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thestableboy (thestableboy) wrote in wariscoming,

There was a surprising amount of paperwork involved in bringing about the destruction of the human race. Sometimes Brady thought he’d gotten as far as he had in so short a time because he was one of the only demons who really understood that. Ruby and Meg had been very good at swanning around in tight jeans and wielding knives and seduction, but ask them the difference between a fixed rate and an adjustable mortgage and they were reduced to sneering or pouting and waving their knives again. It took more than one kind of power to be the best, to consolidate an empire. Violence and seduction weren’t enough to get through every door, and once you were through they didn’t keep you there, not the way money did, nor status and respect.

None of this recognized necessity, however, made said paperwork any less boring. When he felt Ruby’s presence, her use of power manifesting at the edge of his awareness, his fingers hovered above the keyboard for a moment and then his hands fell into his lap as he closed his eyes and concentrated on his old mentor. What are you doing Ruby? he wondered silently, what’s worth putting yourself on the grid like that again? He opened his eyes and glanced at the computer screen, then smiled slowly and saved his work before pressing a button on the intercom. “I’m going out. Notify our people in,” he paused, reached out again, “Wyoming, that I may need a car. Coordinates to follow.”

His feet hit the ground and dirt gave under them, a fresh grave. Humans were industrious little termites Brady thought, not acknowledging that he had been one of them not so very long ago, always rebuilding where destruction had come, always thinking it made them strong. Really, it just proved that they were not adaptable enough to survive.

“ Now I have more to learn and new teachers. And I love them. Its just they don’t understand why I don’t hate you. So like Illchester I’m gonna come here, once a year, this day. And I’m gonna remember.”

“Oh seriously Ruby?” he said, too disgusted to stay hidden any longer. “I sensed you actually doing some moving and shaking and I thought ‘wow it must be something huge to get Mrs. Winchester out of her apron and pathetic attempts at domesticity’ and I leave the office and come right over expecting blood and fire and sulfur and I get angst?”

He stepped around a tombstone, an angel bending over the dearly departed Rubensons, and shook his head slowly. “The worst part of all this? For me anyway? It isn’t the switching sides or the tragic-comedy that is your marriage to Sammy Winchester, lamest drunk I have seen as a human or a demon with more than questionable taste in music. There’s a certain…well, at least you’re making a fuss. The worst part is that you’ve gotten sentimental, you’ve gotten…lame.”