Sophia's Chronicles

Chapter 72: Rebirth

Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 4.01pm

Zara had eyes on the demon. He was patrolling back and forth down the hallway that guarded the staircase. She watched him from her cover around the corner right next to the stairs, shoulder to the wall and torso closer to the dust-strewn floor than a fully upright position. It was a good thing she'd pulled up her mask – it would have been impossible to remain quiet with the dusty air that tickled her nose. The demon came up to the corner. His gait teased an entry around her cover. Zara tensed up. But that contingency was prepared for too. Sam gave her a reassuring look from his corner opposite hers. But luckily, that wasn't necessary. The demon sauntered to a pause a few feet away from the turn and resumed his trajectory back the way he came.

He turned to go back the way he came and instantly froze in his step.

"Howdy, partner," Dean's gruff voice sounded as he shot the demon a goofy grin. His shoulders were sturdy and palms empty as he stared down the demon from way down the hallway. The demon simply mumbled a grunt, face contorting into a scowl as his eyes flashed black. Without so much as a retort, he marched to fulfil his demonic imperative. Dean stood invitingly, not needing to move. As soon as the demon was about to feel the rush of his kill, a stab in the back stopped him. Sam yanked out the angel blade. Another dead demon lay at their feet.

"Should I get you a cowboy hat?" Sam teased, towering over the corpse.

"Hey, cowboy is an attitude, not just a pretty hat," Dean defended. "It's a way of living." Sam huffed a smile, suppressing a sarcastic shake of the head. "Where's Zara?"

Sam looked around him. The air was still. No sign of her. He cautiously checked around the corner she was in mere moments earlier. "Nothing," his eyes widened as he reported. Then his eyes roved downwards, spotting something. "Dean."

The elder one came over to where he was, apple-green irises caught in puzzlement, and saw what captured his brother's attention. A speck of blood.

Blood dripped like a sparse curtain from the gash on Zara's lower arm. Someone slapped her awake. At once, she felt the stinging sensation on her right cheek and knew for certain that her mask had been taken away, as had her hoodie, leaving her bare in her grey top. The taste of iron filled her mouth. Her fighting instincts came to life as her arms jerked. But they merely wrestled against the tightly bound ropes around her wrist, securely tied to the armrests of a chair.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," an annoying Southern drawl rang in her ears.

"Ugh…" she groaned as her vision grew clearer. She struggled to make out his face but she already knew she hated him, whoever he was. And then the mullet came into view. "Ugh, gross."

"Rise and shine, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna teach you some respect," Martin cupped her jaw with a coarse palm. It was him – the idiot demon from nightmares long past.

Zara's gaze flickered past him to another set of eyes that watched her with amusement. "Kill me now," she dryly said to Crowley.

"When there's still so much fun to be had?" Crowley seductively rebutted. He gestured to Martin with just a look and the subordinate stepped back. Martin maintained a hungry smirk aimed at her. "You've been quite the naughty thing, haven't you?"

"If that's what you prefer," Zara raised an eyebrow. Her bleeding lip made for a diabolical smile. She noticed the large room they were in. Light streamed in through grime-coated windows. There was a door far in front of her, obscured from view by her captors, and another one off to her side.

"Ah, there's that seduction I remember. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you might just die," Crowley's lips twitched up on one side. "Tell me, what does Lucifer like? Has he lowered his standards now that his beloved is gone? Or are you just the appetiser?"

"Fuck you," she cussed. "You have no right to even say his name."

"Such loyalty. I'm almost jealous. Yet I do console myself… yes," he stroked his salt-and-pepper scruff with a hand in contemplation. "Your side has the throne but ours has the numbers. And the numbers are quite sexy too."

"Really? With him?" Zara gestured with her head towards Martin. "Hillbilly Joe is, like, a 2 at most. And you're telling me about low standards?"

"I'll turn your face into a 2, bitch," Martin made towards her and in no time, his knuckles came crashing down on her cheek. One grunt and a disoriented gaze later, Zara felt the swelling on her cheek.

"Be careful now, don't want her flying back into Satan's arms so soon," Crowley advised. "Until he's back in his box, she'll be our living guest." His grey eyes regarded Zara again. "Esther told me about the abuses she suffered under your boss. Hell, she didn't even have to tell me. I could see it," an unexpected steel sharpened his voice. "Rest assured, justice will be done."

"Did she tell you about me?" Zara croaked in return. More blood leaked from her mouth and began to dry on her chin, making it feel all weird and sticky when she spoke. "Did she tell you everything?"

"She did," Crowley nodded. His lips poised millimetres apart as he took a quick inhale, "But that won't save you."

"But you know what will?" Martin smirked, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. "My di-"

"Do not finish that sentence," Crowley warned, rolling his eyes.

"He probably couldn't finish anyone properly," Zara jibed. In an instant, she felt a sting on her other cheek. On top of that, he dug a thumb into the gash on her arm. She winced. That was when she felt the comforting approach of two life-signs in her active angel sight. Zara's expression flipped like a switch. Her hard gaze turned soft, her lip quivered and she exhaled audibly. She suddenly let out a yelp and then cried like a frightened little girl. She forced out a hoarse scream, the loudest she could summon.

"Huh?" Martin recoiled in bewilderment. The life signs drew close at a faster rate. They appeared at the doorway. Zara heaved heavy breaths, shrinking in her chair before inevitably meeting their shocked expressions.

"Ah, boys. So that's who's been vandalising my property," Crowley greeted. "Where's Feathers? Really missed the broken halo."

"Long time no stabbing, dick-bag," Dean snarled. Zara looked at him through a busted face and he had to admit that she looked quite pitiful in that moment. Seeing that, he and Sam made for the demons with their angel blades. With a flick of the finger, Crowley sent them flying against the wall, assaulting a surface that already suffered a generous flaying of its paint. More demons entered and roughly handled them to engage cuffs around their wrists. Outnumbered, the boys' attempt at a fight was brief. With a defeated thud, the Winchesters were shoved onto the ground next to Zara and tied to a pillar.

"Find the angel. He's gotta be here somewhere," Crowley ordered. With a quick nod, demons armed with angel blades set off in some unknown direction. Martin went off with them. Zara's heart briefly skipped a beat at the thought of Jack being faced with so many demons. She cursed at herself for daring to worry.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered to Zara. She nodded meekly. Crowley looked between them suspiciously, eyes narrowed. A realisation of his own flashed briefly in his mind.

"My, my, you've made some powerful friends," he mocked. "Your knights in shining armour, I presume?"

"Up yours, douchebag," Zara snapped at him. "Whatever you have planned, I'm gonna stop you."

"Let me get this straight. You waltz in here, knowing full well that I've put a price on your head, just to tell me that?" he puzzled, amused by her gritty look. Her eyes, though starting to swell on one side, wanted to pierce through him. "Your only back-up was defeated in thirty seconds flat."

"What d'you want her for anyway?" Sam chimed in from his position on the floor.

"Nothing you'd understand, Velma," he shut him off. "This is the part that gets too high-brow for your little hunter brains to comprehend."

"Humour me," Sam beckoned.

"Do you think of me as some kind of Disney villain?" Crowley frowned. Dean tilted his head as if to consider the possibility. "I'm not gonna reveal my plans to you just because you're tied up." He paused for a moment to think before continuing. "But I'll tell you this: Believe it or not, the both of you are more useful to me alive than dead. So if you keep your pretty mouths shut and stay put, I'll let you boys go, unharmed. How's that sound?"

"Pass," Dean answered almost immediately. "What'll happen to her?"

"A small price to pay for world peace," Crowley simply said. "We're on the same side, Squirrel. Can't you see that?"

"No," he said rather quizzically. "We'll never be on the same side."

"I suppose perspective isn't really your strength," Crowley considered.

"Wait, what do you mean, 'world peace'?" Sam asked. The look of pure bafflement on his face was comical to the demon, but he said nothing of what he thought Zara was putting them through.

"It's right under your nose and you don't even see it," Crowley said as he stared right through Sam. "The freakin' Devil is on the loose and you Yahoos are sitting ducks about it, that's what! Does this not seem like an emergency to anyone else?"

"Of course it does," Sam rebutted, his eyebrows passionately knotted. "But what are you gonna do about it?"

"Well I have one of his most prized possessions," he gestured with his head towards Zara. "And I'm gonna roast it right before his eyes. That is, after I've subdued him."

"You? You're gonna take on the Devil?" Dean pressed. "Sammy, that sound like the Crowley we know?"

"No, not at all," Sam agreed. "The Crowley we know would hide in a fancy mansion while someone else did his dirty work. So who's getting down in the mud?"

"Whoever's buying me, that's for sure," Zara supplemented. "Who is it, Crowley?"

Crowley regarded her with a cold neutrality. She was playing them like violins right before his eyes. He couldn't help but admire that. "You'll know soon enough. But I have to say…" he reached into his coat and brandished her blade. "… thanks for the gift."

"Don't cut yourself," Zara hissed at him. The very sight of the blade in his grubby hands irked her. She couldn't wait to stab him with it. Crowley ran a finger along its grind, admiring its finish. His pondering eyes wandered to her flesh.

"If you say so." He rested the tip on the side of her neck. Zara retreated as far back into her seat as she could. That didn't help. The contact was like a brush of a feather but the sting like fire. She winced.

"Hey!" another voice sounded. Crowley paused, turning towards the intruder. Jack appeared, fists clenched and eyes resolute. Ser Adler was poised on his right shoulder like an all-seeing eye. "Are you Mr Crowley?"

"And who might you be?" Crowley casually opened up his posture to welcome the stranger.

Jack's eyes flickered between him and the three apprehended humans. Don't get angry… don't get angry… he chanted to himself. Rule One – don't go all nuclear. He took a deep breath. "Jack," he asserted, chest puffing.

"An angel who doesn't go by his God-given name. A rare specimen, indeed," Crowley mused. "Where'd you hunks find him anyway? He's prettier than all of you."

"Let. Them. Go," Jack ordered. In the pale light streaming into the room, the green of his eyes was most prominent. It seemed to glisten even from across the room. A subtle shadow etched itself in the parallel space between his jaw and cheekbone, framed only by a lock of his long, dark hair.

"Or… you'll… kill me, is that it? Well here's the thing, Princess," Crowley began. He held up the archangel sword. "I've got an archangel's meat cleaver. So let's see you try."

Jack regarded the sword. He remembered it – how his mother wielded it with precision, how much power coursed through it when she hurled it at someone who would hurt them. It was no ordinary weapon. It was a weapon of might. "Okay, okay, how about… we don't fight," he proposed. He held a hand cautiously in front of him to signal that he was no danger. "You're a businessman, right? Let's make a deal."

"No," the Winchesters grumbled simultaneously from their positions on the floor. Jack simply looked at all of them – they seemed positively helpless and the demon was holding a sharp blade near Zara's throat. His last sentence had sent a spike of alarm through the Winchesters – never had a single sentence held so much of a guarantee that things would end badly. Sam, who'd been quietly fiddling with his jacket through the cuffs, finally managed to pull out a lock pick. He tried to be fast yet silent. If there was anything good about the angel's daredevil pitch, it was that it served as a distraction.

"Jack, no," Zara called out from her chair. A patch of blood contorted with her eyebrows as she nestled them into a confused frown. "What're you doing?"

"Go on," Crowley beckoned. Now this was truly interesting. His lips curved up on one side.

"Well… um…" Jack stuttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "You…" he passively pointed a finger at Crowley. "… want… something. You want… an alliance, right? With the pagans. Isn't that why you're here? And you only think you want Zara because they want her, for… some reason," he coughed. "But I can tell you that uh, that's not what you want. What you really really want." His eyebrows raised so certainly. Maintain eye contact. Smile for confidence.

"Oh, then, go on. Tell me what I want. What I really really want," Crowley asked in return, amused.

"Yeah, I'll tell you what you want, what you really really want," the angel stammered. Dean rolled his eyes into the back of his head. "Why subordinate yourself to their interests when- when you can come out on top instead? Hmmm?" Jack nodded convincingly. "If you hand Zara over, you'll be their little bitch for life. They'll keep expecting handouts from you. What are you even getting in return anyway? An army? Please. That's not gonna help you defeat all of Hell. So I propose…" he puffed up his shoulders and opened up his arms in a wide pose. "… a bait-and-switch."

The demon's eyes narrowed but he had to admit, Jack had his attention. "And how might I do that, angel?"

"Jack. Stop," Zara pointedly whispered at him. She was staring daggers at him but that didn't seem to have an effect. By this point, Sam was yanking at the tension wrenches with his hands in an awkward position but with a few more pulls, he managed to unlock the cuffs. Once his wrists were free, undoing Dean's cuffs became easier.

"You're throwing in with pagan Gods. Surely they have something better to offer you than their friendship. I mean, where are all their cool stabby-shooty things at? That's what I'd want to know," Jack tapped a finger against his forehead as he flashed a smug smile. "I bet, if you asked nicely, they'd hand over some weapons, huh? Or better yet, you'd have leverage over them."

"You have all the makings of a crossroads demon," Crowley quipped. Jack grinned widely, impressed with himself. "But I was the King of the Crossroads. Your little spiel won't win me over. See, you're saying all these nice things but you're not actually offering me anything."

"Or am I?" Jack tilted his head, tempting the demon with doubt. "Your partners, the Hindu gods, don't they have nukes? Something called a Brahmastra? A weapon rumoured to be able to destroy the universe? But of course, it's pagan – it's cheap goods. Doesn't do exactly as advertised. But I bet it can still do some real damage. You get your hands on one of those, and you'll be a mothafuckin pimp, dude."

Crowley stared at some arbitrary spot as he considered the possibilities. "Getting warmer… so what you're saying is… I should let Zara go and bargain my way into getting one of these weapons… oh, like a bait-and-switch," he emphasised the term, nodding agreeably.

"Exactly!" Jack beamed.

"But without the bait," Crowley finished with suspicious eyes targeting the angel. Jack's smile faded. "Nice try."

Dean let out an exhale so dense it could have made a dent on cement. "This is such a shitfest…" he grumbled to Sam.

"When you put it like that, you make it sound bad," Jack grimaced. Crowley sighed. Seeing that, the angel knew he was starting to lose his audience. His expression grew sombre as he continued, "But I can make things happen. I always keep my end of the bargain. And I can get things done without people noticing."

"So you want to help me steal a mighty weapon from the Hindu gods?" Crowley huffed, head cynically tipped as a hand dug into his coat pocket. "Just for a broken vessel of an archangel?"

Jack's eyes flickered to Zara momentarily. "Yes," he held his chin up high.

"You do realise that this is a bad deal for you? And that's coming from me," the demon said.

"I don't care," Jack resolutely said. "I'll do anything."

"Hm, I do love the sound of that," Crowley confessed.

"Jack, please, listen to me. Don't do this," Zara pleaded. What was this idiot thinking? Not only could she handle herself, but she sure as hell wasn't gonna let Crowley get his hands on something as powerful as a Brahmastra. "There is no need for any of this."

"I'm good at getting things," Jack declared, face cold with a graveness atypical of him. "I can get you anything you want."

"Can you get me Lucifer's head?" Crowley asked with a playful dip of the eyebrows. That caught Jack off guard. By now, the Winchesters were both working on the ropes, trying to cut free with a pocket knife. Seeing that, the angel realised that all he needed was to stall a little more.

"Uhm…" he stumbled.

"Didn't think so. You're just some punk-ass angel. Lucifer could wipe you out with the sole of his boot," Crowley stated as a matter-of-fact. "But you know what will ruffle Satan's feathers? This." He held up the archangel blade. "This is the only real thing that stands a chance against Lucifer. Maybe you should have a little taste of it."

As he said that, his demonic goons rushed the angel from behind in an attempt to hold him down. Though every instinct told Jack to fight, he remembered Death's command – fight like an ordinary angel, not like an archangel. Admittedly, it was starting to get difficult to obey this, considering that a very powerful archangel blade was headed his way. Luckily, the Winchesters grappled with the ropes hard enough and broke free. Just at that moment, he switched to fight mode, burning demons inside-out and parrying them with a disarmed angel blade. That gave them enough of a distraction so that Sam could cut Zara free and Dean could retrieve their angel blades.

"Not so fast," Crowley snarled as he flung Sam away with just a hand. Through the skirmish, Martin managed to find his way back to his boss. "Don't let anyone get her. Take her away."

A crooked grin lit up Martin's face. It was all Zara saw before he struck her so hard she lost consciousness.


Hell – 6 months ago

A raspy moan broke free from her core. Zara lay on the ground, squirming in agony. She pulled a hand away to reveal a thick, shiny coat of blood on her trembling hand. Pain shook her in waves, emanating from a spot in her abdomen. It was the same spot where she'd been impaled before. Strange how she'd woken up in the same darkness she fell into when she'd just experienced one of her memories fully intact. But this time, things were different. A strange energy surged through her. Once she recognised it, the feeling intensified. Her heart thudded with an anticipation she could not pinpoint. An excited shudder spiked her veins. It almost felt like… a thirst. Her head almost grew dizzy with the whirlwind of power.

That gave her somewhat of a leeway to get up. Her injury was not so debilitating anymore, though the feeling of pain remained. Walls faded into view around her from the curtain of darkness. She stood in an empty room, surrounded by plain white walls with cracks abundant. There was a deafening silence ringing in her ears. She wondered if she was meant to wait. But seconds ticked by and the ringing silence remained. Her hand ventured a grip around the door knob. She twisted and pulled.

The immediate scene that greeted her was blood. A bloody message on the wall of a hallway outside that simply said, "Survive". Zara gulped. The only way to go was forward.

She stepped out into the cement hallway. It snaked forward endlessly. Some junctures were visible. But mostly, it seemed to lead into a deep abyss. The narrow space between the walls that flanked her could be bridged by the span of her fully-extended arms. She did not trust these walls. Every inch forward that she moved heightened the pinpricks on her back and neck. Turning right at one of these junctures, she came upon a door. She put an ear to the door. Nothing. Still, she was ready.

She gripped the knob tight, hoping to enter as silently as possible. The lights in the hallway flickered above her. A quiet growling resounded in her ear. She'd barely turned when strong, thin arms wrapped around her and yanked her off her feet. With a shriek, Zara twisted and wrestled with the arms. They were so dark that they appeared charred. And the fingers were sharp like blades. She'd managed to propel herself backwards, knocking the creature back against the wall. That loosened the grip around her and she managed to break free.

When she turned to face the creature, it too had regained balance. She'd barely registered its sharp teeth and manic eyes when it launched itself forward. Instinct drove her to react within a split second. A clenched fist flew into his jaw. Zara had nothing but surprise to see the creature knocked back. That… that worked? With no time to waste, she punched him again. With a disgruntled groan, the creature fell to the floor. She got on top of him, sitting on his burnt charcoal chest, and began pummelling his face with punches until her knuckles turned red, and then some more. Every punch felt more satisfying than the last. The anticipation she'd felt building inside her earlier only released itself in a cool wave, washing her with new life.

She was sure she heard bones cracking. Whether it was hers, or the creature's, didn't matter. Every exhale elevated her to a new level of euphoria. Soon enough, his arms were limp and moved no more. Her body felt like a balloon, floating and being pumped full of freshness. Her head swung back. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she looked towards the ceiling to ground herself from all the euphoria. She got up and traced a bloody hand on the wall as she stumbled around the corner. And then it hit her again.

Like the same rod was shoved through her again, pain spiked through her abdomen. Zara yelped as she fell to the floor and clutched her body in a fetal position. This time it felt like something was moving inside her. Whatever it was, it prodded and sloshed inside her guts, stretching and compressing her organs. With every breath she released was a whimper – she couldn't help but be a slave to its desires. She could feel the blood leaking into the crevices in her body, even spraying out of her wound at the thing's whims and pooling in her mouth. The pain grew so unbearable at one point that she arched her back to yelp and thrash about. In that strange struggle between forces unknown and her body's integrity, she longed for death. How could any single experience feel so absolute that death was the only possible succession? But she was sure that that was what she felt. Absolution.

Blood trickled into her eyes from her skull. Now it was all she could see, feel and taste. "I will not die here," she thought to herself, more of a vow than a statement of fact. "I will have faith."

Crimson tears streaked her cheeks as she pulled herself up and moved forward. Drops of amber trailed behind her as she trudged down the hallway. This time she was ready. Ready for more of those monsters to come at her. Each scuffle was a trial-and-error. Punching where it worked and where it didn't, getting kneed in the gut when she couldn't see through the blood – yet her grit won. There were torn limbs and ripped chests. Soon, a knife came into the picture. The trail of blood was an exhibition of Zara's newfound strength. Each body lay like a monument, each mutilation worse than the last. She soon became creative and to detail the things she found herself doing would require a lengthy autopsy report.

But rest assured, a crooked smile brightened her face. The next time a wave of pain burst from within her, she simply laughed. She fell back onto the floor and laughed hysterically. A bright light burst out from her solar plexus with the radiance of the sun itself. It was absolute in its warmth and strength. When Zara stood up again, it was like a torchlight showing her the path to take. Unquestioningly, she put one foot in front of the other.

Familiar stone walls came into view. She limped from all the blood she'd lost and the deepening of the wound. The blood that was still coursing through her veins grew hotter from the light in her soul. It became so warm that there was no space for thought itself. Just the feeling of heat swarming her head like a warm bath for her brain. She recognised the figures standing along the hallways. They stared at her wordlessly and at the bloody knife she held. Zara kept her eyes peeled, expecting one of them to just jump out at her and attempt to claw her eyes out. But they did not. They were smiling. They lined the hallways like they were meant to greet her. And they did. Demons, she realised. In their black suits and baring their black eyes. They smiled and they clapped the further down the hallway she went.

At some point, she couldn't help but fall to her knees again. It felt like the further she made it, the more intense everything began to feel. As much as she tried to get up again, the resistance was far too great. A huge weight seemed to be pulling her down from deep within her. She'd only managed to stagger a few feet forward before falling down again. The effort was so exhausting that every muscle within her seemed to be conspiring against her. She broke down into tears again and saw only red. It felt like she was so close but yet so far from her destination.

Determined to make it to the end, her gait was a mixture of crawling and staggering and hurling herself forward. By now sores had appeared on her skin – on her arms and on her feet – from the sheer friction of pulling herself against the rough stone floor. Sores so deep she didn't even care anymore. Just another opening from which her life flowed out of her. Death seemed to overcome her body but her soul was more alive than ever. And finally, amidst the audience of demons, she managed to find the large, rustic double-doors. No one came forward to help her. They weren't supposed to. They simply watched as she leaned against the door. But her weight alone wasn't sufficient to open them.

Blood-crusted fingertips rested against the doors. So generously, the blood leaked from her palm like freshly-flayed skin. All her will was summoned into making the doors do as she wanted. Her resolve was felt by everyone present. They bathed in the glory of the blood-soaked woman with the iron destiny and Hell-blessed strength. Her victory was theirs and their support hers. The doors finally gave way and she fell forward ceremoniously into the throne room.

Zara felt an overpowering buzzing from within her head. Her eyelids fought to stay shut but she didn't grant them the right. Still on her knees, she could only crawl forward into the centre. Through her blurry vision, a tall blond figure got up from the throne and swaggered down the stairs.

"You made it," he said. He huffed a smile, which then evolved into a delighted chuckle. "I knew you would."

Zara was shivering like a leaf at his feet. When she looked up at him, she was completely unrecognisable. Her sclerae were completely obscured by scarlet, making her look almost demonic. Her face and body were covered in grime and dirt, not to mention sores and wounds and bruises. She looked like a corpse beaten to death and then some more, save the light that blared from her core.

"She's very strong," Abaddon chimed in from beside him.

"There could be no doubt about it," Lucifer remarked. He knelt down to her level and held her cheek in his palm. She looked absolutely befuddled and dazed, yet hugely unburdened by his touch. He wiped away a scarlet drop that escaped from her eye with a thumb. Gently, he laid her down on her back and she yielded to his command. With a gesture, he signalled Abaddon to hand to him the final piece. The demons gathered around eagerly, excited to watch everything unfold. "Today, you are all witness to a rebirth," he announced as he held the bronze hawk in his palm. "Zara dies as a human belonging to the earth. But she awakens as a human belonging to us – as a creature of Hell."

The demons cheered and yelled dark blessings. Lucifer laid the hawk on her solar plexus and nudged open the gateway to her soul. That pure light – the creation of God – rang with a brightness unknown to Hell. And in that light, Lucifer nestled the hawk within her soul. It was a part of her forever.


Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 5.16pm

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he caught sight of Crowley hurling his brother against a wall. His grip around the angel blade tightened. His arms grew more forceful, swinging harder and faster to create an unimpeded path to his brother. That was one of the many things that forced Jack to consider the stakes.

Dean, on one hand, fighting to keep Sam unharmed. Crowley, on the other, waiting for the right moment to impale him with the archangel blade while the demons held him down, far outnumbering what a normal angel could handle. And in the back, some ugly-ass demon stealing Zara away. Oh no you don't. A deep frown settled on his face. With barely a breath, he sent the demons flying away, some hurled out the windows in a sudden burst of energy that broke the sound barrier. He straightened up to his full height in the shower of glass fragments, bearing over the demon. The sight of that froze even Crowley, who was so sure moments earlier that this angel was an easy target.

One of the demons Jack propelled away knocked into another who was fighting Dean. Taking his chance, the elder Winchester rushed over to Sam. "Hey, hey, Sammy," Dean whispered as he patted his brother's shoulder and cheek. Sam stirred awake with a groan. Dean sighed in relief but was more distracted by the sight of the angel.

The demons who lay on the floor simultaneously began thrashing about in a collective seizure. Jack extended his arms to the side as he felt the life stir within them. At once, those demons were forcefully smoked out of their vessels, forming rigid pillars of black smoke above their bodies. Jack's fingers were frozen in a claw-like position as his palms slowly rose, forcing the demonic spirits up with them. Then, he clenched his fist in a swift motion. With that, the black clouds imploded and vanished instantaneously, like they never existed to begin with. Jack fanned away some remnants of smoke before turning to Crowley again, who by now stared with his mouth agape.

"Try me, asshole," Jack challenged with a pointed voice. He held up a palm, ready to annihilate. The tension was heavy between the two of them, what with the amber specks in his hazel eyes hardening like a bright warning.

"Hm," Crowley hefted the blade in his palm. He shifted his weight as if to attack, but disappeared the next instant. Jack flinched, caught in a daze at the empty air where the demon once stood. Well, that was… easier than expected.

He went over to the Winchesters, who were by now regaining their composures. "Are you okay?" he asked Sam. Sam merely nodded. He was a little disoriented himself, but he knew he'd be fine.

"How did you do that?" Dean pondered despite himself, eyebrows curved in askance.

"Let's stick to important questions, alright? Like 'where's Zara?'. You're welcome, by the way," Jack huffed as he stormed off through the same door he saw Martin leave. Sam and Dean exchanged bewildered looks and took off after him.

"Hey, how'd you know all that stuff about Crowley and the pagans?" Sam called out after him.

"I overheard the demons talking upstairs," Jack simply answered as he walked briskly. "And I may have 'interrogated' them."

The three of them ventured down the hallway, following Jack's lead. Soon enough, the sound of a struggle and a feminine voice came into earshot. That quickened their pace and soon they exited the building. All Sam and Dean saw was the sudden halt in Jack's gait out in the open. They paused at his side to see what had him so dazed.

There, before them, was a van with its backdoors open. The van was empty. But right before the doors, on the floor, was a spectacle unlike any other. "Ah! Let go, stupid bitch!" Martin yelled, voice choked. Zara held his neck in a choke-hold. He seemed to be unable to break out of her strategic grip, a rather pathetic sight for a demon. With a grunt, she smashed his head against the floor of the van. "Agh!" Martin yelped. Dean flinched at the force with which she was capable of doing that. Sam was slightly puzzled but amused. He thought maybe they should help and stepped forward but Jack stopped him.

The angel just watched as Zara brought Martin's head back and smashed it down again, and again, and again. "Agh. Agh. Agh." The demon, being hard to kill, simply grunted and groaned with every hit. The repetitive, unyielding motion, though unsettling, was not alien to either the Winchesters or Jack. It seemed like Zara would never stop until his head broke into half. She could even be close.

Jack found some amusement in that. He might have been unsettled before at Zara's eagerness to torture, but the demon had one of those faces – the kind that he didn't feel guilty for hurting. When he was done watching, Jack marched up to the demon and swung him back by the shoulder to relieve Zara.

"You have a mullet," he angrily growled as he pulled back a clenched fist. "It's 2012!"

Jack's punch knocked him face-first into the ground. All riled up by his own outburst, he picked up the demon and punched him more, taking turns on each side of his face.

"Taking things out of their time-" another punch. "Is not cool!"

Zara was not ready to let her own disgruntlement go. "He's mine, Jack," she muttered resolutely, prepared to drag the demon around some more.

The humour of their exchange was lost on the elder Winchester, who simply wanted the mission to be declared over. Dean marched forward, plunging an angel blade into Martin's back. Zara, seeing the demon finally burn, let go of the corpse and dusted herself off. "My hero," she dryly said.

"Okay, Ronda, did you think you were gonna wrestle a demon with your bare hands?" Dean questioned, not entirely seriously.

"Look, I have history with this guy. Been waitin' a long time to do that. But you know, whatever. Deep-fry his ass or pot-roast him, he still ends up dead," she shrugged. Dean nodded in understanding.

"You're hurt," Jack observed. He raised two fingers to touch her forehead but she slapped his hand away.

"What the hell was that?!" she yelled at him.

"I'm trying to heal you, woman!" Jack responded with equal exasperation. She slapped his upper arm and he flinched at the suddenness, even if it didn't hurt.

"Making a deal with Crowley?!" she berated him. "I thought even you wouldn't be that much of an idiot."

"I was trying to save you!" he defended himself, face ridden with shock. "Hey, what d'you mean 'even me'?"

She slapped his upper arm a couple more times. "Bad angel. Bad!"

"Okay, okay!" he held her hands to keep her from injuring his ego more. "You're already hurt. Don't hurt yourself more."

"Try me, asshole," she challenged in return. She'd calmed down enough for him to finally heal her proper.

"You wanna roll with us, you gotta be clear on one thing: Demon deals are off-limits. You got that?" Dean lay it down proper.

"Okay, Dad," Jack sighed with a bored look on his face.

"Okay, so, this was a huge waste of time," Sam sighed. "We got jumped, we got next to no clue what Crowley wants and we lost the archangel blade."

"We what?!" Zara panicked. "Oh no." Her eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her. The blade's lost. Lucifer is going to kill me. Again. "We need to get it back."

"We will," Jack promised. "And no, this wasn't a complete waste. I got something. While you guys were off, I stumbled upon a very fancy-looking box with all kinds of locks and symbols on it. And if you know me, you know I can't resist me a good lock," he winked at Zara. She rolled her eyes. It brought back memories of breaking into places that they weren't supposed to be in. "And I found this," he brandished an ornament out of thin air. It was some kind of medieval helmet which covered not only the head but also most of the face, leaving holes for the eyes and mouth.

"What is this?" Sam took the helmet into his own hands and inspected it, studying the grooves and etches as he rotated it. "Looks Greek. Why would Crowley want this?"

"Well, I don't think it's because he's into LARP-ing," Dean thought out loud.

Jack audibly huffed in laughter but hesitated at Zara's expression. She had a grave look on her face, like one she'd have during bouts of anxiety attacks. Seeing that, Jack rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. We'll find your blade."

"It's not just a blade," she said rather sombrely. "It's the only thing that's protected me against this God-forsaken world."

"And it's also the only thing that's gonna level the playing field between us and Lucifer," Dean nodded. Jack avoided emoting. "But first things first: there's a Rakshasa waiting to get funky on the dance floor tonight."

"Right, the party," Zara recalled. She folded her arms despondently, eyebrow raised. It seemed so strange to think of letting loose at a time like this, when more important things were at stake. I should be going after Crowley and ruining his plans to overthrow Lucifer. Instead I'm hunting some punk-ass Rakshasa with Cowboy Winchester. Ugh.

"You guys go ahead. I'll hit the library and see what I can dig up on this," Sam held up the ancient helmet.

"No," Jack firmly said, almost frowning.

"No?" Sam puzzled.

"Sam, it's a VIP party. There's gonna be strippers high as shit on cocaine and so much booze that you'll smell like an Irishman's wet dream for a week. I'm not letting you skip out on this," Jack insisted, face animated with excitement.

"He makes a compelling point," Dean agreed.

"We're not going there to party. It's strictly business," Sam eyed his brother expectantly. "And if we figure out what the hell Crowley wants this for, we'll find him sooner."

"Sam, Sam, please," Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Partying is one of humanity's finest traditions. I mean, you guys find any and every excuse to celebrate. What are we living for if not the finer things in life, huh? And you want to squander this short mortal life on yours in a library? I just won't have it, sir!" he finished with an English flair, sticking his nose up in the air. With those luscious locks of dark hair, he looked like a being from another realm entirely. Dismissively waving his fingers in the air, he said, "Put the helmet away for now. We'll figure it out later."

Zara grew cautious at the sound of 'We'. She just couldn't figure out what it was about him – why he had to show up now of all times offering help. It had to be suspicious, she thought. And him getting close to her was a mighty risk to her cover. She didn't know if regret was the right feeling. Perhaps she should have turned him away after all. But I'd miss him.

As the young lord dictated, the four of them prettied up for the party. Well, Sam and Dean merely had to change into cleaner clothes. Zara put on the same black dress she'd saved for such occasions with a jacket and Jack… he was dressed up in a fancy full-black suit. When they neared the venue, it was dark enough that the lights from the club seemed to light up the whole street. Zara was clinging onto Sam's elbow, partly because of the concentration it took to walk in a straight line in those heels. She loathed them but Lucifer's voice kept ringing in her head about how no one would take her seriously if she walked like a penguin in heels.

"Hey, we match!" Jack greeted her excitedly at the entrance of the club. He wore that radiant smile he always had. Dean had never known that it was possible for an angel to smile so much, but of course his cheeks wouldn't hurt.

"Yes, Jack, I can see that," Zara answered rather wearily. The old Zara would've jumped into his arms in an instant and linked elbows with him as they barged into the club. But this one didn't give him so much as a smile. In they went, and instantly the loud bass of the trending hits blasted right into them. The club was vibrant and full of life. The four of them settled around a circular high table – one among many, equally surrounded with people. Within no time, they were all clinking pints of beer together. "Drinking with my guardian angel. Sounds about right."

"You know what this reminds me of?" Jack began as he regarded the troves of people around them. "Prom night."

"Your high school prom had strippers?" Dean asked Zara.

"No, we bailed the actual prom. It was too boring," Zara told him. A heavy breath weaved into her lungs and her eyes widened just at the memory of what had happened that night. "Mr Responsible here took me to a bunch of places a seventeen-year old wouldn't normally be allowed."

"I just wanted you to see the world, Zara," Jack smirked. "Am I the best guardian angel or what? Actually, guys, get this: I brought her to a gay strip club and she- hey!"

He cowered when Zara slapped his upper arm, though he remained laughing. "Shh!" she hissed at him. "I thought I told you to never speak of this again!"

"Wha- hey, it was prom night. It was the best night of my life!" Jack defended, pointing his fingers inwards at himself.

"Okay, look, I'm not a teenager anymore. You don't have to say things like that to make me feel better," she chided him. "You're an immortal being. This probably doesn't even come close to the things you've seen."

When she cut him cold like that, Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for Jack. But he didn't want to get between them. Instead, he kept his eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

"That's not true," Jack rebutted. He softened his tone a little to say something more genuine. "Zara, I may have lived a little longer than you, but I mean that sincerely," he struggled to hold her gaze. "Watching over you meant a lot to me. It was more than just a job. I wasn't supposed to get personally involved but I regret nothing."

Zara's cynical gaze bore deep into his eyes but she found no reason to think he was lying. She averted her gaze.

"Target at 2 o' clock," Sam muttered, clearing the tense air. From the alternative entrance came their target, enveloped in a small crowd – a large group of bodyguards, groupies and the main crew themselves.

"He looks more douche-y in person," Dean jibed at the sight of the lead singer entering.

"You haven't heard him open his mouth yet," Jack warned. Their black hair was gelled in spikes and bangs like a 2000s nu-metal music video. The eyeliner was just enough that it could be recognised in the famous pained glare that all these emo rock bands liked having. They wore matching suits, classy enough for the occasion. Danny, the lead singer, had a wry smile which, with his pointed chin and thickly coiffured bangs, made him look like the twink brother of Edward Scissorhands. As the hunters watched, the crew sauntered over to a high table right next to theirs. "Hey Danny," Jack greeted, attempting politeness.

Danny greeted him with a lift of the head. "Jack," his deep voice was a surprise considering his thin stature. "I heard your band made it into the line-up but I thought they made a mistake. I had to call the organiser to make sure."

Danny broke out into a faux chuckle. "Nice to see you too, Danny. Keep it classy," Jack snidely remarked.

"But hey, this is good for you. Smaller bands like yours are always grateful to borrow crowds from us," he patronised. His cloudy blue eyes didn't rest on the angel long enough to see his cold scowl-hiding expression – they shifted immediately to regard something else next to him. "And who might this be?"

"Unavailable," Zara blurted out. Danny let out the mildest huff as his paper-thin lips curved up on one side.

"Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it," he gestured with his head towards Jack. "It's more fun on our side, I promise." The angel tilted his head, honestly surprised by the gall that the guy had to say that in front of him. But if he knew Zara at all, she could be trusted to give a guy like that a piece of her mind.

"Oh, uh," her eyebrows simply did a little jump. Or not. She momentarily glanced at Sam and Dean, signalling with her eyes where she wanted to go with this. This seemed like a good opportunity to get closer to him and see if anything shady was going on. "Well-"

"No, just no," Jack cut her off. He immediately got in between them and held her away from him with his hands on both her shoulders. Zara stumbled a little in the process but relied on Jack's grip to keep her from falling. He shot Danny an awkward grin. "She doesn't… do that sorta thing."

"She's a big girl, Jack. She can make her own decisions," Danny quipped with a snake-like cool.

"Yeah, Jack," Zara chimed in from his side. He jerked his head towards her but she was flirtatiously eyeing Danny.

"With your track record with men? No way," Jack insisted. A mild annoyance crept up on Zara. Conscious effort had to be made so that it wouldn't be written all over her forehead.

Danny simply looked between them in an awkward silence. "Alright… I'll leave you two to it then," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The invitation's still open if you change your mind," he winked at Zara. With that, he turned back to the table where his people were gathered. The crowded table was vibrant with life, with everyone doing shots and losing themselves to the music. Danny simply stood next to the manager, a quiet older man who wore shades indoors and had his palms dug into his pockets. He seemed to be talking to the manager about the encounter, judging by the way his youthful eyes darted towards Jack's table. His manager in turn snuck a peak towards them, lowering his shades to observe Zara.

"Way to ruin our only 'in' with the band, idiot," Zara pointedly whispered to Jack.

"Your 'in' with him or his with you?" Jack shot back. "I'm not pimping you out for some dirt-eating fuck."

"It's all part of the job. You don't solve a case without getting down in the mud," she argued.

"Okay, cut it out," Dean interjected with a firm flourish of his palm. He paused, staring vacantly at the table between them, befuddled that he needed to get in between them like a parent. "We'll figure something out, alright? Just keep your eyes out for anything weird. We need to find a way to corner Danny Douchebag when he's alone."

"Does he smoke?" Sam asked as one of many possibilities.

"Yeah, he sure loves having fags in his mouth," Jack sneered.

"Okay…" Dean nodded passively. "Okay, so let's hope he takes a smoke break. Sam and I will try to chat him up and find out what we can. You guys keep watch in case he tries something. Then we'll all be back in time for Tina's Titty Twister Special."

"Dean, I like the way you think," Jack complimented. Just then a rather busty woman in a tight pink dress came up to him and threw her arms around him. "Woah, hey."

She giggled drunkenly as she looked up to see him. A clumsy hand attempted to push her own straight, dark hair away from her face. "Hey, Jack," she giggled again. "Was wondering when you'd show up."

"I had some guests to attend to," he told her, steadying her so that she could face them. "Guys, meet Jen. World's best manager," he pointed to her goofily and she chuckled uncontrollably. "She hooked us up with the invites. Jen, this is Sam, Dean and Zara," he gestured towards them. They muttered 'hello's and 'thanks'.

"Wait, Zara?" the drunk girl squinted at Zara. "He's told me a lot about you!"

"He has?" she looked between them, beginning to worry. Jen had a wide, bright smile, genuinely excited.

"Yeah, totally," she leaned in so close that her significant chest was basically falling all over the table. "You guys are totally best friend goals. It's so cool that you guys found each other again! Happy endings do exist, huh?"

Jack sucked in his lips as he ushered her away from the table. "Okay, that's enough, Jen. Thank you," he said, patting her shoulder.

"Bring them over and introduce them to the boys," she requested with her silvery voice. "We're gonna do drunk karaoke with those guys from Warhammer in a while."

"Sure, sure, later," he simply droned. "You guys go ahead first."

With a seductive goodbye, she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Don't keep me waiting," she whispered in his proximity, poking his chest with a finger before letting go and staggering away. When Jack returned to a table, he struggled to hide the redness on his cheeks. He released a deep sigh and chugged a full pint of beer.

"Isn't she a little young to manage a band? Does she even have experience?" Sam wondered.

"Oh, she's… very experienced," Jack exhaled. "I mean she does now. She helped us grow a lot. She has a great… business mind."

"I bet she has a great business body too," Zara teased.

"Hey, her tits might be fake but her friendship is real," he defended.

"Seemed like a bit more than friendship," Dean pointed out.

"That's part of the cover," he explained. "All part of the human mask. I pay her to pretend."

"Right…" Dean said. A while passed as they sipped on their drinks and made light conversation. Still no sign of Danny moving.

"Wait, how sure are we that Danny's the one?" Zara posited out of the blue. "It could be any of them."

"Apparently, he has a very specific preference for women," Sam filled her in. "Girls get vetted before they get to see him. It's like he's picking options off a menu. So he's our best guess. But we'll make sure."

"Yeah. We're getting to the bottom of this tonight," Dean asserted firmly. "One way or another."

"I still think that me going up to him is the best way to get him alone," Zara suggested. She cut Jack off before he could protest. "I don't care what you think. I don't need you to be my father."

"Why, because your real father did a good job?" Jack sharply replied.

"Woah, okay," Dean tried to cut them off again but Zara stared daggers at him and gestured with a sharp look to tell him to back off. He simply looked to Sam, who seemed equally alarmed.

"Tell me, Jack, what's your problem? I'm just trying to help us. You wanna help, don't get in my way," she argued. "And what is this protective bullshit? You think I'm some damsel who needs a strong guy like you to take care of me? To tell me what kind of men to stay away from? I can judge for myself, alright?"

"Zara, you just have terrible judgment when it comes to dudes, alright?" he laid it down for her. "The guys you like… They're always either criminals, or likely to become criminals. Why can't you date someone decent? Like… like Sam," he gestured to the younger Winchester. Sam met Zara's tired expression.

"Guys, m-maybe this isn't the best time to talk about this," Sam advised.

"No, I think this is the perfect time to talk about this," Zara refused. She took a breath, and suddenly all the verbal ammo came ready with a stiffening of her look. "Now that it's all coming out, I should just say it. Jack, I don't understand you, okay?" her every word pierced the air. "I don't even understand why I'm listening to you." She huffed, almost chuckling sardonically. Her lips might have been wide but her anger was tense under her skin, ready to break loose. "I mean, who is this guy?" she pointed at Jack while asking the Winchesters. "He just shows up one day and starts telling us what to do. Doesn't this seem shady to you guys?"

"Well, uh," Dean stammered.

"Don't answer that," Jack ordered, before turning back to her. "I'm not some guy. I'm your best friend. I watched over you since you were in a crib."

"So you keep saying," she accused. "But all you do is criticise me and baby me, like I'm some helpless child in need of your protection. Did you ever think that maybe, if you didn't scare Ricky off, I'd think that I actually deserved better? That I wouldn't be scared to-" her voice choked. The emerging sadness only prompted her to frown more. "To find someone who wouldn't actually hurt me?"

That turned a few heads, including Danny, for a moment, and his manager. Though Zara was seething, she didn't mean to attract so much attention. She averted her head and remained silent.

What she said gave Jack pause. "I…" he was frozen to the spot, unable to find words. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"And you think that… just because we have some sort of history together that I owe you my unconditional trust? That's the shadiest thing ever. And you know I've seen some shit by now!" she snapped in hushed tones. "So I'm only gonna ask once, and you better come clean with me," she demanded with an iron resolve. "What do you want with me?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I want'?" Jack puzzled.

"There has to be some reason. No one just helps out for nothing. You want something in return, don't you?" she insinuated. All her paranoia, taken the form of words, became more and more real by the moment. Jack shook his head.

"Zara, I-"

"Just. Be. Honest. Please," she begged. Her chest was so tight at this point she thought she might burst into tears on the spot. "We're all thinking it."

"What? No, come on," he looked at the Winchesters. Dean shrugged and Sam nodded. "Seriously?"

"Look, you seem nice, but in our line of business, you wouldn't be the first to bamboozle someone into owing you a favour. So cut the crap," Dean admitted.

"What do you want from her?" Sam prompted.

"Nothing! I just… I… I was gonna ask you something," he held her gaze. Now he had their full attention. "I was gonna wait till we finished the case but…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "I want you to come with me."

"Come with you where?" she probed. Jack let out a hefty sigh.

"Just… away. Join me. We'll play gigs and tour the world. You've always wanted to travel the world, right? Come with me, and we'll go anywhere. Just… anywhere you'd like," he admitted. He took her hand in his. "You don't need all this hunting nonsense. No offence," he turned to the Winchesters momentarily. "I can keep you safe. And I promise I won't leave you to suffer alone. That's what I wanted to say."

Zara's chin tightened. Her lips quivered. "This can't be real," she muttered. Her eyes welled up faster than ever. "You're not real."

"I am. And I'm here," he insisted. She tried to pull her hand away but his fingers followed hers. "Zara-"

"Don't touch me," she hissed at him, resisting his gesture. She sniffled and abruptly turned away. "I need some air," she half-whispered, holding her fingers close to her face in case a tear fell. Jack froze where he stood. He watched as she weaved her way through the crowd until he could see her no more. The further she walked, the more his chest felt heavy. A silent ambush of regret and self-loathing fought his own defences, crumbling the castle of comfort he'd built for himself. All he wanted was to let her in once more. And he'd failed at that.

"I shouldn't have done that…" he said to the Winchesters, though it was more to himself.

"Oh, you don't say," Dean remarked dryly. "If there's one thing you don't talk about with women, it's daddy issues. We all have them, we just don't talk about it. It's simple."

"Sometimes I just don't think before I do something," Jack berated himself, rubbing his temple in disappointment. "Great job, me."

"The both of you have that in common," Sam observed.

"What do you think says 'sorry' better? Flowers or whiskey?" Jack asked the both of them.

"Both? And throw in a necklace for good measure," Dean suggested. Jack nodded keenly.

"Nothing says 'sorry' better than actually saying 'sorry'," Sam said pointedly, judgmentally narrowing his eyes at Dean. "I'll go talk to her."

"No, wait," Jack paused. "You're… right. I should be the one to talk to her."

His lips formed a tight line as he downed a shot and disappeared into the crowd. "Talk about heartfelt reunions, huh?" Sam told Dean.

"Yeah," Dean huffed. He stared in the direction Jack went off, finding himself only more intrigued by the angel. By now, the club was fuller than ever. There was nothing but noise all around them. People laughing, talking, dancing – it was a cacophony of sounds. And their target was still at the same spot.

"He reminds me of you," Sam said. "Kinda. He's got that whole tough love thing going on."

"Please, I'd never have such pullable hair. I mean, come on, guy dresses like he was raised by a biker gang," Dean denied. "If anything, he kinda looks like you."

"What?" Sam puzzled. "No."

"Yeah, take away some of the hair length – a tiny bit, I mean. He looks like you did in college," Dean inferred. "But a lot more chipper, with better taste in music and-"

"Does not," Sam denied. It just seemed ridiculous to him. "I don't see it."

"Whatever. I'm just putting it out there. But yeah, he does seem a little… touchy about her," Dean noticed. He shrugged. "Not that he'd have a problem with you."

"What? What're you talking about?" Sam's eyebrows dipped slightly.

"'Why can't you date someone decent? Like Sam'," Dean imitated Jack's impatient tone with an amused grin. "Are you gonna tell 'im?"

"We're not… 'dating'. It was just one night," Sam admitted.

"Right… it was just one night and an afternoon of hand-holding. Get real, Sam, you like her," Dean pointed out. He held his hands up in a mock surrender. "And hey, I'm not judging you. It's hard for people like us to… you know. But she's clearly capable of handling herself. And she has a guardian angel."

"So?" Sam probed. "Where are you going with this?"

"So… you don't have to worry so much about something bad happening to her. She's not like the others, Sammy," Dean elaborated. "Life's short, is all I'm saying."

Sam's eyes flickered between the emptied glasses on their table as he considered what his brother said.

"We got movement," Dean suddenly called out. Sam's head jerked up to see the back of Danny's spiked hair migrating across the room with his snake-like arm wrapped around a young woman in a blue dress. The boys perked up instantly and followed him discreetly, lacing through the tables and people.


Some Nightclub, Jefferson City, Missouri – 21 September 2012, 11.01pm

When Jack found Zara, she was standing alone on the cold patio. Her hands gripped the railing that overlooked the city. A gentle autumn breeze arrived like a gift from the heavens and caressed her. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer to her body, unwilling to share in its embrace. It had taken him a while to locate her. She'd done a good job on masking her trail, taking indirect routes to confuse him. Once he was sure that she wasn't inside – and he was thorough in checking – he ventured outside. He stood silently for a moment, just observing her. She reeked of alcohol. She sniffled again and wiped her cheeks. How many times had he found her like this, broken and tired? Only now it stung that he'd hurt her. He'd been so focused on one thing that he forgot to consider how she must have felt. Idiot, he chastised himself.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" she said to the air, sobbing as she turned around. Jack appeared physically, the fluttering of his wings announcing his presence. The look on his face said it all. If it was possible to appear like a sad puppy, Jack was doing it now. Somehow, there was no escaping the innocence that poured from his glistening eyes, despite knowing that he was an immortal, powerful being. How could someone be that powerful and still look clueless and lost? Zara wondered. If it was a pretence, he was one hell of an actor.

"Guess not," he simply said. Her face was streaked with dried tears. He took a few steps towards her, longing to take her pain away. But that wasn't in his power. "I'm sorry I said those things. I was just being an idiot. You know how I am. I didn't think I'd hurt you so much."

"No, you're right," she dismissed his apology with a wave of the hand. She gulped some tears away. "You've always been right. I should have listened to you more. Then I wouldn't be so miserable."

Plump droplets rolled down her cheeks. She clumsily wiped them away with the back of her hand. By now, the back of her hand was so damp it was just making her face wetter. Jack saw the sorry mess that she was and couldn't help but feel responsible. If only he'd been more present. If only he'd defied God and Death sooner. "If it's any consolation, I'm miserable too," he confessed, digging his hands in his pockets. "Everywhere I go, everyone sees me as a human. No one sees me as me. I have to pretend to be… a completely different species. A completely different person. And I've been doing that my whole life, it feels like. It gets… lonely."

Zara still sniffled but the tears calmed their flow a little. She leaned back against the railing. A pregnant pause fell between them. Her eyes were fixed on the floor while his were fixed on her. There was only the muffled sound of bass blasting from inside the club and the rippling of water from the outdoor pool. An ambient glow from the pool lit their faces. "I'm sorry to hear about that," she finally said. "I can't imagine what that's like."

"That's why I asked… I- I can't tell you the number of times I've wished that you were next to me," his lips widened momentarily but it was tough with the stinging in his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he was this honest with someone about his feelings. "I want us to do things together again."

"I- I can't…" she stuttered. Those two words drove a stake through his heart. "I have to be here. With Sam and Dean. Hunting is a part of my life now. I need to-"

"I know about you and Lucifer," Jack blurted out.

"What?" Zara felt her stomach sink. Her chest felt hollow, like her heart had stopped. Defences flared up instinctively, ready to mount an attack. It was dizzying to even think about whether the situation called for an adrenaline-pumped response – Jack appeared emotionless when he said it so it was hard to tell where he was going with it. Or maybe it was just the six shots of vodka she'd downed prior to this.

"I know that you're working for him. And no, I'm not gonna tell anyone. That's your secret to tell," he stated. That was somewhat of a relief. "I've been… keeping tabs on you."

"That's not… sketchy at all," she dryly remarked. But she smiled. She forced herself to do it. A great weight lifted from her chest. To think that she'd kept such a big secret from everyone, like it was something to be ashamed of – it was getting tiring. She looked upon him with a compensatory smile. "There's no hiding anything from you, I guess…"

"You know what's sketchy? Upsetting a bunch of pagans. Jesus, Zara, what have you gotten yourself involved in? Trying to destroy Javelin like that?" he frowned, taking a deep exhale. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to put yourself in a pagan god's line of fire?"

"Relax, it's all part of Lucifer's plan. He's using me to draw them out of their hidey holes," she drawled as she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's reassuring," he rebutted rather sourly.

"He won't let them hurt me. He'll keep me safe," she simply said and did a little shrug.

"Somehow I'm not convinced. Especially after what I saw today," he argued. He'd be lying if he'd said this did not rub him the wrong way. But Jack wasn't going to chew her ear off about everything he thought was wrong about this. Instead, he just folded his arms to keep the annoyance in.

"He trained me to deal with situations like this. I don't feel pain as much anymore. I heal faster. And I can borrow spurts of archangel magic," she explained to him, counting off on her fingers. She took his hand with both of hers. Closing her eyes, Zara looked within herself and activated the hawk, albeit briefly due to her inebriated state. Jack's eyes widened as he felt it. A burst of energy radiated from her. A warm, soothing wave. Its familiarity was so shocking that he was almost moved to tears. It felt like his mother. He could do nothing but stop and take in the moment. "See? It protects me. I'm safer this way. Because of Lucifer."

Jack pulled a hand down his face to snap himself out of it. "It doesn't make it okay to put yourself in dangerous situations," he rejected. "I don't like this."

"You don't like this, or you don't like Lucifer?" she probed, trying her best to look him in the eye. He refused to meet her gaze, staring instead at the city behind her. "You can be honest. I wouldn't be surprised."

"It's not… him," Jack answered. "I don't care what he does. It's you I'm worried about. Unless he wants to try and destroy the earth again because… that would suck."

"No, he doesn't want to do that," Zara confirmed, despondently studying his expression. It was surprising how undisturbed he was at the mention of Lucifer. Now that she'd gotten a huge secret off her chest, she only felt relief. It was a new feeling. And new things could be scary. But seeing him again – being in his presence again – soothed the alarm bells that went off in her head. She wasn't even supposed to have said this much. If she wasn't so drunk, her better instincts might have led her to nag at him until he decided that she wasn't worth it and left her to finish the mission in peace. "He just wants to rule over… everything."

"Whatever that means. Hmph," he shook his head cynically.

"I need to help him," she asserted, staggering on the spot as she made her point.

"You don't 'need' to do anything," he retorted with air quotes.

"But I do," she insisted. The way she held his gaze reminded him of the time she tried to convince him that he needed to publish his music. It was his duty to share the beauty of his music with the world, she'd said. And look at him now, ready to play at a music festival for thousands of people. "You talk about loneliness. Can you imagine what he must feel? The love of his life left him and there's a giant hole in his heart where his son is supposed to be. He doesn't have anyone but me to understand what that's like. I have to help him."

Jack was at a loss for words. He always was when it came to discussing his father. The only thing that was clear to him, however, was the ache he felt in Zara's absence. Nothing else mattered. He gulped down the heaviness building in his jaw.

"I'm sorry but you ask too much of me," she apologised. "I can't just betray him by leaving."

"I'm not asking you to betray anyone," Jack clarified. "I'm asking you to live. Live the life you deserve."

"I deserve Hell for the things I've done and that's exactly where I live," she managed to say despite the heaviness of the words.

"Zara, no," he shook his head. "You deserve to be happy. Run away with me."

"Listen, meathead, this isn't my mom's house you're asking me to run away from," she snapped at him. "It's Hell and the motherflippin' Devil. If he finds out what you're trying to do, he'll kill you."

"Okay, look," Jack shifted his weight and sighed, unsure of how to put it. "He's not gonna do that. I'm… mostly sure."

"Really?" she doubted. "H- how could you even tell?"

"I just know, okay. Trust me," he pressed a palm to his chest.

"W-Whatever, dude. You wanna take it up with him, go for it. Just don't blame me when he reaches into your guts and pulls out your spleen," she patted his shoulder as she made to walk past him. At that opportune moment, one of her heels buckled under her. She lurched forward, almost falling if not for Jack holding onto her. Resistance to the vodka was futile. Her forehead firmly buried on his shoulder as her head spun. "Oh man, I drank too much."

"Hey, hey," he supported her flimsy structure. "Let's get you back to the motel."

"No, we still need to get that-" her head fell back passively and she groaned with her eyes shut. "Or not…"

"You are done for today. Let Sam and Dean handle it," he whispered, his breath caressing her temple. His voice, which could only be described as the embodiment of a smooth, velvet fabric, threatened to lull her into unconsciousness. If only she could fully bring herself to appreciate it.

"Okay, just… no flying," she requested. "I might puke."