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- 1: A whisper in a deadman's ear doesn't make it real
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Date: 2014-09-01 12:23 am (UTC)A shrill tone made Darcy cock her head, and Andrew slid his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "Father Murphy."
"They've left the city limits. Should we move on them?" a harsh voice asked, the sound like huge stones grinding together beneath the earth.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Who's left the city limits?"
A pause. "The Winchester boys," it said slowly. "Sir, maybe you should consider a vacation."
"Their names?" Andrew asked pointedly.
"Sam and Dean?" the voice asked, sounding like nothing more than a child called to task by their teacher.
"Their full names?"
"Uh. I don't-"
"Samuel Gabe, as in Gabriel, and Dean Michael. Or did you miss the flaming sword in the cemetery, you idiot?"
"Yes, sir." At least he had the sense to sound sheepish. "Should we move on them?"
Andrew rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. Let me make this clear. If they attack, by all means, defend yourself. Do it head on, no bullshit. No tractor trailers, no backstabbing, no dream-walking. But otherwise, leave them alone. Actually, just stay the fuck out of their way. Anyone who touches any of them without just cause will answer to me. And I decide what constitutes just cause. Do you understand?" he asked, voice hard. "They belong to me. I have final word."
"Yes sir." The other man sounded grudging. "May I say something?"
"No. Particularly if it's about objectivity. Now fuck off, and don't call me until it's something important." With a sigh, Andrew snapped his cell phone shut. Then he looked to the sky, shaking his head. "You gave me all the idiots. And you could've warned me that your wrath has freckles."
There was no answer. There usually wasn't.
With a last look down the road, he-- who was called many names: Arawn, Hades, Shiva, Set, Loki and more recently Lucifer, the Adversary, Lord of Lies, the patron saint of the left-hand son, the Prince of Darkness-- went in to say morning Mass.