An End

"You…you knew."

"Did I?"

"You knew. You knew all along, you clever bastard, you puppet master."

"Be calm, Lucifer."

"You took a human vessel, positioned yourself close to him, and watched him destroy himself."

"Repair himself." Came the calm correction.

"R-repair? He's the angel of death, not a fucking Mini Cooper. He doesn't need periodic maintenance." A pause. Slight uncertainty. "Doesn't he?"

"All souls need a new perspective once and a while. Even the Reaper of them all. All souls require a little tarnish rubbed from them to bring back the light sometimes."

Acknowledging silence. But no answer. A sigh.

"What about this…thing that was created? This…I don't even know what the hell to call it. Abomination?"

"How about his name? He does have one."

"Just-what the hell is he?"

"I don't know. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Oh, go to Heaven."

A smile. "We will watch him for now. I'm not entirely sure what he is, I'm not even certain he knows what he is. He is under Azrael's protection, this Timothy McGee."

"It should be blasted off the skin of the puny planet."

"Are you willing to cross Azrael to do so?"

An angry, slightly humiliated breath is huffed out and swallowed by the vacuum.

"We can only watch now."

"Not much we can do besides that."

"No. Only time will tell about Timothy McGee. What side of the line he stands on, what he can do. Only time will tell."

A long pause.

"I hate waiting."

"You always did, but isn't that the best part?"

"Hell no."

A laugh, deep and rumbling, an echo of creation. Answering sulking.

The sound of grains of sand tumbling.

The elevator dings.