DISCLAIMER: Chapter may/will contain dialogue/events directly from the show. For this reason, I insistently stress that I do NOT own Supernatural.

Of the Light

Elm Treigh

Chapter Nine

St. Michael's Church

"Running away will never make you free."

-Kenny Loggins


"Miss? Miss?"

Magdalena stirred in her sleep but refused to wake. Her head was pounding with a headache that made her weak. She moaned in aggravation as she felt someone beginning to shake her and prod her back to the real world. But she didn't want to return. She wanted to sleep the migraine away.

"Miss? This is the last stop. I need you to get off the bus." Said a far away voice, nudging Magdalena.

Magdalena sighed. Who would be waking her? She was sleeping soundly. Wait. I wasn't sleeping. Her foggy, sleepy mind began to slowly clear as the distant voice continued it's mantra. Last stop? Did it say last stop? She very reluctantly opened her eyes. A man in a blue uniform was staring at her, relieved to see she finally woke and irritated that it took her so long to wake. Magdalena, confused to see a stranger in blue and not Chuck, looked around. She was seated, her duffel clutched tightly on her lap, and she was on a bus. A bus? How did I―

"Where the Hell am I?" She asked the stranger.

"You're in Chicago, Illinois," The man in the blue uniform answered cautiously; noticing the panic and confusion in Magdalena's eyes. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get off the bus." He repeated.

Magdalena blinked, not grasping the man's request. Chicago, Illinois? She stared at the man, whom she now realized was the bus driver, dazed. He stared back at her, a little worried. Get off. You gotta get off the bus. "Get off the bus," She whispered.

"Yes, Miss. Please."

"Oh, um, sure," She whispered back, gathering her things to leave.

How did I get to Chicago, Illinois? Flashes of Chuck and his living room, of Zachariah and the way he ignored her presence as though she were a nuisance came before her mind and she grit her teeth angrily. Zachariah, you son of a bitch! She stood suddenly, nearly knocking the bus driver over in her hurry to get off. She was quickly losing her temper and almost fell off the bus, bumping into someone with unwarranted menace. She gave whoever it was a hasty apology as she stalked away from the massive vehicle and the people surrounding it, ignoring the incredulous stares that came her way.

"I hope Chuck's alright," She muttered to herself, unable to get Zachariah's smug visage out of her mind. She scowled. That asshole!

She thought about all the things she wish she could do to him and all the Angels like him. For example, breaking them limb from limb with her bare hands and then staple them back together anatomically incorrect and then pushing them off a cliff and into a fiery pit. But she can't. They're seemingly invincible. Only an Angel can kill them and only a Demon is strong enough to hurt them. She pouted. Too bad she wasn't an Angel or strong enough to do some serious damage to one. It's not like some of them don't deserve it.

Her thoughts lead to what the Angels have done to her favorite men, Sam and Dean. Making their lives a Hell of a lot more difficult to live by making them targets for Demon's because they were associated with them. Which is bad, seeing as they were already targets just for being themselves. Funny how they have that effect. She chuckled. Sam and Dean, especially Dean and his smart ass comments, have always managed to make more enemies than friends in the supernatural world. Oh those Winchester's. She sighed.

Not knowing where she was going, her feet taking her wherever they pleased. Happy to be in charge for once, until Magdalena returned from her thoughts and frowned. She had walked a good distance, away from the bus station and now it looked like she was lost. Again. She groaned, looking around for street signs. Now what? She had never been to Chicago, let alone the state of Illinois. Not to mention she had no clue as to what she was going to do or what she is supposed to do. She briefly considered calling on Castiel and await orders before realizing that she was completely dependent on an Angel that was always leaving her hanging― pout― and felt like an idiot for wanting more from him.

"Okay," She breathed, "First things first. Where exactly am I?"

She looked around and saw a convenient store. How convenient. She smiled, deciding she would start there.

She walked in, checking her surroundings subtly. A new habit she's picked up thanks to the new change her life has taken upon and smiled at the only other person she spotted in the store: the man behind the counter.

"Excuse me," She began, approaching him. "Do you know where exactly in Chicago I'm in? I was here with some buddies sight seeing― it's my first time in Chicago― and we kinda got separated." She surprised herself with how easily that lie came to her.

The man behind the counter gave her a lustful once over, appreciating what was standing before him. He smiled suggestively at her. A smile Magdalena knew too well. Growing up, from the moment she hit puberty and her curves were coming into play, all she ever received from men from the ages of twelve and up were perverse leers. She stifled an annoyed sigh.

"I'd really appreciate the help," she continued, ignoring the clerk's undressing eyes as they settled on her breasts. "My boyfriend..." Peter? No. I can't use Peter. He's gone. Forever. She thought sadly. Cas? She inwardly scoffed. Right. 'Cause there's definitely something going on there. Chuck? Ha ha! Nope. Dean? Hmm... "Sam! My boyfriend Sam is probably worried sick about me and I don't like to worry the big guy."

The clerk frowned. Boyfriend? Big guy? His shoulders slumped, defeated, and handed her a map to the town without looking at her. "You're in Old Town Chicago."

Magdalena, glad to have diverted any advances he may have wanted to make and determinedly decided not to dwell on why she settled on Sam and not someone from her past or some random name plucked from the sea of names, took the map gratefully. She dug into her jean pockets for money to pay for the map; handed him the money, and gave him a wide, thankful smile and a wink, appeasing his hurt ego. The man returned the smile with a sheepish grin and an 'it-was-nothing' shrug.

As Magdalena walked out of the store, map spread out in front of her, hoping this one was less confusing and less complicated than the last map, she couldn't help but wonder about the boys and Chuck, and even Castiel.

Would Sam and Dean be upset with her? Again. Dean had gotten over her leaving, or was starting to accept her absence, would he be able to forgive her this time too? Or would it renew however it was he felt about her? Not that she knew what it was that he felt about her. All they have ever done when they spoke was bicker. Which wouldn't happen if he would quit treating her like an incompetent damsel in distress. Something she's far from. So what if she didn't know much about the supernatural world? She's a fast learner. She'll deal. Dean needs to relax.

As for Sam? She had grown very fond of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. The few times she had spent talking with him because Dean would become annoyed with their conversation and was pawned off to Sam, was something she enjoyed. In fact, there were times when she would purposely frustrate Dean just so she could talk to Sam. Sure she could call Sam's cell, or ask for him when she'd call Dean's phone, but it was much too fun teasing and annoying Dean to pass that up. No matter how comfortable Sam made her feel.

It was Sam that helped her with her mourning. They shared a common tragedy. Both had lost their loved ones due to a Demon. Both had their family and loved ones taken from them in a fiery death. Both had had destiny's neither wanted to fulfill. He had helped her with her heartache, though he couldn't stop her nightmares. Still, the small comfort he provided her, even from a distance, was something she needed.

Is that why you used him as your 'boyfriend'? She asked herself.

No.

Then why? Do you have a thing for him?

No... I can't. She stroked her ring. I'm not ready.

She forced herself out of her inner musings. She knew where they would lead and that was a road she didn't care to take. It was too dangerous. She's deliberately avoided it and taken a detour because she wasn't ready to give herself solely to her sorrow. She wasn't ready to accept Peter was gone, though she knew he was. She didn't want to accept it. She didn't want Peter's death to be the driving force that keeps her going. She refuses to use his death or the death of her family for that or for going after the Demon that took them from her. A Demon I'm not even looking for.

Why she wasn't consumed by hatred or revenge was a mystery to her. Maybe it was her being too stubborn to grieve properly. Sure, she's cried for them. She's shed tears until her eyes were dry and her body ached with the exertion of sadness propelling her. But it wasn't enough. She wept for them, but quickly repressed her misery. She hasn't accepted. Her heart still weighed heavily with guilt and anger. She still had trouble breathing in her sleep as their deaths continued to replay over and over. The red-orange eyes always in the background. She missed them so much. It's my fault. They died because of me.

"There was nothing you could have done, Magsie." Sam had said. "Even if you had warned them or had been there..." He trailed. And though she knew he was right, the guilt still cocooned her conscience. The guilt still strangled her whenever she thought of Peter, Lucas, her mom, and her dad. They deserved to live. Not me. Lucas was supposed to graduate, go to college, and become a famous architect. A love he found while with Peter, who had similar goals. Her parents were supposed to grow old together and laugh joyously at the grandchildren she was going to to provide them when she married Peter. But they're gone. I killed them. She swallowed hard the lump that rose. These were dangerous thoughts. She should focus on the task at hand. Like what I'm supposed to do next.

She took a breath, wiped the tears that she hadn't realized she was shedding, and looked down at the map, but all she saw were the Winchester's and Chuck and Castiel. She was worried. I should call them. She sighed and rummaged for her phone.

She scrolled down the contact list, debating whether she should call Sam and Dean or Chuck. She thought about the boys. I wonder what they could be doing right now...? She gasped. She saw Sam and Dean and someone else― who's that? sitting at what looked like a Diner table. Sam appeared somewhat amiable though cautioned and Dean looked tense and upset. His jaw clenched tight, ready to pounce at the young man sitting across from them.

A waitress approached their table, addressing the young man― Adam. His name is Adam. and setting a tall glass of water in front of him, which Dean grasped muttering something about being really thirsty, receiving a weird look from the petite waitress. She decided to ignore Dean and turned to Adam. She asked him if he'd have his usual to which Adam nodded.

Magdalena was perplexed as to what she was witnessing. Was it a vision? She normally had visions when she was asleep. Right now she was wide awake. And she wasn't experiencing any headaches. Her last vision, one she wished she could forget, had her clutching her head in almost unbearable pain. This didn't feel like previous visions. Is this happening right now? It didn't feel like a future occurrence. And how is it I can hear everything? She was unable to hear much before and now she could hear every word uttered. Clear as a bell. This was all very confusing. She pushed her questions aside, however, to watch the scene before her. I'll figure this out later.

Adam, she noticed, resembled the boys very much. Although, his face was pale and he had dark circles under his big blue eyes and his hair was a lighter color. He had Sam's brooding good-looks and Dean's pensive pout. The similarities between Adam and Sam and Dean cannot be coincidental. Did I miss something here? Could this Adam character be Sam and Dean's... brother?

She watched Adam reach for the only other glass of water on the table. She watched Dean lean close, staring intently at Adam as he took a sip. Watched Sam hold a breath. They must have switched the water. But why? Did they suspect he was a fake? Adam wiped his mouth and Dean looked at him deadpanned. Adam had passed his test. Sam quickly regained control of the situation while Dean was temporarily lost in his thoughts.

"So, uh, when's the last time you saw John?" Sam asked.

John? John Winchester?

"Oh, uh, I don't even know... A couple of years," Adam replied, oblivious to the gun Dean pulled out under the table to aim at him.

Dean! Magdalena wanted to scold, but evidently, they couldn't hear her.

"What made you call him?" Sam continued.

"I didn't know who else to call," Adam confessed. "He's the only family I've got." There was a pause as Sam digested the information, while Dean tried not to look as though he were holding a gun under a small square table. "My mom's missing." He finally said.

"Really?" Sam said. "I'm sorry about that. How long?"

"Yeah, that's tragic, really," Dean cut in. "But if you're John's kid, how come we've never heard of you?"

John's kid? John Winchester? Magdalena thought surprised. That would explain the water. Dean had probably switched the drinks with Holy Water.

"John and me didn't really know each other," Adam continued, not bothered by Dean's angry tone. "Not until a few years ago, anyway."

That interested Sam. "What do you mean?"

"My Mom never talked about him, I knew some stuff," Adam answered.

Dean, however, was determined to find this thing slip up so he can kill it. "What kinda stuff?" He interjected.

"My Mom's a nurse," He paused, eying Dean. "And Dad came to the ER torn up. Hunting accident or something."

Or something.

"I knew his name was John Winchester. That's about it. Not exactly a nuclear family..."

"Yeah, well. Who is these days," Sam muttered.

"So when did you― When did you finally meet him?" Dean managed to say as the whole situation was quickly becoming more than he could chew.

Poor Dean.

"When I was twelve?" Adam answered, complacent to the brutal questioning and snippy tone Dean was throwing at him. Something Magdalena found a little suspicious. "My Mom had one of his old numbers and after I begged her, God 24/7, she finally called him." He gave a slight smile to the memory. "When John heard he had a son, he raced over, came into town. I mean, he dropped everything and got here in one night."

The waitress returned with a plate of food and placed it in front of Adam. "Here you go," She said smiling. The momentary interruption allowed Sam and Dean to soak in the memory Adam shared.

"Thanks," Adam replied.

"That's heartwarming," Dean said coldly once the waitress left.

Adam looked up from his meal at Dean. He gave him a look that Magdalena couldn't identify. "You mind?" He asked them.

"Please. Dig in," Dean said with a forced amiable smile on his face, his gun cocked, and pointed at Adam from under the table. His posture became more rigid and tense as he watched Adam pick up the napkin to place it on his lap.

"He would swing by," Adam resumed. "Once a year or so." He reached for the fork and knife. Dean leaned forward, still tense. "Called when he could, but still." He took a bite and Dean's form relaxed lamely, disappointed. Magdalena didn't understand it. "He taught me poker, and pool, and bought me my first beer when I was fifteen." He chuckled while Dean glared at him and put the safety back on his gun. "And, uh, he showed me how to drive." Adam said in between bites. "Dad, uh, he had this beautiful '67 Impala..."

At the mention of his car, Dean snapped. "Oh this is bull crap!" He leaned toward Adam. "You know what? You're lying!"

"No. I'm not," Adam said calmly.

"Uh, yeah, you are," Dean insisted. The angry glint visible in his green eyes.

"I'm sorry, but who the Hell are you to call me a liar?" Adam asked in calm anger.

"We're John Winchester's sons!" Dean all but yelled. "That's who we," He jabbed a thumb in Sam's direction, while Sam reached out a hand to his big brother's shoulder to keep him from leaping over the table at Adam. "Are his son's." His emerald eyes filled with fury rivaling that of the Hulk's as he bore them into Adam.

Adam paused. He blinked once. It looked like he had stopped breathing for a second, looking from one brother to the next. "I've got brothers?"

RING!

RING!

Magdalena jolted back to her reality at the sound of her cell phone ringing. She fumbled for her phone, feeling slightly dizzy to have been pulled from her vision, or whatever that was, so quickly. Finally, she had her phone in hand and nearly dropped it as someone bumped into her. She reached out and caught the still ringing phone before it fell to the ground.

"Rude much?!" She said loudly at the already gone stranger and moved away from the crowd, checking the number on the screen first. Didn't recognize it and answered it curious. "Hello?"

"Magsie?"

"Chuck?" Magdalena answered, surprised. "How'd you get this number?"

"You gave it to me," He answered confused at her question but then quickly said, "Are you okay? Where are you? I've been calling for days."

"Um, I'm fine," She responded, smiling at his concern. "Wait. What do you mean you've been calling for days? I've only been gone one day. Thanks to that asshole!"

There was a hesitant pause before Chuck carefully responded, "Magsie... You've been gone for about three days."

"What?!" Magdalena screeched. The passerby gave her odd looks as they walked by. She in turn gave each an annoyed 'mind-your-business' glare; making the nosy laggards quickly pick up their pace and walk away briskly. She walked further away from the throng. "I haven't been gone for three days. Tha― That's ridiculous, Chuck." She stammered, trying to recall the days she may or may not have lost only to find her mind came up blank. She suppressed a whimper back down her throat.

"Magsie," Chuck said softly.

Magdalena checked the date on her phone. "Oh my God," She whispered. He's right. But―? "I don't understand. How..."

"I don't know," Chuck answered. "But I'm glad you finally answered. I've been calling nonstop as soon as he left."

"You have?" She checked her phone for the missing calls he's mentioned and sure enough, there they were. About sixty or so missed calls from the same number she now knows as Chuck's. 'I've been calling as soon as he left.' "Did he hurt you?"

"No, he didn't."

"Well, what happened?" She found a bench and sat down. The couple already seated, took one look at her, and stood to leave. Magdalena watched them leave, wondering what she had done. She smelled herself and scrunched her nose. Ew. I need a shower.

"He wants me to write."

"That's it? Just write?" Magdalena asked, anger quickly taking over the disgust she felt moments ago. "He poofed me away onto a bus to Chicago, Illinois, only to tell you to write?"

"I guess?" Chuck replied, unsure.

"That asshole!" She hissed. She held the phone away from her to restore her composure. Then returned it to her ear after a few seconds. "Alright. So, now what?" She said mostly to herself.

"Well, um, something came to me last night. About you. Maybe it can help?" Chuck ventured.

"Let me have it," She sighed.

"Okay, um, 'In the House of the Lord, named after the Great Warrior of Heaven, a conference will be held with a Servant of God.'"

"Wait. 'In the House of the Lord'? Like a church?"

"I suppose."

"'Named after the 'Great Warrior of Heaven'? Which one?" She scoffed. "Did you see anything else?"

"Just the Archangel Michael defeating Lucifer."

"The 'Victory of Archangel Michael'?"

"That's the one."

"But that's a famous painting! That could mean any church! Or anywhere!" She groaned.

"I'm sorry. It's all I got."

Magdalena frowned at the defeated tone Chuck used. "Thanks Chuck. At least I know what I'm looking for. Which is better than what I originally planned."

"You had a plan?"

"Um..." Magdalena stalled. Her stomach gave a very loud, lion-like, growl. She placed a hand on her tummy. I'll feed you as soon as I've figured out a game plan. "Okay. You caught me. I had zilch." She heard Chuck chuckle and smiled. "But now, thanks to you, I've got something to start with."

"Well, at least I was good for something," He mumbled.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"You're awesome!" Magdalena said enthusiastically.

"I don't know about that," He said quietly.

Magdalena's smile widened. She imagined Chuck blushing but grinning like a kid in a candy store.

"Magsie?"

"Yes, Chuck?"

"You're not coming back, are you?"

Magdalena's smile faltered. "No, Chuck. Maybe one day, but not right now."

"Yeah. That's what I figured."

"Hey Chuck?" Magdalena asked, thinking of something.

"Yeah?"

"You think this 'House of the Lord' is a grand church or chapel?"

"Most likely."

Magsie nodded, already scanning the buildings around her for chapel's. "Alrighty, Chuck. I'm gonna have to let you go. I look like crap and probably smell like crap too," She laughed. "Plus, I'm starving because apparently I've been gone for three days!" She grit her teeth irritably. "If you hear from the guys, tell 'em I'm fine and dandy."

"Sure thing, Magsie."

"I'll keep in touch, Chuck." She assured him before saying one last good-bye and hung up. She stayed seated on the bench for a while until her stomach gave her another lion's growl. She placed her hand on it, frowning. She looked around and spotted a Norms. She sighed and headed toward the diner. I'll eat, wash up, and then go chapel hunting.


It was a dark metallic tunnel. Light flickered at the end, followed by grunting, and metal clanking on metal as something fell onto the cold floor. More grunting could be heard before a sandy brown haired head made its way inside. Broad shoulders quickly came afterwards and long calloused hands reached for the flashlight, illuminating the metallic tunnel, which she now understood it to be an air vent.

Dean's strong hand grasped the flashlight, and aimed it in front of himself as he continued to struggle to squeeze his broad muscular body into the tiny space. His other hand grabbed his trusty Colt. He was fully inside, laying on his stomach. He looked up to view his surroundings and for clues as is his job. He rolled his eyes at the too familiar state he was in.

"Why didn't I pick paper?" He muttered to himself as he crawled onward, no doubt thinking how ridiculous it is he had to be the one tightened into a small space as he had countless of times before.

He came to the end of the vent where it parted either left or right. Slowly and cautiously, he peered to his right. He found the opening to another room. He scanned the area around the entrance for any signs of anything unusual but came out empty. He crawled a little further with his flashlight and caught something from the corner of his eye on his left side. He brought his Colt up at level with his source of light, prepared to shoot first and ask questions later.

He took a breath and launched himself forward, turning his torso to his left, gun and flashlight leveled next to each other, grunting with the effort it took to achieve such a feat. He froze at the sight before him.

Blood stained all four walls of the air vent. Marred hand prints, bones, and rotting flesh decorated the square space. A struggle and feeding ground. The smell hit him after his initial shock. He covered his mouth and nose with the arm that carried the gun.

"I think I've found Step-Mom," He said under his breath, careful not to breath anything in.

Magdalena tried to hold in her lunch as she forced herself back into her reality. She had been curious about the boys and their newfound brother, but seeing barely discernible flesh, bones, and strands of hair was not what she had in mind. I think I'll call them later.

She decided, for the only reason she was using her newly discovered gift― or curse was to determine two things: 1. Whether these visions were happening right then and in the moment she's seeing them and 2. Depending on what she saw, she was going to test her theory and call them to check in. She was overdue to check in.

However, upon seeing Dean in an air vent, coming across someone's remains― or what was left of them― certainly meant that calling them now would not be a good idea. Clearly they were in the middle of a hunt and the last thing she wants is to interrupt. Yeah, I think I'll call them later.

Instead, she returned to her search for this chapel she's supposed to be looking for. Magdalena had been wandering all over Old Town Chicago and still was unable to find this old grand church she and Chuck suspected she needed to find. Although, truthfully, she wasn't sure what she was going to do once she had.

Chuck had said, in so many words, that she would be speaking to a 'Servant of God'. But now-a-days, with Angels and Demons roaming the Earth practically undetected and 'Save the Earth, the End is near' in every other persons mind, a 'Servant of God' could mean just about anyone.

She wished she had more to go by then just: "In the House of the Lord, named after a Great Warrior of Heaven, a conference will be held with a Servant of God." She tried to dissect that bit by bit. A 'House of the Lord' could only mean a church or chapel. How many regular homes could bestow such a title? None. Unless you count a devout man or woman. Which she was glad wasn't the case because then finding what ever it was Chuck said she'd need to find would be twice as hard and she wasn't having none of that. No sir. And besides, the second part said it would be named after a 'Great Warrior of Heaven'. That could only mean an Angel. Right?

The best known Angles are Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, Metraton, and Michael. As far as she knew, there weren't many churches named after Uriel or Metraton. And most if not all churches were named after saints. They could be warriors of Heaven, couldn't they? No. She shook her head. Saints are not from Heaven. So with that in mind it could mean any church. Especially since many shared the same name!

Apart from finding the right church, she also had to be sure to find the right 'Servant of God' to have this 'conference' with. Again, that could be anyone! A priest for starters. A nun, a habitual church goer, a complete stranger. Hell, it could even be a hobo seeking refuge! Stupid complicated message! She grumped.

Unknown to Magdalena, she was being followed by a pale, sallow, faced man who was scowling dangerously at her. Reaping upon her pain, torture, and more importantly death. She had escaped him once. She won't escape him again. Not this time. He had been watching her for a while and knew for a fact that she was alone. No Winchester to save her. And by the time he was through with her, her little Guardian Angel would have arrived too late. She'd be dead. She needs to die. And he needs to be on good graces with his superiors. Not to mention regain respect to his name.

There was a time when his name brought fear in the hearts of man and Demons alike. He had misjudged, made a mistake, and failed. Thousands of years ago he was unsuccessful and came up short. His name lost it's luster. He was no longer revered. And he was determined to return to his glory days. Best way to achieve that was Magdalena's head on a silver platter and finished what he started all those years ago. She may not know who she is or her role, but she won't be alive long enough to act on it once she does.

He smirked at these happy thoughts and crossed the street to join her. "Excuse me?" He said when he approached her. "Are you lost?"

Magdalena jumped at the sound of the man"s voice. She looked up at him, gave him half a smile, and shrugged. "I'm not lost," She replied. "I just think they moved my destination elsewhere."

He smiled a friendly smile at her. Blending in with these primal humans has been a Demon's specialty. Taught from the moment they became Demon's. Almost ingrained. Humans saw what they wanted to see and believed what others believe. Very few looked beneath the surface and those that have were too late. Their lives would have been taken. Just as hers will.

"Maybe I can help?" He offered.

Magdalena reviewed her map, scrunching her eyes at the afternoon sun blinding her vision, then reviewed the street signs for verification. She appreciated friendly help when offered, but she didn't trust this particular man. She couldn't put her finger on it. There was something about him that felt... wrong. The moment he spoke, the way he smiled at her. It knotted her stomach uncomfortably.

"No thank you," She sighed.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "I am a guy and we're known for our great sense of direction, you know."

That made Magdalena laugh. She folded her map and glimpsed at the stranger. He was of average height and build, with dark hair slicked back to the nape of his neck. His small brown eyes bored into her in a way that tightened the knot in her stomach even more. She winced at the pain.

"Well," She stalled, doing her best to unravel the knot and understand where it was coming from. "If you can tell me where the nearest church is, that would be nice."

"Sure," The man said. "My name's Masten." He extended out an averaged sized hand to her. "Masten Mason."

Magdalena cocked a brow, eying the hand before hesitantly taking it in her own. Magdalena's eyes widened as the knot in her stomach suddenly inflamed and it was all she could do to not bowl over and clutch her abdomen in agony. She breathed in and out slowly to relieve herself of the pain.

"Are you alright?" Masten asked placing a hand on Magdalena's shoulder.

Magdalena hissed and jerked violently away from Masten. "I-I'm fine," She rasped out. "Um, I'm Magdalena. Magdalena De La Luz." She regarded him, feeling weak. Masten smiled innocently at her. A smile that said he knew why Magdalena was in pain and was enjoying it. "Um, you know what? I, uh, I think I see one. I'm good. Thanks anyway, Masten." She said quickly walking away from him.

Masten grabbed her arm roughly before she was too far away. He wrenched her to turn around and force her to look him in the eye. The inflamed knots in Magdalena's core felt as though they were scorching her insides. She stifled a scream. She didn't want to grab any attention from the passerby. Instead, she glared at Masten before she realized that his eyes were no longer brown but red-orange.

"You!" She whispered.

"Hello," Masten chirped with a grin.

"How did you find me?" She tried to pull her away, but that caused his grip to tighten. No doubt bruising her arm.

"Oh, well that's easy," He leaned in, close enough to whisper in her ear. "I had Peter plant a tracking device on you." He pulled back and laughed.

Magdalena stiffened. "How dare―" She pushed hard against him; focusing all the hate she could find on him. But that just made Masten laugh more.

"You know," Masten began, dragging Magsie after him, away from the busy side walk. "If he had killed you like he was supposed to, I wouldn't have to waste my time doing it myself." He threw her against a wall in an alley, hearing a yelp escape her pink lips, he smiled. "But here I am."

"You killed Peter! You killed my family! What do you want from me?!" She hissed in his face.

"Weren't you listening?" Masten chuckled. "I want you dead." He stroked her cheek gently. "Don't you want to join them?" He whispered.

Magdalena scowled at him, moving her face away from him. She closed her eyes to stop the tears, but failed. A lone tear betrayed her as it slid down her cheek. He was right. She wanted to be with them. She would do anything to join them. She missed them so much. She missed her mother's hugs and her father's laugh. She missed Lucas' teasing and Peter's touch. She wanted badly for the pain, the guilt, she felt over their deaths to go away. To allow her to breath properly. To allow her to sleep soundly. Maybe she should just let him kill her.

"I know how you feel, Magsie. The pain I felt when Jess died was... almost unbearable. All I wanted was to find her killer and die in the fight so I can be with her when it was all over. My life... it was empty. It felt empty without her. She was... There was so much guilt. It was suffocating me. I couldn't― Dean brought me back. He always brought me back because he was there. He'll always be there. And now, we'll always be there. Things will be better. I promise."

Sam. Dean. She thought. Castiel. Chuck. She faced Masten, her green eyes shining with angry tears. Determination taking over. This Demon won't kill her. She won't let him. She needs to live. Your life is very important. She can't die. She has to live for Sam and Dean and Chuck. She promised Castiel she would fight. She can't die. Her parents, Lucas, and Peter would have died for nothing if she just gave in to this Demon. I can't die. I won't let him kill me!

Suddenly, Masten retracted his hold on Magdalena. His hand was burned. He glowered at her, hatred for the girl pouring out of his eyes. He almost had her. He knew he did. Without warning, Magdalena struck him in the face. The impact drew blood from Masten's mouth.

"You're stronger than I thought," He commented smoothly as he regained his composure. But Magdalena didn't care to retort with a verbal comeback.

She plowed one hit after another. Over and over, until Masten was bloody on the ground. She knew she couldn't kill him and that her blows wouldn't affect him severely, but she has yet to learn how to exorcise a Demon. And all she needed was to stall him. After all, there were no other options but to run and run is what she did.

She ran for her life. She ran for her parents and Lucas and Peter. She ran for Chuck, Castiel, and even Ted. But more importantly, she ran for the two men that she cares so much about. The two men that saved her life and continue to save her even in absence. She ran for them.


She saw the white blast of a weapon shoot at the air vents. She saw Sam and Adam run out of the room they were in; Sam covering Adam, doing his best to protect his newly found little brother. They ran out in a hurry, down the hall, and down the stairs. Adan pulled on his jacket along the way. Fear encompassing his features.

"Where's your car?" Sam asks urgently.

"Over there."

"Alright," Sam says, glancing slightly toward the direction Adam indicated. "Keys." He ordered.

Adam reached in his pockets, tossing the keys to Sam. "Here, here."

Sam caught them with ease as Adam ran to the other side of his truck, looking back to the hotel room they left, expecting to see some vile creature from his worst nightmares prowling after them.

Sam tucked his gun under his arm, fumbling to find the right key for the truck. His heart raced with adrenaline. The only thoughts running through his mind were to protect Adam. Get Adam to safety. Get Adam out of there.

Adam's breathing began to accelerate, wondering what was taking Sam so long. Sure, it had been only seconds, but it felt like hours. He looked at Sam through the passenger window, feeling panic and fear and anxiety fill the night air. Warming up to suffocate them.

Suddenly, Adam sees Sam fall backward, hard on the pavement; his gun toting away from him, while something pulled him from his legs under the car. Adam's eyes widened at the sight and quickly sprints to Sam's side, yelling his name.

Just as he reaches him, Adam heard the roar of the Chevy Impala pulling up. He looks up in time to see Dean. "Dean, help!" He pleads from Sam's side as he tried to pull him from under the car.

Dean skids to a halt, only having time to park the car hastily, and flew out of it to reach Sam's other side and help Adam pull Sam from under the truck. The creature under the car playing a painful game of tug-o-war with them. Sam grunted with the pain of his limbs being pulled from opposite directions. After much effort, Dean and Adam manage to take control and tug him away. Adam finishing the few inches left because Dean grabbed the gun that Sam had dropped, cocked it, pointed it under the truck, and fired two loud shots. Testament of the anger he felt for the thing that dared to hurt his little brother.

He peered under the truck, waiting for a retaliation from the monster. None came, so he decided to wait a few more seconds then looked at Sam. Sam gave Dean a look, completely out of breath. He looked up at Adam who appeared exhausted from the exertion of energy. Adam heaved a big sigh and allowed himself to fall backward on the pavement to gain back his energy.

It was in that moment that Magdalena chose to wake, panting from what she witnessed in her sleep. There was a feeling in her bones that what she saw occurred exactly in the moment she saw it. A theory she has yet to confirm thanks to Masten.

Goose bumps rose on her arms thinking about her close encounter with the Demon. She couldn't believe she almost allowed some Demon to kill her. She nearly gave up because of her pain. Because she was broken and will remain broken for a while or always. She can't let Masten or any other Demon, for that matter, take advantage of that fact. I'll have to be stronger. She can't be weak. What would Sam and Dean say if they had found out how close she came to death? Worried puppy dog eyes from Sam and worried glares from Dean, for starters. She thought, smiling.

Maybe she should quit this quest given to her and help them? They came pretty close themselves tonight. She resisted the urge to pack up her things right then and there and bum her way to wherever the brothers were. But she knew she couldn't. Chuck saw her at a chapel speaking to someone and she knew that once Chuck has seen it, it can't be undone. No matter what she does, the end result will be her at a church talking to some Servant of God.

Magdalena sighed a deep, heavy sigh; ridding herself of the nerves building and tried to relax. Don't think about them. Don't think about them or Masten. She repeated to herself. Believing and hoping that by keeping her mind off of anything that would worry her and keep her from sleeping. She'd for once sleep soundly. Especially keeping her thoughts away from the Winchester's. As glad as she was to know that she could see them freely for some unknown reason (she was ninety-five percent certain that she saw them in the exact moment she thought about them) she didn't want to worry about what she saw because then she'd be worrying about their safety and want to leave to be with them and help them, when she knew she can't. Not only on Castiel's orders but also of Chuck's vision.

She laid her head back on her pillow, stroking her engagement ring for comfort. Tomorrow she'll find the church she's looking for, have her "conference" with this devout person, and be on her merry way to wherever else she'll be sent to. She sighed at how that sounded.


She rounded the corner to enter the street the map said she needed. She made a list of churches or chapels near her motel and started with the first one on her list. ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH. Probably the thousandth St. Michael church she's visited since her search, but there was something about this one that was different. She had a feeling that this was the church.

The fluttering in her stomach intensified and she knew more than ever that she was on the right path. She was going the right direction. She can feel it. She looked up from her map in time to see towers and pillars and high arced windows of a magnificent church. A beautiful church with senescent russet bricks and white peaks, framed with Gothic windows and gargoyles at the top. A white statue of the Archangel Michael with his famed flame sword held high to the Heavens, stood grandiosely above tall arced double doors. This is it. The butterflies in her anxious core somersaulted triumphantly. She crossed the street to join the House of the Lord.

She reached the steps to the entrance of the dignified church, casting out an eye for this 'Servant of God' and for Masten. He found her once, who's to say he won't do it again? Her veins chilled at the thought of him.

She ignored the shiver running up her spine as she noticed an elderly woman carrying quite a load of bags, struggling to climb the churches steps. Without giving it a second thought, Magdalena made her way toward the woman and reached for her bags.

"Let me help you with that," She offered, taking the bags from the woman's arms and carefully balanced them in her own, shouldering her duffel higher on her shoulder.

The woman let out a tired huff. "Thank you, dear," She responded gratefully.

Magdalena smiled at the woman, extending her elbow out for her. The woman smiled at the gesture and gently took the offered arm. Her warm ice blue eyes twinkled at Magdalena. Magdalena tried not to blush under the woman's stare.

Helping others wasn't a big deal for her. She did it often back home. She enjoyed helping others. It was something she couldn't resist. Whether the person was grateful for her kind assistance or not, she didn't much care. Her heart was happy with the fact that she was able to help someone.

In fact, it was the thankful individuals that would embarrass her by insisting they pay her kindness with gifts of their own. Usually these gifts were monetary gifts that she would graciously refuse. Assuring them that she didn't do it to be rewarded. She is unable to not help others if it is in her power to help.

So, for the elderly woman with her adorable wavy snow white bob, ice blue eyes, and warm smile to stare at her in awed admiration and grateful appreciation was a little disconcerting.

"Thank you," the old woman said again, once they entered the church.

"No problem," Magdalena replied indicating she'd follow the woman to her destination. The woman understood and continued onward to the back of the church.

They entered a hallway passing the stage and pew and many rose windows, turned left, crossed toward a door at the end of the hall, which the old lady pushed against gently. The door opened smoothly. Magdalena peered inside, curious as to what she'd see. What she saw startled her slightly. She saw many people bustling around the room like worker bees, carrying boxes, bags, and trays from one side of the room to the other, yelling at one another, "Put those here!" and "Yeah! Right there next to those boxes!"

The old lady smiled at Magdalena's astonished stare. She cleared her throat and the worker bees stopped their bustling instantly. "Thank God! She's here!" Someone yelled. Magdalena's brow raised high on her forehead as she glimpsed at the woman she offered her assistance to. Must be someone important. She concluded.

"Would someone please relieve this young lady of these bags and place them where they belong?" The old woman said clearly.

A young girl quickly hurried to do what was asked. She practically yanked the bags from Magsie causing her to sway on her feet unsteadily.

"Oh," Magsie breathed out, doing her best to regain her balance.

"Careful dear," The woman said to her, placing a hand on Magdalena's arm to steady her.

As soon as the woman gave her attention to Magdalena, the room returned to it's busy bustling from earlier. Magdalena gave an amused smile at the scene before her. People were zig-zagging their way across the room, carrying boxes and bags labeled for something that she couldn't catch. The woman smirked at Magdalena's observation. She placed a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. Magdalena looked at her and the woman smiled again as she began walking. Magdalena followed her and stifled a laugh as the crowd parted like the Red Sea to allow them to pass toward the back of the room.

The woman with evident authority opened the door she was aiming for and walked in, leaving it open for Magdalena to enter which she did. She closed the door behind her softly. She turned to face the woman and gasped at the sight before her. Momentarily awestruck by the beauty of the room she entered.

The walls were painted a splendid royal red with a dark mahogany trim framing the top of the room. The high ceiling was painted in a mural resembling that of Raphael's Sistine Madonna. A tall Gothic window to her right, a tall dark mahogany boudoirs to her left next to a smaller but modest window. Straight ahead, behind another dark mahogany antique desk that had magnificent details groomed down the legs of the desk, were rows and rows of books of all kinds; aged beautifully and wrapping around a familiar painting. Magdalena's eyes remained on the painting and they widened in shock. It's the 'Victory of the Archangel Michael'! She stared at the woman sitting in a grand leather high chair behind the desk, mouth slightly agape. The woman smiled patiently at her when she caught her eye. Magdalena blushed lightly and made her way toward a simple chair facing the woman. I'm supposed to have a talk with her?


A/N: This is probably the longest chapter I've written and I don't like it! :| But it's what I came up with and even though I've tried everything I could do to go back and change it and make it so that I actually like the chapter I just couldn't. It's the reason why I took soooo long to update. I couldn't find a way to write it so that I liked it. Maybe it's because it's the episode 'Jump the Shark' and let's face it, that wasn't a particularly good episode. *sigh* Whatever. I hope it's not too terrible. Anyway, I'd like to briefly say that I've never been anywhere that wasn't Southern California, El Paso, Texas, Little Rock, Colorado, or CD. Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico. Which means that any geographical mistakes or anything relating to Chicago and the state of Illinois was not intentional. I apologize to those of you that live in Illinois and Chicago if I embarrassed you. Hope you enjoy the chapter and thanks for reviewing! ;)