Okay, first of all I need to apologize for how late this update is. It's been really tough recently, losing both my grandparents so quickly, and college hasn't helped by dumping an incredible amount of work on me. We've only just buried my Grandma today and I'm still grieving for both losses, and I can tell you that grief really takes it out of you. I can only apologize and hope that you'll still stick with me, because I really appreciate all your great reviews and favourites and everything else :) Thank for all the reviews on the last chapter and the last chapter of Hell and consequences, that will be updated as soon as I can, as will this. I'm really sorry again, and I hope you like this chapter. It gets good soon I promise :) Thank you again.
Miriana was up early in the morning, cleaning up the mess from the night before. It felt good to be back in flat shoes, instead of tottering around in thin heels the size of the Eiffel tower. Both her Aunt and Nate were fast asleep, as were Sam and Dean who had stayed the night in a spare room. She slipped outside with yet another bulging bag of bottles for the recycling, breathing in a deep breath of the clear early morning air. She dumped the huge bag inside the recycling bin, and then headed across the well kept lawn, throwing herself down onto the bench that overlooked the drop down to the lake. This had apparently been her uncle's favourite spot, before he died. She had never known Eve's husband; Billy had died long before Miriana had come to live with her aunt, killed by a group of particularly vicious and dangerous vampires. Eve rarely talked about him, and Miriana didn't push the subject. She knew how hard it was to talk about Cristian, and she didn't to inflict the same pain on her aunt.
The sun was just rising over the lake, chasing away the deep powder blue colour of the night sky, turning the lake the colour of bronze, dazzling on the eyes. There was a faint breeze that stirred the trees, the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves brushing over one another. If it got hotter later on, she was tempted to go swimming in the lake, something she hadn't done for a long time.
She heard heavy footsteps behind her, and turned to see Sam walking across the lawn towards her, dressed in weathered jeans and a grey plaid shirt.
"Mornin'," he said, "I thought I heard you get up."
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," she said, "I thought I might as well get some cleaning done. I don't think my aunt or Nate will be doing any with the size of the hangover they'll have."
Sam smiled as he sat down on the bench beside her, "Yeah, they got pretty rowdy last night, huh?"
"Pretty rowdy is a bit of an understatement," she said.
"I'm sorry about Dean," Sam said nervously, "He was a nightmare last night."
"Don't worry about it," Miriana said with a smile, "He's harmless."
Sam eyes travelled down to her neck, and he carefully picked up the pentagram charm, lifting it away from her neck, "This is pretty."
"Yeah," she said, glancing down at the flash of silver around her neck, "Cas got it for me."
"Oh, I'm glad he made a good choice."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, "You knew he was getting me a present?"
"Yeah, he came to me and asked me if I knew anything you wanted," Sam explained, "I gave him the name of that jeweller that crafts stuff for hunters."
"Well, thank you for your help," she said, nudging his shoulder with her own, "I love it."
He let the necklace fall back against her neck and then froze, frowning.
"What is this?" he asked, touching the base of her neck lightly. She winced when she felt the ring of bruises Reuben had given her. She hadn't realized they were so obvious.
"Oh it's nothing I just...uh...fell," she finished lamely.
Sam raised his eyebrows at her, expression sceptical, "On your neck?"
"Yeah," she said tentatively.
"Miriana," Sam said in a stern voice, "What the hell happened? Who gave you these?"
She sighed heavily, "There's this demon, he just...has a bit of issue with me."
"Would this be the same demon that almost killed you?" Sam said in a dark voice, "I thought he'd left you alone."
She let out a nervous little laugh, "Apparently not. I get the impression he wants a bloody good time with me. Emphasis on the bloody part."
Sam looked at her incredulously, "How can you be so blasé about this Miriana? He's almost killed you twice, and he obviously has a bone the size of Texas to pick with you."
"He's threatened me before, and I've always got away from him," she said calmly, although her heart was tripping like a jackhammer in her chest.
"You didn't say anything about him threatening you!" Sam exclaimed, "Why didn't you tell me and Dean he was here last night?"
"I didn't really have chance, Sam," she said, "He sort of...jumped me."
Sam took a deep breath, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. She had no idea Sam could be so protective.
"What did he say?" he asked in a tightly controlled voice.
"Just the usual," she said, waving her hand airily, "I'm gonna rip your guts out, make you scream etcetera, etcetera."
"And when is he planning on doing this?" Sam asked.
She rolled her eyes, "I haven't got a clue. He didn't exactly give me a date."
"Why has he suddenly resurfaced now?"
She sighed heavily, slumping back against the cool metal wire frame of the bench, "What's with all the questions, Sam? Look I don't know okay, something to do with a promotion into Lucifer's entourage."
"Lucifer!" Sam exclaimed, and Miriana winced, glancing back at the house, half expecting his voice to wake the others up. She didn't need anyone else interfering with the situation between her and Reuben.
Sam lowered his voice a little, "Miriana, if he's one of Lucifer's top demons, you've gotta be careful. You can't fight him off."
"I have already gathered that Sam," she said dryly, "I am aware of how powerful Reuben is. I've tangled with him before, remember.
"Promise me if he finds you again, you'll tell us," Sam said, "Promise?"
She rolled her eyes, "Fine. Brownie's honour, cross my chest, hope to die, all that bullshit."
Sam slumped back against the seat, "You're such a pain in the ass. You're the only person I know that doesn't ask for help when a demon has promised to torture them to death."
"Yeah, well at least I didn't start the apocalypse," she said jokingly.
"Shut up bitch," he quipped, a smile playing around his lips. A comfortable silence fell between the two of them.
After a long moment, Sam finally broke the silence, "Miriana, can I ask you something?"
"Of course," she said, unable to shake off the feeling she wasn't going to like what was coming next.
"Do you believe in destiny?" he asked.
She turned to face him, confused, "Destiny?"
"Yeah you know. What do you think about it?"
"I...um..." she couldn't think of anything to say, as taken off guard as she was, "I don't think I've ever really thought about it, but...no. I'd say I don't believe in it. I'd like to think we're the only ones in charge of our own lives. I don't like the idea of a predestined path."
He said nothing to this, simply cast his gaze out over the lake, now turning steadily gold as the sun rose higher over the horizon, his eyes raging with conflict.
"What is this about, Sam?" she asked, sensing there was something going on she didn't know about.
He took deep and hesitated, as if unsure of what to say next, "A couple of weeks ago, Lucifer came to me."
She turned to face him, her eyes wide, "How? I thought you were shielded against him?" She thought with a sudden surge of panic of the carvings on her own ribs, and whether or not they were as effective as she thought.
"It was a dream," he answered, instantly quelling the burst of panic, "He somehow got into my head, and he said some...stuff."
"Like what?" she asked apprehensively.
"You know he needs a vessel, right?" she nodded briefly in response, "Well I'm his vessel. His true vessel. And Dean is Michael's true vessel, and apparently we're supposed to step up to the roles destiny has given us, let them take us and beat the crap out of each other."
She blew out a long breath, slumping back heavily against the bench, "That's rather a lot of information to digest in a few seconds."
"I don't want this weight on my shoulders, Miriana," he said quietly, "I'm terrified I can't fight this."
"Didn't either of you two geniuses think to tell me this?" she demanded, completely ignoring what he had just said.
"We didn't think that-"
"You didn't think what?" she snapped, jumping to her feet, suddenly gripped by a savage fury, "Don't tell that stupid bitch Miriana, she's no help. We don't need to tell her anything, just let her keep blundering along, completely in the dark!"
"No that's not-"
"You know, this is typical of the two of you, dumping all of your crap on everyone else!"
"I'm sorry-"
"Miriana," someone was saying quietly, but she completely ignored it.
"Just leave it to someone else to tell her, that's usually what you do isn't it!" her voice was getting louder and louder and shriller and shriller.
"Miriana," the voice said again, but she continued to ignore it.
"And you have the cheek to have a go at me for hiding things, I-"
"Miriana!"
She turned to see her aunt standing a few feet away, her face ashen, clutching the phone in her very white, trembling hands.
She instantly forgot about Sam and her blistering anger towards him, and rushed over to her aunt.
"What is it?" she asked. Her aunt took a deep breath, then another, as if she couldn't pull enough air into her lungs.
"There's been an attack," her aunt answered in a tightly controlled voice, "In New York."
Miriana frowned. She couldn't think of anyone they knew well that lived in Manhattan, even thought the place was rife with demons and vampires and just about every other supernatural thing that existed. It was inevitable, in a city as densely packed and as vibrant as New York, that it would attract the attention of monsters looking for something delicious and human sized to eat.
Seeing the confusion on her face, her aunt pressed on, "There's a bar just off fifth avenue; the devil's bane. A hunter's bar."
Realization dawned on her then; she remembered going there once, when she was a teenager, when her aunt had taken her and Nate on a holiday to New York. It had been down a flight of narrow, warped stairs that led into a bar in the wide basement underneath a tattoo parlour, the smell of burgers and whiskey drifting out through the door. She recalled seeing a devils trap drawn underneath the door and silver warding charms lining the doors and windows, a dark room full of hunters cleaning guns and knives. The more she thought about it, she did know hunters there. She knew the owner, a slim petite blond woman called Casey from Texas, her drawling accent and country singer style oddly out of place in the middle of the grit and grime of New York. She felt slightly sick.
"It was blown up last night," her aunt went on, the tremble in her voice more prominent, "By demons. They killed everyone that managed to get out. It was a bloodbath, Miriana."
She was aware of Sam watching them intently, but she ignored him.
"I just got the call," her aunt continued, "There were a lot of hunters in there, Miriana, and their friends are looking for something to string up for this. They want our help."
For just a brief second, Miriana felt a sudden burst of pride. She felt oddly flattered that hunters across America thought she was good enough to call on for help.
"I'll go," she said instantly, "I'll pack my bags and get the next flight out. It'll take too long to drive."
She set off walking towards the house, her aunt hot on her heels, "You can't go alone. I'll come."
"No you will not," Miriana snapped, striding up the stairs to her room, almost knocking Dean over the banister as he sauntered past.
"Whoa, what's the rush?" he demanded, glaring after her indignantly as she swept across the landing. She ignored him.
She pulled her holdall from the top of her wardrobe, pulling out random pairs of jeans and t-shirts and dumping them, roughly folded into the bag. She picked up a handful of underwear from her drawer and threw them on top of her clothes, then moved into the bathroom and pulled down her bag of toiletries that she always kept packed, in case she was called away on a hunt. Her aunt leaned against the doorway, watching her manic process.
"You're not going alone, Miriana," her aunt said in a disapproving tone, "New York's dangerous enough as it is, without a horde of demons running around. This sounds big, whatever it is. It's not just a random attack, someone is co-ordinating this. Picking off hunters systematically."
"That's exactly why I don't want you going," Miriana said, zipping up her bag, "No offence, but you're not as young as you used to be, aunty. They know that, and they'll take advantage of it."
"I know I'm past my prime," Eve said, her tone slightly bitter, "But I'm still useful. Tracking, warding, that sort of thing. I'm not letting you run off into a battle we know barely anything about."
Miriana sighed heavily, sensing defeat, "Well then, you'd better get a bag packed."
Her aunt gave a small smile, "I always have a bag packed. I believe in being prepared in our line of work."
Miriana rolled her eyes as her Aunt swept gracefully from the room, calling Nate as she went. A few seconds after she left, Dean appeared in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.
"So I guess Sam told you about the whole Michael/Lucifer suit problem?" he said in a deceptively casual tone.
She snorted, "Good job, really, isn't it? If he hadn't, I'd probably have only found out when you appeared as the devil and his brother."
Dean sighed heavily, "I know we should have told you, alright? It's just...I told Sam not to tell you at all until we absolutely had to. I don't like dumping our crap on you, Miriana. I don't like you getting caught up in all this heaven and hell destiny crap. I..." he coughed and shuffled his shoulders awkwardly, "I care about you too much."
Her anger instantly dissolved, melting away. She dropped her bag on the bed, and walked towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She turned her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar smell of aftershave and gun metal, a smell imprinted on her nose since she was a teenager. The end of the world wasn't a time to hold grudges over petty arguments.
"I'm sorry," she murmured into his neck.
He stepped back, releasing his hold, "Don't be."
He glanced behind her at the packed bag on her bed, "You're sure about this deal in New York. Sounds pretty dangerous."
She gave a light hearted laugh, though her heart was thumping in her chest like a jackhammer, "I've had dangerous before. I always manage to get through it."
A honk sounded from the Impala, "I guess I should get going."
Miriana nodded, "Yeah."
He moved towards the hall and then paused, one hand on the frame of her door, "Just promise me you'll b careful, okay. No reckless shit. Because if you get yourself killed I swear I'll bring you back just to kick your ass."
She let out a little choked laugh, feeling oddly on the verge of tears, "Promise. Scouts honour."
He gave her one last smile before he vanished down the stairs, leaving her alone in her room, her hands clenched so tightly in the fabric of her bag so tightly her knuckles were white.
She jumped when her aunt appeared at the door, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder, Nate behind her, looking thoroughly pissed off.
"Ready?" her aunt asked.
She nodded, heading for the door, dragging her bag behind her.
"Oh man," Nate grumbled as they traipsed down the stairs, "I really hate flying."
Miriana was exhausted by the time they finally reached the Washington hotel on Seventh Avenue, after a delayed flight, and a slightly frightening taxi ride with a vehicle that seemed barely able to stay on the road and a driver that either didn't understand the rules of the road, or just didn't care. After a broken down lift and staggering up twelve flights of stairs, Miriana was ready for a comfortable bed. The second she was in her hotel room, after saying goodnight to her aunt and cousin as they went to their separate rooms (none of them had agreed to share), she stripped off her clothes and threw them in a haphazard pile in the corner. Since they had had to travel through customs, she hadn't been able to bring any weapons; they were still stashed in the trunk of her Mercedes in her aunt's garage, which was warded against any supernatural invaders. Her aunt was meeting an old friend the next day that had a stash of weapons they could use. The only thing she had managed to bring was the demon killing knife, completely by accident. She realised hadn't the cruel serrated blade was still at the bottom of her holdall, sheathed carefully in an intricately carved leather case she had found in her aunt's attic. She wondered how it had managed to get past the airport security; maybe it was warded against detection in some way she hadn't noticed. She pulled it free from her bag and laid it on her bedside table, close enough to be able to snatch it if something decided to pay her a visit in the middle of the night.
She changed into a pair of loose, tattered pyjamas and slumped back against the mattress, listening to the noise of the city outside, watching the multicoloured lights filtering through the thin curtains over the long windows. She had only been to New York once, but she had loved the vibrancy and the culture, and had always wanted to come back; on a holiday however, not a hunt. Chasing demons all over the tightly packed avenues and backstreets of New York didn't sound as relaxing as wandering through the shopping malls and stuffing her face full of food in every diner she came across.
She tossed and turned for a few long minutes, exhausted but unable to sleep, her mind buzzing for reasons she couldn't fathom. She sat up and rifled through her bag until she found her phone, scrolling through the list of contacts on the screen. On a whim, she called Cas, listening to the ring tone as she padded across the carpet, twitching the curtains back across the window, greeted by a wall of black windows of another skyscraper across the street. There was no reply, and eventually the answer phone kicked in.
"You have reached the voice mail of-" said a cool female voice, followed by a confused, gruff voice asking, "What-I don't understand? Why do you want me to say my name?"
She smiled to herself, as she always did when she thought of him.
The beep kicked in, "Hi Cas, it's me. Miriana, that is. Err...I'm in New York, just in case you...you know needed me for anything. I'm just in the middle of a hunt, so...just letting you know. I...err...hope you're okay. See you soon."
She stopped herself at the last second from saying 'Love you', not entirely sure why she felt the urge to finish with it. She wasn't even sure if he would get the message, if he knew how to work his mobile. She didn't even know why she had rung him; perhaps she was just trying to convince herself that he wanted to know about her whereabouts or cared what she was doing. With a frustrated groan she threw her phone on the bed and followed after it, pulling the duvet up over her head. Why was she so pathetic? She couldn't even go a day without needing to call him.
She stared at the shifting patterns of light for a long time before she eventually succumbed to a restless sleep.
Eve spread out the map of New York on Miriana's bed, smoothing out the creases. Next to them, Nate was checking through the weapons they had been given by Eve's hunter friend, loading the guns with ammo and testing the edges of the blessed knives to check they were sharp enough. Outside, the hustle of New York, the honking taxis, the rattle of the road works machines and the thud of thousands of feet pounding the pavement bubbled against the windows. The sharp city smell of concrete, pollution and metal wafted through the open window.
"We know that the coven was holed up here," her Aunt said, pointing to a building circled in red in Harlem, "But we think they've moved closer into the city so they can plan another attack. Harlem is pretty far out of the action zone."
"Are we certain they've moved," said Nate around a mouthful of the doughnuts Eve had bought from a diner down the street, "'Cos if Miriana's gonna go and search the place, we don't want a load of demons bursting in on her."
"I think I can handle a few demons Nate," Miriana said wryly, subconsciously touching the knife in the inside pocket of her leather jacket.
"Sounds like it might be more than a few," Nate muttered, going back to cleaning the knife in his hands.
Eve bit her lip, "Nate could be right," she said worriedly, "Maybe we should come with you."
Miriana sighed, casting Nate a dark look, "Look, you're checking out the ruins of the bar, and it's more likely that there's going to be demons lingering there, waiting for hunters looking for revenge. You two need each for back up, and we'll save time if we can do two things at once."
Nate rolled his eyes, "If you get killed don't blame us."
His phone was being more irksome than usual. It kept buzzing, telling him he had some sort of message, but he had absolutely no idea how to access it. In the end he gave up and resorted to pressing random buttons in the hope that it might work.
"What are you doing?" came an amused voice from behind him.
He shot out of his skin, completely caught off guard; he had been so intent on the phone, he hadn't felt the presence behind him. He whirled to find Embriel stood behind him, her hands on her hips, a small smile playing about her lips.
"Just trying to get this ridiculous contraption to work," he muttered, waving the phone in her direction, "It appears I have some sort of message, but I don't know how to get it."
She rolled her eyes and took the phone out of his hands, flipping it open and frowning at the screen. He hadn't seen her for a long time, but he could see marked changes in her already. Her eyes were surrounded by a thin spider web of lines, her skin looked pale and drawn, and he noticed that her vessels clothes, which were always completely immaculate, were a little shabby looking. The bottom of her long cream cardigan was splashed with mud, and the white shirt she wore underneath looked grubby.
He was just about to ask her if she was well, when she handed the phone back to him, "Just press four and you can listen to it."
He did as she told him and lifted the phone to his ear, hearing Miriana's slightly faltering voice on the other end. The cool female voice that aggravated him so much told him at the end of the message that he had received the message at twelve thirty last night. It worried him that Miriana was up so late, not sleeping.
"Well?" Embriel asked when he flipped the phone shut and dropped it back in his pocket.
"It's Miriana," he answered, "She's in New York on a hunt."
Embriel visibly paled, what little colour there was in her face draining away completely.
"New York," she repeated in a hushed tone.
"Yes," he said cautiously, watching her reaction carefully, "Why?"
"Lucifer is in New York," she said, her eyes wide and dark in her pale face.
The bottom dropped out of his stomach, "What?"
"He's there now," she said in a strained voice, "We don't know why, but we know he's up to something."
"Like what?" he asked, the dread of what Miriana might be walking into heavy on his chest.
"There are lot of hunters in New York, Castiel," she said, "Even more since that bar was attacked this week. They're looking for revenge, gathering to fight back against the coven responsible."
"They're going up against the devil?" he asked in a choked voice.
"His coven," she replied, "But if they cause too much trouble, then he'll step in."
He fumbled for his phone, pulling it free with shaking fingers. He dialled her number and waited, but it was cut off almost instantly. He tried again, but the same thing happened.
"I can't find her," he said desperately, "She's hidden from angels and she's not answering-"
All of a sudden, Embriel seemed to gather herself together. She drew herself up straight and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Go to New York," she said in a firm voice, "Find her aunt and cousin, they're bound to be with her or know where she is. We don't need to panic just yet. We would know if the hunters had attacked yet."
The panic that had blossomed up inside his chest settled and eased, and he could breathe easily again. Embriel was right; there was no saying Miriana and the other hunters were even doing anything yet. There was no need to panic.
He spread his wings, trying not to worry when it hurt, the muscles and tendons screaming in protest, sharp stabbing pains that ran from top to bottom. Every time he used them, it got more and more painful and more difficult, as if they were decaying away, fraying at the edges.
Embriel caught his arm before he left, "Be careful. Don't go running off and doing anything too reckless."
He managed to smile a little, even though it felt strained, "When do I ever do that?
Riding the subway was...interesting. It seemed to be the favourite haunt of several hobos; they spent the journey huddled up on the hard plastic seats, hidden behind pile of unpleasant smelling rags. Miriana was glad the train wasn't crowded enough so that she had no choice but to sit near them.
She was glad when she left the subway, climbing up the litter covered stairs to the street, out of the cloying heat of the subway. She took in a deep breath, tasting the metallic tang of the city on her tongue. Glad as she was for the fresh air, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was...off. She couldn't think of a better word for it; there was an odd sensation in the air, as if the atmosphere was electrically charged. She had felt it when they had first stepped out of the cab outside the hotel, but she had shook it off as paranoia. As much as she had tried to ignore it, it had grown stronger and stronger throughout the morning, pressing down against her shoulders, the taste of it in every breath she drew in. Even though the sun was out and beaming down, she felt uncomfortably cold. There was something in this city, something evil. The feel of it was pervading the air like a cancer.
She arrived at the address after a short walk along the quiet streets of Harlem, the only signs of movement the occasional elderly lady on a shopping trip, struggling with the weight of her bags, or the odd kid on a bicycle. The closer she got to the address, the more rundown the area became, the buildings getting shabbier and dilapidated, paint peeling away in flakes, weeds bursting up through the cracks in the concrete and bags of rubbish overflowing onto the streets. She hugged her jacket a little tighter, glad for the comforting weight of the knife and gun in the inside pocket of her leather jacket.
She found the building she was looking for, at the end of the street; a foreboding battered grey brick house with its wide windows boarded up, graffiti sprayed across the crumbling facade. She lingered outside the house, suddenly reluctant to go inside. Demons had been here. She wasn't psychic, nor would she ever kid herself that she was, but she had a hunter's intuition, that gut feeling that flared up sometimes. She could smell them, that faint stench of sulphur hovering around the bricks and overgrown garden. She pushed aside the chain link gate, and waded through the knee high weeds in the garden up to the steps that led to the front door. She tested the door cautiously, and found that it swung open instantly, revealing a hallway thick with shadows. She crept inside, pulling out the knife now she was off the street, holding it at her side. The warped floorboards creaked underneath her feet and she tensed, waiting for something to launch itself from the shadows but nothing moved. She let out a breath she hadn't even realised she had been holding.
She turned into the room on the left, which looked like it had once been a sitting room, judging by the tattered sagging couch and television, which was smashed inwards, shards of glass littering the floor. There was a table in the middle of the room, which was scattered with papers. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for in this house, but she picked the papers up anyway and rifled through them. She wasn't sure that demons wrote down their nefarious plans like one might write a shopping list, but it was worth a look.
Most of the torn pages were useless; excerpts from demonology textbooks she had seen on her aunt's shelves in the library, random sheets of gibberish and languages she didn't understand. She was about to give up and head upstairs when something caught her eyes at the bottom of the pile, a map with a building circled in red. She pulled it loose, scrutinizing it. She didn't know New York well enough to have a good understanding of where the building was, but she guessed from its location that it was somewhere near the spot where the Devil's Bane used to be; she recognized a few of the place names. She wrote the address down on a scrap of paper, feeling that it would somehow come in useful, when she heard the sound of male voices on the doorstep. She froze all over, going as rigid as a rabbit that had smelt a fox. She looked around the room panicked, as the sound of the door hinges creaking reverberated through the house. Behind her was a door leading into an adjoining room; she tucked a handful of the papers in her pocket, just in case and jumped behind the door, just as the men came into the room. She kept her breathing quiet as she could, peering around the door to get a look at the intruders.
She had hoped that they might be other hunters, but one glance told her otherwise. Their eyes flashed flat liquid black for a few brief seconds, and she cursed under her breath. There was no way out of this room apart from back through the lounge.
"What are we here for?" the blond, thickest demon asked, glancing around the room with a look of distaste.
"They left some papers, important stuff the boss is after," the second demon, a tall thin man with black hair replied, "You should have heard him when they said they left them. He nearly tore the hotel down."
The first demon chuckled, "Yeah, that sounds like Reuben."
Miriana felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over her head, her blood instantly running cold in her veins, raising goose bumps on her skin despite the warm temperature.
"Can't blame him. We know what happens if he fucks up. I still don't understand why he picked that lot to be his team," the black haired demon said, his tone angry, "We could do a better job."
"A monkey could do a better job than that lot," the blond demon said wryly. There was the sound of rustling papers and a muttered curse.
"There's some missing," said the blond demon, a tinge of panic in his voice, "There's papers missing."
"What?" the other demon demanded. There was the thud of footsteps across the floor, the sound of papers being rifled through, then another curse.
"Someone's been here," said the blond demon, "Look at the dust. It was thick last time we came here and it's brushed away over there."
At that moment, her mobile went off, the shrill ring cutting through the tense air like a knife. She swore under her breath, grabbing the phone and cutting it off instantly with trembling fingers. There was no way they couldn't have heard it.
"Well well," said the drawling voice of the blond demon, "Looks like we have ourselves a little intruder."
The door slammed back against the wall, almost knocking Miriana off her feet, and she jumped backwards as the two demons stalked into the room. She felt a bolt of panic race through her at the sight of them; they both had something of a height and weight advantage over her, even the thin one.
"A pretty little intruder too," said the blond demon, his eyes lazily roving her, lingering a little too long on her breasts, "Are you gonna give us the things you stole, honey?"
She pulled the knife from her pocket, holding it forwards warningly, "I don't think so."
They both laughed, "That little thing looks impressive, but I'm not so worried. You're only a little thing."
She made a run for the door, even though she knew it was a long shot, but the thin demon caught her and backhanded her viciously around the face, her flesh stinging where his fingers collided. She was so shocked she dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor, where it lay uselessly. She was thrown bodily against the wall, and she winced when the back of her skull collided with the bricks, making a line of vivid stars spring up across her vision. The blond demon swept forwards, the knife in his hands, and she just had time to grab hold of his wrists before he plunged the blade into her stomach. She fought as hard as she could, but he was strong, and she could feel the knife creeping closer towards her, denting the fabric of her t-shirt, threatening to puncture it.
At that second there came a ragged scream from behind them, and the thin demon crumpled to the floor, revealing a familiar figure stood behind it, his tan trench coat dishevelled.
He caught her eyes over the demons shoulder, and he gave her a small smile, a slight twitch of the lips, "Sorry I didn't get here sooner."
The demon completely forgot her, dropping the knife and lunging towards Cas with a bellow like a wounded beast. He stepped aside, dodging the demons swing and smoothly drove his knee into the demons stomach, driving him to his knees. He placed his hand flat against his forehead, as she had seen him do before to exorcise demons, but nothing happened. The demon struggled, and coils of smoke drifted around his mouth, but nothing else. She glanced at Cas; his face was scrunched up in pain, blood trickling from his nose. She recovered from her shock, dropping to the floor and grabbing the knife, lunging towards him. Her saw in his peripheral vision, and he broke free of Cas's hold with a growl of exertion, staggering towards her. She drove the knife into his chest, and the demon fell forward, dull orange light flickering behind his eyes and skull. She shrieked as he pitched forwards, threatening to crush her with his weight, then she felt arms around her waist, pulling her to the side, out of harm's way. She lost her balance on the uneven floorboards and thudded into the floor with a shout, Cas landing awkwardly on top of her.
"Hello Miriana," he said, slightly breathlessly, "How are you?"