, that wasn’t too terrible. She was an outgoing person. She’d make some later.

“Then I meant I was at the movies with him. Slip of the tongue,” Natalie shrugged. Satan didn’t look like he believed her, but before he could question her further Natalie cut him off. “What have you been up to?”

Satan bobbed his head to the side, squinting at her. “Since when did you ever wanna know that?”

Natalie twiddled her fingers together idly. “Uh, always?” she supplied, sounding uncertain by the skepticism and curiosity on his face.

“Please don’t ask if I’m feeling OK. I’ve heard that way too much these past couple of months,” Natalie stated, rubbing her temples when Satan continued to make her feel antsy under his gaze.

She moved to sit down, her jacket shifting and catching Satan’s attention. “What’s that thing?”

“Huh?” Natalie muttered, not even remotely interested in whatever it was he was saying.

“This thing. Looks like something out of the Amazon,” Satan said, leaning forward and pulling the plant from her hoodie pocket. Natalie glanced at him, going stiff and ripping it out of his hands.

“Give me that! You’ll break it!”

Satan sneered. “Break what?” he demanded, snatching it back. Two petals were forcibly torn off, causing Natalie to scream.

“You’re breaking it! Lucifer, please, don’t make this worse on me! I don’t want to be stuck here with you,” Natalie blurted in her panic, bending down and picking the leaves up. They shriveled brown before they’d even hit the floor. A whine crawled up from her throat when seeing them dead against her palms.

“What do you mean ‘stuck here with you’?” Satan asked from above her, the air grown thick with tension while he’d watched her lament the death of the plant.

Natalie froze, unwilling to dare a peek at Satan. There was something about his voice that raised the hairs on her arms. It wasn’t cruel, but it demanded obedience. Maybe this Satan was more straight edged than Natalie was used to.

“Kid, I asked you a question. What the hell is this thing?” Satan asked. When Natalie remained silent, he frowned. “Answer me or I’ll torch it.”

“No!” Natalie protested, her head shooting up in alarm. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you. Just, don’t hurt the plant anymore. That’s all I have left.”

Satan cocked his head to the side and waited for Natalie to explain.

“So, there was this shop that used to be in town,” Natalie started. “It sold some really weird things, and I bought that plant. But that plant makes me wake up to a different you every morning, isn’t that funny?”

Satan didn’t smile. Natalie sighed.

“Anyway, I’m not supposed to break the glass, but I did this morning, and if I don’t get it back to that shop guy then I’m stuck here with . . . you.” Natalie awkwardly coughed into her hand, avoiding his eyes.

“And you wouldn’t want to be stuck here.” Natalie glanced up. “With me,” Satan finished, pointing to his face with a scowl.

“Uh.”

“How did you say that and not think it would be insulting?”

“I don’t know,” Natalie grumbled. “I don’t know what kinda guy you are. I’ve met some who are really mean to me. Do we even like each other?” she asked curiously.

Satan balked, looking offended. Natalie could see the red bleeding into his horns the more she spoke, but despite the clear anger on his face, his horns weren’t the only things turning red.

“You’re mocking me now?” Satan growled, standing up from the bed with a huff. Natalie was at a loss, completely unsure how she was supposed to act when she didn’t know what kind of reality this was.

“How am I mocking you? I’m just asking you a question. Do I like you here? Do you like me? This isn’t rocket science. I just wanted to know if you were friendly.”

“If I’m frie- Shut up, Natalie!” Satan hissed. “Why should I believe your stupid story about this flower? It’s fucking ugly. I should just throw it away.”

“No! I said I need it,” Natalie said, standing up and trying to yank it out of his hands. He held it above her head easily enough. He still looked pissed off, but there was a curiosity in his gaze that gave Natalie hope.

“If the flower dies, I don’t know what will happen. What if I die? I need to put it in water just in case,” Natalie explained, jumping up to grab it. She must’ve said something right because the flower was lowered immediately.

Natalie took that opportunity to take it back, retreating to the other side of the room protectively. Natalie pouted in his direction, wondering why he suddenly looked so withdrawn.

“You’re not just pulling my leg with this shit, are you?” Satan muttered, frowning to himself in his unsureness.

“Duhhhhhh,” Natalie spit, intentionally mocking him this time.

“I’ll- Then I’ll get it water,” Satan said, leaving the room in a flurry that surprised even Natalie. She stared at the door in shock until he entered a few seconds later, a pitcher in his hand. Natalie was reluctant, but let him take the plant from her and place it in the water.

“What happens to the leaves?”

“Huh?”

Satan looked up, then looked away, almost seeming ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck and moved to sit on the bed.

“You freaked out when some leaves fell off. Why?”

“I don’t know what happens when it dies, but I do know if I want to leave this version of you I just don’t water the plant. But there aren’t that many leaves left, and for all I know all the other yous are mean. So, for now, you’re the best option I have until I can figure out what to do,” Natalie admitted quietly, her fingers playing gently with the plant in her lap.

Satan gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, now staring intently at the fragile plant he’d almost destroyed with a sense of awe. Natalie observed him curiously, wondering where the change of heart came from.

“You never answered my question.”

Satan’s ears twitched as he cautiously looked at her. He furrowed his brow, but this time he didn’t seem quite as aggravated as before. With a long inhale, Satan huffed and ran his hands over his face, catching on his eyelids as he let them linger in annoyance.

At least his mannerisms are the same, Natalie thought, satisfied.

“No. You don’t like me,” Satan admitted, his voice tinged with a bitterness that Natalie hadn’t heard since she’d dated Jericho.

Natalie paused. “Oh.”

“But . . . I like you,” he grumbled, standing up again. Satan folded his arms and paced her bedroom, unable to keep himself still.

“You seem . . . nice,” Natalie supplied, getting Satan to stop his movements. “Why wouldn’t I like you? I mean, you’re a little obnoxious, but you’re not a bad guy.”

Satan stared at the wall as if he wished he could burn a hole through it with his eyes. This clearly wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Maybe it was one they’d already had?

“I scared your friends away,” he finally admitted.

“It was an accident. You’re the Devil,” Natalie started to reassure. “Some people are just going to think you’re-”

“I did it on purpose and you got mad.”

“Oh.”

Natalie felt the tension coming back, feeling antsy herself now that she heard this admission. She started picking at the carpet threads to busy her hands.

“Well, I can make friends again. If they didn’t want to be around me because of you, then they weren’t really my-”

“And your family.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have a very good . . . relationship with your family right now,” Satan muttered, refusing to look at Natalie.

“Why?”

“There were some fights. And I might’ve been a bit of a catalyst.”

“Oh.”

“Your brother deleted you from his contacts.”

Natalie felt her hands fisting in the carpeting. “What happened? I don’t understand. You seem normal. What’s so different about this reality?”

“Like I said, I like you,” Satan growled, turning around to yell at a different wall. Natalie could see his ears turning red, even from the poor angle she had of him. “I got jealous a lot. I didn’t handle it well. So we don’t get along.”

Natalie blinked. She had not been expecting that. Yeah, there was liking someone, but it wasn’t exactly normal to isolate them from their personal life. Although, she wasn’t sure how much emotional damage was done. Perhaps she could still salvage her relationships in this reality.

“You’re like a five year old,” Natalie said, unintentionally speaking her thoughts. She hadn’t realized it until Satan spun around, furious.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that! Jesus, think before you speak sometimes, Natalie. Everything you say is always so insulting to me. Cut me some slack.”

Natalie held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Satan frowned, the muscles in his neck tense. Despite the anger, Natalie could see how miserable he was. She wasn’t sure what kind of life this Satan led, or what she’d said to him if this version of herself hated him, but she’d never like that look on Satan’s face, no matter the situation.

“I love you, you know.”

Satan flinched.

“Well, I mean, I just met you. But I meant you as a whole,” Natalie shrugged. “Every single one of you. So, uh, does that make you feel better?”

He stared at her, the fury bleeding out of his form like a deflating balloon. He looked so young here, surprise overtaking him with wide eyes and drooping ears. Natalie couldn’t help but feel for the guy; he’d probably never heard that from anyone in his life, he looked so dumbfounded.

“But you’d still hate to be stuck here with me.”

Natalie averted her eyes, staring at the plant in the pitcher. “I have my own place to be. I can’t stay here, Satan. I’m sorry.”

Satan moved forward, kneeling in front of the plant, something pinched crossing his face. For a moment, Natalie thought the plant had come back to life, glowing dully in front of her again. She blinked, looking up to see the light haze of purple illuminated like a dying bulb from his horns.

“You should probably let this out of the water then,” he muttered.

“I don’t want it to die. What if -”

“So don’t let it die,” Satan suggested, looking at her like she was a moron. Natalie paused. “You said the shop’s not here anymore, right? So see if it’s there tomorrow. Then fix it.”

Natalie hesitated, knowing he was right, but unsure if she wanted to take the risk. Memories of a beach painted orange and pink, of a warehouse caught in flames, of a grinning man glowing practically yellow in excitement came to the forefront of her mind.

Natalie picked up the plant and gently placed it outside of the pitcher.

“Hey, I still have the rest of the day,” Natalie said, reaching out and touching Satan’s arm. He blinked quickly a few times before straightening, looking at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a good guy, argh!” Natalie yelled, punching his arm this time. He looked at her now, surprised. “If I know me like I know me, then I don’t really hate you. You just gotta not be so controlling. Let me go out with other people sometimes, dude. Believe me, that will give you some brownie points back, OK?”

Satan had that dumbfounded look on his face again, but the dull purple faded away to red. He pursed his lips and swallowed, but nodded.

“Good. So, how about that movie, then?”

XXXXX

“It’s here!” Natalie gasped, jumping up and down, gripping onto Satan’s arm in her excitement. He swayed in boredom, half asleep from the nap she’d woken him up from.

“It’s not open. It’s 6 A.M., kid. Why the hell did you drag me here at 6 A.M?” Satan groaned, yawning into his fist. It did nothing to stop Natalie’s hopping. She quickly tugged at him, standing with a grin beside the door.

“We’ll be first in line.”

“There’s never any line. There’re never any customers. Fuck you, girl. I wanna die,” Satan muttered, placing his forehead against the brick wall and shutting his eyes. He grew still, and Natalie wondered after a while if he actually fell asleep like that.

She reached out a hand to tap him but stopped before she could when he spoke.

“Don’t touch me.”

Natalie smiled. This version wasn’t so bad. As far as she could tell, this reality was identical to her own, except that Satan seemed to be a bit sleepier here.

“Once we finish up here I’ll get you a coffee, does that sound OK?”

“Mrph.”

Three hours later and a sore back, the shopkeeper finally showed up. He hesitated with his key in the lock, noticing the grinning human sitting on the ground and the glaring Devil beside her.

“I’d like to return something, please.”

XXXXX

“You just add water?” Natalie balked.

She stared in disbelief as he added water to the glass, encasing it in a new orb and putting it back on the shelf.

“Yes.”

“Is that, like, magic water or something?” Natalie asked, trying her damndest not to punch him square in the face.

“No, it’s tap water,” he explained dryly, walking away from her and going behind the curtain into the next room. Natalie clenched her teeth together and tried to follow him but he shooed her away.

“So, if I had just kept it in water last night it would’ve grown back?!”

“Yes. Once it grows back the cycle starts all over again. The leaf at the top will be the reality you left. You don’t get to pick your fate. Why would I give you something that dangerous?” he scoffed.

“B-but you said-”

“Yes, yes. You’re angry. You’re disappointed. Go post a bad review on yelp and get it out of your system. Have a good day. Tomorrow you’ll be fine since I’m growing the plant back.”

Natalie found herself shoved out into the street, at a loss for words. Satan blinked up at her from his spot on the cement.

“Get your refund?”

“I think . . . he pranked me.”

“That’s not hard.”

Natalie frowned, opening the door and glaring at the shopkeeper refilling a jar of what looked like something that used to be alive once.

“Before, you told me to not let the plant die. Was that just to scare me, too?”

He paused, snapping the rubber glove onto his hand and looked her dead in the eyes.

“No, you would have died.”

Lucifer could sense her through the foliage, and he followed her gentle singing down the route defined by a stream of blue water. Fallen leaves and purple flower petals dotted the navy surface and twirled in time with his heavy footfalls. If he dipped a toe into the stream, he knew it would run warm.

 When Natalie’s form came into view, he saw her hair first. The contrast of her bright waves cut through the shadowed evening, and echoed off the branches of the tree she sat under. Despite the setting sun tinting the world purple, he swore she was glowing, illuminating the leaves with her fragile wings she was unashamed of. Her pale skin seemed untouched by the sun, and he worried the dark ink of his tattoos with his thumb, the scarlet lines forever branding him as a traitor.

 A branch snapped below Lucifer’s foot on his next step, and Natalie’s head lifted in shock, startling the small bird from her grasp with the abrupt motion. Instead of looking for the intruder, she watched the bird take flight into the treetops, towards somewhere safer than here. When she looked back down to her hands, a midnight black feather was the only reminder of her visitor.

 Finally, her attention turned towards Lucifer, his fingers twitching under the scrutiny and surprise that hid simmering anger. He would have missed it, had he not grown so familiar with the emotions that worried the faint lines of her face. Some things never changed.

 When she stood from her spot, the pale gown she wore shifted, its hem skirting the waters of the stream that circled her in a gentle sort of cage. She was alone in the large clearing, with only the fireflies and birds to sing to her when the silence of the nights grew so deafening that she swore she could hear the darkness carve the moon into smaller pieces each night. Natalie never liked to be alone.

 She twirled the feather in her fingertips, the motion distracting her from looking to Lucifer. His presence was almost suffocating. When she finally raised her gaze to meet his again, the momentary anger was gone, and replaced with something far more heartbreaking.

 “I was told you would be here,” Lucifer told her, his even voice nearly swallowed by the rising groan of the cicadas in the trees. He didn’t sound like himself. (he was hollower, somehow).

 Her fingers brushed over the feather in her lap before she tucked it behind her pointed ear. It stuck oddly out of her hair, completely familiar in a way that made Lucifer’s throat tighten. He rubbed a hand over his chest to alleviate the pressure, and plucked a flower from a nearby bush to give his hands something to do.  

 When he spoke again, his voice bordered on soft, like he was sharing a secret with the small bloom, “I should have known. You always liked gardens.”

 He seemed to be talking more to himself, and she was almost afraid to listen to the words. She was no longer sure what he would say, and what the silences meant.

 When Natalie asked, “Lucifer?” his attention snapped back to her, and he crushed the flower between his fingers, turning the tips of them a bruised purple. It was fitting.

 “It’s been a while, Natalie. We need to talk.” She watched the destroyed petals drop from his steel grip, his tone matching the chill.

The edge in his voice brought up the walls Natalie had carefully erected in her solitude, locking herself in a self-inflicted prison, “I have nothing to say to you.”

 There was no emotion in her voice, and Lucifer was wrong. (The water around her ankles was cold, biting cold. There was no warmth here)

 Her dismissal made his lungs freeze in his chest, and he kept his next few breaths shallow for fear of shattering into pieces before her. Hell was hot, burning hot. It never could have prepared him for how cold her green eyes were. Crystalized frost had crept into her soul, pulling the bright green of her eyes to sleep under the temptation of rest.

 He had come to wake her.

 “It’s time, Natalie.” Her name tasted sweet on his tongue, “We all have to pick sides. You chose me before, and Heaven doesn’t give second chances.”

 “You want me to join your side,” Natalie filled in, cutting straight to the marrow of the question Lucifer had found her to ask. She should have known, he would only disturb her carefully created peace when the situation turned dire.

 “I need you to.” It was not a lie. The forces of Hell would never stand a chance against the unified forces of Heaven unless the fairies backed them. “It would be a slaughter without you.”

 Natalie could practically see the forest run red. Heavy streaks of crimson painted the trees in violence, turning her world hot with hatred that soaked into the roots of the earth. The fields would reap poison for generations to come. The creeks ran black as tar, sticking to her bare feet, and pulling her deep, deep, deeper, until she was gasping for air, but unable to breathe. She would die in a wake of destruction that started with a single spark, her lungs heavy with the smoke.

 But she could fight. She would not lose her home again.

 “I will work with you. At your side, not below you.” Lucifer opened his mouth to protest, and Natalie held up a hand, “I’m not a soldier for this war.”

 Where Natalie went, the rest of the fairies followed, so for the first time in his life, Lucifer didn’t protest. Instead, he consented to her terms with a firm nod that spoke the accordance that he was too proud to say. Natalie held her hand out as an offer, and he wrapped his large hand around her smaller one, shaking away the small note of fear lingering in his throat.

 Her blood was too clean to seal the promise with a contract. If they cut their hands open to unify their stake in the war, she would kill him.

 Wind pushed through the trees, rippling the water and whipping Natalie’s hair in a spray of red, giving her and excuse to pull her hand away from Lucifer’s grip. She twisted the mess of waves around her fingers, but didn’t step away from him, terrified he would disappear.  

 “Do you,” Lucifer paused, his eyes searching the clearing that was filled with traces of her, “do you live here?”

 Natalie’s gaze followed his, searching the empty area that was so full of life, but felt so chokingly empty, “Where else could I live? Humans almost hate us worse than demons.” Bitterness crept around her words as the last flashes of the sun streaked across her face, casting shadows on her gentle features.

 Guilt bit sharply at Lucifer’s stomach, threatening to buckle his knees, but he kept his face a practiced neutral mask, “Imagine that.”

 (They both knew he was to blame)

 Darkness washed over her form when she stepped away from him, “I don’t have to.”  

 Lucifer could practically see the loneliness draping a cloak over her, hiding her from the dark, but also hiding her from him. A heavy wedge of fear was driven between them, and they both knew what happened the last time they relied on each other. Trust led to pain and solitude, and he could see the flicker of her contemplation as she evaluated the options laid before her in the face of the end.

 He wondered if she had always been this transparent.

 The gauzy material of her gown bunched around her hips as she sat down on the edge of a fallen tree, the rough bark scraping her ankles. Natalie kept her back towards Lucifer when she pulled the feather from her hair, smoothing the broken plume until the edges were pristine again, and then she placed it gingerly on the log beside her. The wind carried it off seconds later, as if accepting the offering.    

 She spoke over her shoulder, reading the confusion of Lucifer’s silence, “the treasures of the forests are not to be kept and coveted. You cannot put them on display.”

 He wasn’t sure what to say to that, and settled for a sharp nod, “I’ll come find you again soon. I must talk to my second in command.”

 She stood to face him, and the material of her skirt dragged softly through the water when she crossed to meet him, “I’ll be here.”

 Again, she held out her hand to shake his, and this time it was Lucifer that pulled away first, but not before Natalie’s cold fingers trailed gently over the inside of his wrist.

 The wet hem of her skirts chilled her, and she shivered when he withdrew his warm hand from hers. Natalie pressed her dry palm to her chest when the forest swallowed him, and the touch spilled warmth into her veins. She had forgotten what it was like to be warm, and when the sticky sweet air of the forest lingered in her lungs, she smiled into the darkness.  

 Lucifer’s heart pounded in time with his steps as he carved a trail outwards, feeling helpless and lost even as he followed the stream in its certainty. He hurried too fast, desperate to be away from a past he wasn’t ready to face, and a thorn bush tore into his shoulder. The sharp pain pulled him out of his rush, and when he extricated himself, he could smell the metallic blood in the black night.  

 He looked towards the moon when the cover of the trees broke at last, and just a sliver of white was visible around the darkened new moon. New beginnings reflected in Natalie’s green eyes, and this time, they would be the winners in the war of free will. In this war, there was no room for neutrality, and the consequence of being on the wrong side would be death.

[day 3]

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. Maybe his Father, maybe a miracle, maybe for her to rise from the dingy motel bed and smile, saying “I knew you cared, you big marshmallow.”

The room is starting to smell. He imagines watching her swollen flesh melt to bone and her bones turn to dust, and he retches with the pain of it. He had thought there was more time.

He had thought he had longer.

Sometime during the day, he finds himself sitting next to her, drawing on some of his limited power to smooth away her blistered skin. There’s no point to it; he’s only delaying the inevitable, but it gives him some peace of mind to know that her body is still there, perfectly preserved. Waiting for her to come back.

He lets himself sleep, if only to forget that her soul is not being so well cared for.

[day 7]

“Lucifer.”

He doesn’t move from his spot, hands threading through her hair, softly drifting more essence into her still form. He could do this forever, if he needed to.

“Lucifer, she wouldn’t want this,” Michael says gently, a tone so foreign it shocks him out of his reverie.

“Well, she’s not here, is she?” He spits out, refusing to look at his brother. “She’s not here and our contract is fulfilled so I can do whatever the fuck I want, can’t I?”

Michael doesn’t speak. He takes a tentative step toward the bed, like he’s approaching a feral animal. Lucifer closes his eyes, a wave of exhaustion overcoming him.

“You look bad, Luce. You need to stop trying to heal her.”

“She’s gone,” he says softly.

“I know.”

“She’s gone,” he repeats, a feeble attempt to explain the despair that was carving a ragged hole into his chest.

“I know, let me take her. I promise I’ll take good care of her,” Michael says.

Absently, Lucifer thinks that they haven’t had such a civil conversation since before the Fall. He doesn’t have the energy to fight today.

“...Okay,” he mutters, but the venom he tries to inject into the word just doesn't come.

Michael lifts her into his arms. One of her hands dangle limply by his brother’s waist, head tilted into his chest. Lucifer had closed her eyes a long time ago; if he forgets hard enough, he can pretend that she’s just asleep.

Michael spares him a pitying look, eyes grazing over the violet shock of horns adorning his head.

“I didn't think you would care this much. I’m really sorry.”

He melts into the air, taking her with him.

[day 30]

He still hasn’t found a way to bring her back. Death doesn't want to do him any favors, even now that he wants it so badly he can taste the rot on his tongue. He swallows his self loathing and lets it sit like hemlock in his stomach.

It's sunset, and he stands on the crest of the ocean, soft waves splashing around his ankles. The sky melts into a polluted orange, and he inhales the cigarette-stained air.

She's here. And tonight, he’ll make her pay.

[day 31]

He wakes up covered in blood.

Maybe a year ago, he would've been filled with a vindictive happiness that he managed to off one of the most powerful beings in existence, but he looks at the red on his hands and feels revulsion rise in his stomach.

She wouldn't have wanted this.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, and wipes the red away on his worn tunic.

[day 55]

In true biblical fashion, he decides to wander. After all, that's what murderers do.

You didn't murder me.

Lucifer doesn't reply. It's not her. She locked herself inside of him and threw away the key, and that warm voice is not hers.

He grabs his backpack and starts to walk. He has all the time in the world.

[day 403]

He’s in a bar in Rome when she starts talking again.

“They're looking for you, you know,” Natalie says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “You've seen the signs; the End is drawing nearer.”

“Good,” he says, taking a swig of whiskey. He can't get drunk, but the burn of alcohol down his throat is strangely, painfully satisfying.

She frowns. “Don't say that. I want you to be happy. I want you to care about something.”

“I cared about you, and look where that got me,” Lucifer replies bitterly, voice cracking. “I cared about you, and you left me.”

“I didn't want to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I fucked up, okay?” He says, gulping down the rest of his drink. “I fucked up and you died and it was all my fault.”

“It wasn’t...I loved you,” she says.

“I remember,” he mumbles into his cup. “I know you did. It just makes it worse.”

[day 2457]

He’s contracted again.

The man who summoned him is not a good one. His eyes are cold, fingers trembling and grimy, lips perpetually lifted upward into an unnerving smile. Lucifer recognizes him instantly.

“What do you want?” He asks icily.

The man inhales a rattling breath.

“I want my memories back,” he whispers, scratching at his arm. “I know someone took them. I know they're gone.”

“You're going to hell for this, you know,” Lucifer says bluntly. “You can't renege on the contract once the deed is done. No way out.”

Jericho barks out a laugh. “I'm going to hell anyways; why not get something out of it while I'm here?”

He looks at Satan imploringly, his pale eyes searching hungrily for approval.

Lucifer remembers the way he had looked at her. The way he took joy in her suffering. The way he carved into her skin without any sign of remorse.

The bastard deserved to remember it, too.

His hand shot out and clenched around Jericho’s skull, fingers pressing harshly into his sandy hair.

“Done,” he says, feeling the contract release.

Jericho enjoys one half-second of his returned memories before he stiffens, eyes widening. “You—”

Lucifer decks him with all the force he has, cartilage and bone splitting under his knuckles. Jericho crumples with a groan.

“When you get to hell,” Lucifer breathes, drawing back his hand, “tell her that I haven't forgotten about her.”

[day 4113]

“Stan?”

It's not the name, but the familiarity of the voice that makes him freeze. He’s in a bar in Oregon, of all the fucking places to be. He really shouldn't have come back to the west.

“Stanley.”

He swivels in place to see Macmillan McAllister, over thirty years old and asthmatic and still half a foot shorter than him, approaching him with a fury that makes him recoil.

“What the fuck did you do to my sister?” He snarls, rising up on the balls of his feet to look him in the eye.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Lucifer lies, forcing himself to meet Max’s gaze.

“Don't lie, you pathetic excuse for a human being,” Max spits, venom on his tongue. “Dad said that Natalie was acting strange the week before she disappeared, and guess who vanished with her?”

Lucifer swallows down the guilt. “We moved. Bad timing,” he replies curtly.

“We checked the school records, Stan, and you were never a student there,” he says harshly. “You had her lying to us from the get-go. I knew there was something fishy about you from the first time I saw your creepy little face.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucifer says, bitter lies forcing it’s way through his teeth. “I was fourteen, Natalie was my tutor, I hung out with her for a few months, and I left. I barely think about her nowadays—”

Max isn’t strong by any means, but the fist that flies into Lucifer’s jaw catches him off guard. He stumbles, thrown off balance for just enough time for Max to tackle him to the ground.

“You—ruined—my—life,” He hisses between punches. “Natalie’s gone—Dad’s trying to claw his way back out of the bottle— and it’s all—your—fault.”

Lucifer doesn’t move. He feels his nose break, blood streaming down his face. He feels Max, yelling and struggling, being pulled off of him by the authorities. He feels someone, the bartender, maybe, touch his shoulder, asking him if he’s alright.

He keeps looking at the dark-stained ceiling, wondering what it would feel like to die. It’s about time to call Michael.

[day 4209]

It ends in a garden.

It’s a beautiful place, the leaves melting into orange and brown, hydrangeas and roses withering in the october chill. The plant life gives way to a mile of flatland, tall grass fluttering in the wind. Completely deserted. Perfect for a biblical showdown.

“Fitting,” Michael says wryly, his free hand grazing a rose petal. The other holds his  heavenly weapon, a torch crackling with blue fire. “You always had a flair for the dramatic, Luce.”

Lucifer laughs, walking closer to the field. “And the pot calls the kettle black.”

Michael follows, gazing at the empty meadow. “When I was told there was going to be a final battle between heaven and hell, I wasn’t exactly picturing this,” he says. “I imagined more death and destruction, especially on your end.”

Lucifer hesitates. “...I just want to get this over with,” He replies. “Just you and me, nobody else in the way.”

Michael stops walking. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Making me not want to fight you. It’s really annoying.”

“You’re going to have to,” he says, turning around to face his brother. Michael’s brows are furrowed, lower lip jutted out, but the expression on his face isn’t of petulance. For the first time in his life, Michael looks defiant. Lucifer wants to laugh at the irony, but it turns sour on his throat.

“You have that look in your eyes,” Michael says, “Like you’re just waiting to die. It’s not going to be a fair fight.”

Lucifer remembers when he said the same thing to Natalie when he fought Titus.

That guy’s at the end of his rope. Not much fight left in him. If anything, his eyes look like an animal that just wants to be put down.

He swallows. “Good for you, then. You’ll be the mighty hero who killed the big bad devil.” He starts walking before Michael can respond. “Let’s do this.”

It doesn’t take long for Michael to corner him.

Lucifer is on the ground, haulms of wheat poking at his sides. The heat of the torch Michael holds to his throat is singeing his hair, the blue fire threatening to blister his skin.

“This is because of Gingersnap, isn’t it?” Michael asks softly.

He doesn’t have the words. He just nods.

Michael sighs, closing his eyes, tension leaving his body. “You’ve done a really good job of destroying yourself over the past decade, Luce.”

He opens his eyes. “I’m really sorry about this.” 

He brings down his weapon.