Hell Is For Children

by Project X

Dean and Sam Winchester aren't the only Hunters out there. Really, there are a lot of them. Some at the Road House, some on their own, some on a team. They may not be as important as Sam and Dean but that doesn't mean their not interesting. -Hiatus-

4. Not Deserving Of Judgement

Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing again guys! I'm enjoying writing this a lot, it's getting my mind back into writing. I've got ideas for this up to and past season seven already! But I'm still in season two and it'll be a little while before X-Night runs into Dean and Sam, from how I've planned this any way. And, okay, next chapter will contain nothing but good 'ol fashion monster hunting. It'll have the new OC and a flash back mission with Monarch, Sora, WolfAngel, and X-Night. But if there is anything in particular you guys what us to hunt, throw it at me, otherwise it'll just be a ghost hunt...maybe. Unless I can think of something better. Still any other character from SPN you guys want to see?

Oh and Britt, it was never pointed out in the series that Azazel was a Fallen, but I like to believe he was.

"Hell Is For Children"

Chapter 4: "Not Deserving Of Judgement"

2006, March 30th.

It would be morning in a few hours, and something caffeine filled sounded good right about now. But I'm fairly certain you can't find caffeine filled drinks out in the middle of no where. Especially if it's two o'clock in the morning.

My legs were starting to feel stiff, still far off from cramping, but I was hoping I'd be at the mansion soon. From the directions Bela gave me I should be very close.

It was pretty chilly, my helmet fogging up a bit. I sped up then, getting tired of going down back roads. That's when I saw black top, it stretched out a little ways a head. At the end of that rode was a shape I made out to be a mansion, a square shadowing over the hill side.

That was it, the Bermuda Triangle Mansion. Chills, not caused by the wind and cold, ran up my spine, hair standing on end. It was a matter of minutes before I was at the mansion, standing beside my bike. I took off my helmet and glanced around.

The moon was full tonight, the stars were out a glittering away. Sometimes I wondered what the angels were doing when I looked up at the sky. Azazel proved that there were angels. But no one has seen hide-nor-hair of them for thousands of years, since biblical days. Yet all the horrible things that had been happening lately, and what Crowley said about bad things being nigh. I wondered if they even cared at all.

"Who need's 'em." I muttered, going to the back of my bike to grab something from my weapon bag. I pulled out a military grade USP Socom, another gift from Crowley. I checked the clip, loaded it with my last round of holy silver bullets. I cocked the gun and holstered it under my shoulder blade, the holster hidden by my leather jacket.

Then I grabbed a knife made of iron and sheathed it on my opposite thigh, away from Silver Lilly. I pocketed some rock salt and some holy water, the whole she-bang before I grabbed the sunglasses I had and put them on. When everything was ready and in place I put my hair back in a pony tail and walked towards the mansion, taking a picture of it with my cellphone. I sent the picture to Bela and asked her if I was at the right place, in a text message.

It wasn't until I took the picture that I looked at the place. It was run down, in ruins, moss growing off of it and barely any paint left on the walls. It was tilting to the right, the columns keeping it level cracking. It was at least three, maybe four stories tall. But if anybody knew it was here, or could go inside, if they dared, I know they'd condemn it. It was probably a beautiful mansion in it's day but now it was old and dying. Really I had no urge what-so-ever to walk into the place, afraid it'd collapse while I was inside, but I needed that painting.

While I was analyzing the place Bela texted me back, she assured me that it was the right place and that I'd better; 'hurry my pretty little ass up'. She was never much for patience when it came to money. I can imagine she'd be the type to sell her mother for even a little bit of cash. But judging Bela was not my place, for God sakes I worked for a demon from time to time, so I really couldn't judge.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at the text. Just for that I'd take my sweet 'pretty little ass' time sending her the painting, make her wait and worry over it. Since I know she'd never worry about little old me.

I pocketed the phone in my jean pocket and took a breath. White wisps ghosted past my lips into the dark night sky. It reminded me so much of the nights I'd stay up with John, the nights we'd skulk around and watch people, monsters, from afar. The nights we hunted together, ghosts, vamps, werewolves, and so on. The two of us made a good team, but John was just as good without me. Yet, here I was now, on my own after two years. One of those years being me still getting over being away from him. Still, the point was; I was doing good. I was a good hunter just like John now, I preferred to be on my own, but unlike John I never turned away help. I had a team I cared deeply about.

I paused in my thought, shaking my head. I needed to concentrate, now was not the time to get distracted. I had no idea what was in that mansion, so being off in LaLa-Land would probably get me killed. I took one deep breath, steeled myself, and concentrated on the house. Oddly enough, when my ability flared to life, my sunglasses hiding the glow, I could see sky blue glowing painted wards. These wards were in a language I've never seen before, if it was a language at all. To me it looked more like a bunch of shapes.

If anything, the wards proved I didn't know what I was going up against. But I was never one to back down from a fight, any type of fight.

-X-

December 21st, 2005. Hunter Manor.

"Monarch...that's-"

"I know, I know. Wrong end of the gun."

"Seriously? If you want to survive out there-"

"Stop messing around. I know!"

I lightly glared at the dark haired boy. He was still in a bad mood since we exorcised him days perviously. I understood, to an extent, his pain. But I promised myself that if he kept acting like this I'd kick him out on his tan hide. For days I'd been trying to teach him, he was taking his new world surroundings badly. While the idea of there being creatures beyond our comprehension was interesting to him, demons were not.

He hated demons to his very core.

"Look," I took the salt round loaded shotgun from Monarch's hand. He glared down at the ground, not wanting to look into my disappointed gaze. I had been told by Sora that my gazes, serious or otherwise pissed, was hard to look directly at without flinching. "I understand you're frustrated-"

"Frustrated! Frustrated doesn't begin to describe it!" Monarch yelled, arms waving angrily in the air. Said hands latched onto my shoulders and deep angry brown eyes bored into my glaring emerald ones. "I killed people." He whispered, a hiss to his words. Inside his eyes, I could see the sadness, the shame lingering there, and the hurt. "I killed people without even caring, I was infested by a monster that used me like a puppet. I killed innocent people, nice people-...I killed a kid." Monarch swallowed and looked away, his glassy eyes staring at the ground again.

I grabbed Monarch's biceps and pushed his arms down to his sides, away from my shoulders. Then I looked at him, searching him with my ability. "Look at me." I commanded, no anger or room to argue in my voice. He would either look or I'd make him look.

Monarch looked up at me and flinched. I made sure my eyes weren't glowing when he looked back. I was serious, dead serious. He had a choice, either get over it or don't. One way or another I was going to make him understand. "You," I let go of his arms, the both of us inches apart. I poked at his chest repeatedly as I spoke. "Are not the one who killed those people."

"But I-"

"YOU. ARE. NOT. THE ONE WHO KILLED THOSE PEOPLE!" I said harshly, making sure he heard me. His face showed an unsure emotion now. He didn't want to believe he did it, but the nightmares told him otherwise. At night, when I could not sleep, I could hear him yelling, screaming at the nightmares. I knew how that felt, if there was any part of me that could relate with Monarch it was the side that had nightmares every night.

"But-"

"Should I repeat myself?" I growled, trying to drill this into his thick skull. I myself felt sympathy towards him, but I'd tried every other tactic to persuade him of the truth. All I had left was to beat it, with very harsh words, into him.

Monarch blinked rapidly, trying to keep the water works from coming. I wouldn't judge him if he cried, I wouldn't call him a wimp or anything, I'd pat him on the back and give him a damn tissue instead. If he was going to call us; me and Sora, comrades, he needed to know I would not judge him, we would not judge him. He needed to know he was free to show emotion, he deserved to be able to after what he went through.

"Good," I hugged him then, tightly and suddenly. It seemed almost like reflex, trying to comfort him from something I had been comforted from myself. His shoulders tensed for a moment, not expecting this from me, then he relaxed. "Because if you really hate demons," I pulled back from the hug and put the sawed off shotgun in his hands again. "Then kill those son's of bitches with everything you got. Redeem yourself and save more lives then that bastard ever killed while inside of you."

Monarch took the shotgun, and wiped his face from where he had begun to tear up. He nodded his head, game face on now. He turned around, shotgun held right, cocked it back, and shot the target across the yard head on, just like how I had shown him. If anything was an incentive it was hate, pure and utter hatred. It pushed you to get revenge against those things that screwed up your life, it made you pull yourself together and learn how to survive in a new world. Then it began to die down, killing monsters becoming business instead of revenge. Because no one can keep a grudge against something they slaughter endlessly without second thought every day.

"X!" I heard Sora then, and turned from where I stood to see her running up to us. She was dressed in casual attire, or really her jogging clothes, but still. She always looked nice to me, I envied her sometimes, but looks would never get me anywhere in my life.

Monarch continued shooting, finally getting into the training I'd selected for him. He wasn't ignoring Sora, he was just in a completely different world at the moment.

Sora walked up to me and looked over my shoulder to see Monarch. She smiled, proud of his progress then looked at me with a smug expression. It was her 'I-told-you-so' expression and I had seen it often, far to often for my liking. But, inevitably, she was usually right about most things, about people, about Monarch. He became an irreplaceable member of the team...member of the family.

"X." Sora tapped me on the shoulder, as while I was thinking I'd turned back to Monarch. I turned back to her again, my arms crossed.

"Mmh?" I looked at her, took in her excited expression, and guessed I knew exactly what she was about to say.

"We got a case." She stated, grinning like usual.

I laughed a little. "I knew you were going to say that."

To that she pouted.

"So," I turned back to Monarch and patted him on the shoulder. He stopped reloading and peered at me, still a little far away, mentally that is. "You ready to get your feet wet, rookie?" I asked, grinning down at him.

He smiled back, forgetting what he had been doing earlier. "More than ready, eager."

"Good," I nodded in reply. "'Cause we're gonna go hunt some demons."

-X-

2006, March 30th. 3:00 PM.

I sighed deeply, my breath wisping away again, into a white cloud of smoke. I zipped up my jacket and shivered as I finally started walking up the stairs to the front porch of the mansion. I swayed uneasily on my feet as the supports of the house shook beneath me. Dust fell through the huge cracks along the wood, red beady eyes glanced at me from under the roof.

Bats, rats, and bugs of all sorts woke to see me. When it registered that I was standing there, each and everyone of them ran for their little lives, away from their perch. I stood stalk still as bats flew over my head, rats rushed by my feet, and what I believe to be locusts skittered away past me. After every creepy crawly was gone I let out a breath of anxiety and thanked God none of them were spiders.

As I kneeled down to check out the floor boards, seeing how much was just pure rot instead of wood, the double doors in front of me opened. My eyes widened at what I saw, my jaw slack in surprise. My heart skipped a beat and I found myself frozen.

Past the white painted double doors of the entrance, inside the mansion, was a room light with golden and creme colors. Lamps made of crystal stood on each side of a long entrance hallway. The walls painted in creme white, the floor a golden color in wood with a glassy over coat. A chandelier the size of a cow hung from the beige colored ceiling.

At the end of the overly fancy hallway was another set of white painted double doors. The room before me though, there was no way it was apart of the same house I saw on the outside. Not a crack insight. It looked newly built and beautiful, like the open double doors in front of me held a time vortex that lead fifty years into the past.

As my mind was preoccupied by the possibilities of how all of what was right in front of me was even possible, the second set of double doors started to open. I got up to my feet, slowly putting one foot over the threshold. As soon as I did wards crept up over my body from the floor beyond the door and covered me, glowing. The wards attacked my wrist aggressively, pain like someone with an iron grip breaking the bones in my hand filled me. It was the same wrist with the scar, it throbbed angrily, almost if trying to combat the wards. Then the wards attacked my eyes, my sunglasses falling to the ground as I was jerked forwards. There was no pain in my eyes, if anything, after opening them again, my eyes felt better.

I was jerked again by an unseeable force. It felt like someone grabbed the front of my jacket and had pulled me forward with an almost unstoppable, as well as unseeable, force. I tripped forward, finally both feet hitting the inside of the mansion. The wards that had attacked me were gone, replaced by something that wanted me inside.

As soon as both my boots stood on the golden floor, that force got a whole lot stronger. It picked me up and dragged me, very quickly, almost as if I was soaring, down the long hallway then through the double doors. The room I found myself in next, still hovering above the ground but no longer moving, was a variation of what one would call a living room.

But imagine a very classy and expensive living room you'd find in a mansion from the nineteen sixties. Furniture that probably costed hundreds of dollars was arranged in the room, it had a symmetric design to it that included the colors as well. Everything was either beige, gold, or creme. There were crystal lamps, fluffy couches, golden coffee tables, and beige arm chairs. To my left there was a large table set out with cakes, confections of all kinds, and sugary beverages along with expensive whisky.

There was at least seven different people in the room with me, helping themselves to the table of food. Each looked to be from very different cultures, their skin colors and the way they dressed pointed this out clearly. They ignored me as if I was nothing, even though I was dangling there like a caught fish.

"Hey there, kiddo!" Then, suddenly, in a puff of smoke and a snap of fingers, a short long haired brunette man with brown eyes and normal casual clothes on, appeared in front of me. The man wore a warm smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He snapped his fingers again and before I could blink I was hanging upside down, the man in my face. "Now I'm sure you don't have an invitation to this party, green eyes. So what are you doing here?" He questioned, a lollipop now in his mouth.

There was only one thing I knew of what had this sort of power, that would suspend me in mid air, and not care in the slightest about it. Of course my last run in with his race was not any better then now. I hoped the ending to this day would be better then the beginning, or I was so screwed.

"You're a trickster." I stated, almost breathlessly as blood flooded to my head. Hanging upside down was not giving me any leverage over the situation what so ever.

The trickster snapped his fingers. The next thing I know I'm plummeting to the ground, landing on my side, the wooden floor hitting me hard. I hiss in pain and hold my nearly broken arm to my chest as I sit up. I had to move fast and forget the pain quickly, otherwise I was dead meat on a stick. The gun holstered on my side, that probably fractured one of my ribs, did not help. It hurt like bitch.

"Right-o!" The trickster smiled as I turned to him. "Quick one aren't 'ya, bucko?" He took no steps closer to me but he did fold his arms and grin like a cat with cat nip. "So, your mission here, skippy, would be what exactly?"

I glared up at him from where I sat. Then I threw all original Hunter logic out the window and grinned lightly. The last time the only way I was able to survive an encounter with a trickster was to play their game. So that's what I'd do again, as regretful as it was last time.

I let my shoulders slump and relaxed, looking up at him with a sigh and a smile. The trickster's brow rose. "I'm looking for a haunted painting, you seen it?" I asked no agitation in my voice what so ever.

"A painting?" He asked, I nodded. He took the lollipop out of his mouth and rubbed his chin, thinking. "Yay big?" He motioned with his arms to the size of the painting Bela showed me. I nodded. "Got a really scary look'n guy on it?" The trickster pulled at the skin on his face in his representation of the man in the painting. I nodded again. "Well," The trickster smiled wider and clapped his hands together. "Why didn't you say so? I've been trying to get rid of that creepy painting for months!"

The trickster then held a hand out to help me up. I hesitated, not sure wether or not to trust him. But the thing about playing with tricksters is, humor them, let them talk their little heads off about whatever. Make them think you're not scared or frightened of them, that you'd never expect an attack. Then, while their distracted, stab them in the back. The difference this time was I didn't plan on killing him, just getting the painting then getting the Hell out of Dodge. But things are never that easy or that simple, never, ever, especially for me.

"Loki!" A very strangely accented man called, said accent being so thick I could barely understand him. A man with short brown hair, blue eyes, a white and black suit, and a pair of winged leather shoes, came over. He laid a hand on the shorter man's shoulder and shot a creepy leering grin at me. The shorter man took his hand back at this and turned to the taller. "Is this the entertainment you were talking about?" He asked, almost in a slur, to the shorter man.

The man, I suppose is Loki, looked up at the other with a confused face. He rose a brow and gingerly took the other's hand off his shoulder. He dropped the hand as if it were an insect and looked back at the other man, glaring lightly. "No," He stated. "This is that kid who can see," He whirled his wrist around in bored exaggeration. "Stuff." He paused, then sighed as he eyed the rest of the people in the room watching him. "No Hermes, she's just here to pick up something then leave." He gave the same harsh look that he did to Hermes to the other people looking over at us.

Some how I got the feeling, a really sick churning feeling in my stomach, that the other tricksters in the room, if that's what they were. I got the feeling that they were looking at me as if I was food, meat ripe for the taking. I got the feeling the only thing standing between me and them was Loki. Loki being the most infamous trickster in all of history.

I was so screwed.

A woman with red glowing eyes, a long black- on fire dress, and tall high heels walked over to us. Her arms were folded and her gaze was judging and anger filled. She almost completely ignored Loki to glare at me instead. There was something about her high and mighty attitude that pissed me off, yet the pressure of her power filling the room made me feel like a bug.

"Is she not the one who killed our brothers Eshu and Legba?" Really, the way she stated that, it was less of a question more of a very angry 'I'm-about-to-splatter-your-guts-all-over-the-room' confession. Once again she had a thick accent I couldn't quite point out, but it was thick enough to where I could only understand some of what she was saying.

But by the way every Trickster's head turned toward me in an angry glare, I was one hundred precent sure I knew what she said. I knew that'd come back to bite me in the ass!

"Yeah, but-" Loki tried to quarrel the masses before it was to late. But the masses seemed not easily quarreled, not even by Loki. He rubbed the back of his neck as he felt the temperature in the room drop.

"Then why do we not slaughter her now, in vengeance to Legba?" She turned to the other trickster then, inciting them to take action against me. She grinned widely back at the king of tricksters, but he wouldn't budge so easily, even when every one else in the room craved my blood to be spilled.

'Well shit.' Was the only thought going through my head.

"Because, Prometheus, Eshu was a dick, Legba asked for it, and she was just protecting herself." Loki stated, standing in front of me, and defending me. I felt a heck of a whole lot safer with him there, shielding me.

"Legba would never ask some human girl to end his curse!" The woman, Prometheus, snapped. Her red eyes began to glow then, and at that moment I was glad those wards stopped my ability from working. I'd really rather not see what the real Prometheus looked like.

"He didn't ask just some human girl." Another Swahilian accent came from the crowd in the room. An African man that dressed like a shaman walked up beside Hermes. He gazed coldly at Prometheus, the temperature now freezing in the room. The red eyed woman did not back down but flinched at the other trickster's presence.

"What do you mean Maui?" Hermes, whom had stayed quiet this entire time, asked the greater trickster. Hermes seemed a bit drunk but in his right mind, he also seemed to not want to go against any of his brothers, especially Loki. His expression stayed neutral as he watched the fight. But now he questioned the Polynesian demi-god by his side.

I really didn't like the way things were turning out. It made my skin crawl at the fact some of the gods here knew more about me then I knew about them. How was that fair in the slightest. Now I felt several questioning gazes on me, the hairs on my neck standing on end. I would have gave anything to be in a den of werewolves right about then.

"That's for us," Loki grinned again, glad the fight was over. He motioned to himself and Maui. "To know and you," He motioned to everyone else in the room. "Not to." He snapped his fingers then, my world flipping inside out then doing back flips, before I found myself falling on dirt.

"Now see what you did." I heard Loki say accusingly as I still tried to remember which way was up and which way was down. "That party was going so well too! I was just about to bring in the candy covered strippers!" I then blinked rapidly to see Loki pacing in front of me. He held the painting I was looking for in one hand and his other was in his jacket pocket. "We trickster only get together once every century! Is some R-and-R really so much to ask for?" He looked at me with tired eyes, slightly sad the party hadn't gone better.

I shrugged from where I lay, upside down. "Sorry." Was all I could say. Once again Loki snaps his fingers and I'm back on my feet completely in tact. "I guess I owe 'ya one." I said not really sure what else to say. I felt like I was being scolded like a child by the way he looked at me. The feeling put me on edge.

"Yes," He pushed the painting into my hands. "You do." He stated simply, crossing his arms, now seeming like a child himself, throwing a temper tantrum.

I fumbled with the painting in my hand before looking back at the trickster. He still hadn't gone away, even though seconds and seconds of silence stretched on. Now I was giving him a 'right now?' look. He nodded, almost as if reading my mind. I sighed.

"What?"

"Burn that painting. Don't give it to-...Captain Bitch." He commanded then wondered why Bela's name in my head was Captain Bitch. His brow furrowed then lightened and he laughed. "Right." He nodded, then began to turn his back on me, walking away.

He could most certainly read minds.

The trickster didn't even wait before I said I would though. He knew I would, no argument about it. He was right too.

But then I got curious. Loki in the right light was, oddly attractive. I had heard he was insatiable as well. I wondered if I offered him a good roll around if he'd drop the trespassing charges for a mere mortal and that way I'd never have to worry about it coming back to bite me in the ass like everything else.

Without turning around or stopping from how he was walking away from me, the trickster replied to my thought. "Give me call when you're old enough kiddo! We'll talk."

One thing leads to another though, even after his admission, and I wondered what he really looked like. I was as curious as ever, and a bit tired. I got only a seconds worth of a glance before he's gone. But I knew what I saw, leaving me breathless in the cold morning hours.

Wings.

Loki had freaking wings.

-X-

End Notes: Sorry this is shorter then usual but I wanted to post it. Shesh! And I thought Sam and Dean were unlucky, look at the trouble X gets herself into. I'll start working on chapter 5 right now, it'll be really fun to write. But Britt, Brandon, you guys have any requests or ideas for what our group should be hunting next chapter?