Sophia's Chronicles

A/N:

This chapter begins after Sam finally loses it and admits himself into Northern Indiana State Hospital. The reason why I skip some chunks in the Winchester story-line is because some of it is the same as what happens in the canonical timeline. The parts that I write are usually ones that are slightly changed in this timeline so whenever I do skip some parts I'll let you guys know. I'm even considering having a "Previously On…" section so that you guys won't get lost in the many interconnecting plots. Cheers :)

Chapter 44: The Born-Again Identity

(Dean POV)

Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 25 July 2011, 12.12pm

There has to be something. Dean flipped through the journal. He couldn't just leave Sam in a mental hospital. He was desperate to find help or a cure or something. For a moment, his mind wandered to the time when he and Bobby had trapped Sophia. She had said that she and Lucifer could cure Sam. Dean banished that thought as quickly as it arose. There was no way Sophia would agree to it and now that Lucifer was out, summoning her could be really dangerous. All that he had left to do was call John's old contacts and see if he could find something. Bobby was doing what he could back in Sioux Falls and looking for leads himself. He slowly paced about the room, holding the phone to his chin as he thought about what to do if they couldn't find anything. He could barely eat anything, the thought of his brother having a psychotic episode and Lucifer being free in the world weighing down on him.

"Find anything?" Bobby asked as he settled at his table with one of his journals.

"A whole lot of nothing," Dean answered, voice filled with hopelessness. So far every contact he'd spoke to was utterly useless and offered nothing but fluster in response. There was only one real option, he realised, though he knew it was a terrible one. "Bobby… we could try calling… her," he stammered.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Bobby snapped. "You ain't signing up to be an archangel's bitch."

"But you heard her. She said that Lucifer can fix it," he implored.

"So what? You wanna ask Sam to say 'yes' to Lucifer? How do you think that's gonna work out?" the older man frowned so deeply new lines could have formed on his face.

"Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way. We could get Lucifer to fix Sam and when the job's done, we get him out and back into the cage," Dean posited.

"And how exactly are we gonna do that?"

"I don't know!" Dean shot back. "I don't know, Bobby. But it's better than just sitting on our asses here. There has to be something!"

"I know it's messing with you, kid. But that don't mean we involve the damn Devil!" Bobby tried to talk some sense into him. "We'll just keep digging till we find something."

Dean sighed as Bobby made another phone call. Dean simply sat and closed his eyes, running his thumbs in circles around his temples. He tuned out of his surroundings, letting his mind wander to those unhealthy thoughts that played over in his mind – a terrible habit that he had. He didn't know what he would do if this was it for Sam. Every instinct told him that it would be better to let his brother die than let Satan possess him again. But he couldn't envision a life without his brother – he'd tried that once but let that picket-fence life go because he got his brother back. Now it wasn't easy to think of doing the same, even if that's what Sam would have wanted. Was this really happening? Was it a real possibility that he would never get his brother back again? There was a sinking feeling in his chest that he wanted to assuage with alcohol.

"Dean, I got something," Bobby finally said, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "Some kind of faith healer named Emmanuel in Colorado."

"The last faith healer we saw-" Dean began.

"Used a reaper. I know. But my friend, Mackey, here thinks it's the real deal and from the way it sounds… looks like it's worth a shot," Bobby reasoned. "You wanted something. This is it."

"Alright," he relented, scrunching up his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. He got up, purposed. "I'll check it out. In the meantime, you can try digging up something on the archangels."

"Already on it," Bobby reassured him.


(Lucifer POV)

Somewhere on Earth – 25 July 2011

The skin withered away like a piece of paper held over a flame. Another burnt-out vessel. Another quest to find a human vulnerable enough to say 'yes'. This was frustrating. No, it was infuriating. But was it really the vessel situation that made him mad? A whirlwind of emotions was going through his mind. Lucifer didn't know what exactly to feel. Freedom was refreshing. If he had to see that damn cage again, he'd explode the earth the first chance he got, he thought. The obligatory God-hating rant made its round. Then came Sophia. What had she done? What had happened? She was the only one in the whole universe who could put him at ease in this tumultuous moment and she'd just left without so much as a goodbye or an explanation. A good explanation, at least. Our son is dead, she had said. But no, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It didn't make any sense. He wanted the truth. The fact that she'd lied to him right to his face… it really bothered him. She was the one person he could count on. She'd always been there in his lowest points, holding him in her arms and now she was… gone. Without a trace. It wasn't fair. What was he supposed to do now? Without a physical body to contain him and a shoulder to lean on, he felt utterly and completely alone. And it upset him.

Dejected, he floated in the upper atmosphere, contemplating his next move. From here, he could see the sun's rays above the clouds, casting a yellow glow on them. He wanted to punch something – punch it, stab it, impale it with his arms, pull out its slimy guts, kill it. The impulse to destroy grew stronger and stronger. It was in moments like these he'd held onto the thought of Sophia to soothe him. Her calm demeanour, her everlasting love for him, her graceful way with things, her intellect – these were the things about her that reminded of who he used to be and what it felt like not to be an utter monster. That almost made him chuckle. The humans had a term for a thing like him – a beast. But they didn't know what a beast truly was. Sophia knew. Sophia saw it in him and she managed to help him keep a hold on reality and train a little bit of restraint. Without her there, he didn't know what he would become.

Sometimes he was amazed at how well she held it together despite all that they'd been through. She had always been the sane one, he thought. Even then, it had been hard to know her. The months in which they had been reunited was evidence enough. She became incredibly distant. Though she pretended like she was alright – and she was really good at this – there was something underneath all that which must have really affected her. It bothered him that she never talked about her time in the vault. After all she'd done for him, he just wanted to return the favour and take care of her. Wasn't that why he built a kingdom in Hell? Why he built her a house in the middle of nowhere? These were all expressions of his love for her, yet every time he thought about them, all he saw was how she never fully appreciated them. And he didn't blame her. She was such a burdened individual that it was hard to know what she needed from him. Again, that gnawed at him.

It used to be a feeling of sympathy and a need to hold her and let her spill her emotions. But now he realised that that was never going to happen. She just wanted to push him away. Did she ever really love him? If she did, why would she just abandon him like this? Lucifer hated feeling this pain. This pain of never knowing what someone you love wanted from you, feeling like they stopped loving you. It made him angry. All the love he once harboured was now slowly turning into rage. What was that saying humans had? Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned. But he didn't want to give up just yet. If he could just find her, if he could just have the chance to talk to her, slap some sense into her and make her tell him what was going on…

Where was their son? He wasn't dead, he knew as much. Call it parent's intuition, but it was a strong conviction nonetheless. He'd never even gotten so much as a glimpse of his son and a throbbing ache in his chest arose every time he thought about it. All he ever got from Sophia was a name – Luciel. He has your eyes, she'd said. That was all he'd held onto in the cage. This wonderful thing that was an extension of him, the fruit of his lust, the only pure thing to come from him – his child. He wouldn't rest until he found out what happened. When he thought about the last time he'd seen Sophia, all he could think was that she was keeping their son from him. It didn't make sense to him why she would do that or why she was so hysterical and this was maddening to say the least. It was driving him insane. More insane, that is.

Restlessly, he scoured the earth for her. It took a while. And when he thought he'd covered every location he could find, he did it again. Lucifer wasn't sure how many times he had been looking into every crevice and every cave for her. He didn't even notice how much time had passed. He just kept looking. And one day it dawned on him that she loved space just as much as she loved earth, the imperfections of every planet and every star presenting a unique mystery to her. He released a great sigh, probably spawning a forceful storm in the process by the sheer force of his breath in this unbound celestial form. How long would it take to search the whole universe? Probably a long time. Longer than he would want. But he had to try nonetheless.

What of earth and hell, then? Earth had it coming. And humans must suffer for his anguish. That had always been the plan and it wasn't going to change. However, his plans had to be held off. Finding Sophia and his son was his top priority now and it was a personal matter that he had to attend to. The earth would still be here and humans would still be alive, awaiting his return and to be roasted by him for all eternity. Hell, on the other hand, was an easier matter. The throne was always his to claim. He'd invented the damn thing. Nothing was lost if he were to be absent for a while. His creations would kneel before him like they always did, he was sure.

With a heavy heart, he set off on a little space exploration trip.


(Dean POV)

Colorado – 25 July 2011, 5.32pm

The Impala pulled up in front of a dainty-looking house in the Colorado suburbs. This was the address Bobby's friend gave them. Hoping desperately that this was a solid lead, Dean walked up the stairs to the front porch. Clad in a grey jacket, his knuckles rapped on the wooden door. His heart raced as the door opened, revealing a man wearing a cardigan and a blue shirt underneath. So far so good, he thought. The man looked like one of those Jesus-loving types. "Hi, uh, is this, uh, Daphne Allen's house? I'm looking for Emmanuel," Dean stammered.

"Well, you found him. Daphne's resting. If you don't mind," the man answered as he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Dean took a step back. He gathered his words, wondering how to tell this man that his brother had been through literal Hell and was now having his gourd cracked open by Satan himself. "Um… So, I was hoping, uh…" he began as his eyes wandered. That's when a movement caught his attention. His apple-green eyes bore through a gap in the curtains and rested on a struggling figure. It was a woman in a purple shirt, tied up to a chair inside the house. Her eyes found his through the window and he saw in them a cry for help. This isn't right…

The man blinked, revealing his black sclerae. Demon. Without warning, the demon grabbed Dean by his shirt and flung him back against the door, cracking the glass embedded in the wood. Dean stood shocked, clearly not expecting to find a demon in this opportune moment. "You were saying, Dean?" the demon probed, a malicious grin on his face.

"You know, I'd think twice. Or don't you know that your boss issued a hands-off memo?" Dean desperately bargained, his jaw clenching.

"Oh, please." The demon simply gave him a chesty laugh, snapping his eyes back to their normal human colour. "What have you done for him lately? Sophia's head on a plate? No? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley's gonna want him – a lot more than he wants you these days. So..."

The demon charged towards him. Dean's hands moved quickly, instinctively, driving the demon-killing blade through his gut. With a bright flash through the eyes, the demon cried out in pain as he died. Finally, Dean pulled out the bloodied blade and shoved the bastard backwards, causing him to fall down the stairs and land right at someone's feet. Dean slowly stepped forward, his eyes scanning upwards from the man's feet… to his face. His breath stopped as he recognised the face before him. The blue eyes regarded the dead man at his feet with shock for a second, before drifting upwards to meet the green eyes of the man who had caused it. "What was that?" the man with the curious blue gaze asked.

Dean found himself unable to speak. It was Castiel. Only Cas didn't seem to know him. Dean hesitantly pointed a thumb backwards to the door, gesturing for him to follow him into the house. Castiel, realising that Daphne could have been in danger, rushed in, untying her. "Did that creature hurt you?" he asked her.

"I'm okay. But, Emmanuel... They were looking for you," she replied worriedly.

"It's okay," he reassured her. He then turned to Dean, who was studying their dynamic curiously. Holding Daphne's hand, he approached Dean. "I'm Emmanuel." He held out his hand.

Dean stared blankly for a moment, before reacting. "Dean… I'm Dean," he returned the handshake.

"Thank you for protecting my wife," Castiel said with the sincerest gaze.

"Your wife, right," Dean nodded, playing along.

Unsettled, Castiel turned to Daphne. "I saw his face." His concerned eyes looked back at Dean. "His real face." He seemed petrified.

"He was a demon," Dean acknowledged.

Castiel's eyes hovered to the ground in contemplation. "A demon walked the earth…"

Dean blinked a few times, shocked by his cluelessness. "Demons. Whackloads of them. You don't know about…?" He paused when he saw Castiel's confused expression, unsure of how much more to say. He really doesn't remember…

"You saw the demon's true face," Daphne chimed in, awed by her husband. Her light green eyes turned to Dean's. "Emmanuel has… very special gifts."

"Yeah. I-I've heard that about... Emmanuel. That you can heal people up," Dean continued, treading carefully with his words.

"I seem to be able to help to a certain degree," he admitted. "What's your issue?"

So this is how it's gonna be, huh? Guess I'll have to play along. "My brother."

The Impala – 25 July 2011, 7.43pm

The constant rumble of the Impala's engine was a warm comfort during the cold, rainy night on the road to Northern Indiana State Hospital. Dean had so many questions. For the most part, he was still in shock to see Castiel alive and well. Mostly, that is. The guy was still missing his memory. But this is good news, he told himself. It was a step in the right direction. His once-friend, the one who broke bad to open Purgatory, was alive. "So, Daphne – is that, uh, your wife?" Dean finally broke the silence.

"She found me and cared for me," the amnesiac angel replied.

"Meaning?" Dean probed.

"Oh, it's a... strange story. You may not like it." Castiel shook his head, trying to dismiss the topic.

"Believe me, I will," Dean reassured him.

Briefly glancing at Dean to make sure he was sincere, he began his story. "A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and... unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me."

"So who named you Emmanuel?"

"Bouncybabynamesdotcom," Castiel replied earnestly.

Dean paused, slightly amused. "Well, it's working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are."

"Well, it's my life. And it's a good life," he simply said.

"Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of... I don't know...bad guy?"

"Oh, I... don't feel like a bad person." They exchanged a brief look and then silence fell between them again. "So your brother," Castiel began.

"Sam," Dean informed him.

"Sam. What's his diagnosis?" The two men stared straight ahead at the road before them.

"Well, it's not exactly medical."

"That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin."

"Spiritual? Okay." Dean nodded. "Someone did this to him," Dean confessed after a brief pause, contemplating how much to tell 'Emmanuel'.

Castiel studied the Winchester, sensing his tone. "You're angry," he concluded.

"Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head," Dean explained.

"He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?" Castiel inferred.

Dean noted the authenticity in his voice. It was still weird to him, talking about the guy he was talking to like he was someone else. But Castiel had to know somehow what it meant to him that his brother was suffering like this. "Yeah, well, he's gone."

"Did you kill him?" Dean was caught by surprise at that question. "I sense that you kill a lot of people," 'Emmanuel' stated boldly.

"Honestly, I-I-I don't know if he is dead," he confessed. With half a heart to shake Castiel's shoulders and make him remember, Dean simply spoke honestly about what was on his mind. "I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why."

"Well, it doesn't matter why."

"Of course it matters why," Dean shot back.

"No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human." Castiel thought back to what he said. "Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name."


(Zara POV)

Clarksburg, West Virginia – 25 July 2011, 3.11pm

Zara went from shop to shop and then to diners and to bars. She roamed the streets, keeping an eye out for "Now Hiring" signs. This was the decision she'd come to. Nick asked for a month and she felt compelled to oblige. So she would be responsible and get a job in the meantime to pass the days. It wasn't all that easy, though. She had no identification on her or any provable qualifications – she had just up and left from her apartment that fateful night that Lucifer had found her. She didn't even have her own phone with her. All she had was the one Sophia had gotten and it had all her angel contacts on it. For a moment, Zara did contemplate contacting them for support or something but she quickly erased that thought. She didn't know how they would take to her and her quest to find Lucifer a vessel. Sophia also hadn't mentioned anything about the great ordeal she'd just been through to them so Zara would have to keep this a secret. It just seemed like what Sophia wanted. So she used a burner phone instead, keeping Sophia's one turned off for the time being.

Grounded to earth though she was, she still felt herself yearning for the return of her archangel, the one who'd shown her a whole new world of possibilities and expected nothing but loyalty in return. It seemed like such a simple trade-off, to give yourself up for the chance to see such amazing things. How could you want anything less, especially a normal human life, after witnessing the divine? She didn't have much of faith before, but now she did and she was rooting for the dark side, though she was still naïve about it all. Sighing, she continued walking down the street, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.

Nick had given her a list of places to go to where she could get fake IDs and documents. It was nothing for getting a high-end job, but she wasn't looking for something long-term or proper. It would help get her started. Now she had her fake ID, with a new alias – Sarah Parker. A simple enough name that wouldn't attract any attention. Who would Sarah Parker be? she wondered, as she began to build up a normal history to this new alias in case anyone asked. A simple girl from Ohio who liked moving around, perhaps.

That day, she went to a few places and got details of simple jobs she could get like waiting tables. She came away from every one with a heavy sigh, wondering how long it would take to kill herself working these jobs and talking to people all the time. Evidently, she wasn't a "people-person". She'd started that day determined to get a job and thinking it would be easy. All she was left with by mid-afternoon was another existential crisis. I need a drink, she thought as she wandered into a pub. It was almost empty with the exception of a few men playing pool and some people casually lounging about on the tables. Her arms found their way to the top of the counter as she scanned the shelf full of bottles of varying shapes and sizes.

The bartender, a man who looked to be in his thirties, was bearded and had dark hair, surveyed her as she investigated the bottles in front of her. "Spoilt for choice?" he said, initiating conversation.

Realising that she probably looked strange doing that, she gave him a shy smile. "I'll just have a beer, thanks," she responded.

"Coming right up," he paced about, getting a cup and filling it with her drink. "You don't look like you're from around here," he remarked as he placed the cup in front of her. "And I'm not just saying that because of your… appearance." Droplets of condensation enveloped the outside of the cup and the scent of the earthy beer wafted in the air.

"Oh uh… no worries," she suddenly became self-conscious of her light olive skin and ethnic features. "Um yeah, I'm from Ohio and I just moved here."

"That seems like an odd choice," the burly bartender began wiping an area of the counter. He flipped the rag over his shoulder, satisfied with the cleanliness of the area. "Most people move to the big city."

"City life didn't really bode well for me," Zara confessed. "I'm more of a small-town person."

The bartender nodded, fixing his gaze on her. "Find a job?"

"About that… I'm still working on it. I'm just trying to find something I enjoy." A sudden hesitation gripped her after speaking that sentence. She wasn't sure she should've mentioned anything at all. Maybe she should have remained inconspicuous by lying about her employment status. Who knows what strangers could say to manipulate her?

"Well, what do you enjoy?" he asked.

That question caught her off-guard. Hardly ever in her life did anyone ask her what she would like. It really took her a minute to think about it. She gulped her drink in the meantime. She struggled to look over the memories of her life and find an answer there. When she was truly happy, without a worry in the world, what was she doing? "I like… singing. I don't know if that's gonna get me anywhere."

"It could get you up on that stage," he beckoned to the elevated platform behind her. It had a piano, some other instruments and a soundboard. She glanced at it briefly before turning back to him. "Go on, show me what you got."

"Oh I don't know," she shook her head, grinning.

"Come on, you know you want to," he encouraged. "If you can impress me, you got a job here. Night shifts on every other night and it pays well, I promise. People from all over town come here after work to relax and hang with the boys."

That certainly got her attention. Taking another gulp, she set the nearly-empty beer glass down and made her way to the stage. Though slightly buzzed, this only gave her more confidence. Picking up a stray acoustic guitar, she cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of all thoughts except those feeding her song lyrics. Then her lips opened and a melody escaped them. On that stage, she poured all her anguish into the mic, her voice taking on the shape of her emotional turbulence. Her eyes closed as she channelled herself through her vocal chords, almost effortlessly singing the first song that came to mind.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked expectantly around the room and saw only gaping mouths as everyone had paused to look at her. The brief silence began to feel like an eternity, but soon her anxiety was relieved by the sound of applause from the small group of people in the pub. The bartender himself said nothing, only staring at her with wide eyes. "God, you have the voice of an angel," he praised as she sat down again in front of him to finish her drink.

"I've been told," she responded.

"The job's yours, if you want it," he offered.

"When do I start?"

A few hours later…

Nick wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel as he rummaged through his locker to grab his belongings. He checked his phone. There was a missed call. It was Zara. "How'd it go?" he asked as he returned the call.

"Come meet me at Golden Eagle's at 8pm," she said with an excited tingle in her voice.

"Drinking on a Monday night? That bad, huh?" he inferred.

"Just get over here, would you?" She was trying hard to mask the amusement in her voice. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he found out where she was going to work.

"…okay," he answered with uncertainty, unsure of how to interpret her message. As he prepared to leave, he overheard a group of guys who worked with him chatting. Normally, he wouldn't pay attention to these things but the mention of a very specific pub caught his attention.

"…Cecil says he's got a new singer," the thin, blond guy named Matt announced to the small group, referring to the owner of the pub.

"Yeah? That place could use someone to replace Angela," another guy remarked.

A collective sigh echoed from them. "Angela…" one guy said dreamily.

"From what he said, this one's better than Angela," Matt informed them.

"Better than Angela? I gotta see this."

"I could use a drink anyway."

Matt noticed Nick's blue eyes staring straight at them. "Hey, you wanna join us?" Matt offered.

"Uh…" Nick was caught off-guard. His instinctive response had always been to say 'no' to social gatherings though he had made reluctant exceptions to blend in and appear normal. This time, there was no escaping, especially since they were all headed the same way. He was uncomfortable, though, with the idea of talking to Zara while his co-workers were around. He'd preferred to keep his work life and personal life worlds apart, for obvious reasons.

"Nick, hang out with the boys for once!" someone coaxed.

"Yeah, man, we barely hear from you at all," another one chorused, eyeing him suspiciously.

Before the moment could get weirder, Nick relented. "Alright, fine," he accepted. He got roped into going to Golden Eagle's with people he'd rather stay miles away from, which was less than comfortable for him. This better be worth it, Zara.

Golden Eagle's Pub, Clarksburg, West Virginia – 25 July 2011, 7.55pm

The men entered the pub with a cheery welcome from the other people they recognised. It was a small town and most people worked around this area so it was common for them to know the people they met here. The pub was strategically located that way. Nick scanned the room, finding it to be slightly more crowded than usual, with people lounging about at the booths and tables, drinking and chatting. The constant mumble in the background drowned out the noise of his thoughts as he looked around for Zara. She was nowhere to be found. Finding it strange, he got out his phone to call her. That was when she came into view.

Cecil, the richly-bearded bartender, got onto the stage and the crowd quietened down in anticipation. "Wow, thanks for showing up everyone. Didn't think you'd all get the invite soon enough," he spoke into the mic. Some encouraging comments were thrown from the crowd. "This is our first night with our new singer, Sarah Parker, so let's all give her a warm welcome." He beckoned to Zara as she came forward and went back to his position at the counter.

More encouraging cheers ensued as Zara approached the mic nervously. She was wearing a mid-thigh-length black dress. The soft fabric fell snugly on her chest and tightened around her waist before hanging loosely around her legs. The tune came on and she slipped into the song effortlessly, weaving the melody of a Lana del Rey song with her sensuous voice. Nick held his breath as he watched her, enraptured by her expressions of longing and melancholy. As the heart-wrenching chorus came on, her brown eyes found his icy blue ones at the back of the room, near the bar. Her gaze softened as an unspoken conversation was being written by their eye contact. His gaze, on the other hand, sharpened as he leant back against the counter, crossing his arms. She could almost feel him devouring her with his eyes across the room, giving her a rush of heat that only fed into her luscious performance.

As she moved onto another song, activity resumed in the pub though the consensus was that she was a great addition to the place, enlivening the atmosphere with her voice. "Damn," Matt said, turning to the others in the group. "How did Cecil find something that hot?"

"Bet you I could get her to sing to me like that while I'm smashing her," one guy with spiky dark hair smirked to the amusement of the others.

Nick couldn't supress a huff at Spiky Hair's smug remark.

"You got something to say, pal?" he taunted.

"Oh, it's nothing," Nick replied. "It's just that… I don't think you're her type."

"And you are?" the guy challenged, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Nick simply shrugged.

"I'm taking her home tonight, just you watch," Spiky Hair declared.

"Knock yourself out," he nodded.

Zara's shift lasted till 11pm, during which Nick had to endure a barrage of dirty comments about her by the men around him. He secretly planned ways to murder them, unimpressed by the calibre of their talk about her. He barely even knew her but he could tell that there was something beautiful in her. Just thinking about it made his heart flutter. It was a feeling he hadn't felt for anyone in a long time. It made him want to treat her well.

As the night went on, people came and people went. Zara took breaks occasionally but her voice lasted well enough to finish her shift on a soft and mellow tune. Her shift ended with a satisfied boss and great reception from the crowd. Thanking the crowd on the mic, her lips contorted into a demure grin. She retreated into a dark corner as Cecil praised her and paid her in cash, as she had requested. "Next shift's on Wednesday," he reminded her.

"Noted, boss," she gave him a two-finger salute.

"You know, I could use some help around here, if you're up for it. Girl like you could really attract some customers, if you know what I mean," he suggested. "It's okay if you're uncomfortable."

"I'll think about it," she nodded, before cracking another warm smile. She stared at the notes in her hands, feeling accomplished. Zara stowed away the cash, excited to share with Nick details of her adventures at the end of a long day. Eagerly, she weaved through the crowd in search of him. The group of guys Nick came in with all stood around a table, turning to her as she came into their sights. Her eyes lit up as she spotted her man.

Spiky Hair perked up at the sight of her. "Showtime, boys," he announced. Zara smiled widely, revealing her dimples as she walked towards the lot of them. "Oh shit, she's coming here," he grew excited. The men eyed her up and down, their lustful gaze not sparing an inch of her. "Hey baby, what else can that mouth do?" Spiky Hair flirted.

She didn't even notice any of them, keeping a straight trajectory. Their smiles faded as she stopped in front of Nick. "Shall we go?" she asked.

"Woah, woah, hold up," Spiky Hair interrupted as they both turned to leave. "He didn't even try!"

Zara regarded them, noticing that they seemed to know Nick. "You didn't tell me you were bringing friends," she said to him.

"It was an unexpected development, really," he answered. "We all work at the same place."

"Oh, nice to meet you all, then," she gave them a short wave as they stared with gaping mouths at the turn of events. With that, the two of them took their leave, strolling leisurely home. "So… what did you think?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, it was nice. You were… you were great," his gaze shifted to the sky, noticing all the stars that came into view. "More than great, actually."

Zara smiled softly as her gaze shyly roved over the ground. "I'm glad you liked it. Looks like this will be my job for the next month."


(Dean POV)

Convenience store – 26 July 2011, 8.38am

Dean browsed through the aisles, looking for supplies for the remaining part of their trip. They'd stopped over briefly after a whole night of driving. He took out his flip-phone, wanting to check in with Bobby and let him know that Cas is alive. The sound of a door opening momentarily distracted him and he looked up at the convex mirror to see a man walking towards him at an unnatural speed. Instinctively, Dean brandished his knife and swung at the demon but it caught his arm and shoved him against the wall, causing shelves of items to clatter noisily onto the ground. As the demon charged him, he ducked and pushed the demon with his back into the refrigerator, shattering its glass door. Having knocked the demon off-balance, Dean stabbed him in the gut, killing him.

Taking a breath to regain his composure, Dean picked up his phone but he found that it was broken. "Oh, come on," he lamented.

As he walked to the next aisle, he froze in his step. Two more demons, black eyes displaying, awaited him. He sighed, disheartened, but then clenched his fist around the hilt of the knife and swung at one of the demons. They knocked the knife from his grip and pushed him backwards, causing him to fall, helpless. It seemed like this was it. They had him and there was nothing he could do to get away. That was when he saw a blade pierce the chest of a demon who was advancing on him. Seeing this, the other demon smoked out of his vessel, leaving another dead demon and Dean's saviour in front of him.

"Emmanuel, you son of a bitch," Dean heaved a sigh of relief as he groaned. The demon fell to the ground, revealing an unexpected character from his past. Her dark hair and sinister lips were immediately recognisable.

"Emmanuel. Yeah, not so much," she said, shaking her head.

"Meg," Dean greeted.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some 'splainin' to do."

Dean looked behind her, making sure she was alone, before he walked to the front of the store and pulled down the blinds.

Meanwhile, Meg initiated conversation. "Rumours are really starting to fly about this Emmanuel fellow. My curiosity sure got revved up," her smooth voice drawled, her slyness ever so apparent.

"Just tell me what you want, Meg," Dean cut straight to the point.

"Imagine my surprise when I track him down, and he's snuggled up with you. And he's the spitting image of poor, dead Castiel. So, Dean, what's poor, dead Castiel doing in that junker out there?" her eyes beckoned to the Impala.

"Christmas carolling."

"Fun. But how's he alive? Last I heard, he messed with the Queen of Hell, went poof."

"I don't know. And neither does he, so you got to keep it shut," Dean warned as he paced past her.

"Oh, I do?" she questioned, causing him to turn back to face her.

"He doesn't know he's Cas."

"I know. Been watching you for hours," she admitted. "So here's the deal. Sophia's ordered a hit on me. And even though she's gone… You might remember Crowley and me were frosty back in the day? Well, times haven't changed."

"Good," Dean stated.

"That hurts my feelings. I've been good to you, Dean," her voice lowered, taking on a firm tone.

"No, you've been good to you, sweetheart." Dean turned to a shelf, picking out supplies and carrying them in his jacket.

"Look. Right now rumours of this wandering healer are strictly low-level. But body count's getting high enough to change that. Folks start poking, they sniff angel dust," she explained.

"Yeah, they start falling all over each other trying to tell Crowley." Dean remained nonchalant.

"Now picture Crowley with his hands on harmless little amnesia-Cas. Don't get me wrong. I'm gonna burn that smarmy dick. My time's coming. But right about now, my army-of-one situation is not cutting it. It's cold out here, there's a price on my ass, and I need friends."

"Yeah. I get that. But I ain't it." He got what he needed and turned to leave.

"That's where you're wrong, Dean. 'Cause I'm here to help you, and that makes us friends," she negotiated.

"Help, huh? You mean see if you can't turn harmless little Cas out there into an angel-sized weapon?" he snapped.

"Like you're taking him carolling. And by the way, you really want to keep going with no backup?" she beckoned towards the dead demons sprawled on the floor. "Hey, I don't trust you, either. But I could really use Emmanuel. And he trusts you. So for now, it's in everyone's best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?"

He straightened up, considering his options. It seemed reasonable enough. He leaned closer, speaking firmly. "We go straight to Sam. No detours," he declared.

"I love it."