Chapter 10

Bella's POV

I'm caught out in the open, completely unarmed. Stuck halfway between my truck and the house and walkers are stumbling out of the forest towards me.

I'm not sure what to do?

Just as my mind is screaming at me to move my butt, the boys swarm out of the house towards me. First and foremost is an unfamiliar man with mousey brown hair and a narrowed gaze. He strides out confidently raising his crossbow as he passes.

He hesitates before shooting, giving me a sharp look. "What were you doing out here by yourself girly? Are you thick, stupid or just plain dumb?" His voice laced with a southern tang. The crossbow twangs I flinch and the closest walker falls with a thud.

As I gape there helplessly a firm hand takes me by the shoulder. I meet Cas's worried blue eyes, there's a crease between his perfect eyebrows, "Step back we'll take care of this," he says. Something within me recoils against doing nothing while they fight.

Dean runs past drawing his gun.

"What are doing? The sound will bring more down on us?" The new guy yells. He yanks the machete from his belt, shoving it in Dean's direction. The Winchester snatches it off him with an answering glare before launching at the closest walker with a heavy swing.

I move backwards.

Cas strides ahead, twisting the head of a nearby walker as he passes with such force that the skin tears in its neck. My breath catches in my throat, shocked by the quietly assured brutality of it.

I wasn't going to just stand there and do nothing while they fight. I see my chance and run to the truck. Hands trembling as I snatch the rifle from the seat. I frantically grope for the Bayonet in the glove compartment, Dean suggested I use it for close encounters to save ammo. I slip it on with a click. It was just an oversized screw driver, but it would do the job.

There's that familiar dragging sound behind me. I turn and thrust. The bayonet sinks into the walkers bloated gut. It's bony fingertips are reaching for me, flesh gone from the ends as if the creature had been scratching concrete. As I push forward as the bile rises in my throat. I Walk the Zombie backwards until it's unsteady shuffling feet catch on the uneven ground.

It falls.

The bayonet rips up through its midsection and out, dragging out stinking brown entrails. The stench made my eyes water. A dry gag cut off the guttural cry that rises within. Even though everything within me was reeling with shock I step forward and push the bayonet back in through the base of its chin with a crunch. Right to the hilt. Only then does it finally stop moving. I turn to the others brandishing my makeshift spear, The shaking subsides.

Am I getting accustomed to the horror. What sort of person does that make me. Dean would say- A hunter.

One by one the walkers fall as the Daryl's arrows find their mark, until his quiver is finally empty. My heart bounds and blood rushes in my ears when he pulls out the knife.

My breath hitches as I wet my lips. A strange feeling crawls across my skin. Something inside me wanted that knife so desperately. I move closer, unable to help myself. Sam is retreating. His strong hand grips my shoulder. I turn to him unable to hide the irritation that bristles inside.

'You okay?" He asks, cautiously and deliberately. His words seem unnaturally slow to me. I nod dumbly, not trusting myself to speak, least my voice betray my true condition.

It's the power. That's what I want. It's nothing else, nothing to do with emotions, just a raw thirst. I crave it, like I once craved love. What have I become? I long for it like I once longed for Edwards touch.

Sam keeps looking at me as if he's seen a ghost.

There's 5 walkers left, I'm drawn into the fray joining Dean and Daryl in the clean up work. This time I went for the head. My vision blurs and instinct takes over. I fall into a type of hypnotic frenzy. It's the only way I can do this. They may be hideous monsters now- but they used to be people.

Soon it's over. The two men look at each other and nod. Mutual respect passing between them. Daryl turns to me and a short laugh escapes him as he looks at me speculatively. " Not bad...for a girl."

Cas is by my side again and takes my arm drawing me away from them. He gives me an earnest look, "You should go inside." He's says it so gently but there is a hardness in those blue eyes. I'm reminded of those first few times we met. When he was hard and turning dark on the inside. when it was clear that he wasn't human. When he seemed so undefinable and unreachable.

I walk away overrun with turmoil and confusion. Trying to make sense of what is happening inside.

I hear Sam say, "Cas, we need to talk."

I hurry away.

Castiel's POV

I watch Bella walk away before turning to Sam. The Younger brother's jaw is working, as if he's biting back unpleasant words.

Dean and Daryl walk past us. When they were out of direct earshot he finally spoke.

"Cas, I'm wondering about something. Do you have any idea how Bella may have gotten her powers?"

I pause, not because I know the answer, but because I suddenly realise what he is getting at. "No I don't, but...are you suggesting that, Bella is..."

"Do you think, she may be one of us... I mean like me?"

"How can you be so certain?"

He flipped his long hair back with a steady hand. "I'm not. It's just the way she looked back then, and the way she's been acting. It's like she's been awakened, Azazel said there were other generations. What I don't understand is that she seems too young. I was 21 when it happened."

" She's been in the presence of supernatural beings. That may have awakened the demonic power within her."

Sam looks grim, "Deans gonna freak out."

"No he's not, because we are not going to tell him."

"I can't keep it a secret, not something like this."

"Just for now", I reassure him, "We don't know that's the reason for her powers. Not for certain. There could be other contributing factors. Her genetic inheritance could be unique, marked by Nephilim kind, or a supernatural creature, even perhaps generated by witchcraft."

"Come on Cas, you know it is the most likely explanation." His large eyes are pleading with me, but I just can't believe it, not yet. What's more I don't really want too. Not after how I had viewed Sam in the past. A ticking time bomb waiting to go off and destroy the earth. That threat had thankfully passed. Now perhaps a new storm lurked upon the Horizon?

Surely not.

"Perhaps it was Azazel, we don't know Sam, and until we do , we don't need to needlessly burden the others." I try my best to convince him, but I'm also trying to convince myself.

His lips tighten into a thin line and eyes turning to flint. He is angry with me.

He shouldn't be, he has kept his fair share of secrets before.

"Okay, but I'm going to keep my eye on her, and if it even starts to look like she is going to go...bad, like Ava. I'm going to take action."

I cock my head at him, puzzling over his words and wondering who this Ava was. He shuts down and I take the hint not to pry.

The conversation over for the time being, Sam walks away. I pause to take in my surroundings. The amber light was low and soft as evening began to coil over the day. When I return I find her sitting on the porch cleaning her weapon. There's a haunted look about her, and I want nothing more than to put a smile upon those soft lips, and see her brown eyes filled with joy. I reach down and touch the rifle. Instantly it's clean. The filthy rag drops from her limp fingers, and her shoulders shake. She is crying. I am unsure how to comfort her. I thought by cleaning the weapon she would feel some measure of relief. Her head is bowed, I take the weapon and place it to the side and pull her gently to a stand. She does not return my hug immediately, and I'm agonising over what this means.

"I needed to get it clean again," She says in a small soft voice as her arms creep around me. I reciprocate by pulling her more deeply into me, the short brown hair on her crown tickling my cheek. I close my eyes and breathe her in.

How could she be one of the special children? It was not possible, not when she drew me so. I pull back and look into her tear reddened eyes "why?". I brush my thumbs across her cheeks wiping away the glistening trails of her sorrow.

Then she says something that shakes me to my core, "I'm a bad person."

"Why would you say such a thing?" I ask earnestly, even though the bottom is suddenly dropping out of me. I was afraid I would start trembling.

Something was wrong.

"Because it's true," She ground out, eyes blazing as they met mine. "I hate Daryl. I hate that he has the knife. I want to take it from him, and I'm scared I will do anything, absolutely anything to get it." Her voice trails to a whisper.

I dare not breathe, suddenly Sam fears seem to manifest before me. Her bitter confession repels me, it takes everything instinct I have not to move away.

"It will get better," I lie, as I gather her close once again, planting a kiss upon the top of her head. I can't bring myself to kiss her on the lips, not after hearing those words spill forth. I look up and see Dean standing there watching us. She seems reassured as she steps away.

I approach Dean, "Look after her." I growl.

"Where are you going?" he asks, his green eyes searching mine.

"Balthazar and I have to start the search."

He nods "Sam thinks Crowley might be a good start."

"I'm inclined to agree."

Dean's hand clamps down upon my shoulder, "be careful." He murmurs, giving me a sideways look. It becomes clear to me then, that despite our troubles in the past that we would always be like this. This kinship, it was as vital as breathing to me, and forged strong through the cosmic forces that had threatened this world. Sam Dean and I were like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Friends caught in the fiery furnace together. I hoped that feeling wasn't just an illusion I had constructed to maintain some modicum of hope.

I resolved to reveal Sam's suspicions to Dean, as soon as I returned. Perhaps we will be able to discover the truth of the matter whilst tracking Crowley. I intended to find out one way or another. I needed to know for my own peace of mind, or rather... my doubt-ridden sanity.

Balthazar ambles out at my beckoning, it irritates me that he seems to take his sweet time about it. he casts an amused snort over his shoulder, back to where the others were gathering. "It's seems your great hero over there is some kind of red-neck"

"I don't understand, His neck isn't red." I know what he means. It's just my way of toying with him. He catches the hint of a smile that betrays me.

"Cas, you are making it very difficult for me to hate you."

"Good," I reply curtly, "now are you ready for this, Crowley may already suspect Angels are alive and well. He will be ready for the likes of us."

"As long as you're not going to let him use you, like a dog does a bitch, we will be just dandy. Onwards and upwards Castiel my old friend."

The smile doesn't reach his eyes. I wonder if he is still fearful of me, or perhaps there is another reason. Trust is a strange thing, it is brittle, and never quite fits back together in the same way once broken. Forever changed, and forever fragile. I had betrayed many, sooner or later it may be my turn.

Things never stayed the same. Allegiances, friendship, I knew from experience, too much experience. Maybe it's the same for love. I do not know that emotion fully yet, that elusive swell and bloom of chemicals that makes one fully lose himself to another. Perhaps I am on the cusp of it, yet I hold back. Bella has seated herself on the porch, a small tight smile emerges when she sees me looking. I nod and release a long steady breath.

I close my eyes and open communication to Balthazar. The metaphysical waves buzz between us, it soon comes apparent that we are alone on what Dean calls 'Angel radio'.

I begin my search, soaring towards the delicate curvature of the ever-distant horizon. My form free from it's bonds, converted to pure energy. I think of a place and I am there, scanning over the precious earth that lay spread beneath me. Looking for the taint that I knew lurked upon her jeweled surface.

Just like Bella.

Balthazar pulls me from my thoughts.

"Castiel, I may have found our missing ingredient, but there's a fly in the ointment and I don't mean that bug Crowley."

I'm there instantly, standing outside a large house. I immediately see what he means, Crowley has visitors.

AN. I am so sorry this took so long. I tried to get this updated as soon as humanly possible. Sorry if it seems rushed. It's been such a busy month. A few of my short stories are getting published so have been focusing on getting them ship-shape before going to the editor. Plus a Novella is in the works. It's all busy, busy. I cherish each and every one of you, Those who review and my loyal followers. I'm just really glad you are along for the ride. Sorry this chapter is ALL SO SERIOUS! I promise I will try and inject some light humor next time :).

Just a little shout out now. Theres a great Supernatural OC fic called Presto by Cuckoo on a String. It's everything I love, seriously a great fic, check it out!