Chronicles of Absolution: Sakura

Chapter 1

Then

… "This is an old town?" Sam looked incredulous. "It looks like it belongs in a different time and definitely a different place."

"That's the thing with sanctuaries," Angela replied with a shrug. "They traditionally are the realms of gods. They can make them into whatever they want; any notions of time can be altered where minutes can be made hours, days made into minutes. Other circumstances are that there are some who just want to preserve a time in history."

"And preserving a town circa 1850 is sentimental?"

… The mountaintop scenery was picturesque. It was the type of scenery that artists dream of finding to paint. Everything seemed to be laid out perfectly with the snowcapped mountains and the greenery from the valleys of the farms below. It was peaceful and often a refuge when someone needed to find peace, or they just needed a quiet place to work…

… "She stared off into space and then started talking. I assume that it is the person she is helping with the detox from what she said." Gabriel was careful not to mention too much. Even though it may be found out sooner or later, he would rather it later and on his Cat's own terms. Besides there was always the possibility that there were some, and he could name a few, that would not like the idea of her having something or someone that would mean more to her than the job. "I figured it must be a subconscious or unconscious tap into the source of her powers."

… Sacha took a puff on his cigarette. He had promised that he would go home but at this point he felt he was involved too much. He had hung around the diner after the Winchesters left and quizzed the demons himself. Like the Winchesters, he could see that they were scared. He had wondered what the hell his savior was involved with and sort of wished that he had pushed for more answers. In a way though he, was glad since he probably would run for the hills…

… "Sweetheart," Sacha replied letting his European accent come through, "I'm no one's bitch. What I find out, I keep, and I cash in for my gain." He turned to leave after squashing his dead cigarette. He had seen what he needed to see. He paused at the door to catch Sam's eye. "As fun as this has been, the whole spy game gets old but then again sometimes information is best told from someone who is trusted rather than a stranger."

… "Just exploring my freedom and the fact that catchphrase of the warrior princess coming back from the dead caught my interest," Sacha replied as he took another puff on his cigarette. He looked badass in his blazer jacket and jeans along with the dark glasses to keep the glare out. He may be able to tolerate the sun, but he wasn't like his dhampir friend who could run around in both the night and day. "You know the descriptions of your exploits don't do you justice chéri. The one trained by an Egyptian god and goddess and wielding a blade of power and rare beauty never before seen since the days of Arlen Kae."

… Angela turned to see Sacha leaning against the wall. He looked a little smug and nonchalant as well as bored while watching her. She raised her brow as she put away her cell phone. "Whiskey would be the drink of choice if I was inclined to be celebrating. I thought you were going home."

Sacha shrugged his shoulders, "I was. After all, the plantation still needs to be kept going."

… Amaterasu took her duties seriously. The people of Japan referred to her as the sun goddess and of the universe and they believed that their emperor was a direct descendant of her. She still thought that her greatest accomplishment was teaching weaving and raising silkworms along with the rice fields. Her greatest duty was to bring light to the world since when she went into hiding and that allowed the Ancients to have their way…

… The lady who was his creator and mother, the goddess Amaterasu told him that she was different. She called the human a warrior princess. He didn't understand what that meant but it was obvious that she was important to the lady…

… "I haven't been sleeping well because of nightmares… and I… see things."

Sam frowned slightly, "See things?"

"I hallucinate… it's Lucifer."

It was like a hit to the gut as Sam processed what she was telling him. "How long?"

"Since the dragons."

… "Aye," Christian replied, his cultured European accent making itself known. He reached into the pack that he was carrying. "Just making sure considering the last time." He pulled out something wrapped in cloth. "I am surprised that you asked for it."

"Past is bound to catch up with us sometime," she replied as she accepted it. "Have you spoken to Jibril?"

"I did after your guardian came with his message of the new meeting time. Nice job on the code, by the way." Christian couldn't help but grin at her. He sobered as he looked at Sam and Angela. "He said that things are tumultuous. His words, not mine."

… Sam took in the look she gave him and stared back. He meant what he said. Always when it came to her. He continued, "I know you believe in choice and believe me it means more to me than you'll ever know, but I agreed to it because I trust you. I trust you with my life."

… "And I'm fine for now," Sam insisted as he hugged her closer. "And we can't worry about it all the time. We got a job to do. You know… saving people."

… Aquarius looked at the Sandman. She narrowed her eyes as if to sense out if there was any pollution of his essence left. When she was satisfied, she replied, "There are forces older than these humans know at work." She turned to look out into the night. "Forces that even their champion and other half don't know or fully understand yet and there are those that would seek to destroy it, change it… affect the natural order."

The Sandman nodded in understanding. Natural order was the delicate balance of everything in existence. It had been mucked with a few times over. "I understand."

"I doubt it," Aquarius scoffed. "But at least that measure should help a little," she muttered, "The rest is up to them."

Now

Six Years Ago

The campfire was cheery despite the fact that the men surrounding it looked gloomy. A couple had blades out and stuck into the ground to allow them to rest against them. Others were lounging and looking bored by the whole thing. One was sitting cross legged and holding a box. It was rather plain on the outside, but the man holding it knew that it held something that could be rather dangerous if in the wrong hands.

It was rather an unconventional means of travel, but considering the piece being transported was big in the news. The museum was taking no chances with it and hired them to transport it to their facility. They offered the payment with no questions asked to them. It was understood that they were to use any and all means short of killing to keep the item safe until they deposited it at the museum. Hence, they were traveling using less conventional means.

The one holding the box adjusted his robes. He really had no idea why he had been chosen out of all his brothers to be the guardian. There were older and wiser brothers of their order that were suitable and yet the master said he was to be the one. He was qualified in the sense that he knew the spells that protected the box. He just didn't feel that he was capable of the duty he had been charged with.

It was uncomfortable sitting there and watching the guards go about their duties. It was disconcerting to see all the weapons around. Mostly they were blades. A few of them had guns and the bigger ones were disconcerting. Violence was not really a thing of his order and yet it was needed to keep something that could be dangerous out of the wrong hands. It was enough to cause him to be tense throughout the whole thing.

"Any stiffer and I can use you as a surf board."

The boy looked up from the box to see one of the guards come to plop right beside him. He shuffled in his seat a bit uncomfortably. He clutched the box in his hands tightly and looked back down. He replied, "I am being vigilant. You should too, Pearson." He looked up at the guard with a knowing look.

"I am vigilant," Pearson replied as he pulled out an apple and took a bite. He chewed and spoke at the same time, "I'm so vigilant I can tell you that Hans is pissing in the bushes. Raines is being his serious grumpy self and the rat pack are trying to stay awake on this boring detail." He looked at the boy with a grin. "So you have nothing to worry about Yoshi. You won't get those fancy robes dirty."

Yoshi, short for Yoshitomo, looked at Pearson with a narrow look. He lessened his grip on the box as he took calming breaths, "I am Buddhist. My order does not believe in violence. That violence is a result of human need and greed."

"Yeah, yeah," Pearson waved off, "And you guys are the only ones keeping whatever is out there from opening that box." He gestured at the box in Yoshi's lap.

There was a lot more to it than that, but Yoshi decided not to go into explanations. It wasn't worth it in his opinion. The guards got the basics and didn't want to be bothered by it. Pearson was no exception to the rule. Yoshi sighed as he straightened up slightly. "We all have our part in the world, a path. Choices we make…"

"Spare me, please?" Pearson looked at Yoshi with a grin. "I get it. I did my stint in world religions. It's why they selected me for the team." He sighed and sobered, looking around before adding in a low tone, "And the fact that you are carrying something that belonged to probably one of the greatest person's in history and is supposedly cursed or something like that."

Yoshi looked at Pearson with a wide eyed expression. "The guards aren't supposed to know…"

"Shh…" Pearson hissed at the monk while looking around. He shifted to relax some more while maintaining alertness. "I know that the guard isn't supposed to know. Prevent temptation and all that. Didn't count on the fact that I read."

Yoshi was quiet. This was most unusual. A guard that knew what they were transporting. It made him feel that there was more to what was in the box. He looked down at the box in his lap. He looked at the markings over it, specifically the crest. It was an ancient one. At least that was what he had been told, and it signified a power that was just as old and spoken of in stories. He didn't understand why a museum wanted it.

"Don't worry. I have a few ideas just in case…"

"Just in case?"

Pearson held up his hand for Yoshi to be quiet. His eyes were narrowed as he squatted and pulled out his handgun and checked it before putting it back in its holster. He picked up his other weapon and looked out into the darkness. It was then he heard it and pointed out, "That."

Yoshi looked around and noticed the other guards weren't there. It was way too quiet. It was the creepy quiet and he realized that they were in trouble. He moved slightly to get to his feet. He looked at Pearson with a wide eyed expression, "What do we do?"

"I fight. You run. Don't look back. Do not let it fall into the hands. Preferably I'd rather it be in the hands of its rightful owner." Pearson straightened but prepared to pounce. He held his weapon at the ready. "Go. Now!"

Yoshi turned to run. As soon as he did, something charged out of the night. He heard Pearson yell and leap forward. Yoshi did what he had been told. He ran into the night, the sounds of blades hitting flesh and blood splashing on the ground. The last thing he heard were a couple of gunshots. He swallowed back bile and continued. It must not fall into the wrong hands.

Present

The place smelled of sweat, smoke and cheap alcohol and hung heavy in the air. The shouts of jeers and men made up the cacophony as they waved fists with money in the air, some of it changing hands by the second. People were pushing forward, trying to get a good view and get their bets in. The only thing that kept them from breaking the circle they created was a waist high wooden wall. The crowd was especially wild tonight.

The swing was wild and came from the left. With a look of boredom, Angela swerved to avoid the hit and gave a resounding slap to the bare shoulder sailing past her. With an elegant step, she moved aside and held her hands up and clapped in a jeering fashion. The crowd roared at it, but she tuned them out as she kept her eye on the huge man before her.

He was a brawler type. The kind that were good in a fight when you needed brute strength, but planning and strategy was not in his repertoire. He had a set way of moving and she figured it out within two minutes of starting this fight. Now she was just toying with him, hoping he would wise up and maybe present a challenge.

"Come on now. You know that these brutes are a waste of your skills."

Angela sidestepped again bringing her to face the one thing she engaged in this pointless fight to begin with. She narrowed her eyes slightly as he stood to the side looking amused at the whole thing. She turned her attention to the brute as he growled his frustration at not being able to land a hit. Speaking would just make it worse and acknowledge the fact that she was still arguing with herself and consoled herself with the idea that it was Lucifer.

Lucifer gave a bored sigh as he watched the fight play out. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched her as she sidestepped like a matador with a bull. He said, "Ignoring me won't make it go away. A small part of you wants to remember the fun we had. The… threesome that we had."

Angela felt her spine stiffen as the memory came back. It was enough for the brute to land a punch. It hit across the jaw and had her on her hands and knees. The crowd was going nuts as they started moving money back and forth. The blow was enough to stun, but not knock her out. She was made of sterner stuff than that.

Looking up, she saw Lucifer grinning as he said, "Of course you were just humoring me. After all, you really didn't tell them everything about what you've done. Have you?"

Angela gritted her teeth and took a couple of deep breaths. She heard the brute shouting at her to get up and calling her weak. The crowd was jeering, some cheering and urging her to get up. She stared at the ground as she focused. Looking down, she saw the blood and lacerations on her hand, and they weren't from the fight. She could feel the pain of the knife driven into her hand.

Forcing herself to her feet, she took a deep breath and gave a sideways look at the brute. Her look still conveyed boredom. She turned and stood there, her posture clearly indicating that she wasn't impressed by him and said out loud, "I'm out. You are hardly impressive."

The crowd started booing as she moved to where the exit was. Others were groaning in disappointment. The brute, however, was pissed. He swore in his native language and sent a glob of spit in her direction where it hit on the back of her head. He then said, "Coward!"

Being born in the fifteenth century, Angela was well versed in the ways to convey insult. Her travels around the world expanded her knowledge. The one that was crude and pissed her off more than anything was spitting. She didn't care what she was called. Spitting she found to be the worst insult ever. That and combined with the fact that Lucifer was taunting her again and he wasn't leaving… she had enough.

To anyone looking closely, they would have seen the slight flicker of her eye. If they knew what it was, they would have realized that she wasn't an ordinary woman. If they knew her, like a certain pair of brothers, they would have laid their money down on her and backed away or just back away on principle. It all pointed to the same thing: the brute in the ring was going to be sorry for what he had done and what she was about to do.

Angela straightened up, but didn't face the brute. She was gritting her teeth to remind herself to be in control, when the truth was she wanted to go on a rampage. She did manage to lift a hand and, not looking at the brute, she gave him the finger and then made a gesture like he was dirt beneath her feet. That did the trick and for the brute, it was a good thing he couldn't see her face. Then he would have realized he was in trouble.

Angela usually was one to go for defense. A good defense allowed for a good offense. Sound logic and often proven true. She had been playing when she entered this fight. Now it was time to end it. She cocked her head slightly and heard the hiss of the air as the fist came flying towards her head. She turned and lifted her hands to grab the offending arm and pull the brute towards her to face her, making him stumble but not go down.

She was ready for the punch and blocked. She countered with well-placed strikes to dislocate the jaw, crack and bruise his ribs as well as injure the knee. That didn't stop the brute since he staggered to his feet and prepared to charge. She eyed him and delivered a spinning back kick that sent the guy flying into the door of the ring. The force was enough to knock it open and he flew through it where he landed on a few of the spectators.

Angela stared as she panted. It had become deathly quiet as everyone stared at her. They hadn't expected it and she hadn't anticipated doing that. The brute spoiled her fun and so she had to pull out the big guns. She looked at the crowd with a narrowed look as she panted. It was automatic for her to be whimsical in her speech and she said, "He had disgusting spit."

It stunned the crowd even more as she walked out of the ring towards the makeshift bar. She reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of cheap whiskey. It was better than nothing as she twisted the cap off, tossed it aside and took a long pull of it. She walked towards the door and out into the cool air, pausing just long enough to grab her money. She didn't care about it, but since money was always useful, she took it.

She walked out into the parking lot and took another swig of whiskey. There weren't a whole lot of cars, but then again, this place wasn't exactly legit. The only source of lighting was a couple of lampposts. Her kind of thing. She took another pull of whiskey and she turned to look around. She didn't see the lamppost flickering, but she could hear the slight flapping in the air. Sighing in a bored manner, she said, "I didn't call for you, Cas."

Castiel stood where he had landed. His face was expressionless but his heart, if it could be called that, was pained. He felt guilt and responsibility for leaving her alone for so long. Part of him hoped that the bond she formed with Sam would help, but it seemed that she had resorted to extreme measures. His conversation with Morpheus was vague, but insightful. He watched as she drank from the whiskey bottle while eyeing him with what could be called a drunken expression, even though that was a near impossibility. He replied, "You didn't have to."

Angela made a face and looked away and took another swig of the whiskey. She made a face and turned back towards Castiel. She lifted the bottle, "This is not the best, but it helps."

"You're need to numb pain with alcohol… it's destructive."

"Yeah try that on Dean. He's worse." Angela gestured at Castiel while taking another gulp of whiskey. She gave a snort, "And he thinks I don't know. Fucking hard to hide things from me. Fucking senses. And you, shut up." She pointed to the side.

Castiel watched her movements as she paced and talked to someone that wasn't there. He asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"Myself," Angela replied. She paused and gave a slight nod as she corrected, "Actually it's myself in the guise of Lucifer. Well, he says that is not true." She turned to look at Castiel and held her arms out, "So, it looks like I'm just heading off the deep edge, especially after what I did a couple weeks ago."

Castiel debated on whether or not to say anything. Then again, it was better to come out in front as the human expression went. As much as he was busy with his situation, he knew that he needed to see to his charge. She was in pain even though she wasn't projecting it. He replied somberly, "I heard. Morpheus is grateful you saved his realm and his sister."

Angela made an impolite snort that sounded elegant despite the crudeness, "Snow job and a way to keep me under his thumb. Like every other fucking being that claims to care about the natural order, Fucking angels included."

Castiel tried not to flinch at the swearing. "He said that without your foresight, the realms would have merged. The Apocalypse would have been a distant memory."

"More of the same, Cas," she replied in a defeated tone. She looked at him with a sad look. "If it's not the destiny shit, it is something else. Though I guess being killed by your dreams is worse than being a casualty of the devil." She thought about it for a moment and then added, "Nope. Fighting dreams is a lot better than being tortured in hell."

"The memories of hell are too much for you," Castiel asserted. "It is driving you mad."

"It's PTSD, Cas," Angela shot in an exasperated tone. "It's not insanity."

"But people might think you're insane."

"Just arguing with myself over the merits of making a bargain," Angela retorted. She snorted as she added, "Not mention the arguments over regrets. Now those will get you to lose sleep." She pointed to emphasize before taking another drink.

Castiel watched her, feeling pain at her pain. She was hanging on, but it was a losing battle. Perhaps there was something…

"Hey, bitch!"

Angela was taking a drink when she heard the insult. She turned along with Castiel to see the guy that was burly brute's friend. She straightened up and eyed the guy. She wasn't drunk. It was way too hard to get her drunk, unless you gave her soda. Weird quirk of the genetics. She answered like it was a social gathering, "Oh. If it isn't the brute's friend. You don't look better than him."

The guy stormed up in fury, "You broke my friend's jaw."

"Fair fight."

The guy didn't like that answer and snarled at the nonchalant manner she was drinking from the whiskey bottle. With a swipe, he knocked it away. He pointed in her face, "You're going to pay for that."

Angela eyed the guy. Her demeanor was sober as she replied, "You don't want to be doing that."

"No. I think I want to."

It wasn't much of a fight. Angela merely caught him by his neck and lifted him so his feet dangled in the air. She could have broken his neck or choked him to death. Instead, she stared at him in the eye and said, "You are drunk. Go home and remember that I spared your life. Not everyone is so kind." She flared her eyes for good measure before throwing him hard where he crashed into the trashcans.

Castiel watched the whole thing, not impressed and voiced it when she joined him, "Hardly becoming of you."

"I was kind. Believe me." Angela started walking. It wasn't far to Bobby's place but…

"Angela de Medici," a voice called out forcing her to stop. She turned to see a man dressed in a suit as if he appeared out of nowhere. She stood with Castiel as he approached with a few others saying, "We have a job for you."

A/N: Here we are with a new episode of Chronicles. It looks like things are worse for Angie with the memories of hell. And to top it off someone has a job for her. Stay tuned for next time on Sakura...