Fallen

Book 2: Knott in Need

Chapter 4

- Attack and Retreat -

The joy of being an angel—in particular, a Watcher—was that you didn't have to be physically present in a location to see what was happening there. And whilst most angels needed to be spiritually present to observe something, grigori did not. Once Ava had locked on to another being, whether it was a human, another angel, or something as simple as a tree, she could Watch it whenever she chose, and when she wasn't directly watching she kept the 'channel' open in the background of her mind. And so, as she unhappily slaughtered a falcon that was already dying from eating a poisoned mouse, she Watched the Carver siblings as they discussed the events of the afternoon in their bedsit.

"I don't like this," Pippin reiterated. "What do we even know about her?"

"Other than the fact that she's a freaking angel?" Danny replied.

"Sounds like someone's been touched by an angel alright," said Merry, rolling her eyes at her little brother. "Look, Pip, I know you don't like it, and I know we always agreed to work alone, but what other choice do we have? We were so sure Avariel was the witch. If it's not her, who else could it be? Do we really have time to go poking around delicately, trying to tease out little bits of relevant information? I say if Avariel can get the stuff, we do the counter-spell and hope it draws the witch out. If we can waste whoever it is, we can guarantee nobody else will screw around with this place."

"It's just... we should have discussed it first," Pippin said. "This affects all of us."

"Nonsense. It's just one spell. Once we've fixed what's wrong here, we'll leave. The angel can stay, or go wherever the hell she wants. We'll be back on the road in a couple of days. It will be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Sometimes I think you don't worry enough," Pippin said, in a wry tone of voice.

"It would be so cool to work with an angel," Danny said.

"Cool for all of five minutes before you got fed up of the sermons about God." Merry dismissed her brother's idea immediately. "Trust me, we're better off without all that religious crap. Hell, you don't even believe in God."

"Well, that was before I met an angel," countered Danny. "I mean, if she's real, then God's got to be real, right? So that means... the creationists are right. Evolution is wrong. Eugh, I suddenly feel unclean."

"Or maybe she's just a really powerful witch or demon," Merry said.

"I dunno... the things she can do, the things we saw," Pippin said doubtfully. "She had wings. Actual, real wings. And that lightning… not to mention Australia!"

"Maybe those were just psychic projections. Maybe we never even left Knott."

"Then how did you get into this room?" Danny asked.

"Some demons can teleport, or so I've heard. And I'm sure it's something a witch could do."

"If she was a witch, why would she be helping us?" Pippin pointed out.

Merry shrugged. "Get us off her trail by throwing one of her underlings in our path?"

Pippin shook her head. "You're paranoid."

"My paranoia keeps us safe. You're naïve."

As an argument ensued, Ava stopped Watching the family. It didn't particularly matter to her whether they believed her, as long as they could perform the spell. But if they were right, and it brought the witch out of hiding, it could be dangerous for them. Perhaps it would be prudent to observe them as they cast the spell. Yes, she decided, that would be for the best. She plucked a wing feather from the falcon, and put it into the box she had brought along for the rest of the ingredients. The sooner she could end this witch's spell, the sooner she could continue helping people.

o - o - o - o - o

The bedsit smelt as if somebody had mixed together crushed root from a hundred year old Lebanese fig, human blood, the feather of a freshly slaughtered bird, and then mixed in a handful of herbs just to make it interesting. In essence, that was what somebody had done. It had taken Ava almost a day to collect everything required, and then half of the next day for the sisters to mix the ingredients in the correct quantities, in the correct order, over the correct heat. The pan on the stove was a far cry from a witch's cauldron, but it would have to suffice.

"I don't understand," Ava said, as she peered over the pan that Pippin was stirring as Danny added a small measure of sage. "If you did not have the ingredients necessary to cast the counter-spell before you met me, how did you intend to stop the witch or witches?"

"By wasting them," Merry said, using her finger to draw a line across her throat to demonstrate the point.

"The weather controlling spell," Danny elaborated, "isn't just cast once. It has to be maintained, for the ill-effects to continue. To maintain it, the witch uses their blood, spilling it on a dark altar, to fuel the drought. One of the ways of breaking the spell is to spill the blood of the witch. Um… all of it."

"You seem to be very knowledgeable about magic," Ava observed.

"Well it's not like I have anything else to do, except sit around and read books," he said, with a scowl for Merry. "If my sisters would let me go hunting with them every once in a while, I might actually learn something other than theory."

"We're not having this conversation now, Danny," said Merry.

"Why not? I can shoot a gun just as well as you can, and I've trained in armed combat since I was seven years old."

"How old are you, Danny?" Ava asked.

"Sixteen."

"In many cultures, your brother would be old enough to vote and marry," Ava told Merry. "Why do you prevent him from hunting with you?"

"Because it's not safe," said Merry. "And I'll thank you for keeping your nose out of our business."

"I think this is ready," Pippin said, giving the pan one final stir.

"Alright," Merry said, standing straight, focused on the task, "what next?"

"We have to take the potion and spill it on ground affected by the drought. A bit of easy latin chanting, and Bob's your uncle."

"Bobby is your uncle?" Ava asked, surprised. Bobby hadn't mentioned anything about having nieces and nephews.

"It's just an expression," Danny told her.

"The book did say, however," Pippin continued, "that when this counter-spell is cast, a lot of magic energy is going to be released. Whatever the witch has been manipulating will have been stored somewhere, and the counter-spell will just let it all out. It might be best if we did it as far from the town as we can get."

"I know of some fields, on the outskirts," Ava said. "I saw them when I was walking into town. I don't think anybody will disturb us, out there."

"Great, it's a plan," said Merry. "Pip, put that potion in a bottle with a stopper. I don't want us spilling any. I'll grab weapons. Danny, pack up this place and pay the bill. We'll be heading out as soon as it's done."

"But I want to come with you," Danny moaned.

"No. Pack up. Pay the bill. We'll be back as soon as it's done, so don't dawdle. Avariel, how far to those fields?"

"A couple of miles, but I can take us there immediately."

"Good. Pip, how's that potion coming?"

"Can't rush perfection," the other twin replied. She was carefully pouring the potion into a bottle over the sink. "There, that should be more than enough. You'll wanna grab the grimoire though, it's got the chant."

Merry handed a pistol to Pippin, loaded up a shotgun, and then picked up a dark, leather-bound book from the arm of the sofa. She nodded at Ava. "Ready."

Ava touched the shoulders of both women, and teleported them to the field she had in mind, after glancing ahead to ensure it truly was empty. A touch was not technically required for teleportation, but it did make it easier, and less taxing for an angel if they were in physical contact with their intended passengers. When they arrived in the field, the twins looked dizzied for a moment, but they recovered quickly enough.

"Thanks for the lift," said Merry, "but we got it from here."

"You do not want me to stay and help?"

"No, it's fine. We work best alone anyway. Really, we appreciate all you've done, but as soon as this thing's finished, we're out of here. You might wanna stick around for a while and make sure the weather's really back to normal, though."

"Very well," she agreed.

She turned herself invisible, but did not leave. Instead she stood back, to watch the young women as they went about their tasks. They seemed to know what they were doing, because they worked in silence. When Pippin had cleared the dying crops in a small patch of the field, exposing bare earth, Merry opened the stopper on the bottle, and waited whilst her sister picked up the grimoire and turned to the relevant page.

"Sie nos spiritus de loco isto in terra, spiritus, ventus, ignis et aqua. Ut nos dicimus, quod ruptis vinculis teneat servitio. Adhibenda te renuntiares vacare praecipio. Quod factum est infectum. Futurum est voluntate."

Before Merry could start pouring the potion onto the ground, both girls were knocked backwards, the grimoire flying out of Pippin's hands, and the bottle of potion levitating just above the ground, out of Merry's reach.

"Now now, girls," said a familiar voice. "You shouldn't be out here performing such dark rituals. It's unbecoming."

Ava did not want to believe it. Dylan was walking through the field, stepping into the area where the twins were performing the counter-spell. He was the one who had thrown them aside as if they were nothing. He was the witch. She had looked in his eyes, and not seen the evil lurking beneath. And, as she watched, he picked up the bottle of potion and incinerated it with his touch.

When he drew a curved dagger and began advancing towards the twins, who were seemingly pinned on the ground, Ava walked around behind Dylan, then manifested herself.

"Dylan," she said. "What's going on here?"

"It's good you're here, Nina," he replied, looking troubled. "These two are witches, and I caught them trying to perform some sort of spell. They're the ones responsible for the drought."

"Really?" she asked. "These two strangers, who have never been to town before, caused the drought? The same drought which, coincidentally enough, started around the same time you got back from your road trip?"

He gave her a sinister smile, and turned to face her. He did not appear to know what she was, because he had called her 'Nina', and because if he had known she was an angel, he would have run instead of turning.

"Can't get anything past you, Nina," he said. Suddenly, the green eyes that had looked at her so approvingly were full of loathing and hate. "So I lied. To my family. The road-trip wasn't quite the drinking binge I'd let on. Well, not entirely. There was plenty of alcohol, at first. Then we came across an old book, just lying in some old house we were holed up in for the night. And we thought it might be fun to do one of the spooooky rituals. But guess what? Turns out the book was real. We summoned something. Something that told us a storm was coming. Something that offered us power, and rewards, if we picked the right side to fight on."

Ava closed her eyes, and shook her head. "You foolish boy. You climbed into bed with a demon, and you think you'll be rewarded?"

"Oh, I know I will." He grinned a frightening smile. "See, I know what's out there, now. I know that the devil walks free. And I know that when he's won the war, he'll be grateful to everyone who played their parts."

"Lucifer will not be grateful to you," she said. "He hates humanity. He will consider you nothing more than an amusing fly, and he will swat you the first chance he gets."

"That's not how I hear it. But then, it seems we're on different sides. You have an angel whispering in your ear, and I have a demon whispering in mine. Maybe we should have a show-down. Right here, right now. See whose side is the strongest. Good little church-going Nina… or me."

"You didn't really come back to look out for your sister and Jack, did you?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

He let her approach, confident of his own power, and laughed scornfully. "What, the doormat and her noisy brat? As if I'd tie myself down with those two. It's all I can do to stay in the same house as them. But it's remarkable, how you mindless sheep just fall into believing the lies."

She took another step forward, into striking distance of the knife. "So… you're going to kill me?"

"Unfortunately, yes. As amusing as it's been to have you to play with, you and these two bitches are in my way. Tell me… where's your God now, Nina?"

He lifted his hand and brought the knife down fast, slashing towards her neck. She reached out with her hand, catching his arm, holding it an inch away from her flesh. She could see confusion starting to grow on his face; he should have been far stronger than slender little 'Nina'. And even when he pushed with all his strength, he couldn't make the knife budge that last inch.

"My God is right here," she said quietly. "Where is yours?"

She twisted his arm, along with his hand and the knife, turning it away from her, and it plunged into Dylan's thoracic region. She felt the metal slip between two ribs, slicing through muscle, nicking one of the major arteries close to his heart. He gasped for breath and spat out blood, his hand spasming around the hilt of the blade which he still grasped. As the light of life began to fade from his eyes, she lowered him to the ground.

"I lied too, Dylan," she told him. "I don't have an angel talking to me. I am an angel. Your fate was sealed from the moment we met."

Shock and horror entered his eyes in the instant they went cold and unseeing. Ava looked up to see a man in a black suit crouching down beside the dying human. As soon as the soul was removed from the body, the Reaper looked up at Ava briefly, and then disappeared. She did not have to guess what the horror in Dylan's eyes meant. Reapers were merely agents of death; they did not decide where the souls went, they just separated them from the body. Dylan's soul was bound for Hell; he had sold it without even knowing what he had done, and now it would suffer for all eternity in the pit, until it too became a demon. For as long as human souls remained corruptible, there would be demons. It was how they were born.

She heard movement, and in her peripheral vision she saw Merry and Pippin pushing themselves to their feet, but she did not take her eyes off the body of the young man. This was the first time she had ever killed something. The falcon didn't count, because it was already dying. She had just taken a human life. Despite all of her good intentions, she had been put into a position where she was between a rock and a hard place. Dylan had incinerated the potion. The only way to end the spell, to save the town, had been to end his life. But the man she had killed had been somebody's son. Somebody's brother. Somebody's uncle. Human lifespans were already short enough, and she had just snuffed one out after it had barely begun.

Before either of the twins could say anything, she closed her eyes, and teleported.

o - o - o - o - o

Ava returned to her bedroom in the Reverend's house, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress not only had a hole in it, but it was spattered with the blood of Dylan Thomson. Reaching under the bed, she took out the bag she had arrived with, and pulled out Jo's clothes given to her by Bobby. She took off the dress and teleported it to a random garbage incinerator, destroying it. Then she dressed in the jeans, shirt, blouse and boots, and looked around the room.

She could not stay here. Not only was her work complete, but she had also killed a person. She could not see these people again. How could she face Reverend Woodward and Sally, who had welcomed her into her home, and tell them that she was a killer? What would she say to Amber? She had saved the girl's husband, but murdered her brother. One good deed did not negate a bad one.

Picking up her now empty bag, she left the room and went downstairs. Patch whined at her from in front of the fire, asking why she had left him alone, and she realised that she had been gone for a day and a half. She hadn't even thought about coming back here, to assure the Woodwards that she was alright. Bending down, she stroked the dog's head. I have to go, she told him. Be good.

She went to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and dialled a number. It rang three times, and then a man's voice answered.

"This better be good."

"I need to see you," she said.

"Silicon Valley, the Dempsey Building, Vice chairman's office."

She hung up the phone and teleported into the room in question. Gabriel was sitting behind a desk in an executive leather chair. He was dressed in a fancy suit and tie, his hair coiffed to one side. When she arrived he leant back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head to observe her.

"You like?" he asked. "Armani. I'm the Vice CEO of this company. They design, manufacture and distribute parts for various home appliances... washing machines, fridges, vacuum cleaners, ad infinitum."

"Why?" she asked, putting her own concerns aside for a moment. "What is your purpose here?"

"Well, this company was founded on strong, family-friendly morals and a strict code of ethics. Every summer they have a company picnic, all the little tykes of the bigwigs and the little folk alike, running around, playing games and having fun. But the thing most people don't know is this whole company runs off child labour. That's right, a couple of hundred of kids in Bangladesh work for peanuts night and day, in hazardous conditions... some of them lose digits and limbs. And while all that's going on, these assholes sit on their thrones and rake in the cash so they can buy their wives a new SUV every year and a holiday home in France."

"And…?"

"And I'm going to bring the whole thing down," he grinned. "Burn it all to the ground. Oh, don't give me that look, I don't mean literally, it's a figure of speech. You see, there's about to be an investigation into the dealings of the company. Seems somebody high up the chain… c'est moi… has tipped off the media. Give it a week and these fat-cats will be destitute paupers."

"So this is justice?"

"More than that... it's delicious poetic justice." He sat up in his chair, and gestured to a smaller chair on the other side of the desk, inviting her to sit. "But enough about me. What brings you here? Is it the boys?"

"No, I haven't seen anything of them since we last spoke. They must be out on a job, away from Bobby or Castiel."

"Then why did you come?"

"I… have killed a human," she admitted.

"And?"

"And it makes me feel bad."

"Why?" he asked, looking confused. "You're not the first grigori to kill a human. Not even the first angel. Hell, in a good week, I get two or three."

"And you feel nothing, afterwards?"

"Other than a sort of tingly feeling? No. And that's how it should be. We're angels, ma cherié. Sometimes, wasting humans is just part of the job. Just out of curiosity, why'd you do it?"

"The man was a witch, and he attacked me."

"Killing in self-defence? There's nothing wrong with that," he shrugged. "It's not like you went on a murder spree."

"But regardless, he was somebody I knew. He had a family who loved him."

"I bet they wouldn't have loved him if they'd known what he was."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But why should we decide who deserves to live, and who to die, what is fair and what is not?"

"Deserving? Fair?" he scoffed. "Now you sound like a human. Let me tell you something; there is no such thing as 'fair'. There is just stuff that happens. 'Fairness' is a human concept they came up with because they think the whole universe oughta revolve around them, and they want to justify their places in this crazy thing called life. So you smoked a witch. Big deal. That's what we call a service to humanity."

"Then maybe I am broken," she said. "Because I feel wrong, inside here." She held her hand against where Katie's stomach was.

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

"I don't know. I had to rush the possession of my vessel, and for the first few days after waking from my fight with Zachariah, I felt a little... disjointed. But I've only felt bad since killing the witch."

"Alright." He stood up and flexed his fingers, making his knuckles crack. "Sit still and let Doctor Gabriel take a look at you."

He walked around to the front of the desk and perched on the edge of it before reaching over to place a hand on Ava's head. She felt him rifling through her thoughts, memories and experiences. He made occasional and random remarks; 'Hmm', 'Interesting', and 'I see'. The procedure was not painful, but it did feel like a spider was crawling around inside her mind, its ticklish legs running over her thoughts. At last he pulled his hand away from her head, opened his eyes, and took a step back.

"Well, that explains it," he said.

"What explains what?"

"You're not broken, there's just more than there should be up in your noggin."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, trying to keep the concern from her voice.

"Did you think you could just swear an oath to a human without any repercussions? No, the oath is a two way thing. Bobby gets your obedience, and you get a little taste of humanity."

"You mean... a soul?"

"Nothing so shiny or dramatic. Just a very small reflection of a soul. A peek through the window, if you will. That's why you feel protective towards those Winchesters. That's why you feel squeamish at the thought of killing. You're not quite as angelically ruthless as you should be. You've got yourself a bit of a conscience."

"What's to be done about it?" she asked with a shiver. If this was just a peek at what a soul felt like, how terrible could the real thing be? How was it that humans could still walk around with all of their anger, their guilt, their hope, their love, their doubt, their fear, without burning from the inside out?

"That's up to you," he said, taking his leather seat once more. "You're still an angel. With a little focus and meditation, you could… well… not separate it, because you're bound to it by your oath, but you could section it off. Put it to one side and build a wall around it, to keep it out. It might not be a permanent solution, but it should buy you some time to make other arrangements."

"Alright, how do I do that?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "It's your mind and your oath. You'll have to figure that one out for yourself, I'm afraid." He shuffled a pile of papers on his desk. "Now if you don't mind, I have a company to run into the ground."

"Where should I go? What should I do?"

"That's up to you. Until you have something on the boys, or until I need you, it's your life."

She nodded, disappointed that he was not going to instruct her, but relieved that she might have chance to work on the soul issue. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Gabriel," she said, standing up and preparing to teleport.

"Good luck with your little existential quandary."

o - o - o - o - o

The sun rose, and a gong rang three times, the sound echoing around the forested hills of Fukui. The students of the Eihei-ji monastery were already dressed and doing chores when the gong rang for morning meditation, but Ava ignored it. Sitting cross-legged on a woven straw mat on the floor of her room, her attention was focused inward, on herself. She was close, now, to an answer.

Three weeks ago she had come to the temple as a pilgrim, requesting shelter and solitude from the abbot. From the moment it had been granted, and she had donned the long black robes of a Buddhist student, she had observed a vow of silence. And though she had done chores with the other disciples, and attended the single meal of the day with them even though she required no food or water, she spent the rest of the day in deep meditation, either in one of the gardens or in her tiny bedroom.

From listening to the senior monks, she had determined that before she could deal with the future or the present, she had to deal with the past. So in her mind, she had relived everything that had happened to her over the last few months. She had reflected on the rebellion, studied it from all angles, pondered whether it had been the right thing to do at the time. Angels had died, because of her. Because she not only believed in Gabriel, and Bartholomew, but because she believed she was right. She believed that her actions were what God would have wanted, even though she had no way of knowing what her Father desired.

Reconciling her decision had not been easy, and there were moments when she had considered breaking her vow of silence several times to seek wisdom from the monks. But what could they say, to help her through this? What she had done, and what she felt, was in direct opposition to what her Father had made her. She had come to understand that, perhaps, the grigori were flawed. Maybe they always had been. Maybe they were too close to humanity, too influenced by it because they saw too much. How else could so many have fallen, with Samyaza, and Azazel?

She had not realised, at the time of killing Dylan, that the act would force her to question everything that she knew, but in a way, she was lucky that this was happening now, when she had people around who could help her. Although Gabriel seemed content to let her handle her own situation, she knew that Bobby would try to aid her, if she asked for his assistance. But she did not ask. She could not speak to him about what she had done. Not until she discerned what it meant. What everything meant.

And so she accepted that she was flawed. She accepted that, whether God wanted it or not, she had begun to make decisions on her own. She had an opinion. She had thoughts and she was capable of having feelings. She recognised the difference between right and wrong. She understood that if she was going to walk this path, she would have to accept the consequences of her actions. Then, she made a vow to herself. There would be times when she might need to kill. But she would do everything in her power to avoid killing or harming anybody or anything.

She had spoken to Gabriel of becoming a hunter, though it was mostly a casual comment. Now, however, she considered it more seriously. She was just a grigori. To other angels she was weak; an annoying wasp, buzzing around their heads. To arch-angels she was even less; a tiny mosquito. But the wasp and the mosquito had their own weapons, just as she did.

She could not stop the apocalypse. Not on her own. But she could help Gabriel to avert it. She could help to keep humanity as safe as possible, whilst he worked on his plans. And when the apocalypse had been shut down, she would need something else to do. Another way to help the humans. Hunting monsters seemed like the best way to do it, because good hunters were often in short supply. Besides, she had extensive knowledge of dark and demonic things, so it was only natural that she employ her skills and knowledge in such areas.

After accepting her role in Heaven and on Earth, and coming to terms with her part in the rebellion, along with its consequences, she turned her thoughts to Knott. There was no other way she could have stopped Dylan and stopped the drought. The dark magics that many witches used often corrupted them, and Dylan's corruption appeared to have been swift, which meant a powerful demon had been called by the book Dylan spoke of. Because Dylan had destroyed the potion for the counter-spell, his death… the spilling of his blood… was the only way that she had been able to break the destructive ritual. Even if the twins had managed to break the spell, he would only have done it again… or he may have done something worse. He had been beyond saving.

His words, which had not sunk in completely at the time, now troubled her. He'd said that he and his friends had read from the book, and summoned the demon, which had offered them power and rewards for their assistance. Which meant that in all likelihood, there were more of these witches out there, in service to the demon. They were probably casting similar spells in their own towns. And without somebody to stop them, they would only cause more havoc.

With her path made clearer, she turned her thoughts to the subject of souls. They seemed like such troublesome things. Why had her Father put them inside humans? Was a soul the reason why humans were such chaotic, disorderly creatures? Did a soul give a human the power to ask questions, to decide their own fate, to say yes or no and choose another path to walk if their current one didn't suit them? Were souls what made humans so... unique, to her Father?

It was so strange. Humans could do something angels couldn't; they could create more of themselves. They could create new souls from nothing but two haploid cells. Ava knew how reproduction worked; she had seen it enough times to be familiar with the mechanics. What she didn't know was how new human beings got souls. Did they grow inside the womb, were they imbued from the souls of the parents, or was it more work of her Father that she could not see? Was there a type of angel, undetectable to her brothers and sisters, which whipped up human souls and then stuck them inside a growing foetus?

It was another thing which wasn't 'fair'. Here humans were, spreading and multiplying wherever they went, whilst the numbers of angels dwindled every day. The fight against Lilith had taken its toll; many of Castiel's garrison, and others in garrisons like his, had died to stop the demon from unlocking the seals on Lucifer's prison, and all for nothing. The arch-angels had betrayed them, sacrificing their subordinates, allowing them to believe they were stopping the apocalypse, when in actual fact they were bringing it to fruition. It was that which had finally convinced Bartholomew to rebel, and one of the reasons why Ava hated Michael and Raphael. That they would allow countless millions of humans to die in the apocalypse was one thing. That they would sacrifice angels to bring it about was completely another. The arch-angels had betrayed Heaven and God. Ava could not stop them, but she could help to derail their plans.

Though it wasn't easy, she was eventually able to locate the 'reflection' of Bobby's soul, which Gabriel had talked about. First she had to separate her own being almost completely from that of Katie, pulling away from the girl's mind, separating herself from everything human. With that accomplished she began searching for anything incongruous, and at last found a very thin gold thread that did not belong to herself or her vessel. It pulsed very slowly, seemingly with a life of its own, and it seemed to resist being grasped. In the end she merely erected a mental barrier around it, separating it from her own silvery-white being. The oath was still in place, she was still bound to obey, but the echo of Bobby's soul was now separated from her. With the barrier in place, she relaxed her hold on Katie, allowing the girl's mind a little more access to consciousness, and opened her eyes.

She felt much calmer, now. Much more at peace with herself. She knew who she was, and where she was going, and she had a good idea about how to get there. For the first time in three weeks she activated her Watcher-vision, and briefly checked up on Bobby and Castiel. Neither was doing anything of import, and neither was with the Winchesters, so she stood up and opened the single drawer of her small bedside cupboard, taking out the clothes she had arrived in. She pulled the student robes over her head and lay them out on the bed, ready for the next person to take this room. Finally clad once more in her normal clothes, she zipped up the empty bag she carried and threw it over her shoulder, and stopped at the door to take one final look around the room. Then she closed the door, and stepped out into the corridor.

Through familiar halls she walked, until she came to a spacious vestibule area which housed a stone statue. This was a daily ritual, for her. Every morning she came here, to look at the statue of the round-faced woman with the elaborate head-dress, but she didn't know why. There was just something about the statue that spoke to her, though not in any voice she could recognise or understand.

When she heard quiet footsteps approach, she looked around and saw the abbot of the temple standing by her side, looking at the statue with her. He wasn't a tall man, only an inch or so taller than her, and his face was heavily wrinkled, his head completely bald.

"You are leaving us," he said quietly, in Japanese.

"Yes," she replied in his own language.

"You have found what you came here to look for?"

"I have."

"Then you are at the beginning of your journey."

"So it would seem."

"This does not mean that you will stop learning. For as long as your eyes and ears are open, every day will bring you new lessons, new wisdom."

She nodded in understanding. Though she had come to accept her past, her present and her immediate future, she knew that there was still much for her to learn. Angels were knowledgeable, but they didn't know everything.

"You come to this statue often," he observed, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

"I feel... drawn to it," she admitted. "I don't know why."

"It does not surprise me that you are drawn here. Do you know anything about the statue?"

"No, but I would like to."

"She is Kanzeon, a bodhisattva, an enlightened being or spirit from a higher realm. She has many names, in many languages. In Chinese she is Guanshiyin, 'Observing the cries of the world'. In English, she would be called 'Goddess of Mercy'. In Sanskrit, Avalokitasvara, 'She who perceives the world's lamentations'. There are many legends about her."

"What sort of legends?"

"They vary," he explained, "from place to place, and time to time. They mostly follow the same theme, though; Kanzeon is a divine being, or a girl, sometimes the daughter of a king, who has the chance to reside in eternal happiness. But she witnesses the suffering of the people on Earth, or sometimes the souls in Hell, and she turns away from eternal happiness, vowing not to rest until she has broken the cycle of samsara—suffering—for all. She takes on the negative karma of others, sparing them from damnation. Because she has always done so much good in her life, and because she is a source of positive karma, the negative karma does not harm her, as it would a normal man or woman. She forgives those who have harmed or wronged her, and her compassion and mercy are limitless."

"A little like Jesus Christ?" she asked.

"A little. But from what I understand, Jesus was both the son of God, and a man. Kanzeon could be a man, or a woman, or a girl, or a boy… in China, she is sometimes venerated as a tiger. She was not sent to ease the suffering of others, but chooses to do so herself."

"And does she succeed?" she asked. "Does she break the cycle of samsara, and save the world?"

He smiled. "Looking around at all that happens outside the walls of this temple, I'm inclined to believe she's still working on it."

"Do you think she will achieve her goal, in the end?"

"Well, in one of the legends, she is taken to Hell and her mere presence restores some of the suffering souls to Earth, and turns Hell into a paradise. The ruler of Hell fears for his realm, and casts her back out to the Earth, so that she does not destroy all that he has. I like to think that one day she will succeed."

Ava said nothing. Many human cultures had prophecies and legends about 'paradise on Earth', and 'an end to all suffering', and they all differed. At least this Buddhist legend sounded more peaceful than the apocalypse. Why did everything have to end in a final battle? Her Father had created humanity, therefore he had created all religions. Buddhism was no more right or wrong than Christianity or Islam. Everybody had to believe in something; even the atheists clung to their theory of evolution, raising it up on a dais to worship it as truth.

Something the abbot had said suddenly returned to her memory. "Why did you say it doesn't surprise you that I am drawn here?" she asked.

He looked surprised by her words, and gestured to the statue. "You do not know? That is your statue. It depicts you."

She laughed, a genuine expression of mirth, and shook her head. "I am not Kanzeon."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure. How could you even think that?"

"Because I can see your face."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide whether he was being serious or philosophical. It was not the latter, she decided, so she reached out with her hand, touching her fingers to his forehead. In that moment, she saw what he truly was; a vessel for an angel, as yet uninhabited. He might never be claimed, dying free of the responsibility that came with being the host for a celestial being. But simply having the potential to be a vessel afforded him certain abilities; he, like Katie, would be able to hear the true voice of an angel, without going deaf. He would be able to look upon an angel's true form, without going blind.

"So you can," she said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not Kanzeon."

He simply smiled. "Perhaps you will remember who you are, given time."

"I am an angel, a servant of the Christian God," she said firmly. "Not a goddess of mercy."

"And I am a man," he replied. "I am also an abbot, a father, a leader, a teacher, a grandfather, a student and a follower. Just because I am one thing, does not mean I cannot be others. Which label somebody uses for me, depends on their relationship to me, and how they see me."

"That's an… interesting philosophical view," she admitted. She had never thought of it that way before. She was an angel of the Lord. She had always been an angel of the Lord. The thought that she could be something else, but also still be an angel of the Lord, was… almost alien. "But what if I don't want to be Kanzeon? What if I don't want that responsibility?"

"You will be Kanzeon, or you will not. This will be decided by your nature, not your will."

This conversation was heading into territory Ava did not want to explore. She was slowly coming to accept that she could make her own decisions, that she had free will; the last thing she wanted to do now was consider that her free will was determined or restricted by her underlying nature. It was just too complex for her to process at the moment.

"It's time for me to leave," she said.

"I wish you well on your journey."

"Thank you for your words. I will think about them as I travel."

Her business at the monastery concluded, she teleported.

- o -

Author's Note: And so we reach the end of Book 2. A little shorter than Book 1, but it's set the scene for events which will have long-lasting consequences.