Sophia's Chronicles

Chapter 67: Here I Go Again

SIX MONTHS LATER

St. Louis, Missouri – 12 September 2012, 2.02am

Insects chirped in the middle of the night. The suburb was quiet, not a soul in sight. Well, maybe a single soul. She weaved her way through the thick trees into the backyard of a particular house. It was a normal-looking house – the lawn was mowed, there was a swing-set in the back and the paint was new. A little monkey watched her from a tree branch up high, its mahogany eyes wide with awe as she picked the lock in ten seconds and entered, uninvited. Inside, the woman blinked, flashing bright green irises. She scanned the house for any signs of life. There he was – her target – in the basement, alone. She blinked again, returning her eyes to their normal brown. The first thing she spotted was a framed photo on the kitchen counter – a man, a woman and a little boy. Her feet barely made any noise. Her leather jacket clung snugly to her tight frame and the hoodie was pulled up to obscure her face. She'd also pulled up a mask to cover the lower half of her face. Now only her piercing, cold eyes were visible.

Walking through the kitchen, she smelled the familiar aroma of Indian spices. It almost felt like her own home. But she shook her head, dismissing all thoughts of her past. She was a new person now. The old girl was dead and there was only the now and the future. Soft noises of a man's footsteps became audible when she twisted the knob of the door to the basement with a gloved hand. Keeping her back to the wall, she entered the darkness, taking cover behind a shelf as the unsuspecting man went about his work decorating the shrine to the Hindu god Ravana. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the light with heavier footsteps, armed with a brass knuckle with Enochian sigils and a regal blade with green engravings. The man jerked to face her. "Who are you?" he flustered. Seeing that she was fully human, he had nothing but confusion. "Are you- are you here to rob me?"

"Your boss hasn't been paying his dues," she simply said.

"What? What are you talking about?" he puzzled with an unmistakably Indian accent. "Who are you?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she hissed, her lined eyes glaring at him with a steel intensity. "The King lets your kind live and you pay your taxes."

The man's eyes hardened. "So he sends you to scare me? A human?" he wondered. A fire ignited in him. This was easy bait.

"Not to scare you. To warn you," she answered in fluent Hindi. "There will be consequences for defiance. Pass the message to your boss."

"And if I don't?" he replied in the same tongue. "Satan thinks he can rule over us? Who is he, to appear after thousands of years and demand that we give him what we have reaped?"

"I don't care about your grievances," she snapped. "Either you pass the message with your words or a bloody corpse. Your choice."

"I'll choose the bloody corpse," he hissed. "Your bloody corpse."

He blinked his eyes and his pupils became snake-like. He began towards her at an inhuman speed. She reacted quickly, dodging his fist just narrowly. Her grip on the blade tightened and she swung it at him. He caught her forearm before the blade could cut him. Without wasting a second, she used his hold on her as leverage as she kicked him in the abdomen, knocking him back if only slightly. Then, her brass knuckle came crashing down the side of his face. Just as she was about to take the opportunity to stab him, the man vanished right before her eyes. Stunned, she looked around. Her body spun just in time to see him charging at her from a different angle, hurling her onto the floor. He pinned her down by her neck in an attempt to strangle her. His arms were so strong, feeling like they could crush her trachea any second now. Black spots flooded her vision. Her arms flailed, weakly pushing at his hands. In a last ditch attempt to survive, her right hand reached outwards, searching for a familiar magical thread. She could hear his maniacal laughs as he watched the light going out of her eyes. She saw the absolute glee in his monstrous eyes in the split second before she buried the blade that she summoned to her grip into his abdomen. The snake pupils thinned instantaneously in an expression of shock.

Grunting, she pushed him off of her and retrieved the bloody blade, wiping the crimson off on his clothing. She panted heavily for breath, pulling down her mask and hoodie to relish the feel of fresh air. Blood pooled on the floor as she scanned the room. Her gaze rested on the mirror. An unrecognisable reflection stared back at Zara.


Hell – 6 months ago

"Persephone… Persephone…" Hades grumbled under his breath as he sauntered through the hallways of Hell. Demons walked past him, some not caring and some giving him confused looks. By now, most of them had gotten used to it. The large god kept repeating her name as he hulked up the stairs to Lucifer's quarters. He froze in his step. His single right eye – a stark black iris with white streaks – tracked the movement of a feminine figure as she strutted back to her room with a bottle of whiskey. Her very frame was riveting, making him drool at the sight of her long curly hair cascading down her back in a dark waterfall. The sight of her thighs below the hem of her short gown made him weak, sparking a curiosity in him about what other wonders lay underneath her dress. Without himself knowing, his legs started in her direction.

Zara frowned at the sight of a larger shadow appearing in front of her. She spun around and let out a short scream, her back attached to the nearest wall as she tried to inch away from him. But seeing as he just stood there, without saying anything, she too stopped, though her arm was still poised to attack him with the bottle of whiskey if he did anything. "Uh- who… who a-are you?" she stuttered, swaying slightly from the existing alcohol in her system.

"Persephone…" Hades drawled. Her frown intensified. "Persephone…"

"Wrong number, pal," she nervously answered. "There's no one here by that name."

"Persephone…" Hades' greyish-red lips curved into a smile. He took a step towards her, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek.

"Hey, personal space!" Zara argued in vain as she backed away. Hades let out a grunt of disapproval, his face now contorting with a determination to get what he wanted.

"Persephone," he simply stated as he made to grab her. Zara averted her head and moved to protect herself. Just as his beefy arm was about to seize her shoulder, another hand stopped his.

"Lay off," Lucifer snarled with eyes that meant business. Oddly comforted by the sound of his voice, Zara kept herself behind Lucifer, using him as a barrier between herself and Hades. "She's off-limits, lover boy." Hades grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath as he reluctantly turned around and walked away. "You okay?" Lucifer asked a now-curious Zara.

She nodded. "What's his deal?" she asked, staring at Hades' muscular back.

"Hades, "god" of the Underworld," Lucifer introduced, complete with air-quotes.

"I thought you hated the pagans," Zara wondered.

"I do. I mean, all that self-importance… you just wanna crush their little heads," Lucifer answered with the appropriate head-crushing gesture. "But Hades knew his place. Hated his pantheon so much that he was willing to work for me."

"And Persephone?" Zara probed. She opened the door to her room and Lucifer followed, watching her as she poured herself a generous glass of whiskey and plopped onto her bed.

"Shark bait," Lucifer stated, taking a seat opposite her on a chair. When she gave him a puzzled look, he continued, "Zeus was, as you kids say, 'talking shit'. So Hades happened to find his daughter on a warm sunny day in spring. Love at first sight."

"Talk shit, get hit," Zara summarised, taking a swig of her drink. She gagged and coughed as she swallowed her first sip. The dark liquor burned in the back of her throat. Despite the look of regret on her face, she held onto her glass, determined to finish it. Slowly, the feeling of intoxication strengthened and she felt light again.

"Exactly," Lucifer agreed. "Then, as you know, he kidnapped her, made her his bride and raped her to death. But he still lives under the impression that she's alive somehow."

"Whoa- what?" Zara exclaimed. "How do you rape someone to death?"

Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. "You get creative, duh," he responded. "Hades has a monster libido."

"Oh," Zara's lips curved up on one end. A number of ideas passed through her head.

"What?" Lucifer probed, unsure if he should be concerned by the look on her face. It wasn't the first time she had that look – her eyes zoning out, a thin smile, a resigned aura around her. Normally, he'd approve, seeing as it was always preceded by some unusual, nihilistic activity that required her continued descent into depravity, like attempting to finish a whole can of beer in one gulp without puking (and subsequently failing). But in this context, what was he supposed to make of it?

"So what you're saying is… he's single," she occupied her mouth with another large sip of whiskey, forcing herself to gulp its spicy taste.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes in judgment. "You're not serious," his face contorted with disgust. "Ew."

"I like my men… large…" she sighed, and then broke out into an uncontrolled chuckle. "And he looks like he just needs a hug."

"You couldn't handle his monster cock," Lucifer jibed. "It would kill you."

"I hope so," she flushed, fanning herself.

"Okay, look. Stay away from him," he ordered. "I need him to be focused."

"And I need to get laid," Zara lamented, reclining back onto the bed. She closed her eyes and groaned out loud like a child.

"I don't care," Lucifer pursed his lips.

"Well, maybe you should. How am I supposed to live here, trapped like a prisoner? Oh and you're wearing my boyfriend!" Zara snapped at him, sitting back upright.

"Don't take that tone with me," he snarled. Within a second, he had a hand around her throat, pulling her face close to his. "The only reason you're here is so that I can get a hold of Sophie when she gets back. You? I don't care what you do until then as long as you're here. Don't get on my nerves and I won't gut you. Are we clear?" Her brown irises froze in place as she managed a short nod. He let go and she sobered up instantly, massaging her neck. He got up, ready to go, but stopped at the door. "I'll let you go back to Earth. With an escort. And you will be back in five hours. Whatever you do in that time, is your business."

Back in his room, Hades and Abaddon awaited his arrival. They both sat at a round table. "Report," he commanded, standing over said table.

"Crowley's still in the wind," Abaddon stood and reported. "We went to the site that the witch pointed us to, but there was nothing there. I'm guessing Crowley relocated his most important resources as soon as he tucked tail and ran."

"Then find where he moved our item," Lucifer ordered. "Pay our little guest another visit. I don't care if she doesn't have any teeth left."

Then it was Hades' turn. He remained seated, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair. "The squatters won't talk. They're all loyal to the old gods," he spoke with a gravelly voice. "Some even question your competence."

"Then we'll answer them," Lucifer said resolutely. "Doesn't uh- what's-his-face own a brothel in Constantinople?"

"It's Dionysus, and it's Istanbul now," Hades drawled. "We might have to check if he hasn't shifted base."

"Do it. We have to show them that there's no hiding from us," Lucifer declared. "Talk shit, get hit." When the two of them stared at him blankly, he elaborated, "It's a saying. It's catchy."

Abaddon nodded, smirking. "Talk shit, get hit," she repeated the words like a motto.

"But Dionysus… he's kind of a big deal. We hit him, we might have a war on our hands," Hades warned.

"Well I'm a bigger deal. We need them to know that," Lucifer answered. "I won't stop until I've cleansed the earth of all these so-called 'gods'. If it's war they want, then I say: Good. We'll get more birds with one stone."

Later,

Zara stepped out into the cold, pulling her jacket closer to her body. She awkwardly strode in a pair of glittery heels and a skimpy dress, still feeling the effects of that afternoon's whiskey. Her two demon bodyguards followed closely behind, wearing impeccable suits and grave expressions. She took a deep whiff of the fresh, cold air. Ah, freedom. It would have felt so good to just be able to strut around without a care in the world, if it wasn't for the great heaviness in her soul. But that was why she was here. When she reached the entrance of the nightclub, she paused and turned to the demons. "Stay far away from me, kay? I don't need you two messing up my game," she blatantly stated before prancing into the club. The demons exchanged blank looks before following her.

Her body was bouncing to the beat as soon as she set foot into the establishment. She put on a plastic smile, just as inauthentic as the make-up she'd piled onto her face, as she spent some time on the dance floor. It had been so long since she'd just danced for the sake of it. And with the way her head was spinning from the booze, it felt almost transcendental. Unable to control herself, she let out a smirk, bumbling backwards only to bump into a random stranger. She turned around to say sorry and came face-to-face with a rather attractive man. "S-sorry," she stammered, now lost in his glistening brown eyes.

"Uh, it's alright," he huffed a smile. He had a square jaw and a light stubble, which moved into dimples as he regarded her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"You can do anything you want, sugar," she flirted. He let out a deep chuckle and she reciprocated. Soon, they both found themselves standing at the counter with shots in front of them.

"I'm Nick, by the way," he introduced himself. Zara's smile faded quickly and she averted her eyes. Picking up on her discomfort, he probed, "Is something wrong?" Shit, don't screw this up, Zara. She gave him a half-hearted smile and shook her head, starting on her drink. "Oh no, don't tell me this is one of those 'you-remind-me-of-my-ex' moments."

"No, no it's not that," she lied with an unconvincing grin. "I'm… sorry. It's just… I haven't done this in a while," she shook her head again as if to shake herself out of it. "I'm Zara."

"Okay, nice to meet you," he nodded in reassurance. "What do you do?"

"Oh, I uh… I'm in between jobs," she answered, her gaze darting around the club. She spotted her bodyguards assuming positions at opposite ends of the club, standing with the arms folded and facing her directly. Be more obvious, won't you? she thought. She returned her attention to the man standing next to her. "Yeah, I used to be a pub singer. Moved to LA to audition for an acting role."

"What role are you auditioning for?" he asked as he downed a glass.

"Oh, well, just… any role," she stammered. "Been trying my luck with a few. What about you?"

"I work in a bank. It's quite boring compared to your artistic profession," he joked. She laughed, perhaps a bit longer than was required of the moment. "So what kind of music you into?"

"I grew up listening to a lot of hard rock and heavy metal," she replied, gulping her drink. "All the greats – Ozzy, Dio, Maiden, Judas Priest, Manowar. Man, that's music."

"You like that stuff?" he questioned, albeit teasingly.

"Yeah. You don't?" she asked with the same light-hearted tone.

"I'm a good Christian man, Zara," he showed her the crucifix he wore around his neck. "Heavy metal needs Jesus."

Zara burst out in laughter, lightly patting his arm. That goofy grin on his face was evidence enough that he didn't exactly mean it. "Well, good Christian man, wanna hear about my sins?" she flirted. She winked at him before taking a few steps away. When he didn't follow, she turned back. "You coming?"

Nick, still captivated, simply adjusted his jacket before following her. She led him by the hand out the backdoor into the alley, pouncing on him as soon as they were out. They kissed hungrily, with her hands eagerly searching his abdomen. "Car's that way," he pointed as he made to bring her in its direction.

"No, I want you now," she insisted, pulling him back to her. "Take me right here."

Unable to resist her yearning voice, he relented, pushing her up against the wall as he deepened the kisses. One hand roughly slid between her legs, fondling her thighs. Zara let out a breathy moan. Her palms cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer to her as her leg circled his waist. His hand found its way under her panties and felt her. Zara gasped and pulled her face away from his. Like a switch had just flipped inside her, her earlier enthusiasm faded. "Hey, is everything okay?" Nick asked, his breaths heavy. She nodded for him to continue, pulling on the collars of his jacket. Soon, she felt his cold fingers inside her, stroking and rubbing as he dug his lips into her neck. Her breaths raced but now all she could think about when she closed her eyes was the face of her Nick. The man she loved. The only man she had ever loved so truly. She felt another shove of his fingers inside her and instinctively pushed the man away, retreating her leg. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"S-sorry," she sighed as she stumbled to stand on her own two feet. "It's- it's not you. I mean, you're great. I just-" Her eyes stung with tears and before she knew it, she was sobbing. "I'm so sorry," her voice choked. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Uh… okay. Okay," he patted her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she only wept more, clumsily wiping her tears away with a hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head, leaning back against the brick wall of the alley. Persistent, Nick reached out a hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. As she looked at him through a blurry vision, she couldn't help but be touched by his concern. She didn't understand why he was still standing there. Maybe he really wanted to get in her pants, not that she minded. That's why she was out here in the first place. Now only if she could stop crying. She was about to say something vague about her cat dying or something but before she knew it, someone pulled the back of his head and a knife slit his throat, spraying blood onto her face. Zara flinched, her mouth widened in a gape. "Oh my fucking God!" she exclaimed. As Nick fell onto the floor, neck convulsing as blood bubbled from the gash, Zara found the figure of her two bodyguards standing before her. "What did you do that for?!"

"We heard you crying," the one holding the bloody knife said. "Are you hurt?"

"No, you idiot," she cried. "I'm. Sad!"

She groaned aloud as she covered her face with her two hands. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the top of her lungs. An awkward silence passed as they watched her bawl with her back towards them, forehead pressed against the wall. "Uh… we could go in and get another one," the other demon said, uncertain just like his associate about how to deal with the situation.

Zara turned around, pressed her palms together in a prayer position in front of her head. "Please, don't. I don't want your help!" she said, exasperated. She sniffled, finally feeling relieved of her tears. The demon handed her a handkerchief and she wiped the blood and tears from her face and neck. "Actually, you know what, I need you to find something for me."

Zara stormed into the shady apartment. The lighting was dim. The air was thick with smoke from cigarettes and weed. Hookers worked on big, muscular men, some of whom watched her strutting like she owned the place. She marched up to a guy in a hoodie with a cap underneath, her two demons trailing behind. "I want cocaine," she demanded, swaying on the spot.

"Booze and cocaine don't go well together," he advised with his hood accent. "It can kill you."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, asshole," Zara snapped.

"And I don't want any dead bodies turning up on my turf," he said defiantly. "What about some weed? I got some really good stuff. It'll blow your socks off."

"Fine," she grumbled. "But I still want some cocaine to go." When he didn't move, she rolled her eyes. "I'll do it FARaway from here, alright?"

"You got any money, chica?" the dealer asked. Zara snapped her fingers at a demon, who sighed and took out his wallet.

"Kitty's got a rich daddy, huh?" some guy next to her said, eyeing her up and down. "I can be your daddy too."

"Up yours, douchebag," Zara quipped. Grabbing the brown paper bag of her stuff, she took off. Finding a nice lonely spot in a skating rink, which still happened to be occupied by skaters even in this time of the night, she sat on the ground and fired up a blunt. "Make sure no one bothers me," she ordered her bodyguards as she huffed out some smoke. Maybe this whole 'Satan's prisoner' thing wasn't so bad after all, she thought to herself. Hey, Luc. You still there? The world is a shit place without you in it. She took another warm breath of weed, letting the drug take her away. And your dad has a giant stick up his ass, in case you were wondering. But he saved my life, so I don't really care. Wish you were here. I love you.


Present day

The Bunker, Lebanon, Kansas – 15 September 2012, 8.13am

"Kid, English," Dean mumbled, rubbing his temple with a finger. He started out the morning with a bad hangover and now the prophet was going on about something he didn't quite pay attention to. He pressed the cold bottle of beer against his head, hoping it would help.

"Basically, the angel tablet is like some kind of power source," Kevin explained as he chewed on a sausage. "It looks like there's some kind of instruction on how to use it. Can I just skim over that part? Seems kinda trivial."

"Huh?" Dean struggled to look at him through the radiating pain from the side of his head.

"My eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the tablet for so long," Kevin said. And indeed, he hadn't blinked once from the beginning of this conversation. "I thought I could just skip to the important bits. Like something about taking on the Devil, because that's like a priority now, right?"

"Yes, you can," Castiel sighed as he entered the kitchen, saving Dean's brain from further ache. "I believe it would be wise to take a break once in a while as well. Perhaps a nap, or a walk, which I hear is therapeutic for humans."

"No, I'm almost finished. I have to continue," Kevin insisted.

"You're only a quarter of the way through," Castiel rebutted.

"Yeah, don't- don't burn out, man. Take a break, watch some porn, get some sleep. Then get back to your grind," Dean suggested, wincing as another wave of pain hit him. Castiel reached out a finger but Dean stopped him. "I got this. Man's gotta pay for his own mistakes." Rolling his eyes, Castiel touched his forehead and cured him of the headache anyway.

Before Dean could argue, Sam stormed into the kitchen with a laptop. "Got a case," he announced.

"You're welcome," Castiel uttered to Dean as he folded his arms with a defiant expression.

Sam's gaze flickered briefly between the two of them before he started. "Springfield, Missouri. Three women get ripped to shreds in their own homes," Sam introduced. "Multiple organs missing. Their bodies were barely recognisable."

"So we got a rabid Hannibal Lecter on the loose?" Dean wondered.

"Yeah, and get this: Eyewitness at one scene said that the victim looked like she was talking to herself and inviting someone into her house moments before she got murdered," he said.

"So we got: Invisible monster, eats flesh and gets people in their own homes," Dean summarised. "Why does this stink so familiar?"

"Because we've worked on something similar before. Rakshasa," Sam inferred. "We hunted one long ago," he paused, gulping.

"Right, Pennywise," Dean remembered. Then he cracked a goofy smile. "Close to your heart, Sammy?"

"Shut up," Sam cut him off.

"What?" Kevin asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," Sam quickly said to shut his brother up. Dean chuckled a little, not bothering to pursue the punchline.

"Guess we're off to Missouri," Dean concluded, getting up to pack his things for the next hunt. He momentarily paused to face Kevin. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," the prophet nodded confidently. He smiled genuinely, grateful for the feeling of safety he had here.

"Take a nap. That's an order," Dean wagged a finger sternly.

"I'll be here to watch over the tablet," Castiel offered.

Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 3.40pm

"She was such a sweet girl," an elderly woman recounted to Sam. The woman's face grew sombre and her gaze grew distant. "She was always smiling, so happy."

"Do you know if anyone would want to hurt her?" Sam asked, using the concerned eyes that made people trust him more. "Maybe a boyfriend…?"

"Oh it's definitely possible. She was always in and out of relationships, never being able to settle on one," the woman told him. "If you ask me, she always expected things to be perfect. And don't we all, when we're young?"

Sam nodded. "And you said she looked like she was talking to herself?"

"Yes, it was strange. She looked like she was talking to someone but no one was there. And she looked really excited," the woman's eyes widened. "I think it was a…" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "A ghost. Has to be, right?"

"Right," Sam nonchalantly said to end the conversation. "Thank you so much for your time, ma'am."

He caught up with Dean at the car. "Find anything?" Dean asked as they entered the car.

"Apparently, the vic was never single for very long, but always had relationship problems," Sam reported. "Neighbour thinks it's a ghost."

"No EMF," Dean answered, rejecting that theory. "But it's a bloodbath in there. I think I can still smell her rotting meat."

"Ew," Sam frowned.

"Yeah, well, next time I'll bring some fava beans and a nice chianti," Dean shot back.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Our girl was really into a band called Brides In White," Dean cringed visibly. "Her room was full of posters of emo goth boys."

"Emo and goth are not the same thing, dude," Sam corrected him.

"Well these guys will prove you wrong," Dean shuddered. "What's next?"

The next vic's house was all the way on the other side of town. The house was still being surveyed by the local police department when the boys showed up. They flashed their fake IDs before gaining entry to the scene. Unfortunately, this crime scene was just as grisly as the last one, with blood indiscriminately splattered everywhere. Whoever did this didn't just want her as food – they wanted to make as much of a mess as possible. What kind of a sicko would do this? Sam thought. Just as Dean surveyed the vic's living room, Sam caught the sound of soft sobbing near the front door. A young lady with short, dark hair was looking past the crime scene tape into the house at the bloody living room, despondent. "I'm sorry, did you know the victim?" Sam gently asked as he joined her. She nodded, still in tears. He flashed his badge. "Agent Elliott," he introduced. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"She was my best friend," the girl said through a choked voice. "I should have seen this coming."

"Why do you say that?" Sam inquired. "Did you see anything?"

"It's what I told the cops," she answered, wiping her tears away. "Alice said she met someone new. She told me all these great things about this guy and I told her that it seemed too good to be true. Then she got mad at me and we had a fight and… oh my god… I should have been there for her."

"Hey, hey," Sam patted her shoulder. "This isn't your fault. Is there anything you can tell me about this guy she was seeing? A name?"

"She never told me his name. She said he wanted to keep things on the DL for a while. Isn't that shady? I tried to warn her," the girl's eyes roved over the ground as she struggled to recall important details. "But all she kept saying was how they were both very similar and listened to the same music. I think that's how she met him. At a local concert or something."

"A concert?" Sam probed.

"Let me guess," their conversation was interrupted by Dean, who'd found something of his own. "Brides In White?"

"Yeah," the girl confirmed. "Alice loved that band. She was such a huge fan. But they're a bit confused between emo and goth if you ask me."

"Told you," Dean glanced at his brother, who gave him a bored expression.

"Alright. Thanks," Sam told the girl. "Very sorry, again."

"So both our vics were into the same band and had terrible judgment when it came to men," Dean observed as they made towards the Impala. "Makes it easy for predators to get them at a local concert."

"Sounds like a working theory," Sam agreed. "We'll see if the third vic confirms it."


Hell – 6 months ago

The desk was dusted with cocaine powder from a sloppy arrangement of lines. Zara wasted no time. Muscle memory from her teenage days kicked in as she snorted the coke. With every line she finished, her head grew lighter and lighter, until she couldn't feel her body anymore and fell back. It felt like her soul had left her body and was now floating above, even though she knew she was still in possession of her body. The weed from before was slowing the high but she still felt it – the stinging clarity of every sensation coming on to her in a tidal wave. Soon, her heart began racing. Though she felt more comfortable lying down, her muscles just itched to fidget. She shook her fingers, feeling no exertion at all. It was like being on top of the world. It was like she could do anything at all. She got up and rapidly paced around the room, thinking herself a feather floating on the wind.

A short while later, the slightest dissipation of the high appeared. "No," she muttered out loud. "I need more. I want more!" She rushed to the table, finding the small sachet containing a little more of her elixir. She emptied the packet onto the table, hurriedly forming a line with the edge of a dollar bill. Zara stood in the face of incoming sobriety and defiantly rejected it, insufflating the last of her snow. Satisfied, she sat back on the bed to relish the intoxication. All that was apparent now was the dryness in her mouth. Instinctively, her tongue rubbed against her cheeks but that didn't help at all. She gulped a glass of water. That made it better but she could still taste the cocaine at the back of her throat. She pulled her legs up to her chest as she rode the train. Again, she felt the detested feeling of losing the high. She struggled to hold onto the sensation but it kept slipping away, leaving her to face the inevitability of normality.

A light throbbing emerged from the side of her head. All life drained from her bones. She lay down on the bed in a fetal position, craving sleep but too mentally stimulated to try. Her limbs just felt like dead weight. With no reprieve from the crash, Zara just stayed down, staring at nothing in particular and thinking about nothing. An hour passed. She finally got up. She didn't know what she wanted to do now. In a daze, her legs began walking in a single direction. The sound of murmuring reached her. All sounds stopped as their eyes found her.

"Yes, Zara, do come in," Lucifer invited, a confused gaze scanning her from top to bottom. Zara stumbled forward like a zombie until she found a seat at the table. "Did you have a good time? Actually, don't answer that. I don't care. Also, why do you have blood on you?"

"What?" She looked down at her chest. She was still wearing the skimpy dress and there were patches of dried blood from a pathetic attempt at a clean-up. "I don't know," she frowned, struggling to remember what happened. "Does it matter?"

"No, it does not," Lucifer half-grinned. "Hey, wanna hear about my plan for world domination?"

"Are you gonna take 'no' for an answer?" Zara groaned, clutching the side of her head that throbbed.

"Sir," Abaddon interjected. "Should we really be revealing our plans to… an outsider?"

"Zara's no outsider," Lucifer answered, glancing at the hot mess of a human. "Isn't that right? You're not gonna try and stop me, are you, Zara?"

"Fuck the world," Zara groaned. "Fuck everything and fuck everyone in it. The world could end tomorrow and I couldn't care less."

"See?" Lucifer smirked. "She's not a problem. She couldn't even count her fingers on all that crack."

"Thank you for your confidence," Zara said dryly. "Let's hear it."

"I'm going to take out all the competition," Lucifer began. "Starting with the pagan gods. I won't stop until I've wiped every last one of them from the face of the earth."

"Okay, Hitler," Zara remarked.

"He'd actually make a great demon, don't you think?" Lucifer wondered. "I mean, he had the right idea but he just wasn't thinking big enough. Why stop at one race when you could take 'em all out? Where is Hitler anyway? Can't seem to find him in Hell."

"Sir, I believe his soul is trapped on earth in some artefact somewhere," Abaddon replied. "The Men of Letters had a record on him."

"And how did you find that nugget of wisdom?" Hades spoke up, his rough voice a surprise to Zara, who'd only ever heard him speak one word. "I thought you said these Lettered Men were good at keeping secrets."

Abaddon gave him a malicious smile. "We hit one of their bases last month. Raided every corner and killed every last one of them. Little Miss Trouble over here was our main haul, but you will be pleased to know that they had a wide array of weapons and case files, which I thought might come in handy for us," she explained. "It's probably nothing compared to the original reserve I was after, but that, as I've mentioned before, is in the hands of two unyielding humans."

"The Winchesters," Lucifer filled Zara in. "In any case, I don't want to waste my time on those two little worms. We have a whole race of ancients to exterminate."

"I… I don't understand," Zara dared to say, catching their attention. "If you want to rule the world, why would you kill the people who already do? Isn't that a lot of trouble?"

"You dare question his decision?" Abaddon hissed. Lucifer held up a hand to gesture her to stop.

"You have a better idea, princess?" he folded his arms, beckoning her to go on.

"Aren't you all about bending people to your will?" she suddenly asked as if the notion was obvious. Now that she was thinking so much, her train of thought became clearer and she became absorbed in trying to make her point. "Why kill them… when you can make them your bitches?" She broke out into a chuckle, amused by her own suggestion. Satan… making old gods… his slaves. Or maybe it was the hours of chasing intoxication which was starting to get to her. "You own them… and you'll own everything they own. Can you see the hierarchy?" She attempted to draw some kind of tree diagram in the air but gave up when she had to yawn.

Lucifer nodded in amazement. "That's actually… not a bad idea," he admitted, envisioning what she said. "Didn't peg you for a strategist."

"Thanks, I took like, one political science class in college," she added wryly, eyes now fighting to stay awake. It seemed this conversation was unusually good for her come-down. Hey, she might even have a good night's sleep. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself to her feet. "Alright, later immortals," she gave them a peace sign before staggering off. The three of them watched her make a pathetic attempt at walking in a straight line, amused by the girl's gait. They were practically counting the seconds before she knocked something over, none of them making an effort to help. Despite the odds, she successfully made it out the door.

"Beautiful and smart," Hades fawned. "Like my Persephone…"

"You keep that up, and I'll rip your other eye out," Lucifer warned coolly. Hades pouted a little but shrugged it off. Every woman was Persephone to him until told otherwise.

"If I may ask, my King," Abaddon began. "What purpose does she serve exactly?"

"Zara will remain here, under my watchful gaze, until my Queen returns from her travels," he explained. "Besides, her mental breakdown is the only entertainment we have down here." Abaddon gave him an accepting nod, though she seemed a bit unsure. "Is there something on your mind, Abaddon?"

"It's just that… from the case files we retrieved from the Men of Letters, she might have some extraordinary capabilities," she elaborated. "Would be a shame not to put them to use."

"Hm," Lucifer considered. "I'll think about it."


Present day

Springfield, Missouri – 15 September 2012, 5.45pm

Later, the boys found themselves having dinner at a local diner, with Dean devouring a bacon sandwich and Sam ignoring the impossibly large bite that his brother had to take by looking up this mysterious band. "I got nothing. It's pretty normal- or as normal as the emo scene can get," Sam shook his head in dejection. Then, his eyes spotted something and he perked up. "Wait…"

His fingers furiously tapped on the keyboard. Dean slowly chewed his sandwich, swallowing a large bite as he observed his brother working so seriously. "Got something?" he asked with a mayo moustache.

"Take a look at this," Sam flipped the laptop so that Dean could see the screen. "So these are all the places where there've been similar cases," he pointed to a map. "Other than Springfield, there's Little Rock, Arkansas, and Branson. And here is a list of places where Brides In White played gigs," he pulled up a poster.

"So our guy's riding the tour-bus," Dean observed. "Band stops in town, freak preys on vulnerable girls with relationship problems and leaves town on a full stomach. Typical douche-bag rockstar."

"That would make a lot of sense but I've been doing some digging into the third victim. Get this: She was engaged. Her fiance's a suspect," Sam informed him. "She doesn't fit the pattern."

"Maybe she was led astray by an opportunity she couldn't miss out on," Dean speculated. "Like banging her favourite rockstar. Happens to the best of us." When Sam gave him a weird look, he didn't hesitate to explain, "Like if Joan Jett came up to me, I'd expect my wife to let me, you know, have it. It's an unspoken rule, Sammy. Or think of Stevie Nicks, if that's easier for you."

"I like Joan Jett too," Sam frowned.

"But can you really handle a hard-lovin' woman like her?" Dean teased, to which Sam raised a bored eyebrow.

"Anyway," Sam shifted the topic back to the matter at hand. "Vic doesn't seem interested in Brides In White. Or any kind of hard rock or metal. There's no mention of it in her social media or anything."

"I got two words for you: closet metalhead," Dean posited as he swallowed another mouthful.

"Whatever," Sam dismissed. "I guess we'll only know when we go talk to the vic's family."

The evening was just beginning to set in. The sun was still up, though it fought with the fluffy clouds to shine its golden rays on the town square. People bustled about, just getting off work and ready to enjoy a relaxed dinner in the many eateries in the surrounding streets. Dim, colourful lights hung from wires connecting lampposts, giving the whole place a relaxed aura. As Sam and Dean strolled through the town square, the gentle rumbling of a guitar reached them in the background. Dean recognised the tune to be an old iconic Iced Earth song and just had to look for the musician. A smooth feminine voice sounded through the crowd.

"I had a friend many years ago

One tragic night he died

The saddest time of my life

For weeks and weeks I cried

Through the anger and through the tears

I've felt his spirit through the years

I'd swear, he's watching me

Guiding me through hard times"

The mellow song suited the mood of the large open space, where people crossed paths and talked and drank. In all that movement, no one noticed the dark-haired archangel watching from afar with his pet lizard poised on his shoulder. Dean lightly stepped his way through the crowd, approaching the small gathering of people around the musician. He tried to maintain his distance yet get a glimpse of her, dragging his brother along for an awkward detour. When he finally got a good angle, his heart stopped. He knew that face. The acoustic riff intensified for the chorus, capturing the energy of the actual studio version.

"I feel it once again

It's overwhelming me

His spirit's like the wind

The angel guarding me

Oh, I know, oh, I know

He's watching over me

Oh, I know, oh, I know

He's watching over me"

Dean had halted in his step, forcing his brother to follow his gaze. Seeing what had his brother so shocked, Sam could not help but feel just as dumbstruck. How could this be? There she was, pouring her heart out in this song of tragedy, voice inflecting with just enough emotion that it sounded sincere and genuine. And truly, it was. It was a ballad of loss, coming straight from the heart. The silent archangel knew it to be true. It only made his heart ache more to see her here. If only he could talk to her somehow. He wanted nothing more than that. I'll always watch over you, he thought as he lovingly watched her.

"Why did he have to die?

It still hurts me to this day

Am I selfish for feeling this way?

I know he's an angel now

Together we'll be someday"

"Please tell me you're seeing this," Dean patted his brother's arm with the back of his hand, all while fixing his gaze on the girl.

"Yeah I… I guess I am. What's she doing here?" Sam wondered. He took note of her short, curly hair – she'd had a haircut. Her face was still recognisable as ever. He'd never forget that face, which had been etched into his mind by the totality of torture. Both brothers just stood, mouths agape, as she finished her song. People dropped money into the open guitar case in front of her, mouthing praises while she gave them warm smiles and thanked them. When the crowd dissipated, she counted the money she'd collected, packed up and took off. Without it being said, the Winchesters fell in step following her, keeping their distance. They stopped when she stopped, scrutinising her every move. They noted everything from the length of her hair, to the floral dress she was wearing and even the khaki trenchcoat she wore. They were just waiting for something to happen, like there was some malicious agenda underneath that innocent-looking ensemble.

Then she did something weird. She bought a sandwich using the money she'd just made. "She's not possessed," Sam sighed in relief.

"Let's not jump to conclusions here," Dean remained wary. They continued stalking her as she meandered her way into a hotel without a care in the world. When they were confident they'd arrived at her door, the both of them took a moment to mentally prepare themselves. The door was a dark mahogany, a fitting complement to the ruby red theme of the hallway. Web-like cracks where the paint peeled off indicated that the place was shabby but well-kept enough to bring in customers. Taking a deep breath, Dean smote the door thrice. The door squeaked open.

She was just as floundered as either of them, eyes wide in recognition. "Sam. Dean," she huffed. Dean's hand was reaching for his pistol, just in case. "It's so good to see you!"

That relieved smile was unexpected. "Zara?" Sam finally dared to speak her name. Her brown eyes glistened and her cheekbones became evident as her light pink lips gave them a warm smile. She stepped back, allowing them both to enter. Sam's eyes were fixed on her but Dean's surveyed the room, finding nothing but human possessions – clothes, food, moisturiser and more. "What… How…"

"I know this must be weird…" she began.

"Weird? Where the hell have you been?" Dean huffed. Zara's jovial demeanour faded, reciprocating the tension he brought.

"I've been around…" she answered. It was an oversimplification, but it was a start.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Dean did not let up. "We've been worrying non-stop about the possibility of an archangel team-up and this is all you have for us?!"

"Dean!" Sam shut him up before Zara could say anything. Dean's tone only made her more anxious, which to be honest, she expected of him. He wouldn't be Dean if he wasn't suspicious of her. Still, it was disconcerting having two giants in her room and having one of them give her an unrelenting attitude. "Zara, the last time we saw you, you were in kind of a tight spot. You were going to… say 'yes' to Sophia again," Sam concerned with a gentler tone. "What happened? Are you alright? Are you in danger?"

"Sophia's been MIA for about a year," Zara confessed, palms nervously rubbing against each other. "One day she just up and vanished and left me stranded, y'know? Don't know what happened."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dean demanded, face still riddled with cynicism. "We've been on the lookout for that bitch for so long-"

"It's a long story," she cut him off. All relief had completely faded from her expression. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, wondering where the best place to start would be. "You might want to sit down. I know I need to."

Sam was uneasy with the way Dean was acting. His hand was still poised to reach for his gun, even when they were both sat at a round table. Instead, Sam distracted himself with the sight of Zara reaching into the fridge to get some beers. When she settled down opposite them, Sam asked, "Where's Luc?"

Zara hesitantly met his gaze. She didn't realise that she hadn't spoken for a few seconds. Her jaw trembled when she answered, "He's… gone."

"What do you mean… 'he's gone'?" Sam probed.

"Not exactly sure what happened… 'cuz you know, it's all images in my head," Zara's voice was weak, though she tried her best to keep it together. "But all I know is… he's not here."

"Is he dead?" Dean bluntly asked.

"Dean-" Sam tried to stop him.

"No, it's okay, Sam. It's a valid question," Zara said as if she meant it, even when it hurt to think of it that way. "Truth is, I don't know. But it's still what you wanted, isn't it, Dean? One less monster to worry about?"

Dean was taken aback by the mild vitriol in her voice. "Well I'm… I'm sorry for your loss," he said, though he could not deny that he did feel relieved by this revelation. His eyes darted to her neck, where her fingers fidgeted with a crucifix. "You a believer now?"

"After everything I've seen?" Zara scoffed, suddenly conscious of her fingers. "Obviously."

"But what happened?" Sam interjected. "I mean, to you. What have you been up to all this time?"

"Yeah, and what's with the Janis Joplin routine?" Dean supplemented.

"Oh, that?" Zara glanced at her guitar case. "It's how I get by. I find a nice crowded spot, strum out some songs and make enough to eat and live. People are really generous in Missouri."

"Or you're just really good," Sam complimented. "That was a great rendition."

"Thank you," her face lit up. She held Sam's gaze longer than necessary, finding comfort in those hazel eyes. "When you sing from the soul, you can't go wrong. Anyway, I've been going from one place to another, doing odd jobs and oh – hiding from demons. Turns out they really have it in for me."

"Ah," Dean nodded. That he could understand. But still, there was something left unanswered. "But why didn't you come to us? We could've helped you. Kept you safe."

"Are you kidding?" Zara huffed, looking between the both of them. "No offence, but the both of you are demon magnets. I've read the books. I'm good on my own, thanks."

"The books?" Dean was bewildered for a moment before he realised what she meant. "Oh come on. Really?"

"I ventured too deep into the weird side of the internet one day and found a fanfic of your lives," Zara recalled with wide eyes, looking like she'd seen some strange things. "You guys should really look into that and maybe… stop it. But guess what, I got my five seconds of fame too. Not the most favourable first impression, but it's better than nothing."

"Right," Sam paused her. A brief moment of silence fell as they sipped on their beers. "Alright, we should get going. Need to wrap up this case."

"You guys are here on a hunt?" Zara questioned. Then her facial muscles eased up in realisation. "I mean, obviously. Of course."

"Yeah, thanks for the beers," Dean said as they both got up and neared the door. "Keep in touch, Zara."

As the Winchesters walked off, they both had very different thoughts in their mind. Sam was silently smiling to himself, finding himself relieved that she was alright. It had weighed heavily on him since the last time he saw her – the last time he saw her as her. As Zara.

"You buying anything she says?" Dean snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Wha- Dean," Sam frowned. "What's not to believe? She's helped us before. And she's lost a child. You think she'd lie about that?"

"Not that, but doesn't this whole thing seem fishy to you?" Dean posited. "Are we supposed to believe that Sophia just vanished off the face of the earth?"

"I mean, seems like it," Sam rebutted. "No one's seen or heard from Sophia in… about a year. It checks out."

"I don't know, man. Seems too good to be true," Dean remarked.

From the hotel room window, Zara watched as the two brothers deliberated, their figures getting smaller as they got further away. The sun was starting to set, casting shades of purple in the sky. She continued to fidget with the crucifix as her eyes followed their path. Then she felt it scrape against her finger. Slowly, the crucifix turned upside-down, flipping upwards against her chest. "Come to check up on me?" Zara asked, not bothering to turn around.

"Just had to know if my favourite lieutenant was still alive," a man's voice sounded from behind her. She turned around, welcoming the vision of that familiar blond hair and icy blue eyes. His arms were folded as he leant back on the table. "What's the matter? You're just letting them leave like that?"

"Trust takes… time," Zara reported. "I have to play my cards carefully. Earning the Winchesters' trust will be challenging."

"I can imagine," Lucifer nodded. "What about the… other matter?"

Zara's lips turned up on one side. The archangel was encouraged by her confidence. "She thinks she's playing me. But I think it's a good opportunity. I could hit two birds with one stone," she claimed, self-assured. "I'm sure Ravana will get the message."

"If you say so," Lucifer assented. "Keep me posted."


A/N:

Hey guys, how are you? Hope you're all doing well. I know I haven't posted in forever but I'm working on it. We're entering a new arc in the storyline that will heavily follow Zara, the Winchesters and Lucifer. And if you notice, the format of this chapter is such that it will show events of both the past and the present - like an episode of Arrow. I thought this was best because it makes connections easier to draw and you wouldn't have to wait for so many chapters before seeing the implications of certain things that happen in the past. I'm having so much fun conceptualising this era of the series, especially because of certain characters who I can't wait for you to meet. As usual, your feedback is much appreciated :)