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[shamrocked-.insanejournal.com]

Who: David and Patrick and George and Mary, then Wrath and Bridget and Lucifer. And then Michael.
What: Rescue mission! (Originally started by David)
When: during and following this
Where: David's home, leading to Wrath's Place of Hiding Pregnant Ladies
Warnings: Lucifer, Wrath, panicking saint



Patrick had arrived, all panting and sweating, and David had hugged him and taken some deep breaths. David was feeling somewhat less like his lungs were going to burst with panic. He sat on one of the dining chairs with a little bear someone had given them for the twins in his hands, half watching Patrick clean up his dropped kettle, half stressing about Bridget.

Saint David of Wales, I need your help now. Lucifer is here and he wants the babies. Says he's going to mark them if I don't cooperate. Dewi, I'm scared.

David's head flew up, and he looked around. Was she here? He got to his feet, wondering for a moment what he'd heard. George and Mary sat near him. Mary didn't look well.

He walked to the front door, his hand on the knob, frowning. His phone was in his other hand. A lady had answered Bridget's number earlier, but only to tell him that she'd found the phone in the street. He stared at it for a long moment, noticing the text from Anthony come through, and there was an address.

They say they want to keep me until the babies are born! They're going to keep moving me! Dewi, Wrath just gave Lucifer permission to hurt me. I hope you can hear me.

David realised where the voice was coming from, connecting the dots in his head. She was praying to him. His heart leapt into his throat.

"Bridget!" he exclaimed suddenly, throwing the door open and taking off down the stairs to the street.

Patrick, who had been trying to clean up the broken kettle a second before, glanced up when David simply ran out of the door.

"Dewi!" Patrick tossed the kettle over his shoulder and he took off after his brother, nearly falling down the stairs in his haste.

When he reached the street and his brother, Patrick caught his arm. "What just happened? Do you know where she is?!"

"Oh hell," George said, watching as first David then Patrick took off down the street. He wrapped an arm around Mary to pull her up. "Come on, we need to catch them."

Patrick had already stopped David by the time the arrived, and George practically screeched to a halt in front of them. "Is she okay? Is Lucifer..."

He trailed off, because he honestly wasn't sure how to finish that sentence without getting a little nauseous. They needed to find Bridget, now.

Half-drunk, sleep-deprived, and high on pain meds to ignore the broken toes she'd shoved into shoes, Mary was exactly the kind of person one didn't want on a rescue mission. She was also the sort of person one didn't want wielding a gun, and yet she had that tucked into her jacket as well. The news that David's wife had been taken had given Mary someone far better to focus on than Jesus and Judas and Huitzilopotchli - shooting hell spawn in the face.

The look in her eyes was surprisingly focused as she glanced around them, checking for anyone listening in or looking suspicious. The only use she could be to David here was firepower. Emotional support was utterly beyond her right now.

"She's praying to me. Anthony texted me an address." David pushed his phone into Patrick's hand, while tugging to be free of his grip and start running. "She's scared, Lucifer's going to hurt her, we have to hurry," he exclaimed, wanting to be off already.

Patrick firmed his grip on his little brother as he looked at the phone and glanced over the address. "Dewi, I have a car!" he yelled, pulling his brother towards it and hoping George and Mary followed. "It's going to take an hour to get there if we run!" That David was hearing his wife pray to him her fears made Patrick feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't even think about the fact that it was Bridget right now. It was too hard. "I'll drive, get in!"

Patrick had no way of knowing Bridget was praying again.

It hurts, the prayer was weak and painful but there. It hurts but I can try to stall them so they don't move me. Call Anthony. Find out where I am. I can stall them. Please come to me.

"Now, go now! David cried, his tone on the panicky side of high-pitched. He tumbled into the car as quickly as possible, then stopped as her prayer reached him, his face going white. "Oh- Bridget-" he said in a shaky voice, hands white-knuckled on his seatbelt.

Patrick pulled away from the curb and then he glanced sideways at his brother worriedly. "What? What's happening?" he asked, trying not to sound panicky, but he was. He probably should have been paying attention to the road more, but he had faith God would keep them from having an accident.

George slid into the backseat of the car with Mary, not bothering to buckle up.

"Here," he said, reaching into the holsters hidden under his jacket. He'd made a pitstop at his house before going to David's, picking up some of the guns he'd kept there. George always believed in having plenty of firepower on hand. Mary, as it turned out, had one of her own. George approved.

He handed the two handguns to David.

"Not sure how well bullets work against the Morningstar, but let's find out."

At that, Patrick put his foot down. "Are you fucking crazy!" he yelled at George, even though he rarely ever raised his voice to his older brother. "You can't have bullets flying around when he has Bridget! We don't need guns, we're saints! Put them away, for fuck's sake!"

David looked at the gun like he was being handed a snake. "What? No! I can't shoot a gun! I've never held one in my life!" He looked back at George, horrified at the thought of even needing them. "You- you keep them. I'd just shoot myself before anyone else." He glanced at Patrick, worried. "They're hurting her," he said shortly, trying to keep his panic under wraps.

Patrick, who was pretty sure he couldn't fire a gun but he could work some Saint Fu, agreed with David. "No guns," he repeated, steering the car towards Wrath's place. He took a deep breath when David revealed they were hurting his sister-in-law.

"We're almost there," he said soothingly. "We're almost there and if you can still hear her that's good. Focus on that. We'll get her back."

George exchanged a glance with Mary and sighed, taking the guns back. He was pretty sure they were going to need them. He was planning to use a sword.

"Wrath said she wouldn't kill her," George said, knowing that wasn't exactly the greatest comfort. "She's gonna be okay."

"Hurry hurry HURRY!" He couldn't hear her, but he could feel something was wrong. "Please!!" It was like the word was dragged from him, agonisingly. His nails dug into his skin. They must be nearly there by now.

Mary shared the look with George and sighed. "Fine," Mary said. "But I'm not strong enough to go up against anyone in that room without a gun." She put hers back into her pocket, because if that's what they wanted then she'd do it. If Lucifer tried anything, Mary was arming up again.

Satisfied that all the guns were put away, Patrick rounded the corner and he pulled up beside another curb. The area was pretty derelict and the building Anthony had given them the address of looked basically abandoned. The perfect place for a sin to bring Bridget.

"It's there. I can feel Wrath and Lucifer inside," Patrick said, charging for the door."

George called his sword to him, because there was no way he was doing this unarmed. He threw himself up the stairs, taking them several at a time. He could hear Bridget screaming now, and he reared back to kick down the door to the room they were in.

"Get away from her!"

David was keeping pace with Patrick, step for step. He didn't bother trying to be quiet about getting inside, and was right behind George as he kicked the door in, sword in hand.

"BRIDGET!" he yelled, pushing past George to get to her, with no thought that George and Mary were armed and should go first. He just wanted to get to her, to take her away from this. He strength almost gave out at the sight of Lucifer crouching over her, and the heat in the room was like being rammed in the face as he burst in, but he didn't stop.

Once inside Mary had gone for her gun again, because there was no way she was being in a room with Lucifer and not having it. She did, however, keep it lowered for the moment and not point it at the hell-spawn.

When the mortal had fainted he'd drawn back the fire and heat. He'd given Wrath an assured glance, "relax love. I know how far to go. Done this before." His more usual form was kept, and of course. Of course it was then the damned Saints had to break in.

Scowling and snarling he grabbed the mortal and forcibly yanked her up and off the radiator. Breaking the cuffs was easy, and he didn't care if her wrists snapped either, and he held her by the throat in front of him like she weighed nothing. To him, she didn't.

Lucifer himself was basked in the light of what a sun may look like if evil, All red light. His wings hung behind him and the taloned fingers sparked with fiendish light. This was not Lucifer in his human mask. This was Lucifer, Morningstar.

He held the girl by her throat, using her as a shield and a threat. "No. And you will lower those weapons Saints." He glared at David and tightened his grip on the girl's throat. The voice was nothing human.

David stopped abruptly, hands held up, showing he was unarmed. "Give her to me," he said, looking at Lucifer but glancing at Bridget's face. She had her eyes closed and was scarily limp. "She's no use to you any more. The gig's up. You can't take her anywhere." He felt like his emotions were a flashing neon light on his forehead, giving his fear away. "I'm not giving you my soul and you're outnumbered. Give her to me!"

Without realising it, Patrick's entire body began to glow. His halo shone with bright white light, and he glared at Lucifer. He had no weapons to put down. He was the weapon and he was riding a high from his feast day not a month ago. "Do as he says," Patrick growled at the fallen angel.

Wrath, for her part, ran from the room and shut herself in the bathroom.

George spared a glance at Wrath. He'd deal with her later--no, talk to her, he'd talk to her. Getting angry was not going to help her.

He turned back to Lucifer, lips drawn back in a snarl. He hadn't dropped his sword yet, and he wondered vaguely how much damage it could do to Lucifer. He'd never tried to use it on an angel, even a fallen one. "You had your fun. Hand her over, or this is going to get ugly real fast."

He laughed at David, harsh and cold, "Oh Saint." Smiling he licked the girl's neck. "She's always of use to me. I can break her. I can break the spawn. I could rip them out of her stomach, right now and you could not stop me." He tilted his head and smiled. He was more then annoyed at Wrath leaving, but he'd deal with her later.

It was cruel and cold. "Outnumbered?" He asked. Sounds started coming out of dark corners. Sounds of things that shouldn't exist but did. "Me? You fool. I am Lucifer! I am the Morningstar!" His hand tightened on the girls neck. "None of you could defeat me. None of you could kill me. And you can't send me back. Only my brother can. And you didn't get him, now did you?" With an amused smile he looked to Saint Patrick and grinned, "wrong Devil. None of you see! None of you understand. I am Lucifer! You can't exorcize me. I'm not a demon." He laughed to that. "And if I feel it, I'll have enough time to snap her neck."

"No Saint I hold all the cards and if you touch me, hurt me. I will burn her alive. What you will do is step back and get on your knees. All of you. You will remove your weapons and let me go. And if I'm followed, I will burn her spawnlings." He glanced to the mortal. "I think I'll keep her." He snarled. "So make me an offer Saints! Who of you will give me what I want for the girl?" Saints or no, he was still a Fallen Angel. He knew if he had to, he could take them.

"You won't keep her!" David spat, glowing himself now. Everything in him burned to leap forward and take her bodily from Lucifer. "We will let you go but you will not take her with you. I would die for her, but I will not give up my soul and neither will anyone else here. Cut your losses and begone, foul beast, you're not having her." He kind of wished he'd taken the gun from George now.

Patrick grabbed David's arm and he tried to pull his brother down as he went to his knees. It didn't mean he was surrendering, just being careful. "What do you want for her?" Patrick asked. "None of us are giving up our souls! And we can beat you!"

Patrick had tricks up his sleeve. He had hands that burned and he could create lakes out of nothing. He could create ice and ...foxes. He was not powerless. But if it came to negotiation, that was better. "If you leave her, we won't follow you. And you can go!"

George lowered himself to his knees, shaking with rage. Wrath was probably getting flooded with it.

"We'll call Michael," George growled, hand still tight around the hilt of sword. They hadn't called Michael in the first place because he was protecting Anthony's girlfriend, and the possibility of it all being an elaborate trap was too real. "If we can't stop you, he will."

If Wrath was getting high off George's anger then Mary's own wouldn't have been helping. She'd hesitated in going to her knees, refusing that show of penitence. She was supposed to only be penitent to God and she wasn't even very good at that.

She biting hard on the inside of her cheeks to keep silent, Mary knelt and glared at Lucifer, putting her gun on the floor.

He smiled and watched the Saints, studying David with avid interest. "It would take one minute to call and summon my brother. It would take all of your combined might five to assault me and wrest the mortal from me."

Subtly he began glowing brighter, slithering voices and beasts curling closer to his feet. "In the meantime I could drop her, and hurt you. You can beat me, but kill me? Like this? No. Don't delude yourselves."

He held out his outstretched hand and let a flicker of light grow in it, "that and do you know this phrase. You should. And God said, let there be light." He smiled at them, taking a step forward to see what they would do. "So call my brother. In that instant I will all show you what a sun does when it dies. Supernovas are wonderfully beautiful things. All of you will come back." He glanced to the mortal, "And there won't be ashes to spread of her. Now let me through."

"Not with her." David ground the words out through gritted teeth, reluctantly on one knee where Patrick had pulled him. "We don't want to kill you. We only want you to let her go. She is under my protection." He did not quail as Lucifer stepped forward, and though the things that slithered on the edges of the light made his skin crawl, losing Bridget was worse.

Heavenly Father, I do not ask much for myself, but I pray you this. Please protect my wife and our unborn children. She is an innocent and needs to be saved, oh Lord. Send us help, send us a way to escape from here with her, safely. Please. Please save my wife.

The shadow creatures nipping at the edges of his vision caused Patrick's glow to become even brighter. "As David says," he growled. "We move when you put her down." There was no need to blast them all into a supernova. They would move, but he couldn't have her.

George winced away from the heat, from the strange creatures scuttling around Lucifer. He gripped his sword tighter, this time for reassurance.

This had been a mistake, and he had a terrible, sinking feeling as he wondered if it was going to cost Bridget her life. Lucifer wasn't one of the demons, he wasn't even Satan. He was an angel, fallen though he was, and this was going to end very badly.

Michael, George prayed. Michael, we need your help, please. Please, we need you.

Out loud, he said, "Please. Just give her back."

He chuckled, "oh Saints." Sighing he shook his head and held her forward with a smile. "Catch." Then he dropped the mortal, uncaring what would happen to her.

But he stayed and smiled, his hand curling around one of the creatures. Gently cooing to it he spoke to it in a tongue few could speak in and few could even bare to hear. The language of Hell was always a funny thing.

Smiling the creature laughed and vanished. "I love how all of you, all of you, didn't see the loophole." He held up his hand, "you said let her go. You said nothing about them," he pointed to the woman's stomach. "None of you asked. I will haunt them. I will have my minion haunt them. Keep me out of your home all you like but I will find them. And I will see their souls burn."

Laughing he curled fire around his hands, "you know nothing, don't you?"

"They are a part of her. They count." David dove to draw Bridget into his arms, his glow surrounding her as he wrapped his arms around her. "They would die if they were born now, so they are a part of her and you can't touch them. You have no claim, no hold!" He cradled Bridget against his chest, drawing her away from Lucifer, but not as far as to be where the things moved.

Michael had been sitting down to a rather large slice of red velvet cake when not only did he hear George praying to him, but he felt irrevocably pulled in the direction of his saints. God was telling him he was needed, and if George asked, he would come.

Sadly, he left the cake behind and a moment later he appeared in Wrath's bedroom standing between his saints and his brother. In an instant, his sword was drawn and flaming, creating such intense light in the he made Patrick look like a lightning bug in comparison to the sun. "Would someone like to explain what exactly is going on?" Michael asked, not taking his eyes off of Lucifer.

Patrick reached out for George's hand now that David had Bridget in his arms. They were going to live through this, but Bridget needed a hospital. Now.

George squeezed Patrick's hand so hard he was surprised it didn't crack. He'd have reached for Mary, too, but that would have meant letting go of his sword, and he was gripping it so hard that he couldn't have peeled his fingers off of it if he wanted.

"David. David, go," George muttered. Michael would stop anything Lucifer tried, George was sure of it. He looked up at Michael and said, "Wrath took Bridget, sir. And then Lucifer came. And then we decided to rescue her."

The 'and it didn't work out' was unspoken, but fairly obvious.

He grinned at David. "No precious. They have souls now. Very tiny, very bound to her, but they are souls." He tipped his head. "loopholes. Got to love them."

And then Michael was there and he snarled at him and that damned sword. The creatures pulled back and he stepped back, hands blazing in fire and light. He narrowed hsi eyes on David. "I will see them Saint. You can't keep them away forever."

He growled and glared at his brother. "I wanted to meet the babies. Funny thing, your little pets think they can kill me. Stand a chance against me. Explain the loophole of not yet born souls to them Michael. Explain next time, I will peel the skin of their bones. Explain, how very nice I'm being because the Time isn't here yet."

That, and he didn't feel like getting stabbed. "I will corrupt those children. Even if it's the last thing I do. Tell them how fun that will be." Then in a roar of hellfire and sulfur he left, proving he really could have done that the entire time.

In truth, Lucifer was a cat toying with prey. Just because he didn't kill them, didn't mean he couldn't.

David stood up, holding Bridget in his arms, and carried her towards the door. "Thank you," he said in a low tone to Michael, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, all of you. We need to go to the hospital now, if you'd please drive us, Patrick." His voice was unnervingly calm, considering what had just happened. The fear for his children's souls would have to wait. Bridget needed help first.

Michael watched Patrick leave with David and Bridget and then he turned to George, only then letting his sword fade away.

"You tried to take on Lucifer by yourselves?" he asked, sounding like a disappointed father.

It took a few seconds for the rush of terrified adrenaline to wear off enough for George to pull himself out of panic mode. When he did, he took a shaky breath and sat back, letting his knees curl in front of him. He still couldn't let go of his sword.

"We thought it would go a little better than it did, sir," George said, not quite able to meet Michael's eyes. "And we couldn't just leave Bridget with him."

Michael didn't usually use a lot of words, but he listened to everything George said. He knew humans panicked, but they had to realised they had made a dire mistake.

"You realise that was almost exactly what you did?"

"Yeah," George said roughly, swallowing several times. He ran a hand through his hair and then held it out in front of him, watching the adrenaline jitters run through him. "Yeah, we figured it out about the time he threatened to turn into a supernova."

George leaned back against the wall, trying to steady his breathing. "I've gone up against Satan before, sir. It didn't occur to me that...that Lucifer was an angel."

Michael sighed and then he stepped forward, unwilling to watch George in pain as much as he wanted George to understand he was nearly in a whole lot more.

"Lucifer is and always will be an angel, even if he fell. He is not a demon or a devil who can be banished. You looked on some of his true form today and I pray you don't ever forget it. That will keep you safer than anything else. Lucifer is my brother. The next time you think you could stand against him, ask yourself if you could stand against me."

And then he offered George a hand.

George just nodded and took the hand, letting Michael pull him to his feet.

"Yeah. Won't be doing that again. I'm so sorry, sir."

Michael rested his hand on George's back for a moment, knowing he didn't need to verbalise that he would always come for the man when he called. George knew.

Mary had remained silent, letting George and Michael do their bonding thing. She understood that the two of them had a past that she wasn't privy to - they were soldiers, something Mary herself would never be.

But she sort of had a past with Michael as well. The sort where he'd gone out on a limb to get her a job at the police station and she'd taken off to go die in Israel. It wasn't a great past.

She put the safety back on her gun and slipped it into her pocket, frowning at the floor as she tried to think of something to say.

"Easter, eh?" she finally said.

Michael looked over at Mary and he humphed a little before nodding. "Quite. You look terrible."

"Impressively I'm pretty sure I feel even worse than I look," Mary told, rubbing her eyes. Then she scuffed at the floor - wincing momentarily because she'd forgotten about her toes - and then said quietly, "I'm sorry I left you in the lurch when you got that job for me."

Michael gave her a small smile, an expression that probably looked even smaller than it was on his face. "Don't apologise. I would do it again." And he would. He would never stop going out on a limb for his saints. As much as he was often exasperated by their actions, he did love them in his own angelic way. He would never stop helping them in any way he could.

George glanced at the bathroom door. With a sigh, he put his sword down at Michael's feet and walked over, knocking on the door softly.

"Um, Wrath? You can come out now."

Wrath, who wasn't about to face a bunch of saints, let alone an archangel, poked her head around the door frame. "Don't hurt me, I didn't do anything to her!"

"You took Bridget in the first place, Wrath," George said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Please just come out. I've pretty much used up all my rage and any emotions that aren't tiredness."

Wrath did as she was asked, hoping it would win her points.

"I just wanted to talk to her," she said, kicking at the floor with her foot. She hung near the doorframe as if that would keep her safe. "Lucifer hurt her, I wasn't going to! I gave her water and everything! And I let her use my toilet!"

George sent a look to Michael, the equivalent of 'You see what kind of insanity is at work here?' Turning back to Wrath, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Wrath. Why in all the levels of Hell did you even take her in the first place? We all almost died."

Wrath wanted to rip George's head off, but Michael was there and so she behaved herself.

"I- Augh, fucking fine. The woman feels so angry and then it just goes away. A few weeks ago she was angry at Saint David for hours and then it just went away like flipping a lightswitch. I just wanted to understand. And then having her here made you all so angry. I just fed on it. It didn't start out that way. I even bought her a cinnamon roll. I wasn't going to starve her or anything, fuck."

George kept his mouth closed for a minute, lest he just make angry vowel sounds at Wrath.

"Okay," he said, once he was calmer. "Okay, that's because she's pregnant. When women get pregnant, their hormones do some kind of weird thing that makes them have a bunch of strange emotions for no reason. I don't really know why, but yeah. She's normally pretty calm. You could have just asked her, Wrath, she'd have explained it. You can't just abduct people."

"Well I didn't know!" Wrath hissed back at him. Michael arched one eyebrow and Wrath shrank away.

"Who the fuck would want to just talk to me!? I thought maybe she could tell me how to stop hating so much, okay? But then you were all hating me and all I could feel was hate and I got fucking high or whatever. And Lucifer was being nice instead of riding my ass for once. Do you even know what he is going to do to me now?"

George reared back a little. He could never get used to Wrath's sudden, intense mood swings.

"I don't hate you! If I hated you, I'd be swinging the sword around and making death threats! I'm just upset and kind of completely freaked out right now!" He looked at her, worried. "Is he going to hurt you?"

Confused as to why George even cared, she nodded. "Of course he's going to fucking hurt me! You ruined his fun and I hid and he's not going to appreciate that. Fuck." Wrath let her head drop against the wall. "Why are you so freaked out anyway, you got your woman back?"

"Because I almost got my friends and family melted by the orginal fallen angel," George explained. Tired, he sank down next to her on the wall, wondering if it would be rude to just close his eyes and sleep. "And when people go through something traumatizing, sometimes all of that panic and unhappiness stays with them for a while. I'm worried that'll happen to Bridget."

He opened his eyes to look up at her. "Can you hide with the other Sins until he calms down? I'd offer our help, but after this, I don't know how much we can do."

"Best to get it over with. Hiding will just make it worse." And it would too, because Lucifer didn't forget.

"And it won't happen to her if you don't let it happen. And you won't. You're a saint. You look after people or whatever."

"I'd offer you a hug, if I didn't think it might trigger a kick in the face," George said, offering a small smile. "Wrath, next time you have a question about people, can you just...ask me, or one of the other Sins? Before you decide to borrow that person."

"Don't touch me," Wrath was quick to hiss at him. She did not want a fucking hug. "And you're a saint. I wanted an answer from a human. I didn't want some holy rhetoric bullshit about singing kumbayah and ommmming until I felt calm. Fuck that. I wanted to know how she did it. And I thought the only way she would talk to a sin was...chained to my radiator with the heat on." Wrath shrugged.

George rolled his eyes. "When I'm mad and have nothing to hit, I work out until I'm too tired to be pissed." He sighed. "She would've, though. The people that hang around us, they're good people, and they usually adapt pretty well to the whole supernatural thing. Not to being kidnapped. Nobody adapts well to that."

"Whatever," Wrath grumbled at him, ready to be finished talking. "Are you going to go or are you squatting here too now? Or do I get tortured by you too?"

George hauled himself to his feet. He looked at Michael. "I guess we're going. Can I come see you sometime in the next few days?"

"Me? You want to come see me?" Michael asked, distracted from trying to look over Mary. "You can come whenever you want, you know that."

Wrath, who was hoping against hope George didn't mean her, shuffled her feet and looked up at him through dark bangs. "If you meant me- Don't reckon I'll be staying here long."

George couldn't help but smile a little at Michael. "I know, sir."

He turned back to Wrath. "I was talking to you. You need...I don't know, you need people around you. It doesn't have to be me, but someone. Someone that you didn't kidnap."

"I don't need anyone," Wrath hissed. But if George really wanted to stop by, she wouldn't stop him. "Fine. I'll be here. We can sing kumbayah and you can braid my hair."

"You can punch me in the head if you want, when I visit," George offered. He wasn't sure that would help matters, but it might make Wrath feel better.

He looked at Mary and Michael. "Let's go. Mary needs someone to look at her feet, the toes are broken."