A/N: I know, I know, I'm awful. But at least it's the first half of Devil in Me! (dodges various items being thrown at me, I'm sure)

I already have a good chunk of this written from a while ago that I'm just tweaking details to. Originally it wasn't supposed to be a companion to Monster. It was just some babble I was doing when I was forcing myself out of writer's block. So as Devil in Me and Monster progress (because I am writing those at the same time too!) I can post this once and a while for like, flashbacks to hold y'all off LOL

Yeah, no, I'm really writing technically three stories all around one another at the same time. And you wonder why it's difficult for me to update? LOL
Also, I'm getting married the 28th and planning that has been hell in itself.

I'm about halfway through with a new chapter of Monster, then I plan to finish both that and Devil in Me to the season finales before a hiatus. In that hiatus I'll be planning everything for seasons 5 and 10 accordingly and I've been thinking about [thinking about!] revisiting Her Name is Alice since no one wants to leave me alone about that LOL

In the meantime, we'll start the backstory of Zarya with Lucifer and the Winchesters!

Let's take it back to season 5~

xoxo
KurakiChan

01: Here Comes the Countdown.

She wished she could say she had lost count of the days since it all began, but that was a farfetched dream. The day Nick didn't pick her up from work she knew something had happened. He was never more than ten minutes late. After so long of each of them doing it it became a joke to just always be ten minutes late. Even her coworkers, who barely gave a damn about her existence, knew something was wrong when she was still waiting for an extra forty minutes before taking off running. She and Nick didn't live in the best parts of town most of their lives. He always walked her home at night. Always.

When she didn't find him at home, sulking and drinking in the dark and cold, she called the police. He would never just leave. But he was a grown adult. So it had to be 48+ hours missing before even a report could be filed not that anyone would take it seriously. But she knew the truth. She knew Nick wouldn't just vanish. Not after all they'd been through. The following morning that she awoke after her sob-induced slumber she noticed the first purple bruise on the underside of her upper arm. She thought she must have passed out in an uncomfortable position.

The second day, the day she'd go back down to the station to at least file a missing person's report, she had to wear a long sleeve to hide the two larger bruises she had found on each of her upper arms. They filled out the report and an officer gave her a stack of papers that she could put up around town to send her on her way. By time she returned home to shower after stapling and taping every paper around Pike Creek, she found bruises starting on her legs. Furious, she redressed and ran to the little pharmacy around the block for some iron supplements. She took two and a hot shower before passing back out on her bed.

Another week passed and she had to drag herself to work each day as she felt worse. She barely ate and formed dark circles beneath her blue-green eyes despite all the sleep she had been getting. It started getting harder to breathe during her walks to and from work, forcing her to get an inhaler. After two weeks without Nick she tried to shower and had to sit before she could even wash her hair because she was so lightheaded. Her doctor only told her it was depression because of Nick's disappearance. She suggested counseling, which didn't go over too well.

She would call every other day for another week to the station to see if there were any leads. When she finally gathered the strength to walk there one afternoon she overheard the officers laughing about her. She cried the whole walk back to her home. She'd always look out her window to the house next door that she knew was currently empty. She looked at a purple bruise on her arm and poked at it, feeling no pain. Her hair had become as lifeless as her eyes. The diner she worked at gave her a few more personal days off. She felt desperate and forced herself to stare at her laptop.

Maybe if she wasn't sick it was a ghost, or a demon? She tried contacting a few churches but they wouldn't even take her seriously. She was starting to feel crazy and word got around town. It sure did look odd: a man's wife and infant killed in a home invasion leaving the father and godmother who were long time friends; man goes missing and godmother loses what marbles she had left. All she had left where the tears and sobs that eased her to sleep by consuming what little energy she had.

Spring had broken when someone was knocking on her door. It took all she had to drag herself from her bedroom to the front door on another miserable Monday. It had been so long she didn't know or care what she looked like anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

Two men dressed in suits looked at one another and back to the sickly looking young woman before them. "Zarya Deighton?" The hazel eyed one asked softly. They each pulled out FBI badges to show her. "We're here about your friend who's been missing some time now - Nicholas Rowell?"

She licked her dry, cracked lips, hand clutching the door tightly. A skeptical hope started to lighten her eyes. "Nick?" She spoke hoarsely. She cleared her throat and rubbed her face, stepping aside to let them both in. "What's the FBI want with him if the PCPD laughs at it?"

"We take on special cases," the green eyed agent replied, looking around her messy living room. "You seem pretty beat up about his disappearance."

"He's all I've got," Zarya wrapped her arms around herself. "What exactly can I help you with agents-?"

"Sam," the taller one smiled. "Sam and Dean. We're uh...we're not terribly formal when we question families." He caught sight of a bruise on her wrist as her sleeve moved a hair. "Have you been harmed recently, Zarya…?"

She immediately looked down and noticed the purple mark exposed just enough on her arm. She sighed and tugged off the hoodie she wore, leaving herself in a grey camisole and baring all the bruising she's acquired since Nick's disappearance. "It's all over me. But it doesn't hurt and I haven't had a reason for them. My doctor says everything is perfectly normal and healthy, that I'm just depressed. I tried iron pills for no reason because my blood test came back normal, I've barely eaten, I'm always tired no matter how much I sleep; I feel like Nick took a part of me when he vanished…"

"All that started as soon as Nick disappeared?" Dean questioned. "How did you know he was gone?"

"I had gotten sick after my lunch break and it started to concern me like a bad omen because I don't usually throw up. But it was Sloppy Joe Special that Thursday so I chalked it up to the food. Then Nick was supposed to pick me up from work at the diner a few blocks away like always. He doesn't like when I walk around town alone." She smiled sadly at the thought. "When I was still standing there for an hour even my coworkers knew something was wrong. I...I ran back myself and straight to his house right next door. When I changed out of my uniform barely an hour after that I noticed the first bruise. It's gotten worse day by day." The men exchanged another wary look with one another. "I've looked into everything...anemia, leukemia, I've even jumped to demonic possession and hauntings but nothing fits. I'm at the end of my rope…" She fell down onto the couch with her face in her hands.

"What if," Sam started, prompting her to look up at him, "we told you that there is a reason this is happening?"

"Is it the bastard that killed Sarah?" She choked out. "They never found him…"

"No," Dean told her. "Something supernatural. You see, Nick-"

Sam quickly intervened. "Nick will be found, we assure you. We're not really FBI agents, Zarya. We're hunters and we believe something supernatural has happened to you and Nick. We're looking into what exactly but we're here." He offered her a smile. "Listen, if anything else happens or comes up," he handed her a card with their phone numbers on it, "just give one of us a call."

She nodded absentmindedly and let the two out, locking the door behind them. With a sigh she tossed the card down on her coffee table and put her hoodie back on. She dragged herself to the kitchen and poured a cup of old, cold coffee, putting it in the microwave. She rubbed her tired eyes, wishing she could rub away the dark purple circles. Once the microwave sounded that her timer was up, Zarya reached for the door handle. Before her fingers could brush the handle an immense pain shot through her skull. She clutched her head with both hands, dropping to her knees from the pain.

She forced her eyes open, desperately trying to see through the dark blur. One hand shot out and slapped against the counter, grabbing tightly. She tried her best to stand and nearly made it before falling back against the cabinets and sliding down until she was on the floor. For a few minutes that felt like hours she laid curled on the cold linoleum in searing pain before the darkness took her.

When Zarya finally awoke on her kitchen floor it was nighttime, her coffee long since forgotten and cold again in the microwave. She sat up on the floor and rubbed her temples, trying to think of some kind of explanation. With a shake of her head she rubbed her eyes and forced herself to her feet. Maybe a shower would help. She was just laying on the kitchen floor for who knew how long.

She begrudgingly peeled off the clothes she had worn for the last three days straight at least, tossing them onto the bathroom floor haphazardly. Walking by the mirror, something caught the ravenette's attention. She turned on the water for the shower to let it warm up and looked at the full length mirror on the closet door; the bruising had gone down. Her eyes didn't look like she hadn't slept in her entire 26 years. She blinked in surprise; no way her kitchen floor nap did that. She shook her head and decided she'd call her doctor in the morning. Again. Getting in the shower, Zarya let the hot water wash over her.

She decided to take her time and actually attempt to relax. She let the conditioner set in her hair for ten minutes and used a sugar scrub she had gotten last Christmas but never even opened. She used her face scrub that hadn't been touched since she got ready for work the day Nick went missing. Her skin started to red with the hot water but she didn't care. By time she shut the water off, however, she realized just how much more red skin there was than purple bruises. She almost didn't want to wrap herself in the towel. Maybe she had just been overreacting and it really was depression consuming her. Maybe knowing she wasn't insane and someone was actually looking for Nick eased her troubles even a pinch. Even if those two men were entirely bullshitting her, it gave her the hope she needed to try again herself.

She used a second towel to dry off her hair. Once it was only damp she tightened her towel around her body and ventured towards her room to get dressed. In the hall she stopped at the thermostat and kicked on the heater. Was it always that cold in her house and she hadn't noticed because she was always in some form of sweatpants and a hoodie? Her bare feet continued down the hall until she came to her door, slightly ajar. Pushing it open she nearly fell to her knees when she was staring at the blue eyes she had come to miss so terribly.

She gripped the closure of her towel tightly, knees starting to buckle beneath her. "N-Nick? Tell me I'm not hallucinating…"

He smiled and she was too blinded to see the devilishness behind it, holding his arms out. "You're not hallucinating, Rya."

She bit back the tears as she ran over, tackling him in a tight hug. It was like he was never gone. She felt his arms snake around her waist and let the tears flow down to her smile. Nick put his chin on her shoulder and one hand tracing circles calmingly on the bare skin of her upper back. Out of her view he smirked.