Chapter Text
Michael
God is everywhere, but I'd always found it easiest to talk to him on my knees, forehead pressed to my hands, seeking that still, small voice with my head bowed.
In his more philosophical moments, Harry would muse about the relative positioning of prayer in different religious traditions. And while there may have been some metaphysical reason for the stance, I thought the reality was much simpler. Kneeling left the human body in a vulnerable position. It was a gesture of trust to approach a being greater than yourself on your knees. Admittedly, that was harder to do when you were getting on in years and had a bum leg, but I knew the Almighty would understand if I adopted a lopsided lean instead. It was the intent that mattered.
I'd prayed on battlefields that made me less fearful than the struggle I currently faced. When I'd been serving with the Armed Forces, it was only my life I was laying on the line. Only my life forfeited if I failed. If I encouraged this and it went wrong, I could lose her again. It felt like Molly had only just returned to us, had only just recovered herself, and now...
And now, she was nose-to-nose with the darkness again, and I was no longer a Knight. Did that diminish my capacity to help her? Would that be the difference between losing her to Lasciel entirely? I'd barely gotten her out last time.
"God of wisdom," I whispered, pressing my forehead against my whitening knuckles. "I seek your counsel. I need to know what you'd have me do."
I needed to know if Molly was being deceived. Lasciel was the Web-Weaver. She was bound inextricably within Molly's mind, able to feed her any perception she wished. Her mind might not be aware of the demon's silver-tongued whispers, but she'd be hearing them regardless. This idea of redemption could be a fabrication. Yet another way to seduce my daughter back into the darkness.
But the nagging doubt persisted. What if it wasn't? What if I was guilty of the arrogance I'd accused Harry of not so long ago? Who was I to dictate what was and was not in the Almighty's plan? His love was infinite and the angels were his children, Fallen or not. I couldn't imagine a scenario in which I would cut off my children entirely, regardless of what they'd done. And if my weak mortal self was capable of such, why not God? The same being that preached about the prodigal surely wouldn't spurn a lost soul seeking redemption.
"Is it possible?" I whispered. "Can Lasciel be redeemed? Or was that scene in the kitchen a performance?"
I desperately wanted to believe the latter, and that made me sick to my stomach. Did I truly want there to be no redemption for the Fallen? Yes, in my selfish human heart, I did. Because if the Fallen could also be redeemed, it made the jobs of the Knights of the Sword that much harder. If the Fallen were as much victims as their wielders, it would behoove us to save both. Trying to persuade a being that could swat down demi-gods with little effort was a daunting task. Add their pride to it, and the fighting would become even more vicious. Nothing was quite as dangerous as a creature with wounded pride and something to prove.
God answers all prayers. The problem was, not every answer was the one you wanted. The still small voice spoke and I listened. I bowed my head even deeper, a wash of grief consuming me before I could stop it.
I'd never wanted my children to be engaged in the physical and spiritual trenches, saving souls. There were safer ways to impact the lost and needy for good and I encouraged them. But being on the front lines meant I could lose them. The Lord was calling my daughter to war against all the forces of Hell and I was helpless to stop her. I shouldn't want to stop her. It was noble work. It could also get her killed. I'd already buried her once. I never wanted to do it again.
"Please keep her safe," I whispered. "Can you do that much for me, at least?"
I swore I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder once in reassurance, but when I checked, no one was waiting behind me. I took it for the affirmation it was and muttered a quick amen before standing.
I needed to hug my daughter before she went off to parts unknown to fight evil. I needed to feel her safe in my arms one last time before I let her go, trusting that she'd come back to fill them another day.
God would provide. He always had and he always would. He'd provide a way back, even if she fell down. I believed that.
Now it was time to make her believe it too.