Priestly

Chapter 1

It was brother Michael's idea to use first names instead of last names. He himself already felt... Distanced, from those who attended the sermons, and he felt like it was as a good way to be more connected with those who came to their church.

Brother Michael was proud of that little chapel he serviced in. Sure, it wasn't very big or extravagant. Rarely more than a hundred people came. But people did come, and that was all the priest could really ask for.
Because there was such a small outcome at their sermons, they never needed more than the six original priests who worked there. The churchy only housed the chapel, and a few other side rooms, nothing more. The priests working there were only he, the Father Samuel (senior Samuel Winchester, not little Sammy), Brother Kevin, Brother Chuck,

And Brother Lucifer.

For obvious reasons, Brother Lucifer always had hardships facing him. Many of the Church goers believed him to be a joke, or a "traitor". Some even believed him to be even the great evil Satan himself.

None of these assumptions were true, of course. Michael knew him to be a wonderful priest and... A caring individual? He wasn't too sure on that one. There never was much conversation between the two. Plus, the mans resting face always seemed to be in a constant state of frustrated confusion. But he smiled at children, and quiet teenagers, so Michael guessed he was alright.

He never wished, nor did he strive to change his name (Michael had indeed brought it up once or twice). Perhaps it was of stubbornness, perhaps pride. Or maybe it was a public statement. That your name doesn't define who you are, only your actions do. Like some kind of Batman thing. Michaels wasn't sure, and he didn't really have the courage to ask.

But whether there was tension in the chapel because of the burning glares into the back of his Brother's neck or not, everything always seemed to run smoothly. In all honesty, Michael probably couldn't ask for anything more.

Except for, maybe less late night paperwork and clean up. That was something Michael did not enjoy.

But there must always be a reason for something. There must be a reason to stop that girl on the street to ask for directions. There must be a reason to scoot over for some new stranger to sit with you.
There must have been a reason for Michael to stay late on that specific night, at that specific time.

And, lucky for us and this story, there was.