Hi, sorry I haven't updated sooner, but college has been pretty busy recently. I'm off for a week now though, so I'll have plenty of time to write some more and update more regularly. I really need to send some thank you's to people who have left reveiws and stuff, so I'll get round to it this week (fingers crossed) Anyway for now I'll give you all a collective hug and thank you. I hope you're enjoying Miriana's deviation from the story, hopefully Cas will be in it next chapter. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! P.S on a completely seperate note, supernatural was amazing this week! Its finally on british TV, but i'm still watching it on the internet, I'm just too impatient to wait! :)

Miriana was awoken rather rudely at five in the morning by the shrill ringtone of her mobile cutting through the quiet of her room. She groaned and rolled over towards the bedside cabinet, blindly fumbling across the wood until her searching fingers closed over her phone. She rolled onto her back and flipped her phone open, instantly shutting off the racket of the ringtone.

"Yeah?" she mumbled into the phone, her voice crackling with sleep.

"Miriana?" her aunts voice was panicked on the other and of the phone. Miriana instantly sat up, sensing the concern in her aunts' tone.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling anxiety begin to settle in the pit of her stomach.

"It's Nate. He...I think he's gone missing."

Miriana leaned back against the headboard and rubbed her temples, "What do you mean?"

"He hasn't been home in days."

"That's not so unusual," Miriana said.

"He's not answering his phone," she sounded close to tears, "None of his friends have seen him. And..." she paused, leaving an ominous silence on the other end of the line.

"What?" questioned Miriana, feeling sick.

"There have been omens and signs all over town for the last week or so. I think it's the demon."

Miriana had to swallow hard before she could speak again, "The demon?"

"The one that killed Cristian. I have his name now. Reuben. He's been in town all week. Miriana, what if he has Nate?"

Miriana took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts, "We just need to...track his phone. He has GPS right?"

"I...I think so," her aunt said, voice quavering.

"I'll ring the phone company, they'll track his phone, and..." she stopped, fighting back the sudden sting of tears in her eyes, "We'll go from there. You try and track the demon, now you have his name it should be easy."

"Right," her voice was little more than a whisper, a slight brush of static.

"It's going to be alright, Okay?" Miriana said, surprised by how strong her voice sounded.

"Okay."

Miriana hung up, and she instantly felt the despair and panic overtake her. She climbed of the bed, wincing as she saw the wrinkled state of her slept in clothes in the full length mirror facing the bed. She needed a shower. Then she could organize her thoughts properly, do something productive. She fought against the rising tide of fear and the burn of tears behind her eyes. She would sort this. It wasn't the first time people she cared about had gone missing. It had happened to Sam and Dean, and even her aunt once, and she always found them, the situation was always resolved. This would be no different.

She staggered into the shower and turned the water up until the blistering spray hammered against her back, turning her pale skin blotchy pink. She lost track of how long she leaned against the cold tiles of the shower wall, waiting for her body to stop trembling. She felt so numb, she barely noticed when the boiling hot water ran icy cold.

***

When Nate opened his eyes, he was greeted with nothing but crushing blackness all around him, and the overpowering damp smell of a building that had been out of use for years. He tried to move, but found his arms were bound tightly behind his back; the ropes pulled so tight his shoulder blades screamed in protest. His head was throbbing, the ache centred above his right temple where he could feel a trail of dried blood caking over his forehead. The knife he kept in his boot and the silver blade he had in his jacket were both gone, along with his phone. He swore to himself quietly. This was very bad.

He remembered feeling the brick collide with his skull and the sharp, stabbing pain as he fell into unconsciousness, but everything else was just black. He didn't know how he had gotten into this dark, claustrophobic room, but he suspected demons might be involved. The question that was forefront in his mind was why hadn't they killed him yet? Why hadn't they just killed him back in Maine? His only answer was that they had something much more unpleasant than death planned. Like torture maybe.

He strained his ears for any sound, the rustle of clothes, or the whisper of someone breathing, a voice or footsteps. But there was nothing but crushing silence. He tried to work the knots around his wrists and ankles free, but they refused to come loose, no matter how hard he struggled. He let out a growl of frustration and slumped against the wall, trying to stretch out his cramped, aching muscles. He sent out a silent prayer to Miriana or his aunt. They had to have worked out that he was missing by now. Yeah, he often disappeared for weeks at a time on a hunt with his friends, but he always called home, always kept contact. He wondered how long he had been missing; he thought perhaps two days. His stomach rumbled loudly, hunger clawing at his insides. His clothes felt sticky and stale, clinging to his cold skin, and every muscle in his body was contorted and twisted, screaming in protest at the cramped position he was lying in. He certainly felt like he had been lying there for days.

Suddenly, he heard a door swinging open at what sounded like the end of a corridor, and the echoing noise of boots across the floor. He sat up a little straighter, the only thing he could do to prepare himself for a possible confrontation. Then he heard men's voices outside the door, one of them talking in a tense voice,

"But what if she doesn't-"

Another voice cut across him, sounding exasperated, "I've told you she will come. I know her. She's far too noble to just leave him."

The voices were beginning to fade now, the two men were evidently moving away. Nate strained his ears to listen to their voices, but there were too indistinct for him to discern what they were saying. He slumped back against the wall again, and prepared to wait out the long hours with nothing but the darkness of the room.

***

"Look, this is bloody ridiculous," Miriana snapped, glaring at the neatly manicured woman behind the desk, "How many times, my cousin has gone missing and I want you to track the GPS in his phone. I've given you the account number and everything."

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss, but we can't find any record of him," she tapped away at a few more keys, "You must be mistaken."

Miriana ran a hand through her hair and fought the urge to slap the woman around the face, He has an account with your company, his name is Nate Westchild, now just FIND HIM." She slammed her hand down in the desk to emphasize the point. A few people looked up from their computers screens curiously. The woman gave a huge false smile, flashing her perfectly white Hollywood teeth.

"I understand this is difficult, Miss," she said in a cool voice, "But we simply don't have a record of him. I'm afraid you'll have to try somewhere else."

Miriana clenched her fist and drew a huge breath into her lungs, forcing herself to calm down. With a sickly smile to match the woman's behind the desk, she flounced out of the office with a "Thank you so much for your help."

She threw herself into her car, resting her head against the driving wheel, waiting for her breathing to calm, but it wouldn't slow. The frustration gave way to panic and a crushing sense of fear. She was no closer to finding Nate. If he was even alive and not lying in a pool of blood somewhere. She tried to force such morbid thoughts down; they weren't helping to muffle the choking feelings of anxiety and desperation. She found herself wishing for Castiel. She needed his deep soothing voice and the calming force of his cerulean blue eyes. She wished she hadn't been so cruel to him the last time they'd met.

She was jerked from her reverie by her mobile. She scrabbled through the contents of her bag until she found it, glancing at the caller ID. It was Nate. She felt relief coursing through her, uncoiling the constant twist of worry that had lodged in her stomach and chest.

"Nate you bastard, do you have any idea how worried I've been?! What, are you allergic to the phone now or something? For god's sake I thought-"

If you ever want to see your little baby cousin alive and in one piece then I strongly suggest you shut that pretty little mouth of yours, sweetheart," a cold, drawling voice that sent shivers racing up her spine cut across her. She felt her heart sink from her chest all the way down to her stomach. She knew who's voice it was on the other end, knew who had taken Nate.

"Reuben," she stated. There was no questioning tone in her voice, just crippling realisation.

"Damn straight, doll face. It's been a while."