Chapter Text
The Devil is real. And he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he’s a fallen angel, and he used to be God’s favorite.
American Horror Story
He had been doomed from the start, Barry knew, because he’d never met an angel so willing to sin.
However this was a game he loved to play and if God was willing to send him a broken angel in some misguided attempt to show him what happened when God lost, well. A life of luxury, of freedom, that wasn’t so bad to him, wasn’t so bad to a lot of people really. If God ever thought he’d win the war against the Devil he had lied to himself far more than his Angels.
The angel they sent, though, was stunning and Barry wasn’t opposed to looking. Ahh, the luxury of looking, as if it was a sin to acknowledge the beauty God injected into his creations. What a fool. The angel, a tall man with large dark green wings and a pair of threadbare pants, looks uncomfortable. Probably because Hell had a much warmer environment than he was used to, heat was a luxury and Heaven was only as warm as it needed to be. Barry preferred the higher temperature; it was nice against his wings.
Barry smiles wide at the unknown angel, “and who might you be?” he asks in a silky voice that would so easily seduce humans, if he had the inclination to do so. He only made people do what they wanted to, that was hardly his fault. Besides, God did the same thing and no one demonized him for it so Barry hardly felt guilty for his indulgence.
The angel tips his head up, “Oliver,” he says and Barry smiles wider. Knowledge was power, names even more so, and this one had given it up without any resistance at all. Excellent.
“Oliver,” he purrs, “what might your presence here mean for me?” he asks.
Oliver shifts and Barry notes every move because everything Oliver did told him something and if nothing else he prided himself in his ability to collect knowledge. “I’m supposed to… talk to you, about humans. And get you to stop influencing them,” he says and my, this one was not resisting temptation at all. He hadn’t been the first angel sent to him with this purpose, but he was one of the first who was so willing to admit it.
He wondered if Heaven meant to fix this one or let him Fall into Barry’s temptation.
Barry laughs at Oliver’s proclamation, a light pretty sound that enchanted even angels, “oh there is no stopping me. Humans were born to sin, that has nothing to do with my influence,” he says. “And besides, God could stop me with the click of his fingers and yet he’s sent you, how… lazy,” he says casually, as if it was commonplace to insult God.
The other man doesn’t flinch and Barry was impressed, most angels jumped to God’s defense immediately but Oliver seemed to be gaining his own footing. “Maybe he has better things to do than deal with his petulant child,” he says and ouch, Barry was touched that he’d been insulted, really.
“Like what, exactly? Inventing another plague? Humans are growing far too overpopulated, they could use one,” he says. At this Oliver does flinch. People liked to blame the Devil with things went wrong but it was God’s will, not his own. Truthfully his interest in humans extended to the neat things they came up with. Nifty little creatures they were, he was particularly fond of technology. And gum.
“Maybe. It isn’t my place to question,” Oliver says and Barry rolls his eyes. This earns him a stare because angels did not openly mock, that wasn’t their place either. Their job was to act as a bunch of mindless automatons and when Barry had the audacity to question he was cast out, and worse still God told everyone it was because he was jealous of humanity. If he was to be cast out based on jealously of God’s creations humans were not the animal he would have been removed over. He was particularly fond of the jellyfish, they had no brain yet it still functioned, it looked cool, and some of them stung the shit out of people. His kind of creature.
“Why?” Barry asks, tilting his head to the side. Already this one was so different; perhaps he assumed he had a reason to follow that wasn’t simply ‘God’s will’. How delightful it would be if he was right.
“It’s my job to follow God’s will,” he says as if the line had been rehearsed a million and one times. Considering how eroded his angel instincts were it probably had been.
“Well that’s boring,” Barry says flippantly, he had been hoping for something new and he had gotten more of the same.
Oliver frowns, “excuse me?”
Barry perks up at this because an angel just questioned him. Angels may not believe his words but they didn’t often challenge him, except perhaps to defend God. “You’re so different; I thought you’d have something insightful to say. Evidently I was wrong,” he says casually.
He knows pleasure when he sees it and he wonders if Oliver realizes that being an individual was a sin, one was always supposed to serve God, to blend in and be subservient. To take pleasure in individuality was not allowed, and to take pleasure in the Devil telling you you were different was far worse than sin. Absolutely delightful. “I’m not so different,” he says and there were the angel instincts, rearing their ugly head.
“Oh trust me; I’ve seen thousands of angels and saints since the beginning of Time. You’re different,” he says, smiling softly. He was curious to see just how much Oliver would indulge with or without manipulation. He himself was extremely fond of luxuries, he loved the lavish life style and so long as he wasn’t taking from someone else he saw no reason for indulgence to be a sin. Like most things indulgence in moderation was fine, it was overindulgence that was the problem. God assumed that by indulging at all humans would want more and more until their thirst was insatiable. Barry knew that if you gave humans everything they ever wanted there was no need to ask for more.
“Why do you insist on influencing the humans?” Oliver asks, switching to a far more comfortable subject. Hmm.
“I do no such thing, they influence themselves, my presence has nothing to do with it,” he says. Humans were a particularly plucky set of creatures, they would find a way with or without him.
“They wouldn’t be in the state they are now if it wasn’t for you,” Oliver says.
Barry snorts, “oh as opposed to what God filled human era? The Crusades and the Dark Ages? More than ironically Indulgences were handed out, a way to literally buy your way into Heaven, and indulgence is something God so hates. And the death toll,” he says, “people fight entire wars for God, but when someone fights for me they are one person brought to justice and yet I’m the bad guy.”
“You live a life of luxury,” Oliver says.
“I live a life that I enjoy leading, that’s far more than I can say you and your angels, and I don’t over indulge. Much,” he says, grinning. Of course he over indulged, but somethings could be experienced again and again with no cost to anyone whatsoever. Why not over indulge in those things? There was no one to suffer if he watched the sun rise every day so he could experience its beauty over and over again.
“I like my life just fine,” Oliver says stiffly.
He tilts his head to the side, “is that why you defected? Oh don’t look at me like that, no one sends the Devil the ones who follow the rules. What would I do with them?” he asks in a light, pleasant, and dare he say, innocent tone.
*
Admittedly Oliver hadn’t known what to expect but the Devil left him shocked. He had, rather stupidly if he was honest with himself, assumed that the humans were right in assuming the Devil was a little red man with horns and a tail. He wasn’t, not really. He was a man dressed in red but he didn’t have horns or a tail and he was beautiful. His wings alone were something to marvel at, they sat high above his head and the tip dragged on the floor. And they were so so… soft looking, fluffy. They were obviously far more maintained than Oliver’s own battle tattered wings and the Devil’s wings were shiny, like he regularly washed the feathers individually just to get such a stunning effect. And the colour, they were a brilliant red that matched the open silk shirt he was wearing with yellow mixed in and the tips were the most beautiful white.
Even the whitest wings in Heaven were covered in dirt, and yet this particular set of wings gleamed unashamedly with beauty that Oliver hadn’t even know existed. And the man. Oliver knew God created beauty, he’s seen it, but this was something else entirely. He was tall, slim, finely muscled with messy brown hair that looked purposefully styled that way and he had the most beautiful blue eyes. And he looked so young.
Oliver stops thinking along those lines because the Devil was not pretty, he was a walking sin disguised as something pleasant and he shouldn’t have fallen victim so easily.
Then he speaks and Oliver is lost once again, waiting to hear that voice again because it was so stunning. Humans thought angels were pretty but they had nothing on the Devil. “So what am I supposed to call you?” he asks when their conversation seems to be going nowhere. The Devil smiles like he just won a game Oliver didn’t know they were playing.
It wasn’t the first time and Oliver wondered what he was doing to elicit such a smile and it was so beautiful he almost didn’t care. “Call me Barry,” he says and Oliver wrinkles his nose out of instinct. One that his angel superiors weren’t overly fond of. Angels do not mock, but this was the Devil, there had to be some sort of exception for this.
“That is an awful choice in name,” he says bluntly.
“The last one I had was chosen for me, I rather like the freedom to choose for myself,” he says lightly, as if he had that right.
“Lucifer is far more elegant than ‘Barry’,” Oliver says, “what in God’s name were you thinking?” he asks.
“Nothing in God’s name that’s for sure. The last name I went by was ‘Bartholomew’, Barry is a nice shortened version of that that doesn’t make reference to human pop culture, plus barriers are sweet, I like sweet things,” he says cheekily.
Oliver had no idea what a berry tasted like and he had no desire to find out, the apparent sweetness of them be damned. “You chose the name of one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus?” he says flatly. Only the Devil himself would have such audacity.
Barry grins, “I liked the irony,” he says, “I take it you’re not a fan?” he asks playfully.
He had expected the Devil to be mean spirited, angry, and contemptuous. Barry was none of those things and it confused Oliver because everything he had ever been taught had been called into question upon sight let alone the information Barry gave as he spoke. “I’m not much of a fan of anything you do,” he says simply.
“You’re sure about that?” Barry asks and Oliver gives him a confused look because of course he was sure about that. The Devil was everything he was not supposed to be; of course Oliver was not fond of him. “So what landed you here to begin with, hmm, what Big Bad Sin did you commit to be tossed into angel purgatory?” he asks.
Oliver had never met anyone who wasn’t human who asked so many questions unashamedly. Angels were not to ask questions, they were to follow orders under the assumption that God’s plan was more important than whatever concerns they may have. “I became attached to a human. She was special,” he says because she was. No one was insignificant, everyone had their role to play, their place in God’s plan, that’s what he’d been taught his whole life so why was it so bad to appreciate the value of that particular human? He didn’t know.
Barry smiles sadly, “oh. Love. That’s truly unfortunate. I’ve never much understood how God could be so selfish to demand people worship him, dedicate their entire lives to him, never indulge in anything, live only to serve him and then has the audacity to call us sinners when we want the same,” Barry says.
“We aren’t meant to love, only serve,” Oliver says, the response flowing naturally off his tongue after having had to repeat it so many times.
Barry tilts his head to the side, “serve what, Oliver? You fight to protect something, but you don’t know what, you serve, but you don’t know who, you work for god, only you’ve never met him. No one has. So what do you serve, Oliver, and what makes you think it’s relevant?”
Oliver frowns because that made no sense whatsoever. “I serve God and his plan. There is no need to question that, or his existence,” he says.
“How can you serve a deity even humans question the existence of?” Barry asks.
“Humans are prone to folly. They are not to be trusted, and neither are you,” Oliver says, finding his footing once again. He didn’t expect to be… accosted with questions. Unfathomable ones at that, the things Barry questioned were facts that weren’t to be questioned. That was the way things were meant to be.
Barry laughs, “they call me the Father of Lies, humans, but what if the greatest lie I’ve ever told was that God existed in the first place? It’s easy to believe in someone that you think is on your side and villainize the one you think works against you, no one ever wonders if they’re one in the same,” he purrs and Oliver’s head hurt.
“That can’t be true, there’s Heaven,” he says, falling back on at least one truth even the Devil couldn’t deny.
Barry snaps his fingers and the temperature drops considerably and the familiar forests of Heaven surround them, “oh Oliver. It’s so sad that you mistake reality for truth. Remember, reality depends wholly on who’s telling the story,” he says and snaps his fingers again. The surroundings turn back into Hell and Oliver is deeply shaken.
*
Barry was sprawled across the large overstuffed couch when Felicity shows up, “what did you do to that poor angel? He looked like he seen a ghost when he had left here,” she says, probably fully prepared to lecture him.
“Oh nothing much,” he says, “I just turned Hell into Heaven.”
Felicity’s jaw drops, “Barry you can’t just do that! Wait, that’s possible?” she asks, frowning. Poor former human, she’d been so upset when he had landed in Hell. Turned out she was quite fond of sex and god forbid one indulge. Barry didn’t blame her, he was rather fond himself and if everyone was willing why not?
Barry snickers, “no, I altered his perceptions, not Hell, but he doesn’t need to know that,” he says, “besides, if his perception was that easily changed who’s to say he was seeing the truth to begin with?” he asks.
Felicity considers his question and flops down on the couch, questioning. She was always questioning, that was why he liked her so much, and she was a technology wizard. Though he admired human ingenuity he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to work technology and that was why he kept Felicity around. Well, that was only partially true, he genuinely liked her and since he was the Devil he was allowed to develop personal connections with no consequences.
“Wow, okay, now that I’m done questioning everything I’ve ever known, again, what do you want to watch?” she asks.
He grins, “Passion of the Christ,” he says without missing a beat.
Felicity wrinkles her nose, “how about no. I feel like needless American violence, something Quentin Tarantino?” she asks.
“Mmm, bloody enough for me,” he decides.
*
Oliver was aware that he wasn’t allowed to have personal connections but Tommy had always drew him in. Unlike the other angels he was so alive and Oliver liked that feeling so he spent a lot of time with him. Tommy is huddled around whatever it was he was eating when he looks up, “so what’s the Devil like?” he asks, getting straight to the point as always.
Tommy was the only one who ever asked any questions, but nothing like the ones Barry asked. Tommy knew his place. “Terrifying,” he says.
“Oh. Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping for some good joke material, please know that I am very disappointed,” he says, grinning at Oliver.
“It’s hardly my fault it’s true,” Oliver says, “he questioned everything Tommy, is was… unnatural.”
Tommy snorts, “he’s the Devil Oliver, that’s kinda in the job description,” he says.
Oliver contemplates for a second, wondering if he should tell Tommy what he had seen, but Tommy was trustable. He wouldn’t tell anyone. “He turned Hell into Heaven, Tommy,” he says quietly.
Tommy almost drops his food, “that… that isn’t possible, Oliver,” Tommy whispers.
He looks up at Tommy, “but it is, if I didn’t see it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it either but I did Tommy.”
“He’s a liar,” Tommy says.
“Can you think of an explanation for what I seen?” Oliver asks.
“The Devil plays tricks, Oliver, it had to have been a trick,” Tommy says, looking pale and concerned. Oliver sure as hell hopped that was a trick otherwise he’d been living in Hell all along and he was too stupid to have seen it.