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: Anyone who isn't dead or from another plane of existence would do well to cover their ears right about now.
: Wax on, wax off.
: I am to charge you with a holy crusade. Bethany
: For the record, I work in an abortion clinic. Metatron
: Noah was a drunk. Look what he accomplished. And no one's even asking you to build an ark. All you have to do is go to New Jersey, and visit a small church on a very important day. Bethany
: New Jersey? That doesn't sound like much of a crusade. Metatron
: Aside from the fine print, that's it. Bethany
: What's the fine print? Metatron
: [mumbling into glass
] Stopacoupleofangelsfromenteringandthusnegatingallexistence. Bethany
: Wait, wait, wait. Repeat that. Metatron
: Stop a couple of angels from entering and thus negating all existence. I hate when people need it spelled out for them.
: Get offa me. I wanna see what's up. What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck are you, lady? Why the fuck did you hug my head? Metatron
: Quite a little mouth on him, isn't there? Jay
: What the fuck is this, The Piano? Why ain't this broad talking? Metatron
: I believe the answers that you seek lie within my companion's eyes. Jay
: What the fuck does that mean? Has everyone gone fuckin' nuts? What the fuck happened to that guy's head? I want some...
[God kisses him on the cheek. Jay faints
: What's he like? Metatron
: God? Lonely. But funny. He's got a great sense of humor. Take sex for example. There's nothing funnier than the ridiculous faces you people make mid-coitus. Bethany
: Sex is a joke in heaven? Metatron
: The way I understand it, it's mostly a joke down here, too.
: However, if you should decide to stop being selfish and accept your responsibility, you won't be alone. You'll have support. Bethany
: What, more angels? Metatron
: Prophets. in a manner of speaking... two of them. The one who speaks... and he will, at great lengths, whether you want him to or not... will make mention of himself as a prophet. The other one... well... doesn't speak. He's the quiet type
: You people. If there isn't a movie about it, it's not worth knowing, is it?
: Human beings have neither the aural nor the psychological capacity to withstand the awesome power of God's true voice. Were you to hear it, your mind would cave in and your heart would explode within your chest. We went through five Adams before we figured that one out.
: [Bethany hears a noise in her closet at night. She reaches under her bed and pulls out a baseball bat. Flames suddenly erupt in the middle of the room
] Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty and voice of the one true God. Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty and voice of the one true God.
[Bethany runs to her closet, pulls out a fire extinguisher
: Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty and voice of the one true G -
[Bethany douses the fire
: Oh, G -
[Metatron coughs repeatedly and emerges from the smoke as Bethany rushes back to the bed and grabs the bat again
: Agh! Sweet Jesus, did you have to use the whole can? Bethany
: [brandishing the bat
] Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my room? Metatron
: I'm the one that's soaked and she's the one that's surly, that's rich. Stupid fucking... Christ... Bethany
: Get the fuck out of here! NOW! Metatron
: Or you'll do what, exactly? Hit me with that ffffffish?
[Bethany realizes she's holding a large fish, and drops it in shock
: Now, just sit down on the bed and shut up. Jesus wept... look at my suit! Bethany
: Look, just take whatever you want, but don't kill or rape me. Metatron
: Oh, get over it, will you? I couldn't rape you if I wanted to. Angels are ill-equipped.
[he drops his pants to show blank skin where his genitals should be
: See? I'm as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll. Now make yourself useful and gimme that towel, will you?
[Bethany tosses it to him and he starts wiping his clothes dry
: Honestly, you bottom feeders and your arrogance, you think everybody's just trying to get in your knickers. Bethany
: What are you? Metatron
: I'm pissed off, is what I am! Do you go around drenching everybody that comes into your room with flame-retardant chemicals? No wonder you're single.
: Tell a person that you're the Metatron and they stare at you blankly. Mention something out of a Charlton Heston movie and suddenly everybody is a theology scholar.
: I don't want this, it's too big. Metatron
: That's what Jesus said. Yes, I had to tell him. And you can imagine how that hurt the Father - not to be able to tell the Son Himself because one word from His lips would destroy the boy's frail human form? So I was forced to deliver the news to a scared child who wanted nothing more than to play with other children. I had to tell this little boy that He was God's only Son, and that it meant a life of persecution and eventual crucifixion at the hands of the very people He came to enlighten and redeem. He begged me to take it back, as if I could. He begged me to make it all not true. And I'll let you in on something, Bethany, this is something I've never told anyone before... If I had the power, I would have.
: Metatron acts as the voice of God. Any documented occasion when some yahoo claims God has spoken to them, they're speaking to me. Or they're talking to themselves.
: So once he's done with the firstborn, Loki takes his friend Bartleby out for a post-slaughter drink. And over many rounds, they get into this discussion about whether or not murder in the name of God is okay. And in the end, Bartleby convinces Loki to quit his position and take a lesser one that doesn't involve slaughter. So - very inebriated - Loki tells God he quits, throws down his fiery sword, and gives Him the finger. Which ruins it for the rest of us, because from that day forward, God decreed that all angels could no longer imbibe alcohol. Hence all the spitting.
: Were they sent to Hell? Metatron
: Worse. Wisconsin. For the entire span of human history.
: You are Bethany Sloane. Nobody can take that away from you, not even God.
: You know those constitutionals He likes to take? Bethany Sloane
: Constitutionals? Rufus
: I think we're beyond euphemisms at this point: God's a Skee-Ball fanatic.
: So what do we do now? Metatron
: Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas.
: Good Lord, the little stoner's got a point.
: What are you? Metatron
: I'm pissed off is what I am! Do you go around drenching everyone who comes into your room with flame-retardant chemicals? No wonder you're single.
: It never ends.
: Behold the Metatron. Herald of the Almighty and voice of the one true God.
: Well, I am the last Scion. Metatron
: Actually, you WERE the last Scion. Now this
[puts his hand on Bethany's stomach
: is the last Scion. Bethany
: You mean, I'm pregnant?
: Ohhh, Bartleby. Was Wisconsin really *that* bad?
: Excuse me, weren't we just in the woods? What are we doing here now? Metatron
: Going out in style. Rufus
: The Voice! Metatron
: [mocking surprise
] The apostle.
: [voices echoes in radio
] Hello? This is Metatron. Neil
: More reverb. Metatron
: Because I'm Lou Gehrig?
: You can save the humble-pie Jesus routine for somebody who gives a damn. Metatron
: The problem with you, Dean, is the cynicism. Always with the cynicism. But most people - even the real belly crawlers living in filth... or Brentwood... they don't want to be cynical. They just want something to believe in. Dean Winchester
: And that'd be you. Metatron
: Why not me? Dean Winchester
: You've been working those people outside, for what, a day? They've already spilled blood in your name. You were nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings. Metatron
: So I'm a fake. Do you have any idea how much pan-cake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope-line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in His name. And for what? So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves! "Oh, if only I had been more prayerful. God would have loved me. God would have saved me." You know what? God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them. Dean Winchester
: Sure, you can. So long as your mug is in every Bible and "What Would Metatron Do?" is on every bumper. Metatron
: What, are you blaming me for giving them for what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in? Dean Winchester
: I'm blaming you for Kevin! I'm blaming you for taking Cass' grace. Hell, I'm blaming you for the Cubs not a winning a World Series in the last 100 freaking years. Whatever it is... I'm blaming you. Metatron
: The First Blade. Nasty piece of work, isn't she? Okay, let's say you win, Dean, and I die. What's the world left with then, hmm? A herd of panty-wasted angels and you? Half out of your mind with lord knows what pumping through those veins? Dean Winchester
: Yeah, you said, the only thing you said that went into my ear was that you die. Metatron
: Ohh. Fine. We'll fight. I don't know what you expect is gonna come of all this. Unless... that's why you're stalling. Because you know nothing's gonna come of this unless your pal's succeed upstairs. Well, here's a news flash - Humpty and Dumpty are starring in their very own version of "Locked Up Abroad: Heaven" right now.
[Dean takes a swing of the blade, Metratron stops him in mid-swing, Dean then punches him
: Wow, that big blade and that... douchey tribal tat sure gave you some super juice. Whoo! Okay.
: Well played, Castiel. Obviously, you and Gadreel managed to turn a few dead-enders against me. Castiel
: Gadreel is dead. Metatron
: Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust. And the angel tablet - arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe - is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right - to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was about saving one human, right? Well, guess what. He's dead, too. And you're sitting in my chair.
: You will never get away with this. Metatron
: Get away with what? You told a silly story to a group of less-than-believers. I'll clean up your mess in an hour. Castiel
: You give our brothers and sisters far too little credit. They will soon learn that you have been playing them. Metatron
: And then? They will do nothing because they are frightened little sheep following my crook wherever it leads. And where I'm taking them, back to our rightful place atop this mountain of human shame and excrement - when that happens, trust me, they're not gonna care how they get there.
: You know, while you could never pull it together, Castiel, why you're sitting here while your grace slowly burning away and your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity. You didn't read enough. You never learned how to tell a good story. Castiel
: But you did.
: [to Homeless Angel, referring to Metatron
] Shut your mouth! Angels? Scribe of God? Please. Homeless Angel
: It's true. Homeless Woman
: What's true is what I can see with my own two eyes. You wanna call him pathetic, common? Be my guest; who here isn't? But who here has the gift that this man has? Do you know what he did? Homeless Angel
: I'm afraid if you've seen what I've seen, you'd think of him as nothing more than... an abomination. George
: Abomination? Try miracle worker.
[Metatron gives look of discontent
] Homeless Woman
: Try Messiah. Metatron
[Castiel notices a homeless man with a scrap cardboard sign scrawled with "May God bless you. Donations welcome"
: What was He like? Metatron
] Who? Oh. God? Metatron
] Mm, pretty much like you'd expect: larger than life, gruff, bit of a sexist, but fair- eminently fair.
: What are you reading? Castiel
: Personal advertisements. The faster that man finds love, the faster that Cupid will come. Trust me: I'm friends with friends who do this for a living. Dwight Charles
: [walks over
] Help you gents? Castiel
: Yes. Would you say you're looking for a... partner in crime, or, uh, someone who is into nurse role-play and light domination?
[he stares down Castiel, who stares back with an innocent, questioning look
] Dwight Charles
: Brother, it's 10 AM on a Tuesday... Metatron
] Uh, we'll have two drafts, please. Dwight Charles
: [eyeing Castiel
] Coming up.
[Dwight returns to behind the counter
: You're not the most subtle tool in the shed, are you?
: [wakes up with blurry vision of someone
] I know you. Naomi
: We never officially met. Metatron
] Naomi. Metatron
: [he looks to the tray of instruments
] Your reputation precedes you. The archangels... Naomi
] wanted me to debrief you after God left. Metatron
] "Debrief" me. Is that what you call it? Naomi
: Well, how would you know? You ran before I had the chance. But... here we are. I just have one question before we begin: you had to know that we would *leap* at the chance to extract all of God's secrets from that head of yours, which is why I ask myself, "Why? Why did the Scribe suddenly come in from the shadows?" And what are you doing with Castiel? Metatron
] "Of the blessings set before you, make your choice and be content."
[Naomi looks askance
] Not a big reader, are we.
[Naomi activates the drill and menaces Metatron's eye with it
: But really, really... It was your storytelling. That is the true flower of free will, at least as you've mastered it so far. When you create stories, you become Gods of tiny, intricate dimensions unto themselves.
: So many worlds. I have read as much as it's possible for an angel to read, and I haven't caught up.
: This is some kind of punishment, isn't it? For my sins. A limbo where I get to spend eternity in a crappy bar with a hack writer. Chuck Shurley
: Dude. Metatron
: Sorry, Chuckles, it's not just any hack writer - a Prophet of the Lord. Give me a break. Tell me at least the beer in here is real.
: You know, you are a true vic editor Metatron. Metatron
: Well, I was a terrible writer; a worse god. It's good I got something going for me. Chuck Shurley
: yeah, you know, I have to say, I didn't see the whole 'evil turn' thing coming. Why did you try to be me? Metatron
: That was just a sad, pathetic, cry for attention. Chuck Shurley
] Who's attention where you trying to get? Metatron
: Yours. You are: light, and beauty, creation, wrath, damnation and salvation, and I don't care if I was just 'The angel, nearest the door', You picked me. Your light shined on me. Me! Ach, the warmth. But, then you left me, you left all of us. It wasn't just the saps on earth who were praying to you, the angels prayed too, and so did I; everyday. Chuck Shurley
] I Know Metatron
: You wanna write the best selling autobiography of all time, you explain to me, tell me why you abandoned me, us? Chuck Shurley
: Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me. Metatron
: No, look. I know I'm a disappointment, but you're wrong about humanity. They are your greatest creation, becasue they're better than you are. Sure they're weak, and they cheat and steal and destroy and disappoint, but they also give, and create and they sing and dance and love, and above all they never give up! But you do.
[Chuck, unaffected, clears his throat and continues writing
: Ain't life a bitch? Nebbishy little guy, me, always sticking it to the lunkhead jocks. Dean Winchester
: You know what? Screw the mark. Let's just kill him. Metatron
: Boy, he really is a mess. Who knew the mark was so toxic? Well... Actually, I did. You know it is going to own you sooner or later. Sam Winchester
: Yeah, so how do we get rid of it? Metatron
: What, just like that, social hour's over? Sam Winchester
: Yes. And now we're moving on to our keynote speaker. Dean Winchester
: Which is you... with us asking the questions and me taking the personal pleasure of carving the answers out of you. Metatron
: Just - whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, bad-ass. Lighten up. Why do you just assume I'm not gonna be helpful. Sam Winchester
: Because you're a dickwad. Metatron
: But I'm your dickwad.
: You realize... it's going to get worse, Dean. You're gonna get worse!
: Well, howdy, fellas. Bobby Singer
: This is the Scribe of God? He looks like a Fraggle. Metatron
: I'm gonna take that as a compliment. That was an excellent program. Castiel
: Metatron, we are here... Metatron
: I know why you're here, "Asstiel", and I'm not interested. I told you I would rather die then let Dean Winchester use me as his personal punching bag again. Castiel
: Don't worry. Dean's not involved. You're gonna be my punching bag.
: Castiel! Bet you're not happy to see me. Dean Winchester
: Is anyone? Ever?