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moosestories2025-07-01 06:58 am
nyc_merlin) wrote in moosestories2025-07-01 06:58 am
Entry tags:
Angel AU: The Devil
15. The Devil - one character has a hold over the other; one character is bad for the other but they just can't let go; one character is hoarding something/someone even though they know they shouldn't
—
It’s late at night when Phil finally leaves the police station. He’s exhausted and his back hurts from the uncomfortable chair they had him sit in for hours on end. The interrogation room was also freezing. It seems like a deliberate choice to keep him uncomfortable and on edge. Instead, it left him tired and annoyed with the whole police system.
The church had sent a lawyer shortly after Phil had been picked up by the cops. She was a sharp woman named Karen who had taken control of the situation as best she could the second she arrived. The detectives investigating St. Amandus, though, had tried for hours to get something out of Phil.
There was nothing to give. He was out when the search happened and had seen nothing. He also didn’t have any evidence on him besides his cellphone which the cops still had.
They finally had to let him go because they had no evidence to hold them. A fact Karen had pointed out again and again during the interrogation. She was a very determined woman. Phil liked her a lot and he could see why Bishop Fury sent her over.
He wasn’t surprised, per say, that the church had supported him against the very serious allegations of harboring fugitive angels and being part of the underground. The church was very protective of their own and didn’t like the law interfering with it. It still felt nice to have even a bit of support from them.
“Father Coulson,” Karen says as they stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the police station. “Can I get you a cab anywhere?”
He smiles at her. “No thank you. I’ll take the subway.”
She frowns. “You’re sure? It’s been a long day and the church will cover it.”
He nods. “I’m sure. Thank you for everything. A walk will clear my head. Let me think and pray about this situation.”
Karen doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer but she nods. “Okay. If you need anything call me or my paralegal, Daisy. We’ll take care of everything.”
He thanks her again for her help and they part ways. Karen takes her cellphone out immediately to make some calls as she flags down a cab. Phil puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking.
The cops have his phone so he can’t call anyone to reassure them that he’s okay. He figures they’re looking for evidence of underground contacts but only someone really new to helping the underground would have obvious contacts on their phone.
St. Amandus communicates with the underground exclusively in Confession - protected by the law - or by messages carried by Mobius’ pigeons. The birds are really useful along with being a good cover for why there’s a large hatch in the attic room of the church.
The cops won’t find anything on any of his electronics. Whatever they seized from the church is also clean. They’ve been doing this a long time. They’re smart and careful because it matters.
Still, it’d be nice to send Mobius a text and find out where he is and how his interrogation went. Phil will just have to wait for when he gets back to St. Amandus.
The city is relatively quiet for his walk to the subway. A few people say good evening father to him as he passes. Phil thanks them and wishes them a good evening but he looks for a mostly empty subway car when he gets on.
He was serious about wanting time to think and pray about things.
The best he can find is a set of four seats in the back of a subway car without anyone around. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the window as the subway starts moving. The lights shift behind his closed eyes.
It’s hard to say what exactly alerts him to someone sitting down next to him even though the subway is still on its way to the next stop on the line. He opens his eyes and sits up straight.
Garrett sits next to him in a comfortable and expensive looking suit. It’s a shade of charcoal grey that would look black from a distance. Each time a shadow passes over them the fabric darkens to pitch black. He smiles when Phil meets his eyes. “Good to see you, buddy.”
Phil takes a deep calming breath. His first instinct is to punch the demon in the face and beat the Hell out of him. Literally. It’s not a good instinct but it’s definitely what Phil wants to do. A demon can easily overpower a human physically, not to mention all the other tricks they have up their sleeves.
He will have to hope the calming breath actually keeps him calm for what he hopes is a brief conversation.
“You’re not getting what you want,” Phil says patiently. “I’ve told you that.”
“Phil, Phil, Phil.” Garrett shakes a finger at him. “That’s what they all say.”
That’s what Phil has always said once he figured out what Garrett really was. They first met in basic training and became friends. Phil liked Garrett’s dry sense of humor and his determination to get the job done right.
He thought it was just a lucky break when Garrett ended up in his unit. There were a lot of instances Phil thought of as lucky breaks in the moment but looking back knowing what he knows now it was all Garrett pulling strings and making things happen so they would grow closer.
Until Phil got shot.
Garrett was with him as Phil was dying from a bullet to the chest in the field. It was then as Phil thought he was going to die Garrett showed his true nature and promised he’d live and could get revenge if he just gave up his soul. He was going to lose it anyway when he died. Why not live? Why not keep fighting the good fight? Garrett could save him.
Phil had punched him then.
It was a miracle the medics got to him in time. When he recovered Phil turned away from the Army and walked into Seminary school with a higher purpose. He had a different good fight to wage.
“They’re watching you now. Not just the press but the traders and the hunters,” Garrett says as he adjusts his flashy silver watch on his wrist. “You and your church are under a microscope and will be for years. Even if that pretty young priest takes the fall for you, you’re not going to be able to get near an angel without someone knowing.”
Phil thinks of the angels who find sanctuary at St. Amandus. He thinks of Clint who has, hopefully, fled and found somewhere else to stay. There’s an ache in his chest at the thought of never seeing any of them again. Of never spending afternoons in the garden with Clint’s wing shading him from the summer sun. Or Natasha’s quiet singing in the sanctuary when she thinks no one can hear her.
“So, you’re ruining my life to get me to agree to this?” He hopes his tone properly conveys how stupid that is. Phil was willing to die to refuse Garrett’s first deal. What makes him think Phil will say yes now?
“Oh, not just your life. But that young priest’s. Those angels that fled, definitely going to get them back in chains.” Garrett ticks the points off on his fingers one by one. “Probably get your church shut down if I pull a few of the right strings and just think of the community lost and directionless without their fathers to guide them?”
They’re some good points. Angel slave traders come down as hard as possible on anyone found aiding escaped angels. They like to drive home how powerful they are and how unstoppable.
“And you’ll call it all off if I say yes to your deal?” Phil sighs.
Garrett sits up straighter. “Of course, Phil. Once you give me your soul, I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I want to see the whole slave trade dismanteled,” Phil says as he stares Garrett down. “The whole system ends and angels are freed. Every single one of them. And the knowledge of how to bind and capture angels disappears from the Earth.”
“Now, Phil, be reasonable…”
“I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord…”
Garret winces at the Rite of Exorcism. He can’t actually exorcise Garrett. He’s not a demon possessing a person but a true Fallen angel demon. The power of Phil’s faith can hurt him.
He makes a grab for Phil, trying to shove him against the window of the subway car. Garrett’s hand closes around the front of his shirt as he snarls, eyes turning bloody red, fangs growing in but he lets go just as quickly as he grabs him. When he pulls his hand away there is a bloody burn across Garrett’s fingers in the shape of a feather.
“Oh… I see.” Garrett shakes his hand out. He chuckles. “I see now.”
Phil wakes up with a start as the subway stops suddenly. He looks around for Garrett but there is only a slight smell of his cologne in the air and when Phil presses his hand to the seat next to him it’s warmer than it should be.
He touches a hand to his chest and feels under his clothes. Clint’s feather is still there. He lets out a shaky breath.
—
It’s late at night when Phil finally leaves the police station. He’s exhausted and his back hurts from the uncomfortable chair they had him sit in for hours on end. The interrogation room was also freezing. It seems like a deliberate choice to keep him uncomfortable and on edge. Instead, it left him tired and annoyed with the whole police system.
The church had sent a lawyer shortly after Phil had been picked up by the cops. She was a sharp woman named Karen who had taken control of the situation as best she could the second she arrived. The detectives investigating St. Amandus, though, had tried for hours to get something out of Phil.
There was nothing to give. He was out when the search happened and had seen nothing. He also didn’t have any evidence on him besides his cellphone which the cops still had.
They finally had to let him go because they had no evidence to hold them. A fact Karen had pointed out again and again during the interrogation. She was a very determined woman. Phil liked her a lot and he could see why Bishop Fury sent her over.
He wasn’t surprised, per say, that the church had supported him against the very serious allegations of harboring fugitive angels and being part of the underground. The church was very protective of their own and didn’t like the law interfering with it. It still felt nice to have even a bit of support from them.
“Father Coulson,” Karen says as they stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the police station. “Can I get you a cab anywhere?”
He smiles at her. “No thank you. I’ll take the subway.”
She frowns. “You’re sure? It’s been a long day and the church will cover it.”
He nods. “I’m sure. Thank you for everything. A walk will clear my head. Let me think and pray about this situation.”
Karen doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer but she nods. “Okay. If you need anything call me or my paralegal, Daisy. We’ll take care of everything.”
He thanks her again for her help and they part ways. Karen takes her cellphone out immediately to make some calls as she flags down a cab. Phil puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking.
The cops have his phone so he can’t call anyone to reassure them that he’s okay. He figures they’re looking for evidence of underground contacts but only someone really new to helping the underground would have obvious contacts on their phone.
St. Amandus communicates with the underground exclusively in Confession - protected by the law - or by messages carried by Mobius’ pigeons. The birds are really useful along with being a good cover for why there’s a large hatch in the attic room of the church.
The cops won’t find anything on any of his electronics. Whatever they seized from the church is also clean. They’ve been doing this a long time. They’re smart and careful because it matters.
Still, it’d be nice to send Mobius a text and find out where he is and how his interrogation went. Phil will just have to wait for when he gets back to St. Amandus.
The city is relatively quiet for his walk to the subway. A few people say good evening father to him as he passes. Phil thanks them and wishes them a good evening but he looks for a mostly empty subway car when he gets on.
He was serious about wanting time to think and pray about things.
The best he can find is a set of four seats in the back of a subway car without anyone around. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the window as the subway starts moving. The lights shift behind his closed eyes.
It’s hard to say what exactly alerts him to someone sitting down next to him even though the subway is still on its way to the next stop on the line. He opens his eyes and sits up straight.
Garrett sits next to him in a comfortable and expensive looking suit. It’s a shade of charcoal grey that would look black from a distance. Each time a shadow passes over them the fabric darkens to pitch black. He smiles when Phil meets his eyes. “Good to see you, buddy.”
Phil takes a deep calming breath. His first instinct is to punch the demon in the face and beat the Hell out of him. Literally. It’s not a good instinct but it’s definitely what Phil wants to do. A demon can easily overpower a human physically, not to mention all the other tricks they have up their sleeves.
He will have to hope the calming breath actually keeps him calm for what he hopes is a brief conversation.
“You’re not getting what you want,” Phil says patiently. “I’ve told you that.”
“Phil, Phil, Phil.” Garrett shakes a finger at him. “That’s what they all say.”
That’s what Phil has always said once he figured out what Garrett really was. They first met in basic training and became friends. Phil liked Garrett’s dry sense of humor and his determination to get the job done right.
He thought it was just a lucky break when Garrett ended up in his unit. There were a lot of instances Phil thought of as lucky breaks in the moment but looking back knowing what he knows now it was all Garrett pulling strings and making things happen so they would grow closer.
Until Phil got shot.
Garrett was with him as Phil was dying from a bullet to the chest in the field. It was then as Phil thought he was going to die Garrett showed his true nature and promised he’d live and could get revenge if he just gave up his soul. He was going to lose it anyway when he died. Why not live? Why not keep fighting the good fight? Garrett could save him.
Phil had punched him then.
It was a miracle the medics got to him in time. When he recovered Phil turned away from the Army and walked into Seminary school with a higher purpose. He had a different good fight to wage.
“They’re watching you now. Not just the press but the traders and the hunters,” Garrett says as he adjusts his flashy silver watch on his wrist. “You and your church are under a microscope and will be for years. Even if that pretty young priest takes the fall for you, you’re not going to be able to get near an angel without someone knowing.”
Phil thinks of the angels who find sanctuary at St. Amandus. He thinks of Clint who has, hopefully, fled and found somewhere else to stay. There’s an ache in his chest at the thought of never seeing any of them again. Of never spending afternoons in the garden with Clint’s wing shading him from the summer sun. Or Natasha’s quiet singing in the sanctuary when she thinks no one can hear her.
“So, you’re ruining my life to get me to agree to this?” He hopes his tone properly conveys how stupid that is. Phil was willing to die to refuse Garrett’s first deal. What makes him think Phil will say yes now?
“Oh, not just your life. But that young priest’s. Those angels that fled, definitely going to get them back in chains.” Garrett ticks the points off on his fingers one by one. “Probably get your church shut down if I pull a few of the right strings and just think of the community lost and directionless without their fathers to guide them?”
They’re some good points. Angel slave traders come down as hard as possible on anyone found aiding escaped angels. They like to drive home how powerful they are and how unstoppable.
“And you’ll call it all off if I say yes to your deal?” Phil sighs.
Garrett sits up straighter. “Of course, Phil. Once you give me your soul, I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I want to see the whole slave trade dismanteled,” Phil says as he stares Garrett down. “The whole system ends and angels are freed. Every single one of them. And the knowledge of how to bind and capture angels disappears from the Earth.”
“Now, Phil, be reasonable…”
“I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord…”
Garret winces at the Rite of Exorcism. He can’t actually exorcise Garrett. He’s not a demon possessing a person but a true Fallen angel demon. The power of Phil’s faith can hurt him.
He makes a grab for Phil, trying to shove him against the window of the subway car. Garrett’s hand closes around the front of his shirt as he snarls, eyes turning bloody red, fangs growing in but he lets go just as quickly as he grabs him. When he pulls his hand away there is a bloody burn across Garrett’s fingers in the shape of a feather.
“Oh… I see.” Garrett shakes his hand out. He chuckles. “I see now.”
Phil wakes up with a start as the subway stops suddenly. He looks around for Garrett but there is only a slight smell of his cologne in the air and when Phil presses his hand to the seat next to him it’s warmer than it should be.
He touches a hand to his chest and feels under his clothes. Clint’s feather is still there. He lets out a shaky breath.