Info for this chapter: Roger Taylor and John Deacon were members of the band Queen.


Chapter 36

Lucifer...

What are you doing, Lucifer?

The once most beautiful and beloved of God's angels stirred, feeling the very human pain on his restrained limbs that had perpetually seeped into his body several months ago. Since he was captured and humiliated by his alt-older brother, he had remained there, in a filthy cell, bound and broken. Forced to kneel and bow like a pitiful dog, while the slit at his throat continued to pour drop after drop of his divine essence.

Open your eyes and look at me, Lucifer.

Was someone talking to him? He didn't think so. Nobody ever came to simply chat with him, they only came to collect his grace and change the bowl. Lucifer would complain about being bored out of his mind, if not for the fact that he was semi-unconscious most of the time. It wasn't half as bad as it had been spending millennia in the Cage, with only his rage and plotting plans of vengeance to keep himself entertained. At least here he could actually nap from time to time, even if only due to weakness. It was a respite.

Oh, how the mighty has fallen...

That insisting voice was starting to actually irk him. Who the hell dared to disturb his sleep? They better shut up or he would make them pay... the moment he was set free, of course. He will.

Why do you let them do this to you, Lucifer?

Ok, that was it. Snapping his eyes open, the Devil made an incredible effort to turn his head slightly from side to side, intending to give the annoying voice a piece of his mind... but there was none. His cell was as empty as usual.

What are you doing, Lucifer?

"I'm looking for you to kick your ass, you damn..."

You're dying, Lucifer. You're letting them mangle you like a ragdoll.

"Yeah, well, I don't see you helping, so..."

They're taking away your light, Lucifer. Eventually you will be consumed.

"Go the fuck away... I'm too tired to deal with anyone right now."

Succumbing to exhaustion again, the archangel closed his eyes, yearning for the blissful dark and numbness of slumber. However this time it didn't happen that way: instead of the mercy he was looking for, there in the space of his mind, a figure showed up in front of the bound representation of himself. A figure that was his exact same visage.

"Lucifer..." it spoke to him in a stern yet gentle voice. "What are you doing, Lucifer?"

The ghastly silhouette advanced a few steps, steadfast and slowly, until stopping and taking a knee to the ground. Sad sunken eyes pierced Lucifer's equal ones.

"Nick," he whispered, somehow intrigued and plenty confused. "You... what... how are you here? Am I...?"

"This isn't a hallucination," the man knew before the archangel even finished the question. "Why wouldn't I be here? This is still my body, isn't it? I remained, even when you discarded me for Sam. Even when Crowley found me, rotten and abandoned, and turned me into your prison. I've always been here."

"But I... I released you, I know I did. Why aren't you in Heaven?"

"Is that even a question?" Nick replied without any bite. "No reaper ever came for me, because I hadn't died. I was very much alive when you took possession of me. You burned through me, inside out, and took everything I had left."

Lucifer frowned, his confusion growing bigger. What was the human's purpose here, showing up after so long? He hadn't even felt a single ounce of his presence since Crowley trapped him back in Nick's body.

"You made a promise to me, Lucifer," Nick spoke calmly. "A promise that, several years later, is still to be fulfilled. 'I'm sorry, I can't bring them back, but I can give you the next best thing. God did this to you, Nick. And I can give you justice.' That's what you said back then."

The Devil nodded, begrudgingly admitting his failure. He had his own personal vendetta against Daddy dear, which was way bigger than a mere wife and baby murdered in cold blood... but he had offered Nick justice sincerely. It would have been just another knot in the rope to get revenge for him, no skin off his back.

"Ehm, alright? It's taking a tiny bit longer than planned, pal, but if you want an apology for the delay..."

"I don't. What service an apology would serve to me? I want you to do what you're supposed to. But look at you. What are you doing, Lucifer?"

"Could you pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top stop asking the same damn thing? It's not like I have many options at this moment."

Nick got up, looking down at him both figuratively and literally. Lucifer grunted, greatly ticked off, but not like he could do anything about it. Then the human began pacing around him, watching his every move, taking note of the archangel's bound limbs and slit throat.

"In this world, the battle that God staged was won by Michael and you were killed." Softly, Nick spoke again after the third or fourth circle. "If he kills you again, who is going to get me revenge for my family? Who is going to make God accountable for his crimes? I want you free. I need you free, and still you let them take away your power."

"Hey, they certainly didn't ask for my permission!"

"Give it to me," the widower suddenly dropped to his knees, finally a note of anger in his voice, and took the Devil's face between his hands. "Your grace, don't let them steal it from you any longer. Don't let it flow. Become human. I'll storage it for you as it regenerates."

Lucifer opened wide his eyes, astounded. What the hell was the human saying?

"No, I can't do that," he rejected, shaking his head and trying to move away from the man's grip. "If I retract my grace, I'll definitely die. You will die."

"All things considered, I'm already as good as dead. But you won't." A small, trembling smile crept upon Nick's face. "I'll fuel you, my soul will fuel you in place of your grace. Painful it will be, but eventually you'll be strong enough to break free."

"... Why are you so loyal to me? I'm supposed to be the Big Bad Wolf in humanity's eyes."

"Are you? You might be right." In a second, contempt and fury flowed out of the mournful man in a heatwave so potent that Lucifer almost felt choking. "But I can't forget that Heaven did nothing the night my family was murdered. No help ever came, no angel saved them... they just let it happen, as they do every day. But you... you came to me and offered something in return. Not them, you. The Fallen One you are, the Righteous Ones they are, but I can't see how you're any worse than them. Doing evil things, or allowing evil things to happen? In the end, there's no difference."

Hearing this, the archangel pondered his situation. It was actually quite the tempting plan. He wasn't scared of human pains, as annoying as they were. But taking Nick's offer would mean a very more serious consequences for him.

"If I do that, use your soul to storage my grace, I will destroy you. Consume you completely," he made it clear. "Sooner than later, it will burn through your soul in the same way your body did before. Nothing be left of you."

"I don't need anything of me to be left," Nick assured him sternly. "For what? To go to Heaven? No, thanks. I once surrendered my body to you, now I'm willingly offering you my soul to make use of. Bring me the justice you promised. For Sarah, for Teddy... You haven't met your son either, don't you want to know him?"

Only one word was needed.

"Yes."

The instant Lucifer said it, accepting the treat, a sudden light filled their mind space. The darkness dissolved, and everything around was bathed in the distinct glow of a human soul. He felt his aches disappeared, his limbs no more restrained. Even before of being able to see amidst the blinding whiteness, Nick grabbed his elbow and pulled him up on his feet. When had it been the last time he stood up proudly, instead of kneeling shamefully? It was almost unbelievable how something so simple could be this exhilarating, but now, with all this new vitality running through him... It felt like ages since he was this strong and powerful.

"There won't be any more chances, Lucifer," Nick said, his ghastly silhouette turning blurry. "No more unexpected gifts. This is a one-time thing. There isn't anything else to give, nothing else for you to take. Do not waste it."

The archangel could only watch, speechless, as his host pretty much melted and became undistinguishable in the ethereal surroundings. His elbow tingled hot where Nick had last touched him, having left a brand of ownership over a soul. Since Lucifer was currently residing in the body attached to said soul and was the dominant entity, he guessed it was normal for him to wear it.

Now what will you do, Lucifer?

That barely whispered question was the last thing he ever heard from the human. Now he was truly alone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I still don't think it's a good idea. You could get hurt!"

It was already the third of fourth time that Julia had said it since breakfast, but the other inhabitants of the bunker seemed intent on ignoring it. Everyone that was in the library looked at her as if she was just trying to coddle a baby.

"Julia, I know that as a mother you're worried for him, but..." Sam diplomatically tried to make her understand.

"Stop right there," Julia turned to him, raising a warning finger towards the hunter. "Don't you dare to give me the 'worrying mother' look. This is not a kid-skinning-his-knees situation we're talking about, it's about my son using his very unstable powers, which might put him in serious danger."

"Mum," Jesse called her softly, it wasn't usual for his tender mother to get worked up like this. "I told you it's ok. I've been feeling good, better than normal, since a while ago. I even healed my eyes on instinct, without needing a spell. I feel... healthy."

Julia chewed on her lower lip, upset.

"Every time you use your abilities, they take a toll on you. That time you slowed the storm until the lost boat was found by the coastguard, it was only a few hours, but your eyes turned completely yellow and you were unconscious for three whole days," she reminded him, hugging herself. "I know that you're what you are, but it always harms you in some way. Using magic hurts you, and we don't even know why."

Sam frowned, now concerned too. He hadn't known about this.

"You seemed fine when we practiced a few basic spells."

"Because the ingredients provided acted as the batteries: herbs, candles, minerals..." Jesse explained. "The spell took its energy from a natural source. But when I use word magic, even if it's not demonic, I still need those batteries. And the only ones I have come from my demon half."

There was a heavy silence for a moment. Boys and girls were unsure who's side to take, since nobody wanted to argue with an afraid mother.

"But you said you weren't unstable anymore?" Kevin inquired curiously. "Perhaps I should take another look at the Demon Tablet and see if there's anything about this fluctuation."

"Anyway, I still need to go. It's the Angel key, Mum. It has to be me."

Julia didn't want her son to go. It was dangerous for him, it was dangerous for other people too. But she knew there was nothing she could do about it.

"I could go with him," Jack offered with a sympathetic smile, quoting his father. "I can fly the both of us to where Castiel and Dean are, Jesse wouldn't need to teleport nor use any of his powers. And his anunnaki dot is red, not purple, so it will be an easy pick up."

Sam grinned gratefully and nodded.

"Sure, that sounds good. That way, if anything happens, you can protect Jesse, right?" He turned to Julia. "Do you feel better now?"

The woman sighed deeply, but eventually gave in. If there was anyone in the world able to protect a half-demon boy, it certainly had to be a half-angel one.

"Then it's decided. You two go make your duffels, in the meantime I'll call Dean."

Julia and the boys left. Sam took out his phone, but before he could make the call, Patience spoke intently to him.

"Sam, I'd like to talk to you about something. In private, please."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

One thing was for sure: the ocean in Seabrook, New Hampshire, smelled damn nice in the winter morning. Fresh like recently-washed laundry... if only it wasn't so damn windy and cold.

"I can feel my toes freezing one by one," Dean complained, turning off the ignition and exiting the Impala. "Fuck the FBI policy of poshy shoes, I want my boots."

"I told you to put on another pair of socks, Dean," Castiel reminded him, following behind.

With the mystery of boiled people solved, it still remained the one about who was the salamander guy and who had killed him, burying him in the cove. Not only that, but apparently a new key had activated overnight, and a couple of the kids would be joining them one moment or another. For the time being, they went back to the sheriff's office and asked about registers of missing people.

"I tell you, nobody has disappeared," the old man repeated, clearly wanting to help but not really succeeding. "We're a small community, barely 10.000 people. If anyone disappeared, it would be noticed quite fast."

"Yes, that may be true," Castiel agreed. "But the person we are looking for might not be a local from here. Maybe he was visiting, or travelling."

"In that case you should look in the hospital, or the hostel. I swear on my mother's grave that everybody from Seabrook is where they are supposed to be."

Now that was a serious oath, one that they couldn't ignore... but well, searching in the local hospital was going to be their next stop either way.

"Good morning," a young, dark-haired man greeted them at the nurse desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Agents Taylor and Deacon," Dean said, showing his badge. "We're investigating the case of a missing person, so if you could..."

"The missing people again?" the nurse interrupted, frowning. "I've already talked to your partner barely half an hour ago. I don't have any update yet after only thirty minutes."

"Missing people?" the hunter repeated. "No, wait. What partner are you talking about?"

"Her name is agent Grady," the man said with a besotted look. "The one with the pretty eyes and the sweet smile and the... ahem. You know, agent Grady. Isn't she a partner or yours?"

"Yes, she is," Castiel confirmed. "We did not know if she had already arrived, but we will going to speak to her now. Can you inform us of her current whereabouts, please?"

"Hum, sure. She wanted to talk with the coroner, doctor Suleika Saadi. I didn't see her leave, so she must be still in her office."

"Thank you."

The hunter and the angel turned around, following the hallway to the coroner's office, when the nurse called to them one last time.

"Please, say hello to agent Grady from me!"

Ignoring the clearly smitten man, the fake FBI went on their way, wondering who this agent Grady could be and if she would be any luckier with the coroner than they had been yesterday with the boiled people at the morgue.

Barely a few steps away from the office, the door opened and a female agent carrying a case folder came out, her long chestnut hair tied up in a tight and very uncomfortable-looking bun. But it wasn't this what caught the men's attention.

"What the... Eileen?!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

An hour later, the three hunting friends were chatting relaxingly in a secluded corner of a diner. Hugs had been given and jokes were playfully told, but eventually the mood settled down to a more professional approach.

"Why didn't you tell us that you were back into hunting?" Dean grumbled. "The last thing we knew, two months ago you were still away in Ireland. Jess isn't going to be happy."

"Sorry, Dean. I'm not 100% back yet, but when I learned about this case, I had to take it," Eileen apologized.

"If it's about the boiled people, we already took care of that."

"Boiled people?" Eileen repeated in a confused tone, unsure if she had caught that right. "I don't know anything about boiled people. I'm following a case of missing folks, and I suspect it could a banshee."

"The sheriff told us that nobody has disappeared from Seabrook," Castiel commented. "He swore it on his mother's grave. I would rather believe him."

"They might not have disappeared from Seabrook, but they certainly went missing from somewhere. And their trail ended here, in the local hospital."

"Hey, by any chance," Dean asked, inspired. "Among the people you're looking for, is there a red-haired man? Around thirty-five?"

Eileen nodded immediately, surprised. She opened her case folder and searched through some papers and pictures, until pulling out one. Castiel and Dean recognized him immediately: it was the salamander guy they had disintegrated.

"Matthias Artell, 36, Idaho. Ok man, what were you doing so far away from home? Did you know he was an elemental?" he asked the huntress.

"Really? No, I didn't!" Eileen was as much surprised as she was bemused. "I have eight people missing in this case, going back to almost fifteen years, and they appeared to be completely human. Nothing suspicious about them."

"Why made you think this was a banshee?" the seraph inquired. "We could not determine the cause of the salamander's death."

"All of them were people who asked for euthanasia," Eileen spoke respectfully. "And all of them were denied, for one reason or another. Laws are not easy on this subject, they won't let you die just because you ask. Thing is, when they were denied, that's the last it was heard about them. No ever discharge from the hospital, directly a death certificate. That's why I thought it was a banshee, getting to the depressed people that actually wanted to die."

"Were there corpses you could take a look upon?" Castiel questioned.

"No," the huntress shook her head. "Dr. Saadi, the coroner in charge, told me that it was a simple death by heart attack. Since they weren't locals and nobody asked for their remains, they were cremated and put in a mass grave."

"Yeah, right. Like that doesn't sound fishy at all," Dean snorted.

Castiel was about to ask something more, but an angel-radio call informed him that his son and the cambion have just landed in the Impala.

"Maybe you should interrogate the nurse again, Eileen," the hunter jabbed at her. "You know, he sounded quite taken with agent Grady..."

"Dean, the kids have arrived," the celestial warrior told him, before standing up and leaving.

"Let's go then. My toes are still freezing in these damn shoes."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dr. Suleika Saadi, a middle-aged woman with soft-looking tanned skin and strange turquoise eyes, took a sip of her tea from her shaking hands before snuggling back into the couch. It had been a hellish day at the hospital... or better said, a hellish week. Since the very first minute the fire elemental stepped into her morgue, she knew there was going to be trouble. And look at how right she had been! Now she had a bunch of hunters sniffing around. Because hunters they were, the woman and the two men, of that she was sure.

If only... if only she had rejected the salamander, all of this could have been avoided. But it was very unusual to have someone actually searching her for the peace that nobody else could provide, and he had looked so sad... so tired, so heartbroken. Not any different than the rest of her special patients. It wasn't until Suleika delivered her gift that she learned about the foreign something diluted with the salamander's energy, and by then it was too late.

Breathing deeply, the coroner looked at her wall clock and got up, leaving her tea unfinished. It was time to feed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That question. It was specifically that question which made the joyful male nurse realize that the people in front of him weren't actually FBI agents, but other kind of a (somewhat) police. Not the two teenagers that didn't even look old enough to drink, not the fact that one of the supposed agents was wearing the exact same clothes as yesterday, not seeing the chief agent clearly checking out the rear of one of his female teammates... it was that question.

"Have you noticed any weird smell lately, cold spots, flickering lights?"

The welcoming smile had instantly fallen from his face. The dark-haired nurse squared his shoulders, his whole demeanour adopting a more serious stance.

"You're not FBI," he said without a trace of doubt. "You're hunters."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play the fool with me, I already know what's this is really about. Are we...?" he looked around warily. "Are we haunted by a ghost of something? I suppose it's to be expected in a place where people sometimes die."

"What do you know about hunters and ghosts?" Dean dropped the act. "Is there anything you'd like to confess?"

"No! I'm not..." the young man shrieked, almost offended. "I'm 100% human, thank you very much. But years ago, when I had just entered my first course at a hospital in Carthago, Missouri, there was an eerie case. And this black woman came investigating, Tamara. She told me what was really going on behind the scenes, so to speak."

He remembered that case very well. He had been just a newbie, and the patient had truly scared him: a pregnant woman, about to go into labour and losing her sanity, screaming at the top of her lungs that his husband was a monster that had tried to eat her, and her baby was a monster too. Sadly, it had ended in a stillborn child, and when informed, the woman had laughed hysterically. The last he knew about her case was the transfer to psychiatry.

"Easier for us to do our job, then. Can you tell us anything relative to Dr. Saadi?"

"Dr. Saadi?" the nurse repeated, bewildered. "No, nothing in particular. Why are you investigating her?"

"Do you not find it even slightly suspicious that all of the patients who were denied euthanasia died very shortly after by, apparently, natural causes?" Castiel questioned, frowning.

"... Well, if you put it that way, I guess."

"So have you or have you not noticed any meaningful change in her behaviour lately?"

"Hey, give her a break! She's going through a difficult time right now. Barely a few days ago this friend of hers came to visit, only to suddenly die. Anyone would be a little shaken."

"A friend?" Eileen spoke, earning a dopey smile from the nurse. "Can you describe him?"

"Uh, he was tall, red-haired..."

"Was this him?" the huntress showed him the picture of Matthias Artell, the fire elemental.

"Yes, it's him!" the nurse exclaimed, surprised. "It was a big shock for Suleika. She has been feeling sick since it happened."

"So this supposed friend that comes to visit her ends up a patient of the hospital, soliciting euthanasia which is denied, only to die a few days ago. And you say it was unexpected for the doctor?" Dean summarized, baffled. "Despite having already happened several times in the past? Dude, what the hell is wrong with your brain?"

Jesse couldn't help but snicker at the hunter's frustration. Jack would have too, if only he understood why was that funny.

"Dean, I do not think he can provide us with any useful further information," Castiel opined, touching the nurse's forehead with a finger. "Do not speak about this with anyone."

"Yeah, no kidding. We'll have to take a look at her house for clues," the Winchester agreed, turning towards the exit with the other four following behind.

"There is no need to wait. The doctor is working right now, so the house should be empty. Jack and I will fly there and do an inspection."

"No, wait a sec-"

But before he could say anything, the seraph had already hitched a ride on the nephilim's shoulder.

"I'm supposed to be here only to look for my anunnaki key," Jesse joked, "but this is being way funnier than expected."

Dean's phone beeped, an incoming call signalling his angel.

"What? Don't tell me you got something already, it's been like ten seconds…"

"Dean," Castiel said ruefully. "It is a djinn case."


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