Claude Faustus awake as usual. He got out of his bed, like a Calvinist's and hastily discarded his night clothing. He entered his bathroom and took no waste of time examining his reflection in the mirror. The water flowed at the sink, the sound echoing around the room as it bounced back, reaching his ears. The coldness made him more aware of his consciousness. In spite his doubt of looking at himself, he forced himself to look at the reflecting glass. He sees a pale man, with grey circles around his eyes, with hair the color of a crow's shiny feathers. A sighed escaped him. I am here…again, he thought. Alive and hell, kicking. At last, he said the words aloud as if asking someone. "Why am I here?"
A bell rang an extension from his Master's. He turned to look at the clock—framed gold-plated ticking clock. 6:30. Early. He hurriedly finished his bathe and put on his clothes.
After he left his room then down to the kitchen he went. On his way, he greeted the laundry woman. He's a butler, yes but there are certain things his Master wouldn't take him doing, like doing 'her' laundry. A short time pass and his Master's breakfast are ready.
The cold breeze always pleasured the lady's skin. She writhed and moaned like a lover would do just for pure amusement when in nobody's presence. She rang the bell moments ago and currently waiting for her butler to arrive. "Aww…I'm hungry." She swings his head in a lazy motion at the clock. "Claude!" she said his empty presence. "Where are you?"
She was forced to sit up and can't keep herself from feeling like a hangovered zombie. The breeze from the window again and she felt someone's presence. "Ronald." She grumbled at the reaper. She knew for a local reaper, and she'd already admitted it to herself, that he was cute. "What do you want?" and somewhat a little annoying.
"Mornin' beauty. Just passed by to tell you something."
"You know I can't even think about how I am able to see you."
"Already told you 'bout that. You saw someone die a couple times."
"What's that message?"
"Someone's coming. Not in our department—where they came from? Another country." He paced by the foot her crumbled-sheet bed. "Two guys."
"How did you know about that?" she crossed their gazes with her sharp eyes.
"A woman named Tessa told me."
"Or rather you're just curious, you made her tell you."
"Yyyeah," he grinned. "Oh, but I know you needed it. You're useful Morganne not just to us and so maybe I can repay you."
A knock came and her head swings at the direction of the distraction. "Claude?" when he looks again, the reaper was gone. "Enter."
"What company are you from, again?" the middle-aged man asked from his far year coursed mahogany table.
"Lotus Enterprises, sir. We were working an article concerning the murder of Dr. James Cole—the company's doctor." Dean explained, his usual voice accenting every word.
"You know this happened a day ago—and I can only fill up only a few details."
The man nodded with his acting partner, Cass.
"The doctor got out of the building, he made it to his car and then that's when I saw him running." He focused on his table as if consumed by its lightless color.
"Did you saw something unusual?"
For a second the man knitted his brows and looked at them. "A Black figure."
"Any clearer view?"
"No." he denied, a few shook his head in a fast motion. "A black suited man with dark hair—glowing red eyes. Hell, I would think it would be the Phantomhive's butler Sebastian."
"Wait, you saw a dark figure like a butler's. And the man's name was Sebastian? What's his last name?"
"Michaelis. Do you need that in your article?"
Dean answered the man with a shook of his head before answering him formally with verbal speech. "No, sir. Thank you for your time."
They walked out of the building, heading straight for the car. "Heck, what is this? It's the end of the world and now we're investigating here finding all this crap about a damn butler named Sebastian. It's not even close to looking if 'Our Father' is here. Or is it 'was'."
"Dean." he pressed."The man told us everything he knew. There is still hope of finding Him here."
"Alright," he stopped at his track, flailed his arm in a dramatic way. "So where do we start looking." At the corner of his eye, a ramble was going on. Two men. Two rocked up punks beating a man to death. Blood splattered on the ground from the man's mouth and he rolled. Dean came running, alarmed that he might come late to save the pitiful man's life. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" he crossed the street unable to see the speeding car ahead.
The thing bumped him and all was black.
"OH MY GOD!" she said, after getting out of the car and hurriedly attended the injured man. "Claude! What the fuck did you do?
"It's—"
"Hello? Can you hear me?" she noticed another man kneeling beside him. "Is he your friend?"
"Yes."
"I'm very sorry." She looked the for the man's pulse. She sighed, relieved, "Oh, good he's still alive. Claude," she called. "Bring him in the car. We're gonna get him to the hospital."
The butler compiled. And the lady got up and announced to the people gathered around that everything's going to be alright and that she will bring the man to the hospital. In scanning those faces, she thought she saw a man with black eyes…she meant all black. She inhaled and her jaws tightened.
"Claude," she boarded the car. "I've changed my mind. We're not going to attend Ample Court Gathering. We'll head to the house."
"But, my lady—"
"Now!"
Claude pushed the pedal and the car zipped fast.
The door thudded and swung when they entered. The homey scent replaced by foreign presence and it chilled her to think what she saw back there. "Lie him down. He's gonna be alright." Her voice came nervous, she felt that.
She turned and saw the man previously. "You said you're his friend. Where you from? I've never seen your face before?"
He was going to speak when the she heard a moan. "Augh…hell, ow! What 'append?"
She inhaled another breathe. "You were struck by my car. But you see we're gonna take care o' that." She kneeled before him. "May I take your name?"
Dean's eyes focused as he let himself moan to aching muscle he got in his hips. A woman's voice answered so that will be a good thing for him. "Dean." He mmbled.
"Dean." She repeated. "I hope you forgive my butler for doing—to what you are now."
Suddenly, the whole case went back him. And the impulsive jerk made it difficult for his muscles to adjust. It just freakin' hurts. "Butler? Where is your butler?"
"Uh…he's in the kitchen, preparing something for you. Is there a problem?"
"No, no." he answered right away. "What is your name?"
"Morganne."
"Morganne, you've got a last name?"
"Brittany, why?"
"Thank you."
Surprisingly, she grinned at him. "You are the real Dean Winchester." Morganne escaped, for a couple of times, a breathe and by that she was answered by another grumble. "Excuse me?"
He followed your gaze as you were standing up. "You are not another groping die-hard fan, are you?"
"Absolutely, no. I'm his," she pointed a thumb to Castiel. "fan."
"Wait, wait…your confessing too much information. You're a fan of Cass?"
She only smiled and turned her back. "Claude, you might hurry up a bit." She turned to her guests. "Gentlemen, if you're so kind would you enlighten me of why you are here?"
"Someone dragged us up here."
"And who that might be?"
"We don't know."
Claude entered the room with a tray, in it was his homemade pastries and water—heck, when Dean sees it he thought it might be holy water. "Lady, I'm telling you I'm not a demon."
"It's alright. There's always salt in the pastries. Eat up." She took one and pleasured herself with a bite. "Where's your brother?"
"Sam?...Sam!" he fetched his phone and dialed his brother's number.
The other line answered. "Dean."
"Hey, I'm a—got a little problem here…I'm…" she looked glance at Morganne. "I'm at a beautiful lady's house." He puffed. "Yeah? 'Kay, hang on."
"What?"
"I'm gonna take your address."
Sam drove the impala next to a…is that a Porche? He got out of the car and looked around. "Well, this looks homey." He ascended the steps to the large mahogany door and pushed the doorbell. A butler greeted him. He was tall, like him. Had a light longer hair but a tight fit to serve whoever Dean was talking about.
He led him up the stairs then to a room where he saw his brother laying with a white medical bandana on his hips. "Sam."
"Dean, what the hell happened to you?"
"Got struck by an old dumpster."
"Hey, at least my baby isn't as old as yours but yours—it's classy."
"A once upon a time demon butler bumped me with her baby!" she pointed a look to Morganne.
Sam laughed.
"Hey, it isn't funny!" Morganne retorted.
"Damn right, it isn't."
Castiel spoke up. "We've got the information we needed. A man named Sebastian Michaelis." He turned, as usual that look on his face that provoke he's a serious creature. "We need to move. Quick."
"Look at me. Got laid here." Dean retorted again. "About the name, I've heard that before."
"Yeah," Sam settled. "Sebastian—Sebastien Michaelis…he's a real living person in the sixteenth century. He was the priest who compiled the heirchy of demons."
Dean snorted, "So that demon butler got a priest for a namesake."
"Well," Morganne moved to a chair, crossing her legs after. "actually, he was named after his young master's dog. And good news for you, his master is also a demon, except that Sebastian—" she shrugged.
"What?" Dean pressed.
"He was a lot older than Ciel Phantomhive."
There was a moment of silence. And for the second time Castiel speaks again. "How did you know all this?"
"Have you been possessed? And you survived?" Sam asked at the corner.
"No, Sammy. My darling butler, Claude Faustus told me." she beamed a smile to Cass. "Ever loyal."
"So," Dean's turn. "You sell your soul this moron?"
"Heavens, no! He's been dead lately and suddenly—even I don't know why—he was 'back' and now serving me."
"That Black butler," for the first time in their whole conversation Claude speaks. "he used a spear against me and had me dead…he placed it like a stake in my heart. Until, now it feels…that spear right through me."
"What do you even need of Sebastian and his brat Master? 'Cause they got some serious shit they owe to me."
"They're demons. What do you expect us to do? Kiss his ass?" Dean remarked.
"Look, I know you're pissed but I want to help you. Dean, how bad are you feeling?"
He moves and, "Ooo," he gritted his teeth, grumbling words.
The doorbell rings.
"Great." muttered Morganne. "More guests. Fun."
She descended the stairs and while she does it she can't help but to think how awkward it is to leave her butler with that—angel—in a trenchcoat with those cute freaks in one room. She reached the door, looked through a peephole.
Upon seeing her new visitors she whispered, "Oh my god." The idea taken from Ronald came back in a flash. Two guys. And if she got in their way…
The door opened and a young boy with his tall man greeted her with an alluring presence. "Miss Morganne," the boy started. "Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," she'd be careful with her head start. If she revealed his name to him, he'd known she know him later than him. "It's an unexpected visit. What can I do for you?" she glanced at Sebastian who remains serene behind the boy.
"We'd like to discuss about your factory…it seems there had been a problem, lately." She noticed his sudden glance at past her shoulders. She prayed that it wouldn't be Claude. "May we come in?"
"Of course."She planned to take the two of them—not to the room with 'them' but—to the dining room. "I hope you're in for an afternoon tea."
They reached the room with an armful of stares of the latter guests. The fuck? What did I do, she thought. Why bring them here? Hoh, could it be more exciting.
"Uhm…everyone these are my acquaintances…" Castiel browsed the man in all black. He was clearly the demon, and she could only hope that Sebastian couldn't detect the same from Cass. Morganne got a little nervous and awkward about this gathering. "Ciel and his," she sighed. "butler." She walked up to Claude and whispered beside him. "Make tea. Talk me after. Five minutes."
He nods and complied.
Great. Now, she doesn't have an ally. Could this be more awkward for her?
Sam tried to observe the new visitors while pretending to patch up his brother. Castile walked up to them and managed in a low voice. "Those are demons."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"It's not just one. The boy, he's a demon."
"What are they doing here?"
"It remains a mystery even to me. I have to talk to Morganne."
Dean kept his glare to the boy and his butler. "I don't know. This case is not going anywhere."
"Gentlemen." Morganne called. "Ciel, come now. We'll have the discussion outside." Then they are out.
Sam sighed, staring at his laptop. "If we just had the colt…this'll be done."
More than once, Claude passed the hallway and to the window viewing the garden. Sam spotted his anxiety between their unexpected visitors. He thought it might help to ask him some questions. "Claude," he called. The man's stare was like Castiel's, serious and composed. "May I ask you some questions?"
"Yes."
"Do you know about the colt?"
"Colt?"
"Y-yeah. You heard about it?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah." A shout jerked them to see what it is.
A bloodied Morganne met them at the doorway. Her hand gripped on his left arm. Her sleeve soaked in her own blood.
"Morganne!" Sam came to her at the same time as Claude said my lady. "What happened?"
She chuckled. "Got serious with the business. I say, they don't take offenses easy…" she took a breath. "They tried to kill me."
They brought her to the room with Dean still looking—when he managed to—at the laptop. "What 'append?"
"Those sons of bitches tried to kill the lady of the house. What you got?"
While she lay, Claude made a run for the med kit and Sam some patches.
"Ub…do you know about people dying lately?"
She stared at him and laughed. "Now, we're in the same state."
Silence.
"Look, there's…something I didn't tell you about." She shifted and continued. "A reaper, Ronald told me that two guys are coming. You were them."
"Okay. So why did they try to kill you?"
"Maybe because I know what they are…maybe because I know what they're doing?"
"Like killing?"
"Killing for souls." Castiel appeared at her back. "They tried to kill you because if they know you were trying a way of killing them."He knelt and held her wounded arm. "I respect your sympathy for us. I know you know where they are staying. You can tell us where they are."
"You need to do better than that." Claude offered, doing the bandage on her arm.
Cass turned, looking for provision at the two men. He continued, "Please?"
"Really? It's that all you got?" she looked him in the eye. "You know this isn't going what it turned out to be."
"I got nothing." Dean reproached.