Suddenly, I was standing outside the Fortress of Bureaucracy with a piece of paper in my hand. The building looked massive, even compared to what it looked like the first time. Were they adding floors? The same red light permeated everything.

The paper was a "Form D-13: Mandatory Post-Mortem Processing Initiation Notice (Recently Deceased)" printed on red paper. It blended with the red light and would seem to disappear when my eyes lost focus. Then it was just floating text vaguely near my hand.

My eyes refocused, and I read the document. It basically said to report to the front desk of the Fortress of Bureaucracy for processing. I hoped they weren't sending me where I thought they were going to. I could do painful torture, but filling out forms for eternity was a pain I couldn't endure forever. Eventually, I'd break.

I walked in through the front doors and was about to be handed the standard forms by the guy standing near the door, but I showed him my Form D-13 and he waved me toward the front desk.

When I saw Margaret sitting behind the front desk filing her nails, it all came back to me. Our date! I totally stood her up! Damn it! I had no intention of doing that, and I suddenly, deeply regretted it. I didn't like to hurt people's feelings, except Lucifer's. And being stood up had a lot of negative memories for me, so I assumed the same was true for her, regardless of the fact she was a demon. Demon or not, rejection hurts.

I rushed up to the desk and immediately started apologizing. "Margaret. I am so sorry I stood you up. I really didn't mean to do it. I swear!"

She looked up at me and said, "Who are you?"

"You don't remember? We set a date for this afternoon," I said. "You filled out a request for romantic engagement and everything."

"Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell," she said, looking at her nails. "Wait. I do remember something. There was this one boy, who was really cute, who gave me his number and made plans to go to the IRS Cafe with me, but then he never showed. I sat there for 3 hours, waiting for a text or a call. Even an email would've been acceptable. But no."

"And now he shows up thinking he can still date me, let alone talk to me, like nothing's changed. You're dead Dave! I can't date you anymore! Don't you get that?" She said, with tears streaming down her face.

"I can only date living men. Dead men are either in Heaven, or Purgatory, which I don't have access to, or they're here in Hell. And if in you're in Hell and have been sent here," she gestured to the form in my hand, "that means you're a damned soul, and I can't date damned souls. I can only process and file them." She kept looking at the paperwork and then back at me. "This is weird. There's no destination circle listed. Damned souls are always assigned a circle of hell to spend eternity in."

"Margaret! I'm not damned! I swear! There must be some sort of mix-up. I was fighting the antichrist to save the world. I died fighting the antichrist, or antichrists, and that's why I couldn't show up. I was in some sort of non-conscious limbo," I said.

Margaret stopped filing her nails and looked at me. Her blasé attitude cracked slightly. "That would be Purgatory. Or the first layer of purgatory." She leaned in and spoke quieter. "How can somebody get switched out of Purgatory into Hell?"

"I don't know. You tell me. You probably know this stuff better than I do. Although, I didn't get switched out of Purgatory directly into Hell. I was revived, then died again, and somehow ended up in Hell," I said.

"Did you do something bad before you died again?" she asked.

"No. I just talked to my ex-girlfriend and Lucifer, took my medication, and died," I said.

"Wait, why was Lucifer there?" she said, raising her voice slightly.

"Why wouldn't he be? You saw me with him when we visited the Fortress of Bureaucracy last time," I said.

"No, I saw you walk in with some guy who was dressed like wait staff in a fancy restaurant, and a guy in a suit who walked around like he owned the place. I figured they were important, so I let you guys through," she said.

"Didn't you read our paperwork? It should have been in there. Mine required that I put my name on a billion things. His should've had his name on it too," I said.

"You think I read the stuff I file? You clearly don't understand Hell or bureaucracy very much," she said.

"Oh. Well, the guy in the suit was Lucifer," I said.

"Why were you traveling with the big guy?" she asked.

"I made a bet with him that he couldn't kill me at 7 pm. He was waiting for 7 pm to roll around so he could kill me. We just happened to try to prevent an apocalypse during that time," I said.

"I want to acknowledge that the apocalypse thing is really cool, but not something I'm going to go into here with you. If we do go on a date, we can talk about it then," she said. She rubbed her forehead. "Ok, so did he end up winning the bet?"

"I don't know. I assume so, but I started feeling sick before he snapped his fingers, so maybe not," I said.

"Huh. Well, assuming you lost, that would make you a bargained soul, not a damned one. Technically, we could still date, but bargained souls have to do whatever the person they made a deal with says. Usually Lucifer keeps them in his castle. They don't wander around much, so you might not get to either," she said.

"Ok, that's cool, but why am I in the Fortress of Bureaucracy?" I asked.

"He sends bargained souls to the Department of Perpetual Processing at first, if he's busy. Then he comes by and gets them when he's done with whatever he was doing. The name is a bit of a misnomer. It's more like a waiting room. The only difference is some people have to wait forever," she said.

"I see. What happens if I won?" I said.

"What? If you won? No one beats the Devil," she said.

"His father did," I said.

"Yeah, but that's different. No one mortal has beaten the Devil," she said.

"There's a first time for everything. Let's say I did win. Where would I be sent after I die?" I said, feeling a little more confident.

"I suppose you'd be sent to the Department of Perpetual Processing if he was busy, and then he'd get you afterwards. You wouldn't be sent to Heaven or Purgatory, because he can't visit those places. You'd have to be sent somewhere he can access, so he can fulfill his end of the deal," she said, the realization dawning on her.

"You might have actually done it! You might have actually beaten the devil! This changes everything!"

"Does that mean we can still date?" I asked, curious. I still really wanted to date her. She seemed nice enough, and she was the only demon I had a connection with, and she was a demon. That was cool! How many people can say they've dated a demon? Not many, I'd guess.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"If you did win, yes it would," she said, smiling for the first time in this conversation.

"Ok, I'll go to the processing department to wait, and I'll let you know," I said.

"Please do!" she said.

I walked to the Department of Perpetual Processing and handed the desk guy my paper. It was the same guy who got mad at me last time. He looked up at me and raised his eyebrows.

"You're getting processed? Oh, what a wonderful day it is today! I will personally hand you every piece of paperwork you will fill out during your time here, however long that may be," he said, overjoyed to see me.

Of course, he was happy to see me here. I'm sure I left a lasting impression, being the only person to outsmart his bureaucratic system. He set me up at a desk not too far from the front desk. I assume it was so he could deliver my paperwork while also still watching for new visitors.

He handed me my first stack of paperwork. It was a thick stack of papers to sign. I had to sign every page. I had no idea what I was signing, though. They were all written in a language I had never seen before. Maybe it was a demonic language? I didn't know. Regardless, I began signing the papers. I could just not sign the papers and the effect of having to wait would be the same, but at least it was something to do.

As I signed paper after paper, my mind kept thinking about the bet. If Lucifer had won, why did he take so long to do it? Why did he get impotent finger syndrome at the last second? Was I growing on him? Did he actually care about me as a person and not just as a tool to achieve his goals? Nah. That wasn't possible for someone like him.

But what if I had won? I don't know. All I could think about was saving the world, since if I didn't do that, it didn't matter if I was alive or dead. And then there was the issue of still being dead. What good would a wish do me if I were dead?

I was nearly done with my first stack of papers when Lucifer walked up to my partitioned desk with the front desk guy. Paul, I think his name was.

Paul gestured towards me and said, "He's all yours."

"Hey, kiddo! How are you doing?" Lucifer was smiling. I had no idea if that was good or bad right now. He offered me a hand up and I took it.

"How did you get me out? Did you have to get all the forms signed and dotted?" I asked.

"No, I didn't bother with that. I just told him who I was. And proved it. He jumped out from behind the desk so fast it was like he was bitten in the ass by a shark," he said, laughing.

"You could do that this whole time and you let me fumble around, get punched in the face, and berated by Paul?" I said. "Why?"

"Let's just say I wanted to help you build up your confidence. After all, you were going to stop an apocalypse. You needed it," he said still smiling.

I grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face so close our noses were touching. "Bastard, if you don't tell me who won the bet right now, I will…I will…" I trailed off.

"You'll what? You ain't got no power here, sonny. That said, I'll tell you if you give me a drum roll," Lucifer said.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Badadadadadada," I said, patting the desk with my fingers.

"You did! You won, Dave! Never have I been happier to lose in my life. Well, never ever have I lost in my life. Except my father, but that doesn't count. Fathers are supposed to win competitions with their sons. Well, I guess I'm not his son. I'm his creation, but I still call him Father, anyway. Makes me feel less alone," he said.

"You better not be pulling my leg," I said.

"I'm not, but I will pull your third leg any time I want. Thank you very much," he said, winking.

"I wish you wouldn't," I said, grinning.

"Well, have you decided what you're going to wish for?" he said.

"Not yet, but it certainly won't be conventional. I was considering wishing to stop the apocalypse, but if you could do that, you would have done it already. It probably has to be something smaller and more simple. Like millions of dollars or the entire world's supply of toilet paper," I said.

"Now that would be the beginning of an apocalypse. Imagine everyone not being able to wipe their butts all over the world, just stuck on the toilet? You could end entire civilizations that way!" he said, grinning at the prospect.

"If only I was evil. Life, or death, would be so much easier. Well maybe not easier. Simpler though. I do evil shit all my life, die, get tortured for eternity. Nothing complicated about that," I said.

"You're stalling," he said.

"I know, but I want to talk to the administrative assistant before I make my wish," I said.

When we passed by Margaret's desk, she looked up and her eyes lit up. "Did you win?"

I smiled like I was the coolest guy on the planet. Which I would be if I were on the planet right now. "Yep," I said.

"Weeee!!!" She hugged me. Then she stepped back and said, "Now, you better figure out a way to visit me, or I'll kick your ass!"

"Will do," I said. "But right now we gotta go figure out this wish thing." Lucifer and I walked out.

"Bye!" she said.

"I can't wish to be alive again, can I?" I said.

"Nope. No can do. Only my father and Jesus can do that," he said.

"Well, it can't be anything worldly, since I'm dead. That would be useless. What if I wished for something for someone else?" I said.

"You can do that. It would be a waste of a wish, but you can do that," he said.

"There is one thing that's been bugging me for the last 24 hours. That chip on your shoulder. And your hatred of other people. I want that to go away," I said.

"You can't wish away people's emotions. Especially not mine. Like how am I supposed to do divine magic on my own mind? I would need my mind to do the magic on my mind. It hurts my head just thinking about it," he said, rubbing his temples.

"Ok, what if I gave you a time out?" I said.

"I'd hate that," he said. "And it would accomplish nothing except to make me angry at you."

"Fair. What you really need is therapy, but like a lot of it. What if I wished for you to get therapy until you forgave your father?" I said, holding my chin.

"We'd be at it forever. The rapture would have come and gone a million times over before that happened. I'm not saying it's impossible, but I am saying with our current resources, it's not possible," he said.

"Ok, what if we did some divine magic about it and said that you have to get therapy outside of time in another dimension until you forgave your father? Time would be paused on this side, but not in whatever dimension you're in. It would be a way to prevent the apocalypse. If you never forgave your father, time would never continue, and we'd be stuck in this moment forever," I said.

"Hmm. That might actually work! Using my hatred of my father against the apocalypse! That's genius Dave!" He hugged me.

"Well, Lucifer, the point is for you to forgive your father eventually for the wrongs you think he has committed. Not to pause time for eternity," I said, wiping my hand down my face.

"Yeah, that's never going to happen. It's possible, but it won't. Not in any human understanding of time at least," he said, stretching his legs.

"That's the beauty of it, though. You'd have infinite time. A literal eternity. Meaning you can take all the time you need," I said.

"You may be on to something, but there's one problem," he said.

"What's that?" I said.

"I don't have the kind of juice to pull something like that off," he said.

"Who could?" I asked, knowing the answer. God.

"My father, and only my father," he said. "Or the Abyss, but that's all just evil energy. It wouldn't work for our purposes."

"The what now?" I said.

"The Abyss. You know, the place where every monster imaginable and unimaginable got locked away with the fallen angels? Filled with darkness and hate and evil in a dimension nothing like our own?" He looked at my blank stare, and said, "It's in Revelations. You should read it sometime."

"If all the fallen angels are there, why aren't you there too? You're a fallen angel," I said.

"I don't know, Dave. Maybe I'm special or something? My brain is starting to hurt from too much explaining. The point is, only my father has the juice to do your wish and your wish is with me and not him," he said.

"Geez, ok. Can he give you the energy if he so desires?" I said.

"I mean, I guess he could, but why would he do that?" he said.

"If you had a son who needed therapy, would you pay for it?" I said.

"I do have a son, and he does need therapy, and a hard kick in the ass. And yes I would," he said.

"There's your answer. Now just try to do it and just see if he gives you the juice," I said.

"Fine," he put his hands together and closed his eyes. A light began to glow next to us, until a rift opened in space, about the size of a person. Lucifer looked surprised. "Wow. I guess he was willing to pay for my therapy. Huh. I've never seen him do anything this nice for me."

Lucifer started to walk into the rift, but I grabbed his shoulder. "Wait. You have to choose a therapist."

"Oh, yeah," he said.

"It can't be a living therapist or a dead one. Living therapist would die too quickly and the only good therapists are in heaven and you can't borrow people from there, so that leaves us with…" I trailed off.

"Angels and demons," he said. "It can only be someone who can live as long as me."

"What about Raphael?" I said.

"He would work. He's the only one of my brothers who ever had the patience to listen to me complain," he said.

"Ok, then. I wish for you to enter a dimension outside of time, while this universe is paused, and get therapy from Raphael until you forgive your father." I said.

"I'm probably going to hate you for this," he said. He snapped his fingers and Raphael appeared.

"I'm glad you didn't do that a moment sooner, or my toes wouldn't have assembled yet," Raphael said.

"It's great to see you, Raphael, but we don't have much time. You do, but this universe doesn't. I need you to give Lucifer therapy until he forgives his father. You will have infinite time. You just have to have the patience to keep at it potentially forever," I said.

"Oh, yeah, I can do that. Sounds like a great way to spend a Tuesday night," he said.

"Alright. See you two on the other side," I said.

Lucifer and Raphael stepped through the rift and it closed up behind them, pausing time on my side of the rift.