Here is my second try at a Supernatural story. The first one I posted was too safe, too used. This one is completely different in every way. It's darker and truer to the show. Also, credit goes to coffeeandcigarettes, my wonderful beta. Without her this story wouldn't be out. Thank you! Now enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. All credit there goes to Eric Kripke and Robert Singer. I got dibs on Lori; that's about it.

Summary: In the Old Testament there were sixteen prophets; Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel were the Major Prophets followed by twelve other minor ones. In Supernatural there is only one: Chuck. What if it was discovered that the Winchester brothers had more than one prophet to retell their story? Enter Lorene Davis. What happens when the apocalypse starts, Lori is shanghaied into the war alongside Sam and Dean, and Lucifer takes his vessel?

The demon before me was pacing, a smirk, nothing short of sadistic, plastered on her pale features. She nodded to the demon gripping my right shoulder; her lackey I assume. At her gesture, his grip on my shoulder tightened. I could feel his finger tips digging into my skin, the pressure causing rips through my now frail shirt. Slowly, he started to rear my shoulder back. Pain ricocheted through my arm as I felt it slowly twist out of its socket. I clamped down on my bottom lip in an attempt to silence my screams. Blood, little by little, trickled down my chin. I could hear the low, satisfactory chuckles of her minions.

The brunette leader stopped pacing. She stood directly in front of me, her smirk gradually shifting into a grin. "Now, I know you're aware of their location. Tell me where they are…"

"And if I don't?" I managed to quip. My voice was hoarse but strong. Without responding, she glared. One of the many demons scattered around the dark, melodramatic warehouse stepped forward. He lifted his hand, his fingers slowly curling. The breath started to escape me. My chest began to constrict, my lungs slowly collapsing within my body. I gasped from the sudden pain as the lack of oxygen sent me into a spiraling panic. Eyes wide, I looked at the chief demon.

"Stop," she demanded.

The pain halted instantly. My breath came rushing back in quick pants. I began to sputter and cough, my body lurching forward from the movement. The demon clutching my body yanked me upright almost immediately. My back smacked against the splintered, wooden chair. I ground my teeth together; I was frustrated, my body crimpling from the pain, and I was pissed, at a loss for what to do.

"Lori, sweetie, we can do this the easy way-"

"Or the hard way?" I scoffed.

"Or the easier way," she pursed her lips. "You tell me where the Winchesters are and the pain stops now. You don't and we'll kill you."

A week ago, I wouldn't have believed the Winchesters were anything more than a figment of my eccentric imagination. Now, sitting in an abandoned warehouse being tortured by demons, I'm feeling the faith of their existence. Images of Dean and Sam frantically entered my mind; the Impala, John, Castiel, Mary, Bobby. Everything I've dreamt over the past three years has been very real. But, why make it easy for the demon bitch? Raising my gaze, my stare on the demon hardened. "I'm just supposed to believe that they're real, and that this isn't just some sort of hallucination? Perhaps just another dream?"

The pain in my chest flooded back ten-fold. Then, just as quickly as it came, the pain was gone. Once again gasping, I glared at her. "Did that feel real?"

"Okay, you're real, and they're real…I guess the Winchesters are real. Which means everything else is real as well; the angels, Lilith, Castiel, Lucifer…and the apocalypse. Now you want me to tell you the location of the only two people on Earth who might actually have a fighting chance of saving my ass?" I snorted, "No thanks."

Abruptly, a fist met my jaw. Then another, and another; hay-maker after hay-maker. Each punch felt worse than the last. Whether that was from their growing strength or my weakening resistance, I'm not sure. Finally, the hits slowed then stopped altogether. The female demon spoke softly, "Where's little Sammy?"

"Go to hell."

"Sweetie, I'm already there, and so are you. Give it up. Where is he?" she repeated, her voice laced with anger. My silence echoed throughout the warehouse. Catching my drift, she murmured, "Okay…where's Dean?"

The demon's grip on my shoulders intensified once more. Still, I held my tongue. Snarling, another one of her minions raised his hand. Just as he was about to sweep it across my cheeks, I growled, "Okay! Okay! I'll tell you…damn."

Grinning, the leader encouraged me on. I glanced around the broad room. My eyes swept from demon to demon, their eyes black as onyx staring back at me. Each of them seemed to glow with satisfaction. They wore identical grins and smirks. My lips parted, "They…they're right around the corner from kiss-my-ass."

Needless to say, that little line didn't please them in the least bit. The pain that followed was endless. I lost count of how long it lasted. I think I eventually passed out and when the hollowed slumber consumed me, the dreams returned. Dean and Sam Winchester were in a hotel room. That was no surprise. The surprise came from the youthful, awkward girl that stood in the center of the room with them. She had a retainer and long, stringy brown hair. Her eyes were wide, her movements spastic, her breath ragged.

"Forty-two dogs?" Dean scoffed, shooting his brother a knowing look. Sam winced, "Are you sure you got that right?"

"It doesn't make sense. But that's what he said. I memorized every word…for you," the girl breathed. She waltzed over to Sam and proceeded to grin at him. Her fingers slipped up his chest, spreading across his pectoral muscles.

Sam grimaced. "Uh…uh, Becky? Can you please stop touching me?"

"No."

The motel room slowly started to disintegrate. The Winchesters disappeared, the girl too. Gradually, the walls of the room faded, replaced by the warehouse cinderblocks. The cool air chilled my skin; the chair and demons around me materialized. My brow furrowed as I regained consciousness. Never has one of my dreams been so vague or brief. Usually they last for hours on end.

Lorene…

Startled, I straightened up. The remaining four demons seemed unaffected by my awakening. Cocking an eyebrow, I shifted my body sore.

Lorene…

The voice was familiar, calm and regal. It took me about ten seconds to realize it wasn't one of the demons; that I was hearing it within the confines of my mind. The mystery voice repeated itself once more and, with a striking revelation, I recognized it - Castiel. Castiel the warrior, rebel angel. The first angel to walk on Earth for two-thousand years, the angel who snatched Dean from the pit, the angel who defied his superiors and tried to stop the apocalypse, but more importantly, the angel who was killed by the archangel protecting Chuck, a prophet of the Lord.

Lorene…

You're dead, I thought back.

If I was dead, would you hear me? My eyes scanned the room, an unsettling feeling worming its way through my body. He spoke once more, Lorene, close your eyes.

The worried feeling increased as I groaned and clenched my eyes shut. Suddenly, all the noise in the room was muted out. Nothing but silence. Then, a high pitched ringing began. I could sense heat, warmth, light, as the ringing grew louder. My hands flew to my ears, clutching them firmly. I coiled together, drawing my knees upward and sliding into the fetal position. Behind my closed eye lids, I could see the outlines of a blinding, white light. Unexpectedly, the ringing stopped. The light was gone.

"Lorene," Castiel's voice sang. However, this time, it was not inside my head. Cautiously, I unfolded. My eyes fluttered open and I lifted my head. The warehouse was void of all demons; I was alone except for the man now standing in the middle of the open room. The man before me had short, wispy black hair, dazzling blue eyes, lightly tanned skin, and soft, pink lips. He wore a black suit and fitted, white button down that was equipped with a blue tie. On his shoulders hung a beige over coat. This man…was in fact, not a man but an angel I've dreamt of many times.

My jaw dropped in disbelief, my lips parting. His name rolled off my tongue, "Castiel."

"Hello, Lorene. Come, we must move quickly." The angel extended a hand, mine for the taking. Despite my heightened fear of the unknown, I felt no hesitation what-so-ever as I stood, shakily, and took his hand. The world flashed by in clips and sounds. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. The spinning stopped leaving a nauseated feeling in my throat. We were in what appeared to be a hotel suite. Brow furrowing, I faced Castiel. "Where are we?"

"I must find Sam and Dean. I need you safe. You will stay here; do not leave this room. There is food in the fridge," his voice was as monotone as ever. The angel dropped my hand and turned towards the door. In front of the entry way I recognized the symbol known as 'the Devil's Trap' painted in black on the carpeted floor. There was a thick line of salt laced on the doorway. With a quick glance around the room, I spotted salt lines on the two windows as well. "Do you know where they are?"

"No," I mumbled. "Well, yes but no. Some hotel room. A girl is with them-"

"A girl?"

"Yes. She said something about forty-two dogs…" I trailed off realizing how insignificant that must sound.

Castiel interrupted my train of thought, "Nothing is insignificant, Lorene. All will be important."

"What does that mean?"

"Be safe, Lorene. Do not leave until I return," and with that, the angel was gone. A sigh left my lips, my chest constricting in frustration. I gave a futile groan and gingerly sat down on the bed. There were so many questions swimming through my mind and I had no answers. My head rested in my hands as I tried to sooth my headache. Peeking out through my fingers, I studied the room. The suite wasn't terribly large, but nicer than the ones the Winchester boys often called home. It was pleasantly furnished with antique-styled fixtures. There was a flat screen television hanging on the wall, a mini-fridge in the table in corner by a microwave, and a door leading to what I assumed was a bathroom.

My still sore body was aching and I couldn't think of a way to ease the pain other than to sleep it off. The bed was comfortable and though the idea sounded more and more appealing, I smelled. Horrifically. Moaning in pain, I stood and ambled towards the bathroom. I retrieved a towel from the linen shelf and checked for soap and shampoo. Turning on the shower, I heard the water wheezing out the faucet. I peeled off my sweat and blood drenched clothes. My naked body stared back at me via the large mirror hanging above the sink. I felt pity for myself; my pale skin was covered in blue and purple bruises. My left eye was puffy along with my lips, which were cut with little slits. Blood was caked onto my chin, bits specked on my cheeks and lips. The person looking back at me was not someone I recognized. This person was a regular in the life of demons, ghosts, witches, and spirits; this person knew about the supernatural and what was to come for our world, a world rapidly being over taken by Lucifer; this person was being held hostage by an angel. The person I was, or the person I used to be at least, was a loud, fun-loving girl who was always happy and normal. My level of normality seemed to slowly drop as I started having odd dreams - dreams about two brothers, Sam and Dean, whose mother had been murdered by a demon. The dreams told me of their lives growing up with a hunter for a father. The dreams showed me the strength of their bond that had been withered by demon blood. The dreams clued me in on the start of the apocalypse thanks to Sam Winchester, the younger of the two, who killed the demon called Lilith and set Lucifer free.

Mist that had begun to fog up the mirror pulled me momentarily from my thoughts. Reaching over, I turned the water down a bit, and stepped in. The water immediately soaked my hair. I could feel the beads of H2O rush down my skin. Once my body was cool and moist, my thoughts drifted back to my dreamland. The dreams had started three years ago. The first dream was the night Mary Winchester was murdered by Azazel and her son was tainted with demon blood. I was shaken up afterwards; I couldn't figure out what had triggered the dream. More followed after that, about once or twice a month. Then, as the dreams got darker and I fell deeper, they came frequently. I started dreaming once or twice a week. I started to react to situations like I felt the brothers would. To me, they weren't just people I dreamt of, they were part of me. Two men I created with my extremely far-fetched imagination, they were family.

Eventually, the dreams escalated. I'd have them every night. Vivid, emotional, true dreams. I'd wake in sweats or tears, and when I saw Lilith sic the hell hounds on Dean, I woke crying. I cried until I couldn't produce more tears and then sat in silence for hours. For some reason, I'd taken to Dean more so than Sam. Don't get me wrong, I loved Sam; I loved them both. But, when he chose to side with Ruby, a demon, against Dean, his brother who had done nothing but give for him, my heart broke. My heart broke for Dean. I understand Sam's reasoning, though; he was desperate. He needed to help, to avenge his big brother's death. But, when Dean returned from hell, it became more than that. Sam craved the blood, he wanted it. And that was wrong.

I found out my dreams were real two weeks ago when demons started attacking my home town. Three of them had come to a baseball tournament a friend of mine was playing at. I was in a trance watching him pitch when one of the men caught my eye. The wicked smile was sort of creepy, but it was the flash of black in his eyes that gave him away. I froze in the midst of the screaming fans, unsure of what to do. When I saw him and the two others guiding a woman behind the dugouts, I freaked. My eyes scanned the local townspeople, as if searching for an answer. They landed on Mary Bess. She was a loyal Catholic girl who I worked with as a life guard. I dashed over to her and begged for her Rosary beads. She hesitated before nodding, and passed them to me. I ran to the concession stand and snatched up a water bottle. Unscrewing the top, I dropped in the beads and began to bless it with a ritual I'd heard John, Dean, Sam, Pastor Jim, and Bobby use many times, "Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christ: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem."

I ran to where the demons had taken the woman and saw the pinning her against the dugout wall. One had taken off her top and left it lying in the dirt, discarded. The demon before her ran his hand over her stomach. "This won't be over quickly…"

"Dear God, please let this work," I whispered. Tossing the top aside I gripped the bottle and squirted one of them with the now holy water. Upon contact, the demon's vessel writhed in pain. The other two turned on me, letting go of the woman. "Run!" I demanded her. Weeping, she did so and I was left alone to face the evil trio. In my panic, it never occurred to me that holy water doesn't kill demons, it only burns them. Obviously, I was defenseless. They easily over-powered me and after countless hours of torture, she showed up-the brunette bitch that tormented me in the warehouse just hours ago. Her superior "told her of me." She knew my name, my history, my life. The queen demon explained to me the severity of the situation, she provided proof that everything I've seen was real, and then proceeded to question me.

The pain lasted for days and I was losing hope that it would ever end. Thank God for Castiel. If the rebel angel hadn't shown up…I don't know how much longer I would have been able to withstand it.

Ignoring the growls and grumbles of my stomach, I finished showering and dried off. I had nothing with me so I checked the room for fresh clothes. The only thing I found was a plush, white bath-rob. My fingers ran across the fabric. A small smile appeared on my features as I slipped it on. Tying it around my waste, I waltzed over to the fridge and cracked it open. Castiel wasn't lying when he said there was food in the fridge. The small white freezer box was packed with everything from Avaon waters to Miller's Light, from strawberries to cookie dough, and more sensible things like ham, turkey, and little frozen meals.

"Miller's Light?" I asked the room. "Good job, Cas - let me get drunk while trying to stay hidden."

I grabbed up a water and some cookie dough. I popped a bit into my mouth while taking out a TV dinner - pasta and chicken covered in a marinara sauce. It wasn't exactly a five-star meal but it looked appetizing enough. I tore it of the box, peeled back the plastic cover, and pushed it into the microwave. I polished off the entire roll of cookie dough, ate the dinner, and finished my water before climbing into bed. Getting under the thick, quilt-like blankets, I snuggled with the pillow and closed my eyes. It occurred to me that I never checked if the door was locked or not. Then again, anyone who would be coming after me wouldn't be stopped by locks. Shrugging it off, I shut my eyes and slipped into a dream-filled slumber with last little thoughts of two brothers I would soon hopefully meet.