rules & regulations

It felt bigger up here somehow, the same way it had done when they were kids. The other side of the lake had felt like it was far away to be another world. Truth was Lake Success wasn’t more than a couple of miles across in total. A scatter of houses, the lake itself, the factory, if it wasn’t for Sperry handing the space over to the UN in the 50s it might’ve remained that tiny blip on the map. Instead it had grown just enough for it to survive relatively intact. A couple thousand people calling it home now.

Damien squinted at the little clapboard house, the rocker on the porch, the scars next to the kitchen door where he and Sonny had kicked the dust off their shoes before they went inside from playing. Just as it had been before. He stiffened slightly, took a couple of steps back as he saw motion in the house. Connie’s voice rose in song, that Patsy Cline tune she’d been played over and over til she wore the record out after Cline had died. It wouldn’t be much more than a year later that Connie got caught up in that crash.

I’m crazy for trying. Damien huffed out a breath as he slipped his hands into his pocket and watched his sister pick up the coffee cup. Connie danced into the living room, still singing. It might’ve been almost fifty years since he’d collected her from that hospital bed, but she hadn’t changed and never would. Caught like a dragonfly in amber while her brothers had continued to twist and change. Both adding to Heaven’s – or Hell’s – numbers in their own way.

That tug pulled at whatever hook Death had in his chest as Connie’s shadow approached the front door – heading for the porch and that swing to wait for her brothers to trail home. Son of a bitch. Damien stepped back quickly, already letting out a stream of curses as he turned away from the heaven he’d deposited Connie in all those years ago.

Now? In Mystic Falls it was always closer to a now. Bodies in the town were dropping like Mystic Falls was this decade’s Somme. Reapers buzzed around like bluebottles, some proving his as irritating.

A harder tug and Damien was storming into the thick stand of trees at the bottom of their garden. Disappearing in shadows, reappearing in them too. Only it wasn’t only the shadows that bathed the ground in darkness. Blood. Splattered everywhere. Jesus. That reek of …shit.

Sonny emerged from the side of the dumpster, grabbing for his jacket immediately. ”It’s not what you think. They were you know.” His brother tilted his head back and forth like the word demon was suddenly dirty and he expected the crack of their old man’s hand across his ass for speaking it in the house.

Damien cursed, shoving his brother back with a hand to the centre of his chest. Not the first mess he’d ended up cleaning up for his family, once upon a time he’d tracked Sonny down in situations like this, trying to free his big brother of the thing in him and had failed miserably. ”I don’t wanna know what happened, not now. Something like this they’re gonna be coming.” Already that itch was there between his shoulder blades. A stack of bodies, too many for him to gather up like it was nothing more than a game of ring around the roses. He caught Sonny’s frown and shoved again. ”Reapers. They’re gonna be bitching about it, they find you here it’s gonna get out. Go! I’ll find you later.”

His brother looked reluctant but then Sonny was stepping back and disappearing. Damien dragged his hands over his face, turning just in time to see the asshole walking towards him. It had to be him, pogoing across the blacktop with that stick jammed so high it had to be tickling his tonsils. ”Innocent lives for my friend to slaughter.” He hummed, glancing around him as the spirits of those dead began to drift in like they’d been waiting for a signal. ”You might be an ass but you’re one hell of a story teller. You ever think about doing it professionally?” Clucking his tongue, Damien tilted his head and gestured the first spirit close.

The questions continued to come as the spirit took a stubborn step away from him. Damien turned his head to focus narrowed blue eyes on his fellow reaper again. His teeth bared in a cold smile, a bitter chuckle rolling it out. ”You think I’m running around after people, sweeping up their little messes so preachy assholes like you don’t find out all the naughty things they did?” Hissing out a sigh, he dropped his hand and started towards Elias. ”How’d you end up with the gig?” Damien asked as the man came toe to toe with him. ”Did Death need a bean counter or is this your own personal nirvana? Cleaning up the streets and getting to wrap yourself up in all that sanctimony.” Sitting on his high horse obviously kept the guy warm at night, nothing else could’ve been capable of breaking past that ice maiden shell he had glittering around him.

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The guy was aiming for Sainthood after all. Damien didn’t imagine you got it by talking yourself up the way this guy seemed to like to but he was gunning for it all the same. Death’s bestest little reaper, earning all the brownie points by sticking to the rules like they were superglued to him. Maybe it went down well with his fellow brown nosing reapers but for everybody else it had to be a torment. If he had a clue how old this guy was – and in all honesty that could’ve been thousands of years judging by his attitude – he might’ve said he was the sort of kid who’d never coloured outside the lines in his life but the only lines he’d drawn had probably been on the walls of caves, if the older neanderthals had given him permission to first.

Unfortunately for him the rest of them weren’t puckered up so tight. It had been obvious from that first time with Aurora that the two of them were gonna clash. One saint trying to damn the guy who’d definitely been a sinner since Death had welcomed him on board. Mouth falling open as he’d determinedly scribbled over all the lines. Maybe he’d been trying to hide it this time, for Sonny’s sake, but Damien wasn’t about to go telling Elias that. Let him believe some other version of the truth, one that wouldn’t the blame sliding sideways onto his brother. Heaven, and the hunters who thought they knew just as much, would only tolerate so much before they came gunning for him and he wasn’t gonna let that happen.

If Elias was less focused on him and the villain he was supposedly hiding and more on the bodies, he might’ve seen the truth to all of this but that would’ve meant getting down off of his high horse. Damien snorted out a breath as he glanced around at the spirits – would one of them actually open their mouths and spill out the truth about how they were used as hell’s glove puppets? ”Right, because you’re the only reaper in the whole damn lot who’s getting an A+ in reaping right? The rest of us couldn’t ferry a soul without a map and your correction on everything we’re doing wrong.” The tar of ‘useless reaper’ had been smeared on him from the start but Damien was willing to bet that someone like Cory at least would splutter over the title. Leah would likely rip his tongue out for it, that woman had big brass balls on her.

This guy didn’t have any. They’d probably shrivelled up with each story he’d ratted someone out with, leaving him squeaking out his little song of screw ups and manipulation. ’Mr. Death, Mr. Death, he’s being a bad boy.’ It was pathetic, and so was the glare. He probably had inches on him but Damien didn’t care if he had to tip his head back until his crown was pressed between his shoulder blades to keep meeting the guy’s eye he’d do it. Damien’s lip curled in a smirk as those hazel eyes narrowed further. ”Forget the story telling, you obviously can’t come up with a decent one from the facts right in front of you. I’m not getting paid by anybody to mop up their messes.” He made a sound of dismissal, hating that Elias already had eyes on Sonny and Aurora. ”A million more if you learn to keep your yap shut pal. .You need me to repeat this to you again? I’m. Not. A. Rogue. Reaper. I can write it down if that’s gonna help.” Even if he carved it into the guy’s forehead Elias wasn’t likely to believe it.

Death might not either. Picturing Aurora and Sonny wiped away with a snap of those bony fingers had Damien’s chest going tight. Elias’ mask wasn’t cracking an inch, that same puckered frozen in place, his version of a poke face he supposed. Shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid his own irritation showing too much, Damien chuckled at Elias’ denial. ”I don’t know, man, you’re preaching pretty hard about how to do all this. Until you’ve finished crawling up my ass and you can see everything through my eyes, you might wanna stop pretending you know everything I’m up to.” The calm cracked with the word entertainment. Asshole.

Damien slapped at the finger that drilled into his chest, his brows slamming together above the thick black frame of his glasses. He would’ve twisted it, tried to snap it off but that would only give the asshole more satisfaction. ”This isn’t a game, asshole. I’m not having fun scooping people up, they’re not exactly dancing at the thought of dropping them either.” The thing in Sonny might’ve been but this had been necessity, as had the biker who’d followed Aurora that night. ”Keep repeating your version of things and maybe you’ll get what you want – the rest of us out of this.” Another squeeze of that band around his chest.

Like fighters easing back in the ring for a breather, Damien retreated a couple of steps, watching warily as Elias turned to the soul who’d cringed away from him. Wary eyes watched as Elias played the ‘you’ll be going somewhere better card’. Before he could intervene and get the spirit to pipe up a little about the truth Elias had clapped a hand on the guy’s shoulder and he was gone. As he reappeared and shoved past him Damien twisted. He stalked after Elias, shoving a hand between the taller man’s shoulder blades. ”You gonna ask any of them what happened to them before they ended up here? You know, find out the truth?” It was a risky strategy. Damien eyed the woman in front of the other reaper, his expression holding the scantest trace of hope. Would she throw Sonny right under the bus here?

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Even the highest and mightiest fell in the end. It had practically been headline news when the Beck brothers were brought to a stop. The FBI taking all the credit for bringing them down like Hell hadn’t had the biggest part in it all. The Feebs’d had no idea of the impact their deaths, well, his, had really had. Sonny had strolled away, that thing inside of him taking him to parts unknown. They’d looked for him afterwards, tried attributing half a dozen more robberies to him but that hadn’t been Sonny’s game anymore. This had been.

Damien eyed Elias with his lips peeling back, a laugh, bitter as it was amused, revealing his teeth. Elias might’ve been happy to strap on a black suit at his ‘day job’ but this guy was as bad as the FBI agents who’d been tracking him and Sonny decades ago had been. So sure of himself and the narrative he’d strung together in his head. Totally unaware that every little fact he had tried to it was bullshit. Elias had his idea and he was gonna cling onto it like a life raft until someone called timber and he went down just as hard as the rest of them. Righteousness made a fucking poor cushion when it came down to it.

Sucking in a breath, Damien let it out in a sigh as he rocked back on his heels. Elias wasn’t stop until he had the proof he wanted, building it on situations like this until he had enough to run to Death and get in in trouble. ”I’m not enough of a reaper to break the rules for money. I guess you are though, huh? If that stick ever happened to fall out of your ass. It might finally put a little tarnish on that halo of yours.” His own had been blackened through and through with the first bank they’d robbed, not an ounce of it left bright enough to glint up at Elias now. There was a reason but the shade on it wasn’t as dark as Elias was picturing.

Everything he’d ever done was for family. For Connie, for Sonny. For Aurora.

There wouldn’t be a single coin in his pocket after this, none in Sonny’s either, just the path leading straight to his brother and that pint sized asshole he was following these days wiped from existence. Damien felt the tug of it as Elias continued to push and folded in around himself to try and hide it before Elias wedged his fingers into that crack and tried to pry him open. Good fucking luck. He almost wanted Elias to pull that stick from his ass and make it a real fight as he slapped his hand away but he was too yellow bellied, dropping his hand away, standing there uselessly smiling at him. ”More sure than you are, although you won’t agree with that. You’ve got your story and you’re sticking to it.” The idiot. Looking around them, Damien let out a laugh that was strained at the edges. ”I didn’t realise being blind was a requirement for the job. Use your eyes man.” His stomach was twisting though, remembering the bloody scenes Sonny had left behind on purpose. There hadn’t been an ounce of glee on his brother’s face tonight though.

They needed to get this swept up, hide any sign of what had happened, Damien, as much as it fucking galled him to think it, was right about that. Not until Elias knew the truth behind it though. Snapping was maybe a mistake but Damien did anyway, feeling that bite of glee as Elias stumbled forward. He lifted his chin as Elias looked back, almost daring him to swing as he tossed the question at him. Come on man. The words rolled through silently at Elias’ sigh. ”Cause everything in this world is just the way you think it is,” Damien muttered. Elias was someone who had to be right about everything, except this time he wasn’t.

Damien rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth as he approached behind the taller reaper. Lurking over Elias like the shadow of the grim reaper himself. There was something softer in his eyes for the woman as Elias began to speak to her. ”You’ve got a bedside manner after all, who the fuck knew.” The words were almost swallowed up as he saw the woman grip Elias’ arm.

The tears trailed down her face, her head ticked backwards and forwards, like she was denying something in what he was telling her. The woman’s lips trembled, her fingers curling harder like she would hold him there. ”Where is it? The thing that was in here…” She rubbed the knuckles of her other hand against her chest. ”It took me, it was there for so long, I never thought I’d be free. He came and he … where did go? He drove it out with that b-blade?” Her hand fluttered at her chest, her fingertips fluttered like a bird’s wings around the dark wound in her chest. ”The demon. Did he k-kill it?” The strength seemed to go out of her, leaving her to slump further, none of the dank water pooled on the black top wicking up into the pale grey dress pants she wore.

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Satisfaction rolled through Damien’s gut as the spirit grabbed for Elias. They could appear and disappear at will, keep those cold dead hands off of themselves until the very last minute and he imagined Elias expended a ton of energy keeping himself out of range of them and everybody else. How anybody had ever figured this guy would make a decent reaper was beyond him, especially considering the fight he’d had to put up to get back out there after Sonny. Making up for past mistakes surely trumped a puckered asshole’s ability to bean count.

The amusement slowly faded as the woman’s story sputtered out. Not that far off the Sonny had thrown at him in those brief moments between him stepping in here and the gloom squad turning up to start scooping those souls up. A demon on demon fight, nothing for any reaper just doing his job to get his tighty-whities in a bunch about – although Elias’ seemed permanently wedged somewhere up around his spleen. It was going to take an act of the big man himself to pluck those things out of there and get him to lay the fuck off here.

Damien crossed his arms over his chest, rocking back on the worn heels of boots that had never gone out of style – at least folks expected the grim reaper to turn up in black. His brows, almost as dark, hitched above the frames of his glasses. He cleared his throat as the story trailed off and Damien’s placating words had the woman’s eyes filling with tears. ”You’re welcome ma’am,” he called out, nodding to her as she clutched at Elias’ arm and he had the two of them disappearing. He was lucky she hadn’t thrown herself in for a hug, it might’ve had him actually retching and blowing his cool right here.

Stone washed eyes flicked around the alleyway, meeting the gaze of each lingering spirit in turn but Damien didn’t move an inch to take any of them yet. He could’ve done, could’ve just turned his back and walked. Elias was gonna whine about this as far up the chain of command as possible anyway, why wring his hands about what other misdemeanours he was gonna get stuck with. His chin lifted at one of the guys who was sat on the blacktop, pressed back against a dumpster, still staring wide eyed at the body. ”Nice shoes, man, where’d you get them?” Before the spirit could answer Elias was back and in his face. What a surprise.

Turning his head up slowly, Damien met Elias’ eye apathetically. He unfolded his arms, one hand planting against that slab of a chest to keep him at a distance where the stench of sanctimony wouldn’t knock him over. ”A handful of demons by the looks of things,” he said, tipping his head sideways to indicating the bodies. He blatantly ignored Sonny and the thing riding around in him. ”Are you a parole officer now? Have you conspired with supernatural creatures, pal? I didn’t know all of that was against the rules, although I guess if there is a list somewhere you’d be the one clinging on to it like it’s the Ten Commandments.” He’d heard them handed down often enough as a kid, long before he knew half the stuff in the ‘good book’ was probably closer to the truth than anybody believed.

Sighing, Damien gave that chest a pat in reassurance before he took a slow step back. If this was all going to end up shining the spotlight on Sonny or Aurora then he was tapping out. For now he was gonna have to accept that Elias had decided to take up residence up his ass in an attempt to get him to fly straight. ”Looks to me like you’re the one sticking your nose in. I’m doing my job, ferrying souls no matter who popped ‘em free of their bodies. You’re the one involving yourself.” Damien laughed but the sound was tight and cold as he bulled back in. He stopped an inch from Elias, his face turned right up in his. ”It’s our job to hand over the killers to the boss now? What part of the job is that? We’re not the cops or the feds, you said that yourself. There was no deal made, if you think you saw one then that head of yours is even emptier than I thought. You wanna scoop up those two while I get this guy? The clock’s ticking.” Damien’s voice flattened as he reached up to scruff up Elias’ hair the way Sonny had done to him when he was a kid. He stepped back then, offering his hand to the guy with the spit shined shoes.

Tagged: ELIAS ELLIOTT * Word Count: 793