Sam wasn't quite sure on how to react when Adeliza returned six hours later covered head to toe in dirt and soot, her hair matted to her forehead in sweat. This was probably the first time he'd seen her in a state other than neat and put together, but she had the same grin on her face as when she had delivered them Alistair's tongue, which he had noted was particularly gruesome on its own. He could only imagine what she'd done this time that would merit such a high level of happiness.
"Adeliza, what the hell?" Sam whispered, glancing towards the doorway to check that Dean hadn't noticed her. He was sure that both he and Bobby would have a bitchfit if he noticed that there were random scorch marks on the carpet.
"What the hell, indeed," was all Adeliza would say in return. She wasn't sure if she wanted to explain how she and Raum singlehandedly set a forest fire in Canada. It was admittedly by accident, as she had only meant to set fire to an abandoned barn, but apparently, Adeliza's hellfire was a little too strong for the mere snow to hold back.
Sam sighed, realizing that he was going to get nowhere with her. "Well, Dean's gonna freak when he sees you — take a shower or something. You better not have killed anyone."
"What do you take me for, a barbarian?" Adeliza scoffed at the accusation. Still, she headed upstairs to find Bobby's bathroom, and all Sam could think was how the man would react knowing that an ancient demon was about to use his towels.
As the sound of hot water moving through the pipes began, Dean wandered into the kitchen and gave Sam a confused look. "Dude, who's showering?"
"Adeliza," Sam said. Dean stared at him for a few seconds blank of all emotion until the brothers couldn't take it anymore, and they began to laugh. "Man, what happened to us?" Sam snickered, "We almost busted our asses trying to kill Azazel and now a demon's using our shower."
"And she's about to tell us a bedtime story," Dean chuckled. "I dunno, man, she's growing on me. Like a weird, itchy fungus."
That was true, for the most part. Of course, there was always going to be this part of him that couldn't entirely trust her, since she was a demon, but at least she was more dependable than Ruby. And there was the whole mysterious stigma behind her. How she managed to weaken Castiel when they'd first met (which he still couldn't wrap his mind around. How the hell does a demon get the advantage on an angel?) and apparently, she was well acquainted with angel lore since her mother was a vessel. If her own mom was harboring an angel then how did Adeliza end up in hell?
Dean had a lot of questions, all of which he hoped could be answered as Adeliza stepped back into the kitchen. Her hair was dripping wet and apart from her pants and a bra, she was wearing nothing else. She didn't seem bothered by the fact, but Sam sure did. "Ad..Adeliza, where's your shirt?"
"Burnt. If you're so bothered, get me a shirt unless you want me to leave for another thirty minutes." Dean raised his eyebrows. "What? I like to have a matching wardrobe," Adeliza defended.
"Just take one of mine," the youngest Winchester sighed, and Adeliza disappeared for only a minute before coming back with a (shocker) plaid shirt.
"Jesus, do you own anything other than plaid?" she said in disgust. "I feel like a fucking lumberjack."
"So are did you come here to talk or to critique our clothing, Ms. Paris Fashion?" Dean scowled.
Adeliza smirked. "I don't see why I can't do both," she said. Dean gave her a flat look. "Fine, fine, let's get comfortable because this is going to be a long story no matter what you want to know."
They had decided to settle down in the living room; Adeliza spread across the entire couch, feeling more than comfortable with her feet propped up on the couch's arm and her arms behind her head. The brothers took up the last two chairs and both sat up in an attentive pose.
"So, boys, what do ya want to know?"
"Your mother," Sam began and Adeliza rolled her eyes, thinking it a cliche question. "What happened after she became a vessel? What did you do? Was that when you sold your soul?"
This was beginning to sound like some twisted interview on Fox. "Sit back and relax, boys, because this is going to take awhile."
"If you didn't know already, I am one old bitch. I was born in 1819, in the proud country of London, England—"
"Where's your accent?" Adeliza shot Dean a severely annoyed look. Five seconds into her monologue and he was already interrupting. Evidently seeing that this was not the time, Dean looked at her sheepishly.
"I was getting to that before you rudely interrupted me. After I was born and graced the earth with my presence, my parents moved to Spain. Father loved the culture and my mother grew up there, loved that country so much she just had to raise me there. So, Dean, had I not learned to adopt the American and English accent and instead faced racist pricks, I would have a Spanish accent. ¿Eso responde tu pregunta, imbécil?"
Dean didn't speak a word of Spanish but he knew Adeliza enough to guess that she just insulted him. Glaring, he bit his tongue and decided not to say anything.
"Anyways," Adeliza continued, "When I turned 13, we moved back to London. I had to learn an English accent, dress up in corsets, and by the time I was 16 I was engaged to Mr. James Clarke..."
171 years ago
London, England
October 3rd, 1837
Adeliza was wearing perhaps the nicest dress she had ever seen in her life. Leon Hyem was plenty rich, and he had spent a considerable amount of money on making sure that the dress she wore this evening was nothing less than perfect. The gown's corset was a dark blue adorned with the finest flowery stitching; the skirt was something out of a storybook, seemingly shifting from black to purple in the flickering candlelight. Her hair was pinned up and tied into a braided bun at the back, ringlets escaping and framing the sides of her face as if she were a masterpiece. Ladies must not be vain, but as the seventeen-year-old looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but marvel at her beauty.
James Clarke had helped her out of the carriage carefully. He was a handsome man if she had ever seen one; his hair was combed into elegant curls and he wore a fine suit. He was everything that Adeliza was supposed to look for in a man: taller, stronger, wealthy. Perhaps if she had grown elsewhere she would not seem so shallow, but that wasn't the only reason why Adeliza loved him. He was remarkably suave, knowing just when to compliment her and just the right topics of conversation and knew just the right spots where she would erupt in goosebumps.
"You look like the stars tonight, beauty," James murmured as he pulled out a velvet chair for her, and henceforth the dinner commenced.
They spoke to each other all evening long; never once did they disagree or if they did, the other never showed it. Adeliza could feel her heart thumping against her chest, could dance away the night as James knelt and pulled out a black box. On top of the sleek silver was a red diamond, gleaming under the chandelier. He told her how he'd protect her, he'd care for her and how nothing could ever come between them.
Foolishly, she believed him.
Dean's eyes fell upon the same ring hanging from a chain around Adeliza's neck. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it before, now that it appeared so obvious. She followed his gaze and smirked, taking the ring from the chain and sliding it onto her finger. "Still a perfect fit. It's a shame I have no need for money; maybe I could've gotten a small fortune for this."
But somehow Sam doubted that she would ever give it away. She had worn it all these years— to say that she didn't care at all was a bald-faced lie.
"Let's skip to after the plague, shall we? My mother became a vessel, yadda-yadda-yadda, my son dies, and our wonderful James Clarke..."
165 years ago
London, England
December 6th, 1843
Pride was an ugly sin of which millions were guilty of, Adeliza included. But never in a million years would Adeliza have guessed that it affected her wonderful James Clark as much as it did...
Five years after her husband survived the plague, his once handsome face was left with hideous, circular scars— which Adeliza wouldn't have ordinarily even batted an eye at; she was still in mourning of little baby Leo, of her parents, and now, of her beloved husband James. Technically he was still breathing. His limbs worked fine, he was perfectly capable of speech, and if he turned the other way you would've never suspected anything different.
But the man she knew was dead. He was replaced by a monster.
See, James didn't take his loss of beauty good at all. He was ashamed, so horrified that he couldn't bear to go out into public. Instead of growing sad he grew bitter at everything. Bitter of his son's death, of his in-laws, of his beauty, and most recently, of Adeliza. Why should she get to walk around, looking beautiful and stunning while he was forced to hide in the shadows? She acted like her life was drastically changed after all of this, as if her pain were at all comparable to his.
So, the man resorted to righting the wrongs life threw at him. If Adeliza thought that her life was bad now, she'd just have to wait until James showed her what a bad life was like.
He was an animal. At the slightest sound, he would snap, turn around and beat her until she was black and blue until she was screaming out in agony. But completely after he would be calm—charming, as if nothing had happened at all. With his hair falling over his face he would put his lips next to her ear and hold the sobbing woman close, stroking her hair.
"You're still beautiful to me," he whispered snidely, repeating her words. "Even if the world thinks you're not."
After this, he would lock Adeliza in the bedroom and let her out for dinners and chores, and then he would treat her like a queen, would grovel and beg for forgiveness and cry until she gave in. But deep down, Adeliza had a growing anger, a thirst for blood. Each time he beat her she felt her vision tint more and more red until all she could begin to see was shades of scarlet.
One day, after disappearing for a week, James returned to the house. Adeliza didn't bother looking up at him as he entered the bedroom.
"My stars, look at me."
But she knew better now. If she looked at him, he'd fly into a rage, ashamed that anyone had caught a glimpse of him. She kept her gaze on the floor.
He walked closer, used his hand to force her chin upwards.
It's finally happened, she realized, her eyes wide, he's finally broke me.
In front of her wasn't the crusted scars she had grown accustomed to throughout the years. He was normal. He was better than normal; the man in front of her was an enhanced form of what he used to be. His amber eyes were dancing with happiness, and he let out a laugh as he picked up his wife and spun her around.
But a he spun her, Adeliza caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eye was swollen almost shut and her face was varying in shades of purple to yellow bruises. She had a split lip, blackened hand marks around her neck.
"Everything is going to be okay again, my stars," he murmured, "Better than okay."
From the hallway, Adeliza could hear a soft crying. She shot up at the sound; it was the sound that haunted her sleep, rang in her ears whenever she looked at a baby. She sprinted into the hallway and let out a strangled sob. It was her son. She shakily took him into her arms and hugged him close. James came up behind her and wrapped his arms around the both of them, and from a distance, it looked like a family or at least a parody of one.
But it was too late for that.
Adeliza looked at James and her vision turned red. She looked at him and her heart beat in her chest, half in fear and half because of her foolish feelings. Staring down at her son, however, she knew that she'd have to at least fake it. For Leo.
And over the next few years, that was exactly what she did. There were moments. Moments when James would explode and give her a slap here and there and while she tried her hardest to ignore it, she couldn't. There was a slow burning rage building up in her chest every time he dared to lay a hand on her. She should've known that it was only a matter of time until the loose seams holding her family together tore entirely.
Leo was five years old. James was out on the town, always eager to show off his new face, and Adeliza was left home with her son. All was well, it seemed, until it came.
It was a godly screech; loud enough to send both mother and son collapsing to the ground and at enough force to shatter the windows, blow the doors off its hinges, send a piece of glass shooting right into her Leo's throat. As soon as it came it left, and there Adeliza was left, sobbing over her son's death for the second time and wondering what she had done to deserve this life she led.
James returned minutes later. The authorities were already there and though he acted shocked, Adeliza could see the rage brewing in his eyes. He listened to Adeliza answer all the questions and once the officers left them with the body to bury, James beat her. Over, and over, and over and he didn't stop and it was then that she realized that he was going to kill her.
She grabbed a lamp, hit him over the head with it and fled the house, limping and on the verge of collapsing.
It was then that she saw him.
An old man, his hair graying and rotting teeth. Somehow, Adeliza knew that he was here for a reason. His eyes flashed black and carefully stepping over James's unconscious form to get to her, he offered her a cigar.
"No," she declined immediately.
"Let's skip the formalities. This is the second time I've had to do this, so you can bet the price will be raised a bit higher," the old man drawled, "I'll bring young Leo Clark back, but it's going to cost you more than your soul. Last time it was a life for a life; now it's two lives for one."
Even in her shocked state, Adeliza knew what he was implying. Wordlessly, Adeliza walked over to the now waking James Clark. He looked from her to the old man and began begging, "No, no please, Adeliza I l-love you, so much darling, you're m-my sta-ars—"
The old man handed her a knife.
"Please, Addie," he wailed, "I lo-ove you more th-than anything in this world!"
"Shut the fuck up," Adeliza snarled; the red in her vision was overwhelming. Her heart pounded, beating against her chest and she sat on his chest, pinning his arms down to his sides.
She killed him slowly. Made sure he shrieked and while it didn't nearly measure up to the number of times he made her scream out in agony, she felt the satisfaction fuel her. She sliced him up slowly, whispering that he would be ugly again, and before he bled out — just a second — she kissed him. It lasted long and as her murderer began to slip away, he kissed her back, closed his eyes and let out his last, shuddering breath.
The brothers were silent.
What could you say after something like that? This demon in front of him, they had known her to be cruel. It was one of the reasons why Sam wanted her on their team. But what could you possibly say that would make any more of a difference than just staying silent?
This, perhaps.
"What happened to Leo?"
Adeliza tore her gaze from her ring to look up at Sam.
"I don't know. Alma tracked me down right after that. Crazy bitch half-apologized and half-screamed at me. Told me that she sensed a demon outside the manor and when she sent an angel to kill it, an angel made that fucking noise."
"Adeliza..." Sam trailed off.
Adeliza scowled. "Don't go treating me like a fucking pansy now. I've had centuries and hell and on earth to get over it. Don't forget, Winchester brothers, that I'm a demon. But like you said, I'm on your team now. Now if you don't mind, I need to go change out of this ungodly plaid shirt."
She stood up.
But right before she disappeared, both brothers could swear they saw a single tear running down the side of her face.
