( S1:E9 AU )

You ran in front of a teenager who was about to get shot. Then, a loud bang echoed in the Church, a dread washed over him quickly. He wasted no time to run over towards you when guns got into the situation.

“Padre!” He exclaimed with the iconic British accent. He watches you fall to the ground.

This wasn’t happening right now. . . You were a priest, and he was the Devil himself. You two were completely opposites, standing for two different beliefs in faith. He knew each for very short time spent together, he’s started to actually like you, despite the differences.

He kneels down beside you and presses his hand firmly against the patch of blood that was soaking through your shirt. He removes his hand for a moment to look at it. His palm was covered in blood. His heart drops at the crimson liquid on his hand.

“No, no, no, you idiot!” He says with a tone of panic in his voice. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?!” He frantically goes to remove his suit jacket and press it securely on your bullet wound. “Don’t go anywhere, you moron” He says as he holds up with the jacket on you.

He was not going to let you die. Not now, not ever. It’s only been a couple days and he’s grown fond. You two were such a good friend duo. This was all frightening to see you on the verge of death, but it also angered him. The God you had faith for was going to let you die. It was like his father was punishing him by letting you die of a bullet, dying to save another.