Where the Lines Overlap

Chapter 11: Tear Me Apart

Ashleigh remembered slowly waking up into chaos, into blood red paint dripping down her walls and glass shards from broken paintings littered on the floor. Her head panged sharply as she tried to dig deeper into her memories – flashes of symbols painted on her mirror, the red trailing down the glass. Then she remembered Heka and someone's strong hands pinning her arms behind her back as he watched, a cocktail of regret and apology pulling his handsome features taut, but now, as she struggled to regain her sense of balance, everything was in the dark.

It was like she was in some waking nightmare, she could barely hold her eyes open and she had the horrible sensation of her body working slower than her mind – or was it the other way around? Her chest felt heavy and sore, like someone had poured concrete into her lungs and then punched her in the chest repeatedly. It took her a few more seconds to realise that her wrists were locked together in zip ties behind her back and she was sitting on a chair, her barely responsive body lolling sideways. She tried to stop her head falling forwards onto her chest, but she was so tired and sore, her eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly, no matter how much she blinked furiously. Something warm trickled down the side of her face and with growing desperation, she realised that it was probably blood.

Great. Just fucking fabulous. Her heart was jackhammering in her chest and she could feel her breathing accelerate as she tried to force herself to be calm to no sore body screamed in protest as she tried to sit up straight. Had she been in a fight or something? It felt like she had been repeatedly smashed against a hard surface several times and as her vision focused, the dark finger-shaped bruises on her shoulders became apparent. The back of her head was pounding in time with her racing heartbeat and she tipped her head back to shake her mess of sweaty hair out of her face.

Her eyes regained some function and as she looked up, she recognised the peeling paint on the ceiling, the old fan whirring just above her. She was in her basement. The basement was dark and cold except for the sliver of sunlight that flickered through the dirty window, dimly lighting the room. Everything kept flickering and flickering and Ashleigh felt distorted and so off balance that she thought she would puke in a few minutes. Her eyesight blurred again and she tipped her head back down, breathing heavily. Voices, low and muffled managed to reach her ears and she tried to look up, to see who it was but her muscles were stiff and sore and she couldn't manage to turn her neck.

Two figures, one taller than the other stood by the door, conversing quickly in hushed voices. She leant forwards, let out a growl under her breath when her zip ties held her back and strained to catch a sliver of their conversation.

"Are you're sure you've warded the building correctly? I wouldn't want any…" the shorter man glanced away towards the back door scathingly, "… unplanned visitors." He was short and stout, his British accent making his tone harsher and more demanding. He stood like he knew what he wanted and that there'd be hell to pay if he didn't get it.

"Yes, I warded it correctly." Ashleigh's heart leapt into her throat – Heka. The taller man was Heka. She couldn't decide if she was completely screwed or if there was the possibility of her getting out alive. He sounded impatient and mocking when he continued, "You know, unlike your demons, I know how to do my job properly."

Demons? She remembered Loki – her heart panged a little when she thought about him – telling her about demons, and how they were basically just glorified vengeful spirits, human souls twisted into something dark and monstrous from their centuries trapped in the fiery pits of Hell. She remembered the way he talked about their transformation, he had looked off into the distance, lost in thought. It was like he'd had some personal connection to the idea, but she didn't press it. The short man turned to her and she stifled a gasp of disgust, squeezing her eyes closed against the image.

His face was flickering from that of a middle aged man to that of something horrible with sunken in eyes, decaying flesh hanging from his partially-rotten cheekbones. His teeth were blackened and pointed, rows and rows of them emerging from his putrid gums and he smiled at her, pleased with her reaction. Her stomach lurched and bile rose in her throat. That was when the panic truly began to set in. Her lungs felt like they were squeezing closed and she couldn't breathe, her fingernails were clawing at the plastic of the zip ties binding her hands together. Footsteps echoed in the empty basement as he neared her and she stiffened, not daring to make a sound.

Cold fingers brushed her cheek and tilted her face up. She let herself go limp in his hands, praying that he'd think that she was still unconscious. But then his hands travelled to her neck and sought out her hammering pulse. "Good morning, darling," his raspy English accent greeted her and she was pretty sure she was about to cry or throw up. Maybe even both. When she didn't respond, he let out a thoughtful noise, fingers pressing against her cheeks and stroking across her lips before finally letting go. "Pretty little thing you've got here."

As she opened her eyes a crack, she saw Heka roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest impatiently. "Shut up, Crowley." Crowley. So that was his name. She kind of wanted to scream because his touch sent waves of disgust rolling through hand was still on her arm and she bit back her revulsion, angry tears prickling in her eyes.

She heard Crowley heave a sigh. "Don't forget who you're working for, Heka. Watch your mouth." Ashleigh could visualise Heka's sullen expression in her mind's eye and clenched her jaw bitterly.

"We all know you're awake," Crowley said in a matter of fact tone, now addressing her. "Why don't you come join the conversation? I've been dying for some decent company." His tone was mock-friendly as he stepped back from her, his footsteps echoing in the empty space.

She opened her eyes and glared at him with all the burning hate she could muster. "Fuck you." she snapped without really thinking about the consequences of her word vomit. There was a tense pause in the room and awkwardness hung in the air as Crowley raised his eyebrows, evidently not expecting the outburst from her. Heka pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

To her surprise, he began to chuckle quietly. "Feisty. Makes you even more entertaining." His leering smirk subsided and her stomach lurched at the odd and twisted compliment. She scowled silently in response, her fingers still working on her zip ties behind her back. They chafed uncomfortably against the already bruised skin of her wrists and she blinked back tears of pain – fuck, it burned. A little hiss escaped through her teeth as she hit a particularly sore spot.

Crowley hadn't seemed to have noticed and he began to walk around her in a steady circle, so she stopped yanking at her ties immediately, craning her sore neck around so she could keep an eye on him. Her heart was throbbing in her chest from a mixture of panic and adrenaline and she sat up straighter in her chair.

"You're somewhat of a celebrity, Ashleigh," he said leisurely. He pulled at his black suit jacket and stopped at a halt in front of her, one eyebrow quirked curiously. "Do you know why?" His condescending tone made her see red and she gritted her teeth, his smug expression grating on her every nerve.

She decided to be a bitch. What else did she have to lose? She wasn't getting out of here, she'd pissed off Loki (shame and regret welled up in her, which she immediately squashed back down – it was going to happen at some point) and she doubted that Aphrodite was in the near vicinity. "Oh, I don't know," she spat. "Why don't you tell me, darling?" She mimicked his earlier expression.

"One of these days, your spitfire temper is going to get you in a lot of trouble, Foxy." he purred, his voice soft and rough like velvet, smirking to himself and she furrowed her eyebrows at the odd nickname. He strolled over towards her and retrieved something that looked like a pair of rubber gloves from his pockets, which he pulled onto his hands with a snap. Crowley inclined his head towards Heka and said, "Get me the gag."

Her breathing sped up and panicked, she asked, "Gag? What – what are you doing?" She began to thrash against the chair, yanking her hands and kicking with all her might to try and break the bonds. Crowley only spared her a cursory glance before he snapped his fingers and her body became unresponsive once more, flopping back against the chair. But her mind was still alert and she was trapped in her own body again, thrashing and screaming – but she couldn't make a sound. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead and it took all of her strength to say: "Please…" her voice was slurred and her head lolled back with the effort. "Why are you doing this?"

Heka neared her with a white piece of fabric in his hands. Anger rose inside her as she cursed herself for trusting him – why had she been that stupid? His nose brushed her ear as he said, "You did sell your soul to me, which means I can do whatever I want with it." What was worse was that he sounded legitimately regretful, as if he was upset about what he did and she could do nothing but glare at him furiously, trying in vain to curl her hands into fists. His face looked so… punchable and all she really wanted to do was break his nose.

He put the fabric in her mouth – it tasted like motor oil and ash and she gagged – and tied it tightly behind her head, stepping back and turning away from the scene in front of him. Crowley regarded him with an odd look but shook his head and let a lazy smile creep across his face. "Now comes the fun part." He stopped to consider that statement, cocked his head to the side and corrected: "Fun for me. Not so much for you." And with that statement, he neared her and began to slowly push up the fabric of her pajama top so his hand was resting lightly on her bare stomach. Her breathing hitched in fearful anticipation. Her heart began to jackhammer in her chest again, her stomach was clenching, she wanted throw up.

And that was when the pain started.

His hand sunk through the soft flesh of her stomach and even through the spell Crowley had put on her, her mouth dropped open and she screamed in complete agony, the primal sound tearing out of her throat because it hurt. She was unable to think, unable to string together a coherent thought as Crowley's fingers invaded her body in every possible way. His hand sunk further into her stomach and she felt like she was being torn apart, like she was dying. She barely noticed her chafed wrists, throbbing head or the way that Crowley had gripped onto her shoulder with crushing force just to keep himself upright– the complete agony coming from the centre of her stomach was just too much to ignore. It felt like she was on fire, the flames burning her alive from the centre of her very being. And that was when it happened.

His hand closed around something deep inside her, something that transcended her corporeal form and she felt his own twisted soul, blackened and burnt, wrap around whatever it was. She felt encompassed by the feeling and kind of wanted to tear her own skin off and scrub herself raw with acid, because it felt like he was everywhere, he was holding the only thing that made Ashleigh who she was. She couldn't even form a comprehensible sentence and she dropped her head to the side, sobs escaping her mouth. Ashleigh felt something being ripped apart inside her and she screamed again, louder than she had before, ignoring the way her throat burned and throbbed from the effort.

She felt the corporeal pain of Crowley removing his hand from her stomach, but that didn't come close to the physical agony she'd just been put through. His hand was crushing her shoulder as he tried to grip her tighter and his eyes were flickering red and black, the black veins crawling up his true face and she was trying to hold on as the agony and intensity tore through her – and then it was over. Crowley pulled his hand from her stomach and her knees buckled as she pitched forwards, trembling and breathing raggedly. Something was taken from her, something had just been forcibly ripped out of her and she let out a hopeless, heartbroken sob.

Through half-lidded eyes, she watched as Crowley cupped a white, blinding light in his hands, marvelling at the luminosity of the barely tangible object. He was laughing breathlessly, looking over at Heka who looked completely stricken and taken aback by what Crowley had just done to her. "I got it," he grinned, his chest heaving with effort and he looked back down at what it was he'd just removed from her.

"You… you removed her soul." Heka said blankly, staring at the white light cupped in Crowley's hands with growing awe. "I-I had my doubts, I mean, I didn't think it was even possible for a demon to –"–"

"Well, it is," Crowley cut him off sharply. "Anything's possible when you believe," he smirked at the Egyptian god before pulling out a briefcase and slipping the object – her soul – inside. Her muscles felt like water and she gaped at the brilliant light dumbly, her mind completely scattered and incoherent. She was sore and lethargic, every muscle taxed beyond anything she'd ever experienced before and she flopped forwards in her chair, her chest heaving. Pain shot through her stomach muscles every time she breathed in, she gritted her teeth and glared at the demon and the pagan god staring down at her soul.

Crowley cast a cursory glance back at her, to which she flashed a dark, calculating smirk, her sweaty hair falling over her face and she gave him the iciest glare she could muster. He blinked back at her, cocked his head to the side and smiled back at her smugly. "Catch you on the flipside, darling. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble," he winked and she kind of wanted to bash his face in, her nails digging into her palms from where they were pinned behind her back.

With that, he snapped his fingers, wiped his sweaty forehead and he flickered out of sight, his briefcase clutched tightly in his hand. Which meant that she and Heka were left alone together in the basement. Ashleigh straightened up and sat very still in her chair, finally able to think logically without fear and terror clouding her thoughts. Was that an effect of the removal of her soul? She made a thoughtful noise, tilting her head to the side.

Heka started towards her, his features pulled taut with apology. "Ashleigh, I am –"

She merely raised an eyebrow and asked coolly, "Sorry?" Ashleigh snorted as if the idea was ludicrous and shook her head, looking down at her stomach to where Crowley had shoved his hand through her flesh. "Oh, you will be sorry," she murmured evenly Ashleigh felt herself smirk and roll her shoulders back, holding her head up high. "Trust me, you will."

"I understand if you feel that way." His brown eyes shone with regret and he looked behind him to where Crowley had disappeared. He seemed conflicted, torn between his loyalty to the demon and whatever it was he felt towards her. Ashleigh raised her eyebrows.

"If you're really that upset about tricking me into dealing with you– and fuck, I didn't even get to experience the benefits of no nightmares –" she began, methodically pointing out the flaws in his case, but he stopped her and began to explain.

"This is part of the deal. Crowley removed your soul, without your soul, you don't sleep," Heka shrugged with a façade of nonchalance, but his eyes never left hers.

She mulled this new information over. Huh – she didn't sleep, meaning no more nightmares. It was pretty clever, she had to admit, Heka getting exactly what he wanted while fulfilling his part of the deal, the tricky bitch. She felt herself grin lazily and settled back in the chair, relaxing her hands out of the fists they were curled into. "You might want to start running, pretty boy," she smirked, not caring about the possible consequences of her words. "There are twenty-four hours in a day, and apparently I don't sleep. Watch yourself."

Heka tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed as if he wasn't able to comprehend her major personality shift. "Why don't you watch your tone with me, Ashleigh? I am still a god, and any regret I may have regarding your situation can easily be pushed aside. Anyways, you're better off without your soul. Think about it for a second. No more dreams, no more fear to hold you down. You have no worries. Accept the benefits of your situation."

Ashleigh remained silent for a minute, regarding the Egyptian god with a mildly amused stare. "Maybe you're right," she began. "Maybe I should 'accept the benefits of my situation', but that doesn't erase the fact that you pulled one over on me and that the 'soul-grabbing' thing your little black-eyed bitch friend did over there really fucking hurt. You're going to pay for that one way or another." She pursued her lips and never broke her stony cold gaze. Green bored into brown ruthlessly. She only had one thing on her mind: revenge.

Heka smirked at her, trying to give off the air of smugness but she could see the hurt tainting his expression. "You sound like an ant trying to threaten a tiger. Maybe you should pick on someone your own size, Ashie," he used Loki's nickname for her to his own advantage, trying to get a rise out of her at the reference to the Norse god. She didn't let it faze her, she shrugged her shoulders and sneered at him.

With that last comment, he flickered out of existence and to god-knows-where, leaving her all alone in the darkness of her basement, tied to a chair. For the first time in a long time, her mind was completely empty and she enjoyed the silence, the feeling of being able to sort back through her memories without any fear souring the process. Sorting her thoughts and desires out had become infinitely easier in the short time that she'd been without her soul and she began to consider what Heka had told her.

She began to methodically list the disadvantages of having a soul. There was the emotional baggage that had been lifted off her shoulders. The horrific nightmares that plagued her every time she closed her eyes. In addition, there was all the pain and suffering involved and it felt like the foggy shroud of confusion had finally been removed from her eyes. Maybe this was better. She could start her life over and live on her own terms with nobody pulling her strings. No Kali, no other crazy gods or goddesses and… no Loki. Interesting.

Without her soul, the weird attachment she felt towards him no longer tugged inside her stomach as much. It was definitely still there, which was still annoying, but it was less debilitating than before. Maybe she could make use of the situation and finally regain control over her circumstances. She was completely and utterly done with being yanked around and emotionally toyed with by gods and mortals alike. It was time she stood up and got shit done, without her soul in the way. Perhaps, now that she wasn't so infatuated with Loki (who, by the way, didn't really seem to like her back) she could move on.

That is, if she could ever get out of these fucking zip ties. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she jerked at the plastic again. The zip ties rubbed against the already chafed and irritated skin of her wrists and she hissed lowly in pain. Sitting up straight, she pulled her shoulders back. Okay, maybe if she pulled her shoulders back and tried to break them…? Would that work? She might as well try. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and yanked as hard as she could, ignoring the way they cut into her sensitive skin and just kept pulling, biting her lip against the pain.

Finally they popped off and she pulled her arms around, rubbing at her wrists absently. She felt a warm, wet substance trickle down her arms and frowned. Great. She was bleeding. Whatever. Ashleigh methodically wiped the blood off on her pajama pants and bent down to untie her legs. As she got up, a thought occurred to her. What if Loki came back? What was she going to say to him about all this? Was she going to say anything to him about all this?

No, she thought with icy cold determination flooding through her. Let him come. This was her fucking house and if he wanted to start something, she should just let him try. She didn't care anyways, she really didn't and if Loki wanted to go and be a little bitch, that was fine by her.

…

Ashleigh forced a tight smile at her neighbor, making a serious effort to hide her bloodied and swollen wrists in the pockets of her pajama pants and slipped her key in the front door. After jiggling the key in the old and slightly rusty lock, she slipped inside and let the door bang closed after her. She wet her lips, pulling on the lower one with her teeth as she surveyed the damage. Stuffing from her pillows was everywhere. The fan was spinning in a slow, disjointed rhythm above her. Pictures on the walls were smashed and glass shards littered the floor.

She had always kind of enjoyed cleaning up, the methodical process of sweeping, polishing and dusting lulled her into a calm and focused state of mind. Dim memories of being fourteen and working in the local history museum and sweeping up the dust off the floors and polishing the glass with delicate precision flitted through her thoughts and she felt, instead of nostalgia and wistfulness, only a quiet emptiness. Ashleigh absentmindedly walked to the bathroom and yanked up the sleeves of her shirt. The water ran red once she put her wrists under the tap but the painful twinges that accompanied washing out the wounds didn't bother her.

It was just pain. Pain was a normal human feeling. It wasn't anything to be scared of. In fact, it almost brought comfort to her. The feeling of pain grounded her, reminded her that she was still human despite what the demon had done to her. That although she was going to hunt him down and make him pay, maybe she could take advantage of what had happened.

Another thought struck her. Without a soul, she couldn't dream.

Ashleigh didn't know whether she liked that idea or if she didn't. Frankly, all she'd wanted was for everything to go back to the way it was before she started to have these dreams, but she supposed that she'd have to make do with what she had until she could find Crowley and Heka. Which lead her to her second issue. They were demons and gods respectively, and she was a soulless human. She stood no chance, which was why she had to be prepared. After collecting the last of the broken glass up into her hands and dumping it into the trash, she moved on to the pillow stuffing that had been thrown everywhere.

As she was throwing out handfuls of stuffing, a bang sounded out from behind her and she whirled to see who it was.

"Ashleigh, Jesus, hey, Ash," a ruffled and flustered Loki managed to get out, his golden eyes wild and desperately searching hers. "Y-you're okay, thank God," he spluttered again and bent down, heaving in a deep breath before straightening up and sanding his hands on his jeans. "I mean, I couldn't sense you there for a couple hours and, shit, I don't know, I'd been looking for you all over and yeah, I guess you're okay, right, kiddo?" he spluttered, his exhaustion making the words barely comprehensible.

In that split second, she decided not to tell Loki about anything. Not the soul removal, not anything that Heka had did to her, nothing. He'd just mess it up by acting illogically and impulsively, and the only person she could trust at the moment was herself. Loki had left her when he'd promised to be by her side and to help her. He'd broken that promise over something that she had been tricked into doing and she doubted she could truly rely on him to keep her secret if his promises and vows were so easily broken by emotion-driven decisions. Heka had fucked her over and she decided that she was done with people continually thinking it was okay to do that to her.

"Uh, yeah," she said in a self-evident tone and raised her eyebrows. "I'm fine."

Loki raised his eyebrows and looked around at her apartment, really looked this time and she watched as his jaw dropped at the sight of the crimson paint splattered across her walls. "W-wha… Did you…? Ashie, what happened in here?" He turned to her, completely flabbergasted at the scene in front of him. "You're not fine," he said shakily. His eyes were wide as he took in the state of her apartment and his Adam's apple bobbed heavily in his throat. "You've got to tell me what happened. Please."

"My dreams happened," Ashleigh answered coolly and bent down to scoop up more stuffing. Loki caught her hand and pulled her back up gently, disbelief evident in his gaze. Something vaguely familiar made her heart clench and she remembered how Loki's touch had usually done that to her and she remembered the emotions associated with that… but she couldn't feel it anymore. The emptiness, the metaphorical void in her chest that Crowley's hand had left felt like it was slowly crushing her, changing her. She looked away from Loki's molten eyes quickly and repeated, a little more forcefully, "I'm fine, Loki."

He sighed and dropped her hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with two of his fingers. "Look, Ash, I'm sorry," his voice cracked a little on the word 'sorry' and she turned to face him, mildly interested. "I-I had no idea it was going to get this bad. You didn't do anything, I was dumb and I ran off for a stupid reason – I just shouldn't have left you, that's all I'm saying." Loki's voice softened, became infinitely more vulnerable as he neared her again, gazing at her imploringly with those golden eyes. "You just scared the living shit outta me, kiddo, when you disappeared like that."

That weird feeling twisted in her chest again and she felt like she couldn't breathe for a second. All the physical responses of attraction, but none of the emotions that were associated with it. Struck dumb by what he'd just said, Ashleigh grappled for a response. Unfortunately, there was a reason for her never being picked for the drama club. "Uh… I, well, thanks?" she tried and stacked another pillow on the top of her dining table to avoid looking at him again. "I don't really know what you want me to say to that."

He was kind of surprised by her awkward, emotionless reaction and it showed in his taut facial features and furrowed brow. Loki stepped in front of her again, looking at her cautiously. "Ash… you're acting weird."

Ashleigh raised an eyebrow, internally rolling her eyes at his persistence. Why was he making this more difficult? Why couldn't he just pick up on the hostility and mistrust and leave? "Yep. Sure. I'm acting weird, but that might be because I just screamed my lungs out for an entire night and then trashed my apartment in my sleep? I wouldn't know though." she replied in an off-handed, aloof tone of voice and straightened another crooked painting on the walls, flipping her hair over her shoulder and continuing to meander through the hall.

The Norse god followed her down the hallway to her kitchen as she rehung pictures and marked out which spots she needed to either scrub or repaint, his disbelieving expression seemingly etched onto his face. "Ash, if you're mad at me –"

She whirled at the comment. "Mad? Loki, I'm not mad," she began and he appeared visibly relieved until she tacked on to the end with a shrug: "I just don't really care anymore." The statement was both calculated and deliberate, tailored to provoke a reaction out of the trickster. What she didn't need was him intervening in her problems and fucking shit up before she could deal with it. The best possible option was to remove him from the picture.

"D-don't care – wait, what? What do you mean?" Loki managed. Hurt flickered in his eyes and was evident in the tense set of his mouth and eyebrows. He'd obviously not expected that cold and emotionless response from her, but although it did kind of cause something in her heart to twist uncomfortably, she still maintained her composure and stared at him blankly.

"You heard me, Loki. I'm tired, so damn tired," she scrubbed her face with the heels of her hands and forced herself to exhale shakily, cursing the shitty social skills that came with the removal of her soul. "You and your constant drama just stresses me the fuck out – first it's Kali, then it's a whole host of other people. I don't think this whole thing is going to work anymore." To convince him further, she softened her voice a fraction and dipped her head, as if she was embarrassed or ashamed. "You broke your promise to me. You said you'd be there for me whenever, not just on and off." Something in Loki's expression cracked and he stood there in confounded and unbelievably hurt silence as her stony words hit him like repeated punches to the face. "It's not going to work anymore."

"Ash…" he tried, absolutely gutted and in that moment, he sounded so vulnerable and almost, dare she think it, heartbroken. "If this is about Kali –" his voice was catching as he tried to understand why she was acting like she was, his expression confused and completely beyond wounded.

She and put her hands on the dining table, resting all her weight on her hands so her blonde hair fell down in a tangled curtain around her face. "You're stressing me out," she selected her words carefully, making sure her tone was blunt and straight forward with just the tiniest hint of despair. "I guess some of my stress can be attributed to the dreams but honestly?" And this was where she was going to deliver the final, most painful blow and hopefully convince him that she didn't need him. "I think you became part of the problem because you were trying so hard to fix everything. You need to go."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds and she dared a quick peek through a gap in the curtain of her hair. He looked completely stricken by her carefully selected words. Perfect. His face was washed in orange light from the sunrise that was streaming from her window and he looked so far past stricken and hurt that she had to look away Looking like he'd been punched in the gut, Loki blinked a couple times before opening his mouth and closing it just as quickly. "What?" he asked in a stunned voice that was filled with audible emotional pain. His eyes were becoming oddly shiny and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

She said nothing, only watched him with calculatedly mistrustful eyes and stepped back from him, creating a clear divide between them. For a couple of tense seconds, he only stared at her, face stricken and completely stunned from her words and his eyes… that horrible twisty feeling in her stomach clenched again and she looked away from his shiny eyes. "I-I…" his voice was barely above a rough whisper. Then his features closed off, each part of him shutting down so she couldn't hurt him anymore and his stoic façade was back up again. "I guess you're right," the moment of vulnerability and raw emotion he'd shown was gone as quickly as it had come and his voice was tight with strain. "I should go."

Ashleigh continued to gaze at him as he nodded a tense and taut goodbye to her, turning away so she wouldn't presumably see him divulge any more emotion and give her more power to hurt him with. As he flickered out of existence and to god knew where, two mixed thoughts shot through her mind. One was a faint sliver of regret and the next was relief. She cursed the small strand of remorse threading through her emotions as she stood alone in her partially-cleaned house. It was almost as confusing as all the other shit she'd had to deal with when she'd had her soul.

Swinging her legs in absentmindedness as she perched on top of the kitchen table, she stared down at her red wrists and mulled the events over. Now that Loki was gone, there wasn't anybody to intervene with her issues anymore. All he would do was get overly emotional and make a rash, impulsive decision where it wasn't his place to make one. If she was going to go toe to toe with a god and a demon to get revenge for fucking her over, she needed to be smart about it. And although she could have used the extra man power that Loki would have been able to provide, he wouldn't let her call the shots. He'd insist that she should get her soul back. And honestly? She didn't really want it back. There was so much less weight on her shoulders now, she felt like she could finally breathe. No emotional obligations to anyone, no fucking terrifying dreams keeping her up at night, no Norse gods continually running through her thoughts. And now that Loki was out of the picture, by extension, Kali was too. Another crazy-assed god off her back.

But with all that considered, why was there a tiny part of her that still missed him?

;;;

Ashleigh was lying flat on her back on a metal bench, groggily trying to sit up and find out where the fuck she was. And that was when she was abruptly pulled back by the chains around her arms and legs, the leather straps that bound her waist, chest and hips to the freezing table. This situation felt so familiar, something that she was strangely accustomed to and she began to wrack her exhausted brain for answers. Okay. What was the first thing she remembered? A demon with a horrible face… something about a British accent… the nickname Foxy?

Crowley.

And then it all came flooding back to her, slamming into her like a tidal wave. Waking up in her basement, tied to a chair with Crowley and Heka conversing in the background. Crowley shoving his hand through her stomach and yanking as hard as he could, his hand clamped down on her shoulder to support himself and she faintly remembered a blindingly white light being pulled out of her. And then blackness. Fear rose in her throat and her breathing hitched. Where was she? She faintly heard screams, horrible, tortured screams and pleas for help that somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew was never going to come. It was hot, so fucking hot in this place, wherever she was and all she could smell was sweat, and a coppery odor which she could only assume was blood.

Then it hit her – why she knew this place so intimately, why she felt like she'd been here before. Because she had.

Her pulse began to hammer in her chest as she fixed the pieces of the puzzle together. She remembered hiding herself in the bathroom and screaming her lungs out as she was pinned down and tortured by cackling men in bloodied suits. She remembered the dreams becoming more personal, instead of watching, she'd become the one tied to the rack. And she remembered screaming and screaming her lungs, but being reassured because she kind of doubted that it would come to pass. How could it? It was the only thing that had kept her sane.

"Hello, Foxy," a blurry face swam in her vision, flickering between his grotesque true appearance and his middle-aged meatsuit. "You have an unfortunate habit of passing out on people, I have to admit." the clipped voice continued as she tried to make sense of everything as her vision cleared. Crowley swaggered around her leisurely with a smug smile plastered on his face, his fingers idly running down the sharp edge of a long, serrated knife. "None of my demons thought you'd make it. I mean, Hell isn't for the faint-hearted."

"Hell?" she rasped, her throat screaming in protest. "I'm in Hell?" It felt like the walls of her throat were suctioning closed and she could hardly breathe.

Crowley spared her a mock-impressed glance. "Very good, Fox. Did you figure that out all by yourself?" He simpered and she felt her jaw lock in a cocktail of helpless fear and anger.

"What do you even want with me?" She spat at him with a trembling voice, barely keeping it together. Her chest was heaving with the effort of maintaining her calm and she felt herself beginning to slip into a panic attack again and she struggled against her ties, but that only caused Crowley to snap his fingers so they bound her tighter. "What is it?!" she snarled helplessly, feeling more and more like a caged animal by the second.

"I had to fulfil my – sorry, Heka's - side of the bargain. Soulless-you gets to reap the benefits, I'm afraid. You, the soul, however, are royally screwed. You're a ditchable prom date." he explained in an amused tone which suggested that he was highly impressed with himself. At her still completely confused and terrified expression, he rolled his eyes and clarified, "I know about your little visions and now I want to see what makes you tick. See if I can use you to predict the outcome of this coming demonic war." he gestured to the rods, knives and nails sitting on a plastic tray to the side of him.

Bile rose in her throat as she began to struggle again against her bonds, sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe, "No, no, no –" she stammered through her hiccups.

Crowley only smiled at her, and it was not a nice smile. He sauntered towards her, his fingers toying with one of the long rods in his hands and placed an oddly soft hand against her face, which made her want to throw up from revulsion at his touch. The demon flashed her an amused smirk as she continued to repeat 'no' to herself, shaking his head and placing the cool metal of the rod against her temple. "Welcome to Hell, Foxy," he breathed into her ear before he rammed the rod through her temple. And that was when her nightmares merged with her reality and a howl ripped from her throat, she thrashed against the metal bench and tossed from side to side as she was forced back through her dreams, reliving every horrible moment she'd seen occur. Ashleigh was screaming and sobbing harder than she ever had before because the cold reality was setting in – she was in Hell.

There was nobody coming to save her now.

Author's Note: ...wow. This chapter was probably the hardest for me to write because of all the horrible stuff happening to the main characters. All I want to write is fluff! We will have fluff, though... maybe not soon but not too far away. Once again, thanks so much to CheleOnRage712 - she's been so helpful and nice so thank you!

Anywho, thoughts? If you want to yell at me for never updating (like ever) then please feel free because damn, I'm terrible at it! I just get halfway through a scene, get writer's block, write other scenes and just never finish what I'm supposed to.

ASHLEIGH IS SOULLESS OMG YOU GUYS AND HER SOUL IS TRAPPED IN HELL AND SHE JUST TOTALLY KILLED LOKI INSIDE AND THAT WAS HEKA'S GRAND SCHEME wow I'm getting excited, but what do you think? I'm reeeealllyyy excited to hear from you guys about this chapter because it was really difficult to write. Also, I'm moving the rating up to M because of all the violence/gory stuff.

So, how about that 200th episode? I thought SPN did an amazing job with it, Carry on My Wayward Son made me cry, I loved how the lead character was a Sam girl (aaahhh!) and that discussion about Destiel... damn. Way to shatter the remaining pieces of the fourth wall, Supernatural. It's not like you threw your two main characters through it already.

If you want to hear how the next few chapters are coming along/see gifsets or manips/chat to me because I'm awesome (lol just kidding) then follow me on tumblr - my url is switchblade - heart. tumblr. com

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