Hey guys! Thank you to all those who reviewed Broken and responded so positively to the idea of a follow up. A massive thank you to MJ Ellsworth, without whom, the seed of the idea would never have been planted.

A quick note: If you haven't read Broken, it shouldn't be strictly necessary, but this does follow straight on from the events but I will endeavour to fill in blanks as I go through.

Enjoy!

oOo

'Welcome to the end of eras.'

- Emperor's New Clothes, Panic! at the Disco

oOo

Winchester, England

"In local news, the unidentified body of a young woman was discovered at the top of St Catherine's hill – a popular nature reserve situated just outside of the city of Winchester. The discovery was made around three o'clock this afternoon by a local couple walking their dog.

"Police have so far ruled the death suspicious but not a homicide. Residents claimed to have seen a strange flash of lightning above the hill earlier today. Detectives have yet to state whether they believe the two occurrences to be related, although there is some speculation that the woman may have been struck by the unusual storm."

The video feed ended, again, on the small phone. This was its sixth play in the last four hours. It kept him focused, stopped him from letting the grief rise. It wasn't helpful. He was not interested in irrelevant emotions. Locking the phone, he exited the car, straightening his pressed grey suit.

The building, completed in 1895, was a towering monolith of flint and Bath stone; a unique limestone that glowed a soft yellow in the sunlight at the building's corners. The rest was a warm grey, giving it the same medieval character as many of England's oldest castles. It was fused eternally to The Westgate: one of Winchester's few remaining remnants of the city's ancient defences. Towers and turrets rose towards the bright morning sky, while the lead glass windows glimmered in the sunshine. He walked quickly over the cobbled pathway, heading towards the coroner's office. He held the door open for a petite blonde woman, giving her a courteous smile as she thanked him. His heart ached.

Inside, the waiting room was cool and white; a stark contrast to the history on the outside of the building. He smiled warmly at the receptionist, giving her his credentials when she asked for them. She thanked him, directing him to the seating area. No one paid much attention to the gentlemen in the tailored suit who nodded politely to all who passed him as he sat and waited. None noticed the sharpness in the grey flint of his eyes, the tautness in his shoulders.

He followed, without question, imparting only the briefest of polite conversation, when the coroner came to fetch him. Down into the depths of the building, he followed, polished shoes clicking pleasantly against the tiled floor. The coroner held the door open for him, asking if he was sure that he needed to examine the body again – his partner had only been in the day before. He nodded, motioning with a fluid hand for the official to continue. Pulling back the white sheet on the table, the coroner laid the body to light, tucking it around her shoulders when the man gripped his wrist, preventing him from revealing more that her face. He would protect her, even in death.

Her skin was a cold ivory, brightening the gold in her hair that fell gracefully on either side like a soft halo. It was a vivid contrast to the angry red skin that was seared around where her grey eyes had once been. Her eyes had been so beautiful; a grey that had drawn in the attention of many and stolen the hearts of more. They had been so expressive; he'd known exactly what was on her mind as soon as he'd glimpsed into their molten depths. No one else had known her like he did. No one else deserved to.

His fist clenched.

Her delicate mouth was closed; the blushing pink of her lips having faded. A deep sigh resonated around the room, the only outward display of his heartache. He hadn't wanted this to be his last memory of her; he wanted to remember her fierce independence, her passion, her drive. Not this hollow husk who was a shadow of the Lady Toni Bevell.

Yet he needed to see her this way. Needed to confirm what had been taken from him. It helped him stoke the fire that burned in him. It flared hot as he mourned her, inwardly, privately. He looked up at the coroner, polite façade nailed in place.

"Thank you" he said, giving a slight nod before turning on his heel and leaving. The coroner called after him, but he didn't stop, didn't listen.

He had work to do.

oOo

Westminster, London

"What do you mean you still haven't found them?" Jonathan Markham, Head of the British Chapter of the Men of Letters, growled, his fierce blue eyes narrowed. His fingers drummed heavily against the polished cocobolo table that dominated the main chamber of their headquarters. His board members shifted uneasily on either side of him, suddenly finding the files in front of them, the light fixtures, the floor, vastly more interesting.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the ground teams cannot find any evidence of either Thomas or Anna or where they might be."

"Do we have anything linking them to what Toni was doing? Do we assume they were involved or was it just James?" Jonathan demanded. He despised not knowing; knowledge was everything to the Men of Letters. That such a huge conspiracy had been right under his nose and he hadn't known irked him, prompting his plans to reform the entire chapter. What Sam Winchester had suffered had been heinous; Markham would not allow such vulgarity to happen again.

"Again, we don't know. We can speculate that Thomas, at least, was involved, following Jacob's visit prior to our discovery. His medical knowledge would have proved invaluable. As for Anna, we don't know; she was just Lady Bevell's housemaid."

Jonathan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do we know that isn't speculation?"

A sharp rap at the door sounded as he spoke. A young man entered hastily, carrying a manila envelope, bringing it directly to Jonathan at the head of the table.

"The coroner's report, sir" the boy said, breathlessly as though he had run straight there. He probably had. Jonathan slid the report from the envelope, staring down at the photos that he was presented with. Toni's grotesquely deformed face stared up at him. He flung the image on the table for the board members to see.

"I think we can confirm that Lucifer no longer has a current vessel. George?" Jonathan looked up at the young man who centred his attention on him. "Tell the coroner I want this ruled as accidental death. Lightning strike."

"Yes, sir. There is one more thing…"

"What?"

"The coroner said that he had a strange visitor come to see the body. He got through, claiming to be a detective, but they checked his records in Winchester. He was an imposter."

Thomas.

"Thank you," Jonathan nodded, dismissing George with a small wave of his hand. "I want extra efforts put into finding Thomas. I want him found. Now."

"Should we contact the Winchesters?" Jacob asked. Jonathan fixed him with a thoughtful stare, rubbing his trimmed beard.

"No. Not yet. Thomas is not a danger. I just want to know what he knows."

oOo

Lebanon, Kansas

Out of the darkness, it started slow, soft, echoing up from the centre of the Men of Letters' bunker. It reverberated down the corridors, filling the space with its jagged, ripped edges. It drowned all else out as it got louder and louder and louder. Deafening.

Silence was a welcome friend in the bunker, but it was fleeting, never staying long.

Dean slid down the wall, head in his hands, curling himself into a ball. He'd never been so useless. He couldn't stop it. Couldn't prevent it.

Sam's screams destroyed the silence of the bunker, ripping it apart.

How much more could he take?

oOo

A little shorter than usual, but prologues always are! Fear not lovers of hurt/comfort: we'll get to see our boys in all their glory next!

Please review!