Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 17: The Winchesters
Royal Inn, Rapid City, South Dakota – 2 January 2010, 6.48am
Zara's stomach just had to knead itself like dough all night and ruin any possibility of much-needed sleep. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding and reminding her of imminent death. You gotta get out of here. It's not safe. Yet another voice in her head said, "But it never was!"
She rolled over to her other side and her left-side muscles practically cried in relief. "Am I really gonna do this?" she muttered to herself. There was a little more than an hour before Lucifer would come see her. It was now or never. "Guess I am."
She paced once out of the shower. The steam cleared her mind but going back and forth didn't change the view of the early morning glimmer on the street below. One last breath in, she grabbed her little backpack and walked confidently out of the room.
"Demon, take me to a pharmacy," she demanded, chin held high. She maintained eye contact with Martin, even holding her breath to avoid betraying weakness.
"What for? Are you hurt? The boss could help with that," Martin replied with guarded concern.
"Uh… there's no need for that," she was quick to answer. "A lady's gotta deal with her own problems, if you know what I mean."
She narrowed her eyes, hoping that he'd understand. "Hmm," he squinted back at her, voice gruff. "I could get it for you. Or you know, ask someone else to. Someone familiar with the lady problems..." He gestured at the suite door. "A woman."
Zara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she shrugged and flashed a smile. "Didn't think a short trip 'round the block would be too much for a couple demons to handle," she taunted, treading carefully at the same time. "Lucifer said you were the best. Now I'm not sure what to think."
"Wait, he said that?" Quiet One broke his silence with her. The surprise was evident in his voice but not so much through his unnecessary military sunglasses.
Seeing an opportunity arise, Zara was swift in pressing it. "Yes, Greg, he did," she slowly uttered in ladylike fashion. "But what could I tell him about his 'best demons' if they're too scared to handle a little walk? I think he'd find it interesting. Don't you?"
"Alright, alright," Martin hushed her before Greg could further break his vow of silence. "We'll take you down the street. But no games."
"I don't have time for games. Lucifer is expecting me soon so let's get this train moving," she said authoritatively. The demons didn't question that. Her two bodyguards trailing behind her, Zara walked unimpeded through the hotel lobby and out into the street. The chilly winter breeze caressed her face as they neared the pharmacy.
"We'll wait outside," Martin said. "Get whatever you need and come out quickly. You've got money, right?"
Zara nodded and entered, giving him her best smile. She pretended to browse through the aisles while the demons stared at her from outside. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. She slowly walked to the back of the store, where she would be out of sight of the demons. An employee then approached her, asking if she needed any help. Zara looked at the young brunette, and gave her a warm smile.
"I know this is going to sound weird, but could you please take me out the back door?" she asked.
The woman stared at her blankly, clearly caught off guard by her question. Zara looked at her with pleading eyes, and the woman finally agreed, hoping she didn't make the wrong choice. Making sure that her bodyguards couldn't see them, Zara followed the employee to the back room and heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing the empty alleyway. Quickly thanking the woman, she took off, running as far as she could away from the pharmacy.
Okay, phase 1 complete. Now time to gear up.
Zara entered the large wooden doors of the grand white building. She would have never thought, in all her life, that she would be so relieved to step into a church. Urgency compelled her that day as she sought out the old priest. Panting, she approached him.
"Father, I uh… I need holy water," she asked, feeling ridiculous immediately after the words left her mouth. Her outstretched hand held a newly-bought water bottle. "Is this enough? I- I'm not sure how it works. Do I need to buy it off of you?"
The old man's rheumy blue eyes studied her expression with scepticism. The lights made his white hair shine as he replied. "We usually keep some at the entrance, miss."
"Oh, uh," she stuttered. "Guess I'll just have to find a way to empty this."
"It's alright. I can bless it for you right now. It won't be more than a minute," the priest smiled warmly. She breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling out his rosary and bible, the priest began his incantation. Zara had no idea how saying some Latin words over a bottle of water would make it holy, but the demonology book had been clear that holy water burnt demons. If she ever encountered demons, this may be the only way she could defend herself. Her mind filled with worry about the efficiency of holy water, she paced up and down while the priest was doing his thing. She was caught up in her own thoughts when the priest looked up and called. "It's done."
"Thank you," she mindlessly muttered as she packed the bottle into her bag. She was about to leave when she noticed him staring.
"If you don't mind my asking, are you in trouble?" he asked, his words stretched with a slight Southern drawl. "I recognise that look. So many people come in here with that same look."
Zara released a deep breath, her brown eyes expressing a deep sorrow. "You got me."
"Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9," he quoted. "God listens to those who pray to him. Speak from the heart…" he patted his chest gently. "… and he will answer. Or if you're not ready to talk to the Big Man Himself, you can always find me here."
"That's… nice of you," she said, suppressing her acid tongue. At least he was genuine, which she found some respite in.
"He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless," the priest added, animatedly raising an index finger.
"Right…" Zara trailed off. "Amen…"
Glorifying weakness, that's all your religion does. God likes those who grovel. She stopped herself from thinking any further. It was automatic at this point, but her circumstances gave her a sense of perspective. I came here for God's help, so I'd better suck it up.
The blue floral wallpaper of the motel room did little to calm her nerves as she sat on the bed, drinking some water. She had just hastily locked the door and closed the curtains. By now, Lucifer would have known about her escape. Thinking about it had made her heart palpitate faster and faster. Being prone to paranoia did not make the situation easier. There was a constant feeling of being watched and a sense of impending doom to match. She hated feeling so on-edge.
Her notepad was up next. She'd read some time ago about the usefulness of sigils. Some she drew on pieces of paper and placed strategically around the room, and some she drew on her own skin. As a final measure, she used some more of that kohl on her eyes. A cool wave of relief spread over her to feel the familiar pulse of humans around her.
A bell jingled as Zara entered the diner. It was relatively empty for a 9am diner. She took a seat at the counter, observing as the waitress took the orders of two men who were wearing leather jackets and jeans and seated at a booth in the far corner. "I'll have your best pork chops. And some pie on the side," she heard one of them say. The waitress went into the kitchen briefly and came back out, approaching Zara.
"And what can I get you, sweetheart?" she asked, a bright smile illuminating her soft features.
"I'll just have some pancakes, thank you."
"Coming right up." The waitress disappeared into the kitchen again. Zara took the empty cup in front of her, and poured some holy water in it, just in case. A sip refreshed her parched throat.
Is this punishment for me? Did God finally have enough of my cynicism? She mulled over what the priest said. There's proof now that He exists. But am I too far gone? She brooded. She closed her eyes, and with the sincerest emotion she prayed. She prayed for safety. God, if you're listening, I'm sorry about the mean shit I said in high school. But you understand, right? Now I uh, I'm not sure what I got myself into. I'm guessing it's bad. I don't have to tell you, right? If I'm… If I'm still worth saving, show me a sign. She was broken from her train of thought when her plate of pancakes arrived.
"The ones at the hotel were better," the waitress' voice suddenly turned sour. Zara looked up. Black eyes. Uh oh. "You shoulda just stayed."
She jerked to find the door. Another demon in a suit blocked the exit. She gasped. "We've been looking all over for you," he said.
Zara's stomach dropped. Her grip around the handle of her cup tightened. Now or nothing. With a single flick of the wrist, she hurled the holy water into the waitress' face. "Agh!" the demon hissed. It works.
Without wasting a second, she hurled the same cup into the face of the other demon, breaking the cup and splattering the remaining holy water on his face. The demon fell back, yelling, while Zara made a dash for the door. Just as she was about to book it, a strong force yanked at her ankle. "Shit!" she cussed, her forearms breaking her forward fall. She rolled onto her back and found the writhing demon's hand clasped around her ankle like a handcuff. She kicked with as much force as she could summon, but it was nothing compared to the demon's strength. He pulled her towards him. For a moment, the overwhelming terror of capture was all she could think about. Zara held her arms up to defend herself, or at least shield her eyes from the vision of being knocked out. Instead she heard a male scream.
She dared lower her arms. A knife protruded through the demon's abdomen. His eyes flashed a light so bright that Zara almost thought she was meeting God Himself. But the initial splendour wore out and the demon plopped onto the ground, lifeless, leaving only the image of a man standing over her. It was the same guy who ordered pie just moments before.
As she took in the scene before her eyes, the other man – the one with the notable hair – recited something in Latin. "Exorcisamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"
The demon possessing the waitress squirmed where she stood. It was like something straight out of a movie, Zara thought. In no time, a gust of black smoke erupted from the waitress' mouth and flew out of sight. The air fell still. The waitress lay still on the floor and the taller one checked her pulse. When he was relieved by the result, he laid her comfortably in a sitting position at a booth.
"Are you okay?" the first one asked, apple-green eyes contorted with concern. He held his hand out and Zara grabbed onto it to haul herself to a standing position. She now saw how tall the two men really were – her head was only a little over the shoulder of the shorter one.
"I uh…" she performed a quick mental inspection of her own body. "I am now. Thanks. Um, who are you?"
"I'm Dean Winchester," he gave her a curt nod. "And this is my brother, Sam."
Sam raised his hand to say hi. Their eyes locked. A quick second passed before Zara realised she hadn't said anything and was, in fact, staring. "I'm-" she cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. "I'm Zara."
"Zara," Dean said in his gentle but deep voice. "Why'd those demons attack you?"
"It's a long story," Zara looked between them. Did God actually answer my prayer? "How'd you… do that?"
"It's a long story," Dean said back to her. "Maybe we should talk somewhere else."
Zara ran her fingers along the leather seats in the back of the Impala. They had the same dusty black finish as the car's exterior. Except for the steering wheel and the stereo, the inside was covered in a tan coat, giving the Impala a streak of sophistication alongside its formidable exterior. A car worth owning, she thought. As they drove, with classic rock music wafting in the background, she wanted to break the ice with some conversation.
"Your knife – how's it work?" she asked.
What, this?" Dean reached into his jacket and held up the knife with one hand, the other on the wheel. "It's an ancient demon-killing knife. You stab 'em with it, they die. That's all I know and all I'll need to know."
"Cool. Are there more?" she remarked as she took it from him, feeling its weight and the etchings on its sides.
"If you're an optimist. But this is the only one of its kind we know of," he answered. "It'd be nice to have more, y'know. Especially in our line of work."
"Right…" she paused, observing the two men in front of her. They seemed a little calm, which was strange considering the absolute Crazy Train adrenaline rush that her morning was. "And what is it that you do, exactly?"
Sam turned to face her from the front seat. "We're hunters – we hunt monsters. Like the demons who jumped you."
"Oh right, monsters. Of course. Those… totally exist," she sceptically mumbled, eyes widening. Then she realised Sam was staring, with an odd upturn of the lips on one side. "Hey, excuse my scepticism. It wasn't obvious."
Sam held his hands up in faux surrender. "You're the one who's on the run from creatures of Hell. You tell me," he jokingly argued.
"Okay, okay, I believe it now," she relented. "But I mean… what else is there?"
"Everything you ever grew up afraid of, it's real," Dean stated as matter-of-fact. "Ghost, demons, vampires, werewolves…"
"Ghouls, djinn, witches, angels," Sam continued. "If they're causing trouble, we find them and put an end to it. Except in this case, you found us."
"My lucky day, I guess," Zara shrugged. She released a deep sigh. "Basically you're Ghostbusters."
Sam huffed. "Sure," he conceded. A thought crossed his mind and it showed when his brows dipped slightly. "Back at the diner, you held your own for a while."
"If you could call faceplanting 'holding my own', sure," she said dryly.
"You handled it pretty well, for someone who doesn't know anything about demons. You used holy water," Sam inferred. "How'd you know to do that?"
"Good question," her voice inflected with a higher pitch than normal. "I read it in a demonology book."
She looked him in the eyes to maintain certainty before he asked more questions. Hazel, darker than your brother's, she noticed.
"We're here," Dean announced. They pulled into a yard of sorts that was filled with old cars. Singer Salvage Yard, a sign read. Zara silently took in the rustic, simple-American vibe the place gave off as Sam guided her up the front porch. Dean went in first, his eyes darting around expectantly for a particular target. "Bobby, you in here? We uh, we got a visitor."
Sam courteously pulled out a chair from the dining table and gestured for her to sit. "You must be hungry," he acknowledged. He got them both premade sandwiches from the fridge and settled next to her at the table. "Okay, so let's hear it," he began with a reassuring tone. "What happened back there?"
"Those demons were… chasing me," she took a munch off her sandwich. As Sam waited in anticipation for her to continue her story, Dean took a seat opposite her while Bobby pulled up in his wheelchair. "I kinda made a promise without really knowing what it meant, and now… I'm in deep shit."
"So you made a demon deal?" Sam asked.
"What? No. It wasn't a demon. It was…" Zara took another bite, hesitating to tell them the truth. "Lucifer. It was the Devil himself."
She looked down, not wanting to face their gasps and shocked expressions. "You did what now?" Bobby now spoke, his exasperation clear in his voice. "What does Satan want with you?"
"He just found me one night and kidnapped me," she recounted defensively. "I woke up someplace new, somehow surrounded by these demons. Then he told me that I was something called a vessel. A person who could contain an archangel."
"A vessel," Dean repeated slowly. "But Lucifer already has a vessel. And so does Michael."
"I'm not his vessel," she continued, though her pace was measured. "I'm… Sophia's." She took their silence to mean confusion. "At first I… I thought he was kidding. He made me do some weird magic stuff and… I started experiencing strange things. Visions, voices. And that's when I… I actually believed. And I'm like, 'Oh my God, I'm actually working for the Devil', which… is a big red flag if you think about it. So I ran away this morning and that's when you guys found me."
"Well at least you came to your senses," Bobby said, his words dripping sarcasm. "Better late than never."
"Calm down, Bobby. She's in the same boat as us," Dean reckoned. "At least that explains the reports of all those demonic omens that caught our eye."
Zara's curiosity was piqued by this, and then she had a realisation. "Wait… Winchesters?" she looked at Sam. "Sam Winchester? The demons mentioned your name in passing."
"I'm not surprised," Sam huffed. "I'm supposed to be Lucifer's vessel." Zara's jaw dropped. "And my brother is Michael's."
She just looked at the both of them, mouth agape. What are the chances… "Wait, wait," she shook her head. "Did Lucifer try to kidnap you too? Is he hunting you?"
"No, which is weird, I know," Sam considered with the same befuddlement she had. "But the thing is, he wants me to accept him of my own accord. He doesn't even bother me that much. Because, you know, angels need the consent of their vessels to enter them."
Zara let out a slow, quiet exhale. "No, I really don't," her eyes roved over the wooden table. "My whole world changed so fast. I don't know what to believe and what not to. So the Bible is real? It's not just hogwash?"
"I don't know how much of the Bible is real. I mean, I ain't the biggest Jesus fanboy, or God's, and let's not even get into the Holy Spirit," this time Dean spoke. "But when it comes down to it, the four Horsemen, the Apocalypse – the whole shebang… It's all real, and it's all happening right now and we're trying to stop it."
To think she'd been so insouciant about it before. A sense of dread that Zara previously repressed bubbled to the surface. The whole world… everything… it's going to end.
"Okay, now, back to your story," Bobby regained their attention. "You're saying that you're the vessel of an angel named Sophia?"
"Archangel," Zara corrected.
"Okay, archangel. What's her deal? And why does Lucifer want her topside?" Bobby wondered out loud.
"I asked him the same thing," Zara said. "'Archangel of Wisdom, Keeper of Knowledge,' that's what he called her. Said she supported him in the rebellion. She's a fallen angel."
She remembered the flashes of images that had been revealed to her, not excluding the ones Lucifer showed her. A serene warmth filled the pit of her stomach, almost like a reassurance. That was weird. Lucifer had said she had a bond with her archangel, but she didn't think much considering she hadn't felt anything particularly growing up. But now… now it was clearer than ever. It must have been the visions of the previous day. It opened a door that couldn't be closed. This bond seemed to tug at her now, calling to her heart like a mother to a child. As Zara pondered this, oblivious to the silence she portrayed, Sam spoke up.
"'Course she is. He's upping his game," Sam guessed with a suitable alarm peppering his voice. "Two archangels against one. That's how Lucifer's gonna win."
"Two against one, that's double the destruction too," Dean postulated, sharing his brother's panic. The three of them faced the woman.
"You have to help us," Sam requested.
Sitting there at the table, with three pairs of eyes expectantly looking at her, Zara felt a considerable amount of pressure. She was at conflict with herself. There was this indescribable yearning on one side, begging her to leave everything and follow the signal. And then there were the righteous men. "What can I do? I'm no hunter. I don't know how to help you," she worried.
"We'll figure something out. It ain't a walk in the park for us either," Bobby interjected. His paternal sternness quieted even her questions. "But first things first, we need to know what we're up against. We need our angel expert."
The other two turned to Dean. "Oh," he realised what it meant. Straightening his back, Dean put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. "Castiel, I pray for thee to get your winged butt down here, asap. There's been a uh- revelation."
And so they waited. Sure enough, the rush of wings sounded mere seconds later. A man in a brown trench coat appeared before them. Zara flinched, though she thought she'd be used to it by now. His blue eyes were at once fixed on her, directed like flies to a light.
"Cas, meet Zara," Dean introduced. He too noticed the angel's eerie stare. "She… says she's the vessel of an archangel named Sophia. Anything you can decode for us?"
Castiel looked around uncomfortably before landing his eyes back on Zara's. "We don't talk… about Sophia," he said in a lifeless monotone. "Nobody has in a while." Bobby and Sam exchanged worried looks. Castiel continued, "She was said to have aided Lucifer in the angelic rebellion and was cast out of Heaven with him. Some say that she was the true architect behind the rebellion. They say she corrupted Lucifer."
"And what do you say?" Zara asked, more for herself. Castiel's eyes bore into hers, both of them trying to read each other's intentions.
"She was a good, highly respected archangel who went rogue. It seemed out of the blue. But the same could be said of Lucifer," he answered earnestly. "Not that it matters now. If she's rising to aid Lucifer, she must be stopped."
"So how do we stop it?" Bobby was being practical, as usual.
"I don't think it will be too difficult," Castiel pulled up a chair. "The prophecy doesn't mention her, so it's safe to assume that she isn't even meant to be set free. And even if Lucifer wanted to, any information about Sophia was locked away to be forgotten, including the location of her prison. I doubt he is capable of figuring it out."
Free – that word echoed in her head. Isn't that all I want? To be free? A voice invaded her head. Zara took a quick inhale to hide her shock. Where did that come from? When she looked back at the table, she realised conversation required her. "Actually," she interrupted. "I think he does know. It's what he used me for."
Dean sighed. "What else you got?" he asked Castiel.
The inner corners of the angel's brows pinched together in a puzzling thought. "No one really knows what the seals that bind Sophia's prison require, or even if there are seals. But it was said once that only a sacrifice undertaken by her vessel could free her."
Air thinly passed through her nostrils, like the thoughts through her mind. "What kind of sacrifice?" she couldn't help but ask. The very idea struck a nervous chord inside her. It changed something within her but she still couldn't tell what she was feeling.
"I… don't know," Castiel truthfully answered. "When it comes to beings of such power as Sophia, sacrifices are often all-or-nothing."
On the other hand, Dean's eyes lit up. "Great, so Lucifer can't do jack if you don't help him. All you have to do is stay put and keep out of his radar. I'll take it."
Castiel was still sceptical. "But what's stopping him from finding another temporary vessel for her? Like the one he has right now?"
To that, Zara reached into her bag and fished out the hawk figurine, setting it on the table. "Lucifer found me with this. He said it was like a compass. Without it, I doubt he can find another person to do the job."
Castiel picked up the hawk, keenly observing its features. "I recognise its make. This looks like Hassiel's craftsmanship. How does it work?"
Zara extended her palm and Castiel placed the hawk in her hand. Once again, its green eyes emanated a brilliant glow. It was a cool light show for them, but for Zara, the contact instantly drew her mind slowly into a trance with the gentleness of a wave receding into the ocean. Their voices became muffled as blankness took over her mind. Zara… Free me…
The men looked to Castiel as he further explained, "Hassiel was the master weapon-maker of Heaven. If he had made this, it may have some weapon-like qualities."
Zara's irises shot to attention, glowing a bright green. A burst of energy flowed through her. Tingles erupted on her skin. Unwittingly, she saw the figure of Castiel in her blackened vision and directed her focus to him. She exhaled. The electricity shot forward in a cool, releasing sensation.
"Who knows what this object-"
Castiel flew back, breath knocked out of him. A collective flinching ensued as he landed some feet away. Zara's attention immediately snapped to the present. Her hand shuddered. She dropped the hawk onto the table. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. That's never happened before!" she covered her mouth in shock as Dean rushed over to help him up.
Bobby grabbed the hawk, looking at it with astonishment. In his eager hands, the item seemed nothing more than a piece of metal. He had seen many dangerous magical objects in his day, but this was new. But then again, he hadn't even known about angels for most of his life. Castiel regained his composure, with pain and unease contorting his features. He looked back and forth from the hawk to Zara. "This thing is harnessing powerful angel magic. Perhaps… you should avoid using it. You clearly don't understand what it's capable of."
She simply nodded, still taken aback by what she had just done. Sam reassured her with a hand on her shoulder, without the need for words. Having been cursed by the yellow-eyed demon as a baby, he knew what it was like to deal with having unexpected powers that had bad consequences. He was just glad to have her on their side when she discovered them.
"Well that settles that then," Sam sighed. "Zara, you can sit tight with us for now." She nodded in response. "In the meantime, we gotta get back on Crowley's trail. Cas?"
Castiel had just come back to the Singer household. He had located Crowley's mansion but it was covered from top to bottom in angel-warding sigils. They needed another way to get in. The boys had called in Ellen and Jo to help, laying out their plans while the team stood around the table in the study. Zara sat comfortably on the couch facing them, a hot cup of tea in her hand to warm her during the chilly evening. She simply observed, while the people who knew what they were doing carried on discussing strategy. The boys and Jo would face Crowley and force him to give up the Colt, while Ellen, Bobby and Zara stayed back, waiting for their return.
"How're you settling in, sweetie?" Ellen took a seat next to Zara, who'd busied herself with a relevant book.
Zara gave her warmest smile as she held a thumb between the pages. "I'm… alright, I guess. It's you guys who're doing most of the heavy-lifting anyway," she nervously chuckled. "I'm not the one going to some demon's house to steal a magic gun."
Ellen shared the humour that she expressed. Lines creased the corners of her eyes as she returned the chuckle. "You ain't one to be easily spooked though – I can tell. I mean, escaping the Devil? You gotta be one fearless chic to try that," Ellen retorted jokingly. "And they told me how you tried to shimmy your way away from those two demons. I say, you fit right in with us. Ain't that right, Bobby?"
"Let's not encourage recklessness now," Bobby voiced from his desk, where he looked through some old hunter literature.
"Well recklessness is part of the job," Ellen explained to Zara. "You gotta be all kinds of stupid to run towards ghosts and demons and other kinds of crazy. But we do it because nobody else will."
Zara just nodded. She just felt empty on the inside, as she always did. "I get that this is really important."
"But?" Ellen anticipated.
"But how are you so calm about it? I mean you probably aren't but you're… not worried? About your daughter and your friends doing this? I'd be terrified of that, y'know? If my best friend wanted to go running towards danger… I'd- I'd flip," she reasoned.
"Oh don't get me wrong, I'm terrified too," Ellen conceded, a kind smile revealing her years of consideration on the same matter. "In fact when my baby girl said she wanted to go out hunting on her own, I straight-up felt my heart stop. That feeling… it never goes away. But it gets easier. Jo's not helpless. And she's got the world's toughest boys with her. A loaded shotgun and a Winchester's aim keeps this Mama's heart at rest."
Zara chuckled, but her eyes revealed a heaviness in her mind. Ellen picked up on that, knowing a heavy heart when she saw one.
"Your best friend… she know you're here?" she asked.
"No uh, he doesn't. We haven't spoken in a while," Zara cautiously revealed. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
"Uh huh," Ellen noted. "What about family? Where d'you call home?"
"Belland, Oklahoma. Suburbs for days," her eyebrows jumped with bitter memories she had. "Haven't been there since I moved to Rapid City to study. I uh-" she rubbed the inner corner of an eye, partially from sleepiness and partially from reluctance. "I wasn't exactly on good terms with my folks."
"Hm," Ellen listened attentively. "That doesn't sound too good. End of the world's coming, hon. If you wanna patch things up, now's the time," her voice took a sombre turn. "But if it doesn't work out, you got us, ya hear?"
Ellen placed a reassuring hand over the back of Zara's. The silence that grew between them left space for contemplation. "Guess I can't really sit out the apocalypse anyway," Zara muttered. "I'm better off helping out where I can make a difference."
She really did believe that, true to her heart. Eventually, Zara gave in to tiredness and retired to a guest bedroom to sleep before the boys could return successful with the Colt. The next day, everyone took a break. According to the demon's intel, Lucifer would be in Carthage, Missouri. For once, the boys felt like they were one step ahead. They could find the Devil now. And with the Colt, they had a plan. They weren't too convinced by the odds though – a reasonable doubt kept them perfectly clear on the highly possible outcome of death. This sentiment permeated the air, in every mote of dust that flew around, in spite of the cheery assortment of drinks and food that the hunters treated themselves to.
"We gear up and head in straight. Jam salt into every demonic sonuvabitch that comes between us and Lucifer. Then I aim for the head and hope for the best," Dean laid out the plan to Zara. The two of them, and Sam, sat around a table in the study sipping on some beers. The evening had been all giggles and happy memories recounted, giving Bobby's house a cheery atmosphere it so badly needed. Meanwhile, Ellen, Jo and Castiel were taking shots in the kitchen, though the angel was unfazed by alcohol he downed in record time. Ellen and Jo had a look of surprise to match.
"But it's gotta be a trap, right?" Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"Sam Winchester having trust issues with a demon. Well, better late than never," Dean jibed. Zara's eyebrow raised in askance but she decided not to pursue the question.
Sam chuckled, despite the looming air of doom. "And thank you again for your continued support."
"You're welcome." The three clinked their bottles. When the sips were gulped, Dean's gaze grew focused, "You know, trap or no trap, we got a snowball's chance, we gotta take it, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose," Sam agreed.
"Besides, I'm not sure it is a trap. Check it out. I mean, Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree with Revelation omens. And look at this," Dean passed a bunch of articles to Sam. Zara leaned closer to the younger Winchester to glean some information too. "There's been six missing persons reported, in town, since Sunday. I think the Devil's there."
"Makes sense," Sam had to admit. Dean took a gulp of his drink.
"Great," Zara said dryly. "When are we leaving?"
Dean stopped midway and set his bottle down on the table. "We aren't leaving. You're staying with Bobby and Sam to catch up on old classics while the rest of us are gonna go on Mission Impossible to Missouri."
Sam rolled his eyes visibly. "Dean," he uttered.
"Look, when you think about it, this is how it's gotta be. For the both of you," Dean said as matter-of-fact. Look, I go against Satan and screw the pooch, okay. We've lost a game piece. That we can take. But if you're there, then we are handing the devil's vessel right over to him. That's not smart."
"Since when have we ever done anything smart?" Sam lamented.
"I'm serious, Sam," Dean insisted. To Zara, he said, "You heard what Cas said. You're the only thing holding Lucifer back from getting a plus one to the prom. So if the both of you stay under the radar, we can avoid giving Lucifer what he wants."
"I get that, I really do," Zara relented. "But I've been inside Lucifer's camp. I know who his people are, how many of them there could be. Don't you think that's gonna be important for you to know?"
"I don't doubt that for a second, Zee," Dean admitted. "But I gotta weigh the risks and benefits here. You're not an extra soldier on the field. The rest of us, we grew up with this hunting stuff. But you? You're not ready to handle this."
Zara stopped short of rolling her eyes. She didn't know why she was pressing this point so much, but it felt important. "But Dean, you saw what I could do with that hawk thing. I'm not just one extra set of hands. I'm an archangel's set of hands. If I could do that to Castiel by accident, imagine what I could do to Lucifer on purpose. It might be the advantage you need. Don't you think this could mean the difference between life and death? You wanted me to help you end the apocalypse. Well I think this is how."
"I- I can't be on-board with this," Dean protested. "You'll be signing your life away. Both of you. Can't you see that?"
Zara paused for a second, but that didn't lessen her certainty. "Look, all I know is that I was chosen to do something. Something that would make a difference. In all my godforsaken life, I've been chasing something like that," she insisted, holding his eye contact. What she said began to pique his interest. "I can't even believe our paths crossed the way they did. Almost like it was supposed to happen. I mean, the vessels of three archangels in one place? I think I'm supposed to help you."
"Do you even understand what that means?" Dean pressed.
When her eyes pierced his, it felt like he was being sucked into the vortex of her pupils. Even though they shifted nervously, a sharpness sat underneath their surface. It made Dean listen. "It means death is on the table. I get that," Zara reciprocated his gentle tone. "But I have a strong feeling that I'm supposed to come with you. Like a- like a premonition. I can't explain it. And I gotta warn you, I'm as close to death as they come. If that's what it means to make sure we win and Lucifer doesn't get me, best believe I'll do what I have to."
"Woah," Sam's eyes widened momentarily. "You don't have to go that far. I'm sure there's another way."
I've always been ready to die, Zara thought. "We barely know you," Dean said, but it wasn't a condescending statement. It was more sympathetic. It was funny to him too, to hear such a thing from someone else even when it was exactly what he'd do. "You probably still have a life left ahead of ya."
"Could say the same about all of you," she quipped.
"I think she's right," Sam said, out of the blue. For a brief second, their eyes met again. Hers seemed to acknowledge his support. "Haven't we learned a damn thing? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this together."
"Okay. But it's a stupid frigging idea." Dean simply sighed and rubbed his temple. "It's probably going to be heavily-guarded. Mooks coming out of every corner, or worse—huddling around Lucifer like some kind of penguin herd."
Zara's posture eased uncertainly for a second. "Does this mean I can come?" she asked.
"You have to stay close to us, alright?" Dean instructed, slowing down his words to place extra emphasis. "Do as I say and no sight-seeing. Once we get through the demons, we'll need to find a way to draw Lucifer out."
"I believe I can help with that," Zara assured him. "We got this."
Dean's head seemed to nod but it was more of a puzzled shudder. It's just Day One on the job for you, he almost seemed to say. Instead, he just gulped his doubts with beer. The more hands, the better.
"The both of you wore me down," Dean grumbled as he got up to clear his mind. Luckily, the kitchen had just become worthy distraction.
"Speaking of stupid ideas," Sam fleetingly glanced over at the kitchen. That brought out Zara's chuckle. "Hey, uh, I gotta ask—what did you mean when you said you were as close to death as they come?"
Zara's smile faded though she tried to keep it alive. "Oh, you know," she shrugged in an attempt to deflect the question. It was too late for that, considering his attention was solely hers now.
"It's okay, you can tell me," he assured her with his sincerest nod. "We've all been through shit. I'm not judging."
"As long as you don't send me to therapy," Zara joked. He didn't seem fazed by the thought of that at all. In fact, something in his eyes appeared like a warm blanket on a cold night. She didn't know how he could make his eyes so soft when the rest of him looked angled and hardy. Kind giant, she thought. Like her best friend. It eased her heart. "I've just… always felt like I didn't belong. Anywhere. I've been in some dark spots in my life, Sam. Places so dark I'd feel like I was getting sucked into a void. I wanted to do anything to get away from the darkness. Do you know what I mean?"
Again, he didn't show so much as a recoil. "I can't say that I don't," he admitted, fiddling his thumbs over the surface of his bottle. "So what'd you do?"
"I did a lot of things. A lot of stupid things," Zara said, frozen stiff from the memories. Telling him even this much made her feel naked. She'd never told anyone. Conversation suddenly seemed a means to assuage her guilt. "But the one good thing I probably did, was leaving it all behind. I had to do something, even if it meant letting people down. I left home to go to college, so I could finally be my own person."
"That's something I know all too well, believe me," Sam's lips inched into a ginger smile.
"Really?" Zara wondered. He thought she'd be amused. She tried to, but some reservation held her back. "What were you studying?"
"Law. At Stanford," he answered.
"Shut the front door. Really?" Now she was amused. "We got a lawyer here."
Sam let out a huff. "Yeah, no. I didn't finish my degree," he told her. Yet he didn't appear disappointed. There was a strength in that she could respect. "What about you? What were you up to before Lucifer found you?"
"Nothing much. Just a postgrad slaving away in a lab. I wanted to learn more about the brain," she said monotonously, suppressing a bitter twist gnawing at lips. "And perhaps why mine wasn't working so well."
Sam raised his eyebrows in admiration. "Wow," Sam paused, unable to find the words to describe his awe. "I mean… wow, that's pretty cool. You're a scientist."
"It's not as exciting as it sounds, but I got by," Zara sighed. "I guess all those years burying my nose in books paid off. You wouldn't believe how much time I used to spend in the library. I knew all the librarians by name and when their shifts were. Of course, my mom didn't like that very much."
"Difficult parents. I'll drink to that," Sam raised his bottle and so did she. "My old man was tough on me, that's for sure. See, my brother and I were born into this life. We didn't have much of a choice but to become hunters. It became obvious to me, the older I got, that I was the black sheep. All because I wanted something different. Something normal."
"So you guys have been hunters your whole life?" she asked, to which he simply nodded. "I'm sorry. That sounds rough. Everyone deserves a chance at 'normal'. You're not a black sheep for wanting it."
Sam glanced down at his bottle for a moment before returning her gaze. "Thanks," he muttered. "But you know what's clear to me now? Even when I had 'normal', that feeling of darkness never went away. It was always there, lurking under the surface—under a mask of parties and finals and assignments. Sure, I could do all of that but I just felt like I was pretending. I felt out of place. It was fun while it lasted, but my true purpose is here. Saving people, hunting things, the family business."
Out of place, huh? The phrase echoed in her mind. Never had anyone said anything so authentic as to resonate in her bones. It was a jarring feeling for sure, but in a good way. It made the murky waters of her thoughts clearer now. That's what I've been doing these past few years. Pretending, she felt. Could I be free now from this cage? Her thoughts seemed, at once, to be both hers and not. She didn't know what it was, but she knew it was true.
"Everybody, get in here," Bobby called out. He had just dug out an old camera from who-knows-where. "It's time for the line-up. Usual suspects in the corner."
Threads of conversation cut off to oblige the older man. Everyone entered the frame, standing in front of the camera in an unspoken order. Bobby on the right, with Jo resting a hand on his shoulder. Dean put an arm around her and his brother. Ellen stood in front of Sam and Zara was to her right. Castiel was a firm left pillar to the group. He simply observed the others to produce the appropriate behaviour – a still straight-backed posture facing the strange apparatus.
"Oh come on, Bobby. Nobody wants their picture taken," Ellen responded.
"Hear, hear," acknowledged Sam.
"Shut up. You're drinking my beer," Bobby retorted. "Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by."
"Ha! Always good to have an optimist around," Ellen answered.
Castiel was bleak. "Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth."
Suddenly everyone wasn't so merry anymore. The camera clicked and a flash of white light filled the room briefly. An air of trepidation loomed over the household as everyone retired to get a good night's sleep before D-Day.
A/N: This chapter is set in Abandon All Hope, S5E10.
