The phone rung loudly, cutting through Azrael's dreams and making him jerk awake. He lay on his back, dazedly waiting for his brother to answer it. After three more rings, he struggled out of bed and rushed towards the phone. It stopped ringing as he got there and he heard the answer machine pick up. He threw the receiver back down and cursed under his breath. Azrael had never been a morning person. He staggered over to the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine and glaring around the room as if Daniel would appear before him. Guessing that his brother had gone across to the graveyard, Azrael pouring himself a coffee into his mug.

Black with no sugar. A bitter taste that perked his mind into proper thought beyond the primitive, 'Damn that brother of mine!. He thought about looking at the answering machine, but decided to wait for Daniel to come home. He wasn't very good with technology anyway. He sat at the kitchen table, unfolding a newspaper that was sitting on the top. He saw that it was today's and guessed that his brother had got it for them. He skimmed the headlines while sipping his coffee, waiting for his brother to return. As he did so, he felt the static energy of a spirit sit next to him. A cool breeze ruffled his blonde hair, as if a hand had run through it. It didn't bother him at all. If he had seen it, then he would have been worried. "Don't worry, my brother will be here shortly. You can speak to him," he muttered, directed at whoever was sitting in the chair.