Sophia's Chronicles

Chapter 70: New Person, Same Old Mistakes

Motel Room, Lenexa, Kansas – 21 September 2012, 1.02am

Zara chuckled heartily, nestled in Sam's arms in the dark. "Really? You jumped?" she threw her head back against the pillow and laughed. Sam grinned at the sight of her widened rose lips.

"What? I was just a kid. Everyone thinks they can fly at that age," Sam rebutted playfully. "I broke my arm thinking I was Superman."

"Sounds like you had more than an arm broken," Zara teased, patting his chest where his heart was supposed to reside. She shifted in her position to better face him. "I remember when I was, what, fifteen? My idiot friend Jack tried to teach me how to ride roller blades. You gotta understand one thing about the guy. He's kind of a… daredevil. He was always good at this stuff… jumping from one place to another, skateboarding, roller-blading, parkour – you name it and he'll do it. The more dangerous the better."

"Sounds like quite the character," Sam remarked. "So did you learn?"

Zara chuckled and shook her head 'no', her eyes forming delightful upturned crescents. "He had to keep catching me to keep me from falling. He even pushed me down a ramp!" her eyes widened in a mixture of horror and amusement. "I swear I could've broken my neck. But he caught me in time, so…"

She shrugged it off. Sam rubbed her back with a hand as they shared a smile. "And where is this Jack now?" he asked.

Expression eased from her face in a slow fade, though she maintained a grin. "I don't know. Haven't seen in him in…" her eyes darted to the ceiling to do a quick calculation. "Seven years?"

"Seven years? You never tried to contact your friend again in seven years?" Sam puzzled.

"Well…" she traced circles on his chest with a finger. "When I ran away to college, I was set on leaving everything – and everyone – at home behind. I haven't looked back since. I don't think I want to." The moment of sullenness lived its half-life, until Zara decided she would bear it no longer. "You and your brother… you boys ever think of a future? Like… settling down, having kids and all that?"

Sam simply huffed. "There's a saying among hunters. Uh, that there's only one way this path ends. I mean, it would be nice, if…" his eyes strayed away, carried by a thought. "… if there could be a happy ending. But work always follows us home." He briefly gulped before meeting her gaze again. "I learnt the hard way. And so did Dean."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Zara sympathised. She gingerly held his cheek in her palm and caressed it with a thumb.

"Yeah, you probably already know about my- my… girlfriend, Jess," he muttered with a reluctant sigh. "I'd just come back from a hunt with Dean and there she was… strung up on the ceiling and…"

The words were caught in his throat. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything," she whispered.

He inhaled sharply. "Woah, okay. I did not expect to talk about this. Sorry," he apologised, blinking old tears away. "What about you? Do you have any interesting exes?"

"I don't know about interesting," she sighed. "My first boyfriend broke up with me by moving to a new town."

"Ouch," Sam commented.

"Thing is, he didn't say he was splitting up with me so I guess I… held onto the hope that he'd come back some day? And then the years just went by and I finally got the clue that he probably wasn't into me," she elaborated, running a hand through her dark hair. "I never really dated much after that."

"Never?"

"What can I say, I was heartbroken and afraid of rejection. And then the apocalypse happened and you know, ended up with a child. And after that, well, I… I did have someone," she confessed. The memory left a bitter taste in her mouth but hey, if this conversation was all about reopening old wounds… "I wasn't completely alone, Sam. I wasn't always hunting. It's why I didn't call."

Her lower lip twitched, wondering if an apology would then be in order – whether it would fix anything. "Hey, it's okay. Talk to me," he urged. Zara didn't know how, but the thing he could do with his eyes where you could just tell he really cared… it made her feel more comfortable opening up. Yet, the pain ate at her from the inside.

"I… I wanted to start over again. Leave all this… archangels and apocalypse behind. When I met… him… he knew I was in pain and he…" Zara's vision was swiftly flooded. She gulped to swallow the tears but it became too overwhelming too quickly. "He accepted me. We were happy together…" Sam noted her use of past tense, knowing all too well what would come after. "Then one day… it all went to shit…" He gave her a moment to collect herself amidst the sniffling and the eye-rubbing. When she spoke again, there was an agonised grit in her voice that he recognised, perhaps from his own father and brother. "That was when I decided that I wanted to hunt down every single demon who had anything to do with it."

"Zara… revenge… isn't going to bring him back," he caressed her cheek.

"I know…" she nodded, lips curving inward as if to plug any emotions that might be bottling up. "But I have to try, Sam. I have to…"

"Hey, hey…" he softly reassured her. "It's okay. I understand."

He pulled her into a hug, gently rubbing the back of her head which lay against his chest. "I've never… I've never talked about this… with anyone," her sentences were punctuated with grief-forced pauses. "But they caused me… so much…" she emoted with a hand gesture. "… agony. I lost… more than him."

Sam's eyebrows crinkled at that sentence. "What do you mean?" he dared ask. Zara's eyes stared dead ahead, still as a statue. Her silence was eerie. The look on her face was cold – murderous, even. The tension only brought up a hundred possibilities but even Sam could not have expected her answer. Perhaps she would have known for sure if she'd let it out but the pain had balled up so tightly inside of her by this point that she only ever used it as fuel. Her anger was her strength. Anger against life, anger against people, what have you – Zara Joshi was unstoppable when she was made angry.

"Never mind, just… why are we talking about this?" she dismissed with a confused expression. "God, can't I just hold a conversation that isn't depressing for once?"

Try as he might, the thought lingered in Sam's head. He let it go for the moment so as to make the night less painful. They tried talking about trivial things this time – movies, music, history, anything that didn't have to do with tragic personal experiences. He even made her laugh again at some points. When they were too tired to talk, they both eventually drifted to sleep.

The next morning, they sat beside each other at a booth in a local diner. Zara was fixated on her breakfast while Sam surfed the net on his laptop. "You two look beat," Dean greeted them, casually stealing fries from his brother's plate as he slid opposite them. "Rough night?"

"Yeah, rough," Zara confirmed with a sly smile, eliciting a strange look from Sam. "You seem chipper."

"Yoga instructor," he shot them a goofy grin which Zara couldn't help but share. "She could bend in all the right ways-"

"Okay, thank you. For that exposition," Sam interrupted him. "Guys, check this out. More bodies turning up in Missouri."

He turned the laptop around so that Dean and Zara could read it. "Wait… this sounds a lot like…" Dean began.

"Rakshasa," Zara exhaled. Frowns were exchanged around the table.

"Same MO, same pattern of victims. Even the forensic reports look similar," Sam told them. "And again, in a town visited by… you guessed it – Brides in White."

"We did… burn the body, right? Isn't that supposed to be a one-way ticket to monster paradise?" Zara spoke their minds.

"Unless… Rockstar Jones wasn't working alone," Dean surmised. "There were two of them. At least."

"Great," Zara leaned back into her seat.

"That would explain why that third victim didn't follow the pattern," Sam mused. "She wasn't a vulnerable, insecure fangirl, right?"

"Guess we shoulda seen it comin', then," Dean sighed, stress-clearing Sam's plate. "We have to finish the job."

"Agreed. I looked at the band's tour dates and their next gig is in three days in Jefferson City," Sam added with a pensive look that the other two immediately took notice of.

"But?" Zara asked before Dean could.

"But… they're performing in a huge music festival. Which means they'll be surrounded by security and other bands, not to mention a crowd," he informed them.

"Fertile hunting ground for our creep," Dean remarked.

"Then we should step on it," Zara concluded, sharing resolute nods with the hunters.


Hell – 6 months ago

A lone wine glass shattered on a street in New York City, terrifying clueless passers-by with its sudden impact. What no one noticed, however, was the swift rush of wind generated overhead – powerful enough that it could have only been caused by the flapping of an archangel's wings.

The darkness was familiar. And so was the sulfurous warmth. It was the ether in which demons were made. Yet, it represented the only impossibility for her. Sprawling naked on the invisible floor with nothing but dread shaking her every muscle with the strength of an 8.0 on the Richter scale but what was left but a morbid nonchalance? This would just be another limit to be pushed. Another wall breached. Another trophy moment in the saga that was Zara's life.

"Feels like just yesterday we were in this exact same position," Lucifer's voice boomed. "Hm." He held up the whip with the barbed wires, picking off small specks of red crust. "Still has your blood on it."

Zara kept her eyes lowered, not daring to even glance in his direction.

"Come on, no smart-ass remark?" he knelt down to her level but she averted her head. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her to face him. "Go on, say something." Her lips trembled but her teeth ground together in a defiant silence. "I said… speak," he hissed, winter breath cutting her cheek like a knife. He could have given her a frostbite at that rate. "Tell me why you did it."

"I…" she panted heavily. There was something about being terrified of death yet yearning for it that seemed to encapsulate all the highlights of her life, she thought. It all became so clear now in the Devil's grasp. It was something that she'd tried to hide for so long – a feeling so pure that it seemed impossible to exist without it. All her life, she'd tried to shout it out loud even when no one listened. But now he was, and she could utter it. "I… don't… care… about… anything…"

Lucifer let her go stiffly, leaving her to cower in his presence as she pressed her head against the ground. His face was riddled with disappointment and fury amalgamated into one, in the way the steady up-and-down of his shoulders reflected a strained effort to control a blizzard of his making. "You know, I tried, Zara," he spat out bitterly. "I tried to play nice. For Sophia. She clearly favours you, for some reason. But you…" the whip came crashing down faster than she could blink. Equally swift was the peeling away of the barbs from beneath her skin. "Won't…" Another swing. "Play…" Again. "Ball!"

The utterances were so quick that the speed of sound was breached, adding the deafening noise to the sources of agony. If there ever was a pain so great that no human sound could describe it, Zara was feeling it – barely a whimper escaped her vocal chords after the first sting. It was all happening too fast. Her body trembled and twitched in an attempt to escape the searing pain to no avail. On top of that, feeling the blood leaking down her sides was a nightmare in itself.

Lucifer simply watched the long tendrils of her hair stick messily to her back like a shredded curtain hiding rotten meat. The blood just pooled from underneath, sucking the strands into their flooding grasp, bathing her in the fluid of life. Despite every voice telling him to rip her flesh asunder and craft a sword from her bones, he saw something in her soul that gave him pause. A mark made in a cosmic language, denoting what belonged to him. A mark that would inevitably resist his push to a grim consequence. In a way, this dictum in her soul spoke a message to him – that he could push all he wanted, but the result would be dire. That realisation made all the difference to him.

A controlled exhale departed his lungs. He dropped the whip and knelt down to her level again. Zara felt a palm against the back of her head and braced for impact, made a shivering mess by sheer anticipation. But the touch remained where it was, firm and caressing. "You remind me of Lilith," his familiar voice fought through the blaring sirens of pain into her consciousness. "So much… potential. So much to transform."

Breaths sputtered out of her chest noisily as Zara let out the tension that built up in her core in sharp whimpers. She heaved and groaned, bawling like a child. Stripped and naked, there was no room for hiding anything. It would have been impossible even if she'd tried.

"Is life so frivolous to you?" he whispered in her ear. "Then so be it."

A loud ringing noise blared around her. She dared widen her eyes to figure out what was going on but a pure, warm light flooded her vision, forcing them shut. It was nothing short of a nuclear blast of energy that singed every inch of her skin. Though no pain was immediately apparent, the suddenness of it all was so overwhelming – the immediate and absolute loss of sensation almost to the point of nothingness. Zara tried to scream, to curl up into a ball, but no action followed her thoughts. It was strange, like being trapped in a dimension with no body and only left with the sense of self, though that too seemed to be caught in the storm of energy. It felt like every atom in her body was being torn apart and put back together in a whirlwind of celestial fire.

W-what's happening to me? Make it stop! Please…

Unspoken. Unheard.

And then, nothingness.

Zara awoke with a gasp, heaving for breaths. She shot up to a sitting position, her hands scrambling to verify her physical integrity. Intact – no wounds. And there were clothes. The lighting was so incredibly dim that she thought Lucifer had left her in that dark space but something was inherently different about this setting. For one, her palms found rock solid ground underneath. And soon, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A directionless red light breezed about in a cloud-like fashion. As she stood up, the background noise became more obvious too – absolute nothingness. Just a distant, industrial rumble. It could be machines, it could be the wind, she couldn't be sure. It was eerie.

"Hello…?" she weakly mumbled into the open. Now that she could see clearer, she found herself standing in a thick fog. The air was clouds and the unclear sky was a deep red. This was definitely somewhere in Hell. But where? Which way to go? There was barely any visibility, let alone any distinguishable landmark. "Lucifer?" she called out shakily. A slight shiver caressed her back and shoulders, forcing her into a closed, arm-rubbing posture. "What do you want from me? I'm- I'm sorry, okay? You said I had to trust you so I… I tested your claim. Maybe you- you didn't like that. B-but I… I'm really suffering, okay? I can't…" The heaviness in her chest proved a great resistance but the words fought their way out anyway. "I can't deal with any more trials. I just want it all to end. End my pain, please," she begged, short of falling on her knees.

Still, there was nothing. The fog only grew thicker and colder. A single snarl sounded to her right. It sounded like some kind of dog. Her senses sharpened but she couldn't see anything. Her wavering imagination had no choice but to envision some kind of sharp-toothed creature hungry for its next kill. What was worse than being alone in some unnamed region of Hell was being not alone in some unnamed region of Hell. Forced by circumstance, Zara ventured forward with uncertain steps.


Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 12.10pm

The city was bustling with life. It was such a change of pace from the smaller towns they'd passed on the way. Maybe it just felt good to be around people, leeching off their sense of normalcy and general happiness as a substitute for one's own. Zara walked purposefully, naturally finding herself between the Winchesters as the three marched down the street in the direction of their target – a common park where all the tour buses were stationed. It seemed that they'd come at a time when bands of a diverse range of popularities had gathered in this one city for a grand music festival. There were lesser-known bands, perhaps performing for the first time, and there were some better-known bands as well. But mainly it was a rock and metal festival, which meant it was right up their alley. Maybe it would be nice to stick around for some of the performances later, that is, if the whole thing wasn't going to be shut down by a Rakshasa hunt. Places like these tended to have high security so finding their guy was going to be tough.

These concerns occupied the trio as they proceeded briskly past some coffee shops and retail stores. Zara, dressed in her new leather jacket which hid her blade, and the boys, dressed in their fancy FBI suits. Watching all of this from a corner across the street was the prodigal son – the boy with red eyes like his father's and golden wings like his mother's. He was practically jumping in excitement. This would be his moment. His chance. There would be no opportunity more perfect than this. He sharply turned to face the glass window of the retail shop to his left, inspecting his own reflection. He adjusted his own leather jacket and ran his fingers through his long, dark hair, which reached down to his elbows.

"Okay, okay, you can do this," he told himself, nodding to boost his own confidence. "Just go up to her," he whispered to his own reflection. "'Zara, I love you man.' No…" he shook his head, casting himself a grimace. "Don't be weird, idiot. Act normal. 'Zara, I've missed you.'"

He sighed. His Winchester-hazel eyes judged himself too harshly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the perfect words to say. He glanced over to where he'd spotted her. They were walking away so quickly. He was losing time. It was now or never. He flew over to an alley they were coming up towards.

"We should split up when we get there," Dean suggested.

"Right," Zara agreed. "You guys find which tour bus is theirs and I'll try to scope out the area for- JESUS!"

She walked straight into a large pillar of a man. Zara's words were caught in her throat as her eyes met his. "I don't think you'll be able to find him, wherever you're going," he suavely answered, bubble-gum lips curving into a goofy grin. Sam and Dean expected they'd be on their way, but soon took notice of Zara's shocked silence. "Heya Zara."

She simply gaped, brown irises burning into him. "Jack?!" she recognised. The brothers exchanged bewildered glances, equally weirded out by Zara's peculiar long-haired friend. But she was perhaps the most stunned of them all, feeling a great whirlwind of emotions that she just wasn't ready to deal with.

"You remember me? Of course, I'm unforgettable," he shrugged his shoulders proudly, hands dug into his pockets. He didn't quite expect that raised-eyebrow frown on her face. He thought she'd be happier to see him. And then she just brushed past him and carried on walking. The Winchesters, dazed at first, followed suit though the curiosity remained about what the hell was going on. 'Jack' rushed to catch up, walking backwards in front of her. "Woah, woah, where are you going?"

"I'm busy," she simply said, avoiding his gaze.

"So busy you can't catch up with an old friend?" he projected a slightly-pained look, which he swore normally worked.

"Yes," she snapped at him. "How'd you find me anyway? Have you been stalking me?" she accused.

"What can I say? Maybe I'm your guardian angel," he extended both his arms to his sides in a pose, shooting her the most charming grin he could summon.

"That's not funny," she dismissed.

Man, she doesn't let up! "Nice haircut," he complimented in hopes of winning her favour. "But I liked it better when it was longer."

"Cry me a river," she rudely brushed him off again. This time, she increased her pace in an effort to make it past him.

"Zara, stop," he halted abruptly in front of her, blocking her path. Without a choice, she glared at him. She stepped to the left to evade him but he moved in step. She stepped to the right, but he matched her movement again.

"What do you want?" she finally asked through a clenched jaw, vexed.

"I just want to talk. Hasn't it been a long time? It's been like, what, seven years? I missed you, man," he confessed with the sincerest look. "And then I just happen to bump into you here. Isn't that great?"

Zara wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face. "Just peachy," she said dryly. "But like I said, I'm busy. So leave me alone."

Again she stormed off past him. He turned to follow but Sam stopped him. "Back off, pal," he calmly asserted. "She's not interested." Jack narrowed his eyes at Sam – they were almost at eye-level, though Jack was a little shorter – but didn't provoke him. Instead, he despondently stared at the sight of them walking away, questioning his life decisions. But he didn't want to give up. Not just yet.

Just as he was about to be the most annoying long-lost friend ever, a large, warm ball of energy seemed to approach him. He turned around to confront his visitor. People froze mid-gait. The clouds stopped moving. The earth stopped spinning. There, in front of a car frozen in its tracks, stood Chuck, dressed in fairly regular clothes. Jack sauntered onto the road to face Him.

"Gran," he recognised with a shock he'd just seen on Zara's face, though with much more relief than her.

"Luciel," God greeted His grandson with a compassionate gaze.

"The last I saw you… you- a version of you… was hanging from a cross. You uh- you didn't look too hot," he remarked sympathetically.

"We learn more from suffering than pleasure," Chuck responded, ancient wisdom resonating from him in waves. "You could be the wisest of us all."

"I'd gladly concede such a title for as little as a mote of dust," he sarcastically answered, extending his arms to the side again, as he did when he had something snarky to say. He folded his arms, not knowing what else to do with them. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I came to ask you the same question," Chuck held his gaze expectantly. "I thought I told you to lay low."

"I am… I have," he tilted his head in askance.

"Then why are you going after her, son?" He inquired in the most sympathetic voice possible.

"Why…" Jack trailed off, huffing as if the question was ridiculous. "You really want to know?" Chuck nodded, worry brimming in his grey eyes. The archangel smirked sardonically, resisting every urge to sound bitter. "I've been a ghost all my life. I don't even…" his hazel eyes burned onto a spot in the ground as his jaw tightened to utter his heart's message. "I don't even exist. And the only person who even says my name anymore is right fuckin' there and she doesn't even see me!" He exhaled, feeling his chest tighten uncomfortably from that confession. "Do you know what that's like? Waiting for thousands of years just to hear someone say your name? Your real name?"

"Luc…" Chuck sighed in an attempt to console him.

"And you know, that isn't even the worst part. I…" he paused, licking his lips nervously. He shook his head to deny himself the relief of confession, instead running a hand through his hair. "Forget it. I'm… tired."

"I understand that it's difficult for you to see all of this. To… hear her prayers to you every night," God sympathised. "But I only ask you to be patient. You only have to wait a while longer."

"How long?" Jack demanded with a choked voice, looking to his grandfather for reassurance. "Death keeps telling me the same thing. And I've been waiting for… forever! Now my mom's in some other dimension, running around and looking for me in all the wrong places. Who knows if she'll ever come back?!"

"She will," Chuck promised.

"Please. Even you don't know that," he muttered with cynically-narrowed eyes. "With that madman in-charge there, you have no idea what's gonna happen. Don't I know…"

"The time will come. I don't know when, but I feel it approaching," He stated. God peeked into the sands of time, piercing through the veil of existence with a single thought. He saw the things that needed to happen, all a flurry of images but none making any concrete sense – as was normally the case with these matters. "It's important to have faith sometimes."

"Yeah, I know…" he rubbed the back of his head. His sharp chin pointed downwards in thought as he took a sudden interest in his sneakers. "I do… have faith. I just- I just don't think I want to be alone anymore, you know?"

Jack had been staring at the ground for too long when he felt a palm rest against his upper arm. He found the comfort of Chuck's optimistic tranquillity when he looked up again. "Be careful not to scare her," He advised. "She's been through a lot."

"Wait, really? You're not gonna stop me?" Jack's crestfallen expression slowly faded towards hope.

"Is anyone actually capable of stopping you, Stormbringer?" Chuck answered. His bearded lips turned up on one side as He regarded His beloved grandson. The boy returned the smile. He felt nothing but love for the deity standing before him, like an ocean of warmth exploding within his core. Few people ever had that effect on him. "Besides, you must know by now that I don't interfere in matters of creation. Doing so only raises questions. Questions which we don't want certain people asking, remember?"

"Right," Jack nodded in obedience, pushing away his doubts to the back of his mind.

"You are responsible for your own actions and their consequences are yours to deal with. So be careful," Chuck added.

The young archangel's eyes contorted with love and he spared no hesitation in wrapping his arms around the smaller frame of Chuck's vessel. "I will," he vowed. He never wanted to let go but he did so anyway, albeit reluctantly. "How have you been anyway? I never get to see you."

"I'm… I'm good," Chuck nodded. "Been writing, publishing. Going to fan conventions."

"Wait, it's you writing those Supernatural books, isn't it?" Jack cracked a wide grin, giving Him a short confident nod. "I knew it! I can't believe no one's figured it out yet."

"Few people are as sharp as you," He remarked. "But yes, it's kept me occupied."

"Cool. Do you… need any help? I mean I'm getting some momentum with my current… you know," he gestured with his head to his general surroundings. "I could help promote your books."

God chuckled heartily. "That won't be necessary, son, but I appreciate the offer," He simply said. "Till we meet again, Jack."

He caressed Jack's cheek while His grandson's lips widened into a smile that had the radiance of a thousand suns. "Thank you… for everything," Jack whispered, feeling peace flow over him in waves. God's luminescence enveloped the world and he simply bathed in it, eyes closed. When the light faded away, the noise of life came back to consciousness and Luc found himself standing alone in the middle of the road, invisible.


Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 12.25pm

"So who's Type O Negative back there?" Dean asked after they turned the corner. They carried on at a brisk pace, unhindered by the strange encounter.

"Jack," Sam ruminated. Zara's agitated reaction seemed like a cause for concern. "He's the one you told me about, right?"

"Yeah," Zara grumbled. "Speak of the Devil. Just my luck, isn't it?"

"I thought you liked him?" Sam questioned.

"I do. That's why I'm cutting him out of my life," Zara simply answered, though her reasons were far more complex than she let on – much like other things she told them. She seemed rather determined. "How many times have people we cared about gotten hurt? He should stay as far away from me as possible."

Both of Dean's eyebrows did a little jump in surprise. Even he wouldn't go as far as she had. It certainly couldn't hurt to spend a few minutes to just talk. But if this was what she wanted, he couldn't really blame her.

"Mind if we take a little detour? If I know Jack, he'll try to follow us. That creep," she cursed.

"Uh, sure," Sam acceded after receiving Dean's passive shrug. Zara took a right turn to cut through an alley, fishing out her phone to GPS her way towards their destination.

"Wait a minute. Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" Dean finally asked when they seemed to be going around in circles.

"Crap. I don't know," Zara rotated her phone in various angles to get her bearings right. Her shoulders were tense, thoroughly put off by that one face that brought up old feelings she struggled for so long to put away. "I think we need to take a left here."

"Zara, that's a dead end," Sam told her. The three of them stopped where they stood, looking around themselves for some clue as to where they were. To the left, where Zara had guessed they needed to go, was a short alley at the end of which was a sealed wall. To be fair, they did need to go in that direction but there was simply no access there. To the right was a longer path towards a main road but that would mean they'd have to walk around the block. Along the way were wired fences connecting buildings, the lack of any of which could have made their journey easier.

"What was it the both of you said? 'Oh, it's not that far. Let's just walk!'," Dean mocked. "'Walking's healthier than driving,' they said."

What made it worse for him was the fact that they completely stood out in the way they dressed. One or two homeless men took notice of them while warming up their hands against barrel fires. "Sorry," Zara grimaced. "I think we'll have to take a right and walk around. Unless you gents are fine with vaulting up that wall. That is, if you aren't gonna pull a muscle or anything."

She dryly glimpsed in Dean's direction, to which he immediately took offence. "Oh, that's how you wanna play it, huh?" he challenged. Zara simply shrugged. The elder Winchester defiantly stormed off to the left.

"Dude, I was just kidding. You don't actually have to climb up the wall," Zara called out after him. Seeing as Dean wasn't stopping, the two of them hurried after him.

"Yeah? I'd like to see you make it up there, short-stacks," Dean jibed. They stood before the cement wall, which towered about three feet above Dean's head. Just three feet and we'll be closer to douche-bag breeding ground, he thought resolutely.

"Like rats trapped in a corner," someone smirked behind them. The hunters spun to face the voice. Malicious smiles, attached to the bodies of the two homeless men they'd seen earlier, stared back at them with a black abyss they called eyes. The one who spoke had a full beard and a dirt-crusted face, like he just couldn't be bothered to give his vessel a wash. The other one had a hoodie pulled over a beanie.

"Demons," Sam uttered, mind racing to figure out the best route of escape. And they weren't alone. Behind them stood two more with equally-sinister grins.

"Well well, if it isn't Huey, Dewey and Louie," Hoodie comically announced.

"Always nice to meet a fan," Dean snarked. He dug a hand into his coat to pull out the classic demon-killing knife. "But show's over."

The two demons behind were ready to pounce forward and rip them apart, but Beard-Face stopped them. "Woah, woah, hold on fellas. Let's be civil about this," he urged his brethren. "Let me lay it down for you, Winchester. You, we don't care about. You're old news. But the Skirt's still worth something," Beard-Face stated. "Hand her over and we'll get out of your way."

"Fat chance, chuckles," Dean growled. Zara sized them up confidently, gripping the archangel blade firmly in her palm. Sam too was armed with an angel blade and it didn't seem like the three of them were going to give up anytime soon.

"This isn't going to end well for you," Hoodie decided, eyes cynical but smile amused. "It's four against three."

"Make that four," another voice sounded behind them. The tall, lanky figure of Jack appeared calm amidst the confrontation. His almond eyes pointed at the demons like arrows as the hazel orbs migrated to their pointed edge.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Zara exclaimed. Immediately the situation flustered her about ten times more. Her best friend of time long gone was now in a ten-foot radius of not one, but four demons. "Go. Away!"

But unbeknownst to her, the demons had an entirely different set of concerns. One charged at him with an angel blade. He caught the demon's forearm with one hand and grabbed his neck with another. As easily as an exhale, the angelic energy exploded in his palm, burning the demon out through the eyes. In a simple motion, his fingers retracted their grip, leaving the body to drop passively. Before anyone could react, he pointed a palm at Hoodie and blasted him away. The demon was flung back against the wall and knocked unconscious. The other two simply exchanged a shocked look and smoked out immediately, leaving their vessels to drop to the ground. Amidst the skirmish, the trio simply looked on, mouths agape at the spectacle unravelling before them. Until Jack dusted himself off and faced them, eyeing Zara with a solemnness she rarely knew him to have.

"Like I said, I'm your guardian angel," Jack paused in front of them. "We need to talk."

Zara was absolutely flabbergasted. She had nothing to say. In one moment, everything she'd known all her life to be true crumbled at her feet. "What. The hell. Is going on…" she stuttered, blinking rapidly.

"I'll explain everything. But first…" he turned to look at the unconscious demon. "We should interrogate him."

"What for?" Sam lowered his angel blade, though holding it still in case things went sideways. That sudden revelation raised alarm bells in his head. Jack's an angel?

"Are you kidding? His friend just said they want Zara for something. Don't you wanna know what?" Jack puzzled. He looked between the Winchesters momentarily before assuming the role of making things happen. All they heard was a flutter of wings and within a second, he vanished. Zara flinched at the sight. Then a door to their side opened up and he came out of it. "I trapped him inside," he pointed behind himself with a thumb. They glanced over his shoulder to confirm the claim, finding the demon tied to a chair inside a Devil's trap in the building. He slid his leg backwards to shut the door behind him as they watched his unseemly demeanour. Nothing about him seemed to make sense. The situation had shifted so dramatically that none of them knew what to make of him. But he just gave them a courteous smile and awaited a response, excitedly tipping on his toes. There was only silence. "What?"

"Who the hell are you?" Zara snarled, pointing her blade at him. His smile faded but he didn't seem upset or threatened. The look he had was best described as… sympathy.

"It's me… Jack," he insisted, attempting to hold her gaze. He tried to find the woman he knew and loved in her eyes but only found her accusative glare.

"Have you always been an angel?!" she finally enunciated one of many questions. Secretly, she hoped that this wasn't what it appeared. But she would be wrong.

"Yep," he admitted. "I've been watching over you from the moment you were born. It was my job. I had to keep you safe, because, you know…"

"The apocalypse," Sam finished his sentence. "True vessels were supposed to be protected."

"Yep," Jack confirmed with a sigh. "Can you put the sword down now?"

"That's impossible," Zara denied, still staring daggers at him like he was an enemy. "No one knew I was meant to be Sophia's vessel."

"That's true. No angel, no demon knew it was you. Except me," Jack answered. "God Himself gave me the order. He made me your guardian. And boy, you gave me a run for my money!" He shifted his weight as he let out a short chuckle, despite the fact that no one else seemed to be sharing in his humour. "Come on, say something."

As Sam looked over to Zara, he could see a mountain of words begging to erupt from her core. This must be a personal matter for her, he thought. "Maybe Dean and I should question the demon," he suggested, expectantly beckoning his brother to follow with a look.

"No, I wanna hear this," Dean simply said. He shared Zara's frown. If it had to do with angels and demons, it was his job. And honestly, he was curious about how someone could possibly expect trust after revealing that they'd been lying to someone about their identity for so long.

"You were the one good thing I remembered about my home. And you mean to tell me… that everything has been a lie?!" she spat out through a tight jaw.

"Not everything," Jack pouted like an upset toddler. "Our friendship wasn't a lie."

"Oh, stop," Zara shook her head, rubbing her temple with two fingers.

"I mean it," Jack took a step toward her to place an arm on her shoulder but she held up the sword in front of herself, stopping him. "Okay, look. I… wasn't supposed to get involved, alright?" His unfittingly cotton-soft eyes sought an ounce of belief from his audience of three. "The order was to watch you from afar. Make sure nothing bad happened to you. But I couldn't just stand by and watch you make bad decision after bad decision. I mean, dude, you dated your drug dealer." Dean couldn't resist an astounded look at the girl standing next to him. "So I… came up to you one day in hopes of keeping an eye on you from up-close. As a friend. Like…" he huffed into a smirk. "I'm Drop Dead Fred, and you're Lizzie."

Jack's eyes wandered upwards and then, were suddenly caught by a peculiar sight at a window above them. He peered at what appeared to be a tiny monkey staring at them with an innocent curiosity. Hm. Strange.

What he said didn't ease the hurt Zara felt. If anything, she only felt more conflicted. "Wait a second," she hissed, snapping his attention back to her. Her frown deepened as dots connected in her head. "Did you have something to do with Ricky going missing? Did you kill my boyfriend and make it look like he skipped town?!"

"No! No, I didn't kill anyone. I swear," Jack rushed to defend, putting his hands up in surrender. His mouth hesitantly widened to find the right words but it dawned on him that the truth wouldn't sound so good either. "I just… persuaded him to leave without telling you. With my fists."

Zara's lips pursed as she exhaled sharply. She put away the blade but her anger could have proven a far deadlier weapon. "Do you know what that did to me? Do you know how much… that hurt me?" She folded her arms, struggling to control her temper.

"Yeah? He was bad news. And I'd rather you have a broken heart than…" Jack tried to reciprocate her impatience but found himself getting emotional instead. "He got you hooked on the hard stuff, you remember that? Do you remember that time you overdosed on crack and almost died, Zara?" he scoffed, accusatively pointing a finger. "Well I got news for you. You did die. And I resurrected you. You don't get to talk about hurt when you made me watch that."

"Oh, you're hurt now, are you?" Zara sceptically huffed.

"Uh. Yeah," his eyes darted from side to side and the bridge of his nose crinkled a bit in confusion as he nodded. His silky-long hair bobbed with his head, the shorter tendrils nearer to the centre parting bouncing more around the square forehead they framed so neatly. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

A collective repressed groan seemed to befall them as Zara seriously evaluated whether she wanted to continue this conversation. If it was anyone else, she would have stabbed them right then and there. But she didn't, for the sake of the good times she'd associated with his face.

"Because your kind aren't known for having emotions," Sam elaborated. "So excuse our scepticism."

"My kind? First of all, that's racist," Jack held up an index finger while his other hand rested on his hip. "Second, aren't you listening to me? I kept you safe for so many years. I don't want to harm you," he proclaimed with a pained expression. "I only want you to be safe and happy." That only put Zara off even more. She sighed and looked to the heavens before dejectedly shaking her head. "Wha- Zara, come on. What's the matter?"

Zara shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. "Nothing, just…" she mumbled. "You're so full of yourself that you don't even see it."

Jack recoiled, baffled by her bold statement. "I think what she means is…" Dean interjected this time. "If you were supposed to keep her safe, then what rock you been hiding under the past two years?"

"Yeah," Zara agreed.

"Why didn't you show your face during the apocalypse?" Sam supplemented. "We could have used more help."

"It wasn't my place to intervene," he answered with the sincerest discomposure that fidgeted his shoulders. "God forbade me."

"Oh, God forbade you," Zara spat his words back at him. "You expect me to buy anything you're saying when you were absent at times I needed you the most?"

"There are things you don't understand," Jack's words were sharp, desperate to convey a message he couldn't speak explicitly. "But I'm here now, because I wanna help."

"Yeah? Well it's too little too late," she snapped. "Where were you when Lucifer tortured me into submission? Where were you when the demons hunted me down?" Her voice grew more agitated, pouring out the pain seared into her memory. "Where were you when-" she gulped to speak the harshest memory, her next sentence soft in volume but sharp in tone. "Where were you when they took Luc away from me?"

That sentence was like a spear through the heart. Jack's eyes stung immediately. As much as he'd tried to hold it together this whole time, his demeanour was soon unravelling. The look of absolute agony on his face pierced her the most, despite his genuineness seeming inappropriate. "I was there…" he stuttered, voice choking. "You- you just didn't know it." A yearning for comfort thudded in his chest – it was the very purpose of his finding them that day. "Do you really think I could have done anything to stop that?"

A connection forged the highway between their eyes. Finally, the impossible barrier to her heart appeared to be receding. For the sake of the friendship they once shared, she wanted to relent. Yet, a single hurdle in her life remained. A certain… blond Devil. Before she could say any defining words, a muffled cry sounded from behind the door. "Hey! Let me out of here!" the demon yelled out.

This time Sam didn't wait for Dean's assent. He went on forward into the building and his brother followed. Zara and Jack looked at each other – Zara with uncertainty and Jack with a longing. When she couldn't take it anymore, she brushed past him into the building.

The four of them stood inside the empty area, lit only by light filtering in through the windows. Dust motes floated about in the rays of light. The air was stale. The Winchesters stood imposingly before the demon, who regarded them with nothing but absolute abhorrence. "What do you ladies want?" the demon spat out.

"Why don't you start by telling us what you want her for?" Sam began.

"What do you want her for, Sam?" the demon rebutted. "She spread her legs wide enough for you?"

"Hey!" Jack growled from behind them. "Don't make me carve a pussy out of you, bitch-boy."

Dean's head craned slowly to Zara and she gave him a small shrug like she wasn't surprised to hear words of such calibre from his mouth.

"I'm not afraid of you, Feathers," the demon leered. "You taking turns with 'im? Can't blame you. Word around the block's that everyone wants a ride on Lucifer's whore."

Jack seethed, placing a foot forward and ready to have a go at the demon. But Zara stopped him with a hand on his leather-bound arm. Instead, she found herself nearing the demon. "You people have been trying to kill me for months. What gives?" she demanded of the creature with folded arms.

The demon gave her a bored look. "We're throwing a demons-only party and you're the entertainment," he remarked snidely. "Hope you're taking requests."

Zara looked down at her feet, ominously observing the red line separating her and the demon – the border enclosing the Devil's trap. She pulled her shoulders back, entering a persona she reserved for moments like this. Her right boot transgressed the border. "Zara," Dean muttered to question her.

"I got this," her face was like a stone wall of emotions. She put another foot forward to get closer.

"Some of our boys haven't seen a woman in centuries, you know?" the demon continued with a dastardly smile. "Some of them just wanna put it in the same hole that Lucifer did."

Zara reached into her jacket and pulled out the archangel blade, holding it like a lash ready to be swung. Upon seeing it, the demon's eyes faltered a little, betraying an inevitable sense of vulnerability though his gritted teeth showed resistance. "What do you want with me?" she asked again.

"Isn't it obvious? There's a price on your head," the demon answered bitterly. "You're expensive goods and everybody wants to cash it in."

"Who do you work for?" she asked next. "Can't be Lucifer. His demons aren't as sloppy as you."

"Oh I'm sorry, we can't all be part of the elite task force, you spoilt little whore," he derided. In a swift move, Zara drove the blade into his right knee, evoking fiery sparks from the spot. The demon's hoarse cries rang in her ear like a symphony. Sam and Dean, though slightly unnerved at her readiness to torture, understood it as a necessity. But Jack, on the other hand, felt a bitter taste grow in his mouth at the sight.

"And what kind of person do you think becomes Lucifer's whore?" she whispered to the demon. She strengthened her grip on the hilt, twisting it on the spot. The demon's head arched back as forced grunts shot their way up his core and out of his mouth. "Give me a name!"

"Crowley!" Hoodie finally yelled, heaving for breath. "Make it stop. Please…"

"What does he want?" Dean chimed in, breaking the silent triangle. Despite the disturbing reality of the scene before him, Jack's gaze was caught again by a curious sight. At the far end of the room, he thought he spotted another one of those tiny monkeys. It's flaming orange irises watched the episode with an awed curiosity that he couldn't dismiss. But it's tiny stature and vantage point atop a dusty shelf in a dark corner ensured that no one else took notice of its presence.

"There's… there's a deal going down," he huffed and puffed, still reeling from the pain. "The client wants her."

"Why? Who's the client?" Dean continued. When the demon hesitated, Zara yanked the blade out sharply.

"I don't know. I don't know!" he protested. "I swear!"

"Where and when?" Zara simply asked.

"There's a run-down hospital on the east side of town," he groaned. "Crowley's set up base there. The deal's supposed to go down as soon as he gets you."

The little monkey in the corner waddled away in Jack's periphery.

Zara eased up. A coldness eclipsed her face as she rested the tip of the blade against the demon's throat.

"End it quick, please…" he begged.

She watched him like she would a mosquito before swatting it. A slight pressure bore an incision on the demon's skin, eliciting a wince. He expected the end to come, but instead she dragged the blade down his chest, ripping open his demonic form. Jack watched, unamused. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but clearly this wasn't the time. Finally, she let up, plunging her weapon into his chest and ending the interrogation.

"What're we thinking? We gonna pay Crowley a little visit?" Dean thought out loud.

"I've been aching to ice that sonuvabitch for so long," Zara voiced after wiping her bloodied blade on the dead demon's clothes.

"You can't just hand yourself over to him on a silver platter," Sam argued. "That's what he wants. We're gonna have to play this smoothly. He's clearly trying to get eyes on you."

"Yeah, I say we try to stay as low as possible," Dean suggested. "We got enough things on our hands right now. We don't need to tango with Crowley."

"Guys," Zara beckoned them with her eyes. "We won't get a better opportunity than this. We know he's here. We have to at least know what he's up to. Who knows what he's trying to screw up now?"

"I agree. This Crowley sounds like he could use a little visit," Jack interjected. The three of them narrowed their eyes at him. "We should go check out the location and set up a trap."

"Um… What do you think you're doing?" Zara inquired.

"Helping you?" Jack puzzled with a little head tilt. "From what you guys have been saying, this sounds like an all-hands-on-deck situation. And hey, I got hands."

He held up both his palms. Unfortunately, his marble smile wasn't winning any hearts. "Look, Jack, no offence," Dean addressed him. "But we just met you. We don't know who the hell you are and your credibility seems to be running low…"

"Well, Zara's known me for years," he challenged, holding Dean's gaze.

"I'm severely questioning everything I know about you right now," Zara stated as a matter-of-fact. Jack huffed, almost ready to give up. His shoulders sank. But he decided to try one more time.

"Zara, I know I lied to you about my identity and… I'm really sorry about that," he uttered. There was a visible vulnerability about him. It was evident in the way he hesitated and fidgeted about himself – cues that humans couldn't avoid. It seemed weird to see him exhibit the same body language that she tried to use with the Winchesters. "I hate having to lie to you. But who I was when I was with you was nothing but the whole truth. I'm still me. I'm still the guy who helped sneak you out of the house on school nights. I'm still the guy who did your Literature homework when you didn't want to. I'm still the guy you asked to go to the prom with you."

Zara's chin tightened with a conscious effort to repress emotion. She gulped in anticipation of the tears that would fall if he persisted with this ridiculous bid for trust. Never in the last few months had she felt herself dissolving in this way before. She was taught the way of the demons. She'd learnt to forget everything human about herself yet here this idiot was, breaking down the steel skeleton she held herself up with. How dare he.

"And I know I wasn't there for you when you needed it," his eyebrows curved up towards his forehead in a dance of regret. "But I'm here now. I've decided that I've been absent for too long. So please, give me a chance."

Zara was stunned to silence. She looked to the Winchesters for counsel. "What do you guys think I should do?" she muttered with crossed arms.

"I think… you know what it's like to want a second chance," Sam expressed with his soft, caring eyes.

"Yeah. But it's your call," Dean added with a firm nod. Zara considered their opinions carefully. The answer was supposed to be obvious. Everything needed to be done carefully, to maximise the potential of the relationship she had developed with the Winchesters. This angel… was nothing but a liability. Tell him to fuck off. He'll only ruin your plan. Unfortunately, her heart became a sworn enemy of her brain in that moment. Some arbitrary justification involving what the Winchesters would think floated around in her head. She looked to her old friend again.

"You started our friendship with a lie," she began. "But we can start a new one with a truth. What's your real name?"

Jack smiled a magenta curve. He felt his heart grow wings just at the sight of her, excited at the prospect of being with her again. Her request was a simple one. For the woman he cherished, it was a right to know. He couldn't deny it to her. "My name…" he uttered with an electrified tongue. He craved the freedom he would soon get. "Is…"

Luciel. Just as he was about to say it, he felt the air go deadly still. Again. The humans' eyes froze on him like wax statues. He felt a literal plug on the passage of time. Then, he felt a presence approaching him.

"What on God's green earth do you think you are doing?" a British voice sternly asked behind him. Jack spun around to face his second deity of the day. Death glared at him with beady, cynical eyes. As usual, he was impeccably dressed in black and held an ornate cane in one hand.

"Oh, it's you," Jack groaned, suppressing an eye-roll. "What's it look like? Fixing my friendship. Since when do you care anyway?"

Death stared him down with barely a twitch in his eyebrow. He didn't have to do much but Jack felt himself cowering on the inside. A look from Death could do that to you. "You think me a fool, boy? You think I can't tell that you're about to do the one thing that we told you not to?" he pointedly derided.

"I don't get it. It's just a name! It's my name," he argued, jutting his neck forward to make the case passionately. "Why shouldn't I say it?!"

"Don't act like you don't know," Death cut him off. "You being here with that girl. There's only one thing you want to do. And I can't let you do that."

"What, protect my friend?" Jack frowned deeply, annoyance crisp in his voice.

"And pray do tell. What do you think you're protecting her from?" Death probed, crossing a palm over the back of a hand that held his cane.

"From… from herself! Do you see the way she's acting? She needs help," he ardently put forth, even pointing to her with a flustered gesture.

"You realise she's working for your father, right?" Death coolly stated.

"Yeah, I- I know. I've been watching," he said rather monotonously, eyes roving over the floor.

"How does that make you feel?" Death watched the archangel's reaction carefully. He seemed… conflicted.

"I don't know," he shrugged. A hand wandered to comb his jet-black hair backwards, displaying his marble temples which only brought out the hazel of his eyes more clearly. "I don't think I like it. I don't know what he's done to her but he's changed something about her. It doesn't seem right."

"So what do you want to do about it?" Death further asked. Jack shook his head slightly and shrugged again.

"I don't know. I just don't want her to get worse," he confessed. "If she lets me help her, I can keep an eye on things."

"Jack…"

"That is not my name," he stated, voice saturated with fire.

"It will be for as long as it needs to," the horseman declared. "All it takes is for someone to say it. To actually address you by your true name. And then everything we've worked for will have been for nothing," he sharply berated.

"And what have we worked for, huh? I see nothing," he asserted with a growing disenchantment. "How many more years of my life have to waste away in this fight? You know what? I'm tired of this. I'm putting my foot down to take care of people I care about. Even God doesn't have a problem with it. So why do you?"

"God's problem was always trusting people too much. Somehow, despite history repeating itself over and over again, He thinks you'll actually do the right thing given the choice. Luckily, I do not share His faith," Death took a commanding step towards him. "I'm going to lay down some rules for you and you will obey."

Jack pouted, his lower lip defiantly protruding as if he tasted something really bitter.

"Rule Number One. You will not use your archangel powers. Angel capacity is your maximum, as we've discussed," Death stated. "Better yet, don't use magic at all. But knowing you, that isn't an option."

"I'll try, I guess," the archangel nervously rubbed his elbow. "But you know what it's like when I get angry. It's hard to control."

"Then don't get angry," Death commanded simply. "Rule Number Two. You will avoid talking or meeting with other angels."

"I thought it wouldn't matter. I thought this would help," he held up the back of his left hand, on which he wore a ring around his index finger. It was a platinum piece, engraved with ancient sigils by God Himself. God had given it to him so that he could mask his true face and appear as a normal angel to other supernatural beings.

"That's not the point. If you keep talking the way you do, angels are going to start asking questions. They're not stupid, you know," Death raised an eyebrow. "Some are… annoyingly persistent."

"Fine. But just so you know, I'm prepared to handle it," Jack reassured him with a self-assured look. "My improv skills? Off the charts."

"Rule Number Three. You will not ever appear before Lucifer. You can't let him catch so much as a glimpse of you. He'll see right through that mask." Jack inhaled deeply. That was something worth contemplating but he nodded anyway. His hesitation, however, troubled Death. "I know you wish to speak to him. But there is simply no chance that it ends well for you or for him. Think about that. And this ties in to Zara. You will learn to keep a proper distance from her because obviously, Lucifer keeps an eye on his most valuable players."

"Okay," Jack simply assented as he pulled a hand down his face.

"And Rule Number Four. The most important rule of all," Death prefaced. "You may never, never reveal your real name. Which is what you were tempted to do right then. The moment anyone figures out that you're here and not where Khaos thinks you are, we are all doomed."

"But what am I supposed to do? She asked me for the truth," he lamented.

"Lie, Jack. You're an expert at it by this point," Death ordered with the knowledge of an infinite multiverse.

"Really? She's finally ready to let me back in her life again and you want me to lie? That's such a douche-bag move, man," he reasoned. Again, Death's glare threatened to kill.

"You know, your mother rarely listened to me. It's why we're in this mess. So take my advice or not, it's your call. I'm tired of having to deal with children," Death grumbled, causing Jack to grimace. But the boy remained subtly bemused. "What's on your mind now?"

"You said I was protected by a time paradox. That means the future is fixed. Why does it matter what I do now? I remember what happened- I mean, what will happen," he stammered a question.

"The future is not fixed. If the paradox does not play out the way you 'remember' it – and there is the possibility – you'll simply… cease to exist," Death's warning reverberated in the tense silence that followed. It weighed heavily on Jack's shoulders. Those last words sure shut him up. "So, lie."

Jack's eyes were lost in a river of thoughts, most of them seeing less hope by the day. But time flowed again and he found himself facing the expectant gazes of Sam, Dean and Zara, all waiting to hear an answer. He opened his mouth, staring straight into Zara's umber irises, and said, "… Malachiah."


A/N:

Bet you didn't see THAT coming, huh? Maybe you did, I don't know. Hope you enjoyed that. Having Luc around is certainly gonna make things interesting. But one thing I am concerned about, I hope no one's gonna confuse him with Jack from spn canon. The point of calling him Jack here is to give him an alias to hide his identity but rest assured, this is Luciel, son of Lucifer and Sophia.

And I know we haven't seen dear Sophie in a while. Don't worry about that, I got plans for her too coming up soon. Anyway, I hope you're liking it so far. Feel free to tell me what you think. I love hearing from you guys.