He could set any clock, in any motel, anywhere. Clocks bowed to his will, chirped when set, played his music. Opened their hot circuit boards and humped him like horny rabbits. Same with anything mechanical. Anything with numbers and electricity.

He was their God.

This one required six lines of instructions and eighteen buttons to set the alarm.

"Dean. Set it right this time. We have to be there before moonrise this time."

He scratched his jaw and considered the flashing 12:00:00. "Where's the salt?"

"Duffel. Why?"

Dean poured a thick circle to ward it. "It's fucking possessed. We're burning it tomorrow."