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Michael wasn't usually a fan of mainstream Satanism.
Listening to a horde of humans praise the very name of his twin as they mutilated chickens wasn't exactly what he'd call a productive Saturday.
But this... this he could get behind.
"Whatcha think?"
"Hmm?" Michael hummed when he heard his wife's voice, looking up from where he sat on the couch watching television as he waited.
Then Michael's eyes suddenly bulged out at what he found, the remote in his now limp hand falling to the floor with a clatter.
Ella stood at the side of the couch, holding her arms out as she showed off her Halloween costume.
Which consisted of spiderweb black stockings, spiked black biker boots, a dark purple mini skirt (emphasis on the mini), a black t-shirt that said 'The Devil is a friend of mine' (which he might not be the biggest guest fan of, but can overlook) in red jagged letters, a spiked red choker, her hair up in a high ponytail, black lipstick, dark purple eyeshadow, and a fake nose ring.
Michael blinked at her, then gulped when his slacks became uncomfortably tight in a certain area. "Honestly... I think I'm gonna need looser pants if you plan on wearing that."
Ella laughed at that, then an audible bleat sounded from beside her.
Michael glanced down to find a black goat standing beside her ankles who wore a matching choker and a headband with red sequined devil horns. And the goat was looking at him with the most disgusted look her current face could muster.
Michael quickly snatched the blue alien (he thinks the character's name is Stitch) themed pillow from beside him, and covered it over his crotch, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Oh, hi, Peanut. Didn't see you there."
For most people, finding a strange animal in your home would be confusing at best, concerning at worst. But for Michael, it was just another Tuesday.
Why? Because his twelve-year-old daughter Elaine could shapeshift.
Just another typical day in the life of a celestial/human family.
Ella couldn't help but snicker, then pointed at their daughter. "El's gonna be my sacrifice to Satan."
"Is she now?" Michael, raising a brow as he glanced between them. "Well, just tell Sam to make sure she brushes her teeth tonight, then."
Elaine bleated something in response. One of the disadvantages of her power was that the human, angel, and demon races alike couldn't understand a word she said while she was in animal form. And according to her, she couldn't understand other animals either.
Ella snorted, then plopped down on the couch beside the archangel, and pointed at his face. "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"
Michael was wearing the same attire he usually would, a burnt orange turtleneck and dark purple slacks (spicing it up for the holidays).
Although, he also happened to have the word 'BOOK' written on his face in large black letters.
Elaine hopped up onto the couch at Michael's opposite side, and leaned against him as he wrapped he good arm around her, and Michael raised a brow at his wife. "Can't you guess?"
Ella played along, and tapped a black-nailed finger against her chin as she pretended to think it over. "Hmm... A grumpy old college professor who can't take notes and likes to yell at pigeons in his front yard?"
Michael knitted his brows, feigning a frown. "Now I see why you took the forensics path instead of the detective one."
"Not my fault you refused to wear a legitimate costume."
"This is a legitimate costume." Michael argued playfully, pointing at his own face. "I'm Facebook. Or Bookface, for legal copyright reasons."
Elaine made a noise that sounded like the goatian equivalent of a laugh, then stuck her tongue out at her father.
Ella was quiet for a second, then snorted herself, eyes rolling. "Gosh, you're so lazy."
"Hey, it's a great pun!" Michael defended. "It's something that came right out of the Dad Joke Handbook."
Ella just shook her head with a laugh, then got off the couch, striding into the next room. "Alright, who's ready for candy!"
•••••••••••••••••
They had decided to meet up with his brothers and their brood in some fancy gated culdesac that Sam probably bribed the guard to let them in.
Linda and Chloe were skipping Trick-or-Treating this year (lucky bastards) since work got in the way, so Trixie was filling in for them.
Ella parked their car against the sidewalk, and giggled as a herd of screeching children ran past their vehicle like cheetahs on cocaine. Which was pretty much the same thing as kids hyped up on sugar. More or less.
Michael internally groaned at the prospect of walking amongst them for the next Dad-only-knows-how-many hours.
The unforgiving LA sun was already starting to set, so he hoped it wouldn't be too long.
"Oh, I think I see them!" Ella exclaimed with a smile, pointing to a burgundy 1963 Rolls Royce that was parked ahead, and had DEV1L as the license plate. Real subtle, Sam.
They seemed to have noticed them as well, since the driver's door opened, and Samael stepped out of it, dressed up as some pretentious vampire or something that had a full blown silk cape draping down his back, a suit that looked like it was plucked straight from Victorian times, his hair slicked back, and a white mask covering half his face.
Next came Trixie from the passenger side, who was dressed as an astronaut minus the helmet in an orange costume that had a 'NASA' patch.
Then came one of the many banes of Michael's eternal existence, the Antichrist, from the backseat.
And, fittingly, she was dressed up as that psychopath from the Saw movies, wearing a mask and everything. What was his name? Puzzle? Jigsaw? Something like that.
"Alrighty!" Ella grinned as she grabbed her plastic pumpkin basket from the backseat, just as (if not more than) excited as the children for a night of Halloween activities. "Everyone ready?"
Elaine nodded her head in goat form, carrying a matching basket in her mouth (which he doubted was sanitary).
Ella gave their daughter a thumbs up, then began opening her car door. "Onward and upward!"
Michael playfully rolled his eyes, and heaved a sigh as he exited the car, closed his door, and opened the back car door as to let Elaine out, since she lacked opposable thumbs at the moment.
Elaine hopped out, and began trodding towards her uncle and cousins.
Michael and Ella followed behind, and noticed Amenadiel and Charlie exit their car that was across the street, heading towards them.
Amenadiel had apparently just decided to throw on his old Heavenly robe (and Ella called him lazy) and added a halo headband.
And Charlie was... Michael wasn't sure what his nephew was dressed up as.
Charlie was wearing a dark grey on white suit with a black-and-white dotted tie, a pair of round glasses, and a pocket watch.
Michael lightly shook his head, and turned back towards his twin, who was busy grabbing something in the car, not having yet seen them.
"Beatrice, have you seen my- Ah, there it is." Sam stood straight, his trusty flask in hand, and shook it lightly before shoving it into his breast pocket. "Don't know how I'll get through the hordes of little sugarholic monsters without it."
Michael snorted, for once secretly agreeing with his brother, and regretted not taking a bottle or two of gin or vodka himself.
Samael glanced up at him, shut his car door, and briefly glanced at Ella. He opened his mouth to speak, then froze for a good ten seconds.
Then Sam blinked, and turned his gaze back towards Ella, looking her up and down a couple times, as if he found this reality inconceivable.
"Miss Lopez," Samael breathed, absolutely scandalized. "What the hell are you supposed to be dressed as?"
When Trixie looked up at Ella, she choked out a snort, then clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. Rory had no such decorum, and simply broke out laughing when she looked between Ella and Elaine.
Ella bowed towards the Devil, deepening her voice dramatically. "I am but a humble servant, my liege."
Michael knitted his brows. "That sounds more like something out of Lord of the Rings rather than satanic worship."
"Satanic what?" Samael echoed, his mouth hanging open in insult.
"What's going on?" Amenadiel asked as they finally reached them, taking in the scene.
Rory gained control of herself, then gestured towards her aunt and cousin. "Aunt Ella's a satanist, and Elaine's now my dad's mascot."
"She's my what?" Samael asked visibly confused, then flinched when Elaine bleated at him.
Samael met Elaine's eyes, then his widened like saucers as his lips twisted in a grimace. "No, no, no. That's crossing a bloody line!"
Amenadiel couldn't help himself but laugh, earning a glare from the Devil. "Oh come on, Luci. It's funny!"
"It is not funny." Sam seethed, directing his glare towards the forensic scientist. "This is-this is slander! Flanderization! A desecration to my very image!"
"Yikes, dude." Ella chuckled. "Can't take a joke, huh?"
"No, that's not-it isn't-that's not the point!" Samael objected, directing his glare towards everyone who laughed... which was pretty much the entire group. "This is-I-I don't even like goats, why must you carry on the nonsensical stereotype?"
Amenadiel snorted at that, then coughed in an attempt to cover it up.
Trixie snickered, then pulled a stick of bubble gum out of her pocket, and commented "I think it's a good look, Ella. Very badass." before unwrapping and popping the gum into her mouth.
"Why, thank you very much, Space Commander." Ella grinned, giving a salute.
Samael sent his stepdaughter a glare, grumbling "Traitor." under his breath.
"Why are we still standing here?" Rory asked, growing impatient. "All the good stuff's gonna be gone soon!"
Rory then turned to Charlie, and tilted her head. "Also, who thought Charlie dressing up as an accountant was a good idea?"
Charlie blinked, glanced down at his outfit, and frowned. "What? I'm not an accountant. I'm Sigmund Freud."
"Who?" Rory asked.
"Seriously?" Charlie asked, as if it should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "He's, like, the Father of Therapy! He's the founder of psychoanalysis, and-"
Michael decided to tune his nephew out, and the two still argued over the 'coolness' of Charlie's costume, even as they began making their rounds through the neighborhood and started knocking on doors.
Ella right alongside them, and might very well be enjoying Trick or Treating even more than the kids.
At one point when Michael and Amenadiel had fallen behind in the group, the younger archangel leaned towards his brother, and whispered, "Oh, by the way... I know it was you who started the goat thing."
The look of fear in his brother's eyes was worth every second he spent surrounded by mini sugarholic monsters (yeah, Sam might've hit the nail on the head with that description).