Sophia's Chronicles
Recap of last chapter: Zara and Jack have a little heart-to-heart where they talk about Hell and stuff, before she gets nabbed by the Rakshasa. Jack has a weird connection to a no-name no-face Russian hacker on the Deep Web who helps them find Zara. Rakshasa dead, the three chill in Zara's motel room. Jack notices a strange creature watching them from outside the window. In the flashback, Lucifer gets Zara to 'punch like a demon' and gives Hades an assignment in Russia.
Chapter 74: Headfirst
The Motel, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 1.35am
"Since when were there monkeys in North America?" Jack wondered, maintaining a semi-neutral tone. While the others pondered his question, he got up and approached the window. Cautiously, he lifted up the window pane. The monkey was still, simply reciprocating his curiosity. He sunk to one knee with enough gentleness that it wouldn't startle the monkey. He offered a palm to it.
In that moment, Zara felt a small pulse radiating from Jack. Huh. That's strange. But no one else seemed to have noticed. As if unused to the gesture, the monkey's orange bulb eyes flickered between the palm and him, wide in amazement. It accepted his invitation and with their palms together, Jack flashed a warm, welcoming smile. In no time, he made it back to the table with the monkey's hands around his shoulder like a toddler in a parent's arms.
"Tell me a little bit about yourself, Paws," Jack purred, eagerness written all over his face with that radiant pearly smile again.
The way Jack's expressions changed from curious to amused to sceptical to neutral within the span of a minute suggested that all his attention was focused on the monkey, which in turn made chattering and gibbering noises. At one point, he nodded his head in serious consideration like he was being told something really interesting but he said absolutely nothing.
"Is- is he talking to the monkey?" Dean whispered.
Sam shrugged. Zara was just captivated by the sight that she didn't know what to say. They let this go on for a while, not really knowing when to intrude.
"So… what's he saying?" Dean finally broke the silence. His eyebrows were a slope confused between the steepness of a frown and the gentleness of astonishment. Jack continued to be in a telepathic conversation with the animal. "Hello…? Ground control to Major Tom?"
"Huh, what?" Jack looked up momentarily, meeting their dazed looks. "Oh, he says he's a spy."
"What?" Sam worried. "Did you say, 'A spy'?"
"Yeah," Jack huffed like it was the most ridiculous thing ever. "And he's getting severely underpaid for the job." Looking to the monkey, he said, "You should be getting at least five bananas a day, Paws." The monkey chirped in agreement, even lamenting more with animated hand gestures. "Yeah, stick it to the man, boy."
"Jack, elaborate," Zara ordered, stone-faced. Her arms were folded as she regarded the angel. Being back in his presence was a refreshing change and even though she didn't want to put it in words, there was a warm sensation where her heart was. She thought it unsettling but really, she liked it. The sheer… contrast to the monster with his face earlier – it was an unexpected reckoning. Things appeared clearer now.
"Apparently, Paws here is one of many little cute boys running around town. Works for some…" his eyes crinkled slightly as he tried to discern the little creature's ramblings. "Some Hindu god, by the sound of it. He's supposed to…" Jack's pupils craned to meet hers. "He's supposed to keep an eye on you."
"Oh, that's nice," she shrugged.
"Okay, wait," Sam interjected. "What the hell is even going on?"
"That's a great question, Sam," Jack nodded, shooting Zara a stern look. She narrowed her eyes in turn.
"I mean, I get that you must be on some kind of hit list. You did say you… messed with that Javelin thing," he recalled. "So it makes sense that they'd want revenge. But this? This monkey's had eyes on you this whole time. Why haven't they done anything yet? Unless… that Rakshasa nabbing you was part of it."
"I… highly doubt that," Zara remembered the Rakshasa's ramblings with a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Maybe they don't want her dead," Dean guessed. "Crowley did say he needed Zara for a negotiation."
"But he got what he wanted," Zara rebutted with askance. "He stole the archangel blade. What more could he want from me?"
"Hmm…" Dean leaned back into his chair as he contemplated the situation. "And the other Rakshasa from a few weeks ago…"
"Bidhra," she reminded him.
"Jeez, how many are there?" Jack's head shrunk back as he struggled to keep pace with the conversation.
"She said that Ravana wanted to offer you as a sacrifice to Shiva," Dean summarised. Lines of concentration riddled his forehead.
"Who's gonna do what now?" Jack's eyes widened.
"Jack, please," Zara sighed and rubbed her temple while fatigue dragged her eyelids.
"You've just been a busy bee, haven't you? Going 'round the block, getting into trouble," he remarked. The last sentence was more of a solemn note-to-self than a commentary on her activities.
"Anyway," Dean interrupted with a mild eye-roll. "It seems kinda odd that they wanted to kill you just about 2 weeks ago and now they're stepping on the brakes. What changed?"
Zara let out a measured exhale. "Guess we'll find out," she simply said. "What're we gonna do about it?"
"You guys aren't gonna do anything. For now," Jack stated as a matter of fact, getting up. He had Paws on one shoulder and Ser Adler on the other. "I'm gonna head back, find some place where Paws can hang while you guys recharge. I mean, it's like you guys never catch a break."
"Are you sure? Don't you have like, a show to get ready for?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, yeah I can handle it. It's just sound checks and rehearsal. Easy peasy," Jack dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Now, I want you all refreshed and ready to have the time of your lives," he ordered. Then, looking to the heavens, he muttered, "I swear, I'm not letting anyone or anything get in the way of this."
"Alright, it's settled then," Zara optimistically concluded. "See you tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep."
"Oh, and, just in case," he cradled Ser Adler with his palm and set him on the table. "Ser Adler's gonna watch over you. Can't have you disappearing again."
Zara eyed her new roommate, whose beady eyes regarded her with a reciprocal curiosity.
Hell – 6 months ago
Hades stood imposingly at the door. The way he eyed the guest, with that one-sided smirk and arms folded, sent shivers through her body. At least Zara was grateful to not have his attention on herself this once. Yet, she felt the weight of the three other demons' gazes as the two ladies sat on opposite sides of the medium-width table that had been set up in her room. Lower jaw trembling, all colour lost, Esther didn't even dare meet Zara's gaze. Though the witch didn't say a word, Zara could see the trauma bottled up within her, waiting to explode at any moment. There were no visible wounds or blood – she'd been healed and cleaned up. For the first time in a long time, her marble complexion could be seen again, along with her slender nose and sharp chin. But whatever she'd been through in the dungeons, she seemed unable to escape it.
"Witch, Zara. Zara, Witch," Hades introduced them to each other as he plodded towards the table in the centre of the room. Esther's head remained tilted downwards while Zara merely studied her with a single eyebrow dipped in a harmless frown. Seeing that, Hades grabbed the back of Esther's freshly-washed black, wavy hair and forced her head up. With a gasp and a surge of panic in her emerald eyes, Esther finally looked at Zara. "Meet your new student."
Esther's trembling did not cease and her breaths grew more rapid. Zara saw nothing but terror in her eyes. "Does she have a name?" Zara emotionlessly asked.
"I don't know, do you have a name, teacher?" Hades asked, his lips uncomfortably close to her ear. "Tell her your name." The witch struggled tensely to be free from his presence, to no avail. Instead, she whimpered softly under her breath. "She asked a question…" He cupped her jaw with his other hand, as if that should motivate her to open her mouth.
Zara felt something. Perhaps a tingle in her chest. But nothing more. As an onlooker, this spectacle just seemed to be a waste of time. But this was just the way things were done in Hell, she told herself. It had been a while and nothing came out of the tense silence.
"You won't need those vocal chords if you aren't going to use them," Dan spoke up at Zara's side as he brandished a small knife. Esther only shrunk back further into her seat.
"Could you get us some water please, Dan?" Zara asked, head turned towards him but eyes directed to the table. The demon held a fiery glare on the witch with his black eyes for a threatening pause before he fulfilled Zara's order. Soon enough, he returned with a tray containing a jug and two glasses. "Hades, let her go."
An incomprehensible mumble later, he obliged, leaving the witch to nervously rub her neck. It was then that Zara noticed the cuffs she had around her wrists. "Give me ten minutes and bed alone with bitch, I'll make her talk," he coarsely proposed.
"No thanks," Zara refused confidently. Arms folded and leaning back against the chair, she wondered why Lucifer thought this would work. "I think you've done what you needed to. You can leave now."
"I don't take orders from you, Kitty. Unless it's under the sheets," Hades grinned. Zara suppressed an eye-roll. Leaning close to Esther again, he said, "Boss says you must make her good at magic. If you don't, you and I will have to talk again."
With that, he marched out the door to do whatever he had on next. "Drink," Zara ordered. When Hades left, it felt like the end of an earthquake – air, quiet, and ground, stable. Having a guy so big in a room could be claustrophobic. Fingers shaking, Esther's palms slowly inched across the table to encircle the glass. A couple gulps later, a satisfied exhale exited her lips. "So… what should I call you?"
The witch's expression remained sombre, but she made eye contact this time. "Esther." Her voice was so soft that Zara almost didn't catch it. But this was a start.
Dan laid a few books on the table. They had hard covers and smelled old. When Zara tried to flip a page on one of them, dust floated from the book. Inside, they contained several diagrams and symbols that Zara didn't quite understand. "You heard Hades. You have to teach her how to use magic," Dan commanded. The other two demons were standing guard at the door. "So get on with it."
"It's…" Esther cleared her throat. "It's not something that comes naturally for everyone."
"Let's say that it won't be a problem for me." Zara breathed in and focused, momentarily closing her eyes. When she opened them again, her irises glowed a celestial green. "Where do we begin?"
Esther glanced between the books, Zara and Dan, unsure of her every word. "I'll… I'll need t-to understand you b-better," she began. "If I h-have to teach you to use your p-powers."
"Okay, what do you wanna know?" Zara asked in turn. Esther reached out her handcuffed hands to Zara, grounding her forearms on the table. Hesitantly, Zara placed a palm into both of Esther's. A while passed. The witch's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Nothing happened.
"The cuffs are dampening my abilities," Esther stated, voice still uncertain. Zara observed her. She seemed, in that dull beige gown they'd given her, like a trembling puppy brought in from the cold – seeking warmth and easily spooked. The feebleness never left her eyes. It seemed interesting to Zara how much sympathy Esther could get just by looking the way she did. Being surrounded by demons, of course, made this less obvious. It was educational nonetheless. Zara turned to Dan and nodded.
"No. No way. She's tricking you," Dan denied, defiantly crossing his arms.
"You can't teach magic… without using magic," Esther muttered. Dan threateningly stepped towards her and she immediately shrunk back in her seat.
"Dan," Zara interjected. "Just do it."
"But what if she tries to hurt you?" he protested.
"Isn't that what the three of you are here for? Do your jobs," Zara countered firmly. "Uncuff her."
With a reluctant huff, Dan eventually moved to do as he was told. "You try anything funny, you'll lose a finger," he warned the witch.
She rubbed the skin of her wrists like it was a long-forgotten pleasure before offering her palms again. Four fingers on each of Zara's hands were clutched gently in Esther's palms as the witch used her keen senses. Zara's eyes glowed again as the witch sought some kind of connection. In her mind, it felt like Esther's magic was brushing against a wall, seeking entry. Zara let her in, albeit cautiously. Their connection was like the meeting of two sparks – both powerful and careful in navigating the territory around each other. There had to be a balance between Esther studying Zara and Zara controlling her own power – a healthy distance. One misstep could be unfavourable and they both seemed acutely aware of it. Having learnt to control her breath, Zara found it possible to keep focus. Yet, something about Esther lured her in. After all, it was strange to have someone in your head and not study them in return.
The sparks touched. A flash of images cut through Zara's mind. Darkness, dampness and pain – everything flooded her at once. Their hands flinched apart. Esther averted her eyes.
"What happened?" Dan caught on to the subtle but sudden change. "Did she do something?"
"No," Zara denied almost immediately. The wave of shock that had hit her just seconds earlier was dissipating but still, the feeling was fresh in her mind. And it was familiar. "It's going fine." Then, to Esther, "Did you find what you needed?"
Esther regarded her with a slightly befuddled gaze, scanning her unfazed expression up and down. "Yes," she answered. "Your magic is… very strong. Stronger than an angel."
"It's archangel magic," Zara explained.
Esther nodded. "Then let's begin," she said.
The Motel, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 11am
Knock, knock, knock.
Dean opened the door, beer in one hand and the remains of a sandwich in his mouth. "Good afternoon," he greeted Zara. She entered the motel room with a rested glow on her face and Ser Adler on her shoulder, pleased to find out how tame he really was. The lizard had a wisdom about him, though he spoke little. When she came to regroup with the boys in the morning, she was puzzled to find a third entity in the room, speaking in tones of giggles and nostalgia with Sam.
"Jack, you're here," she noticed. Sam and the archangel turned to her with smiles freshly seeded on their jaws. "What's… going on? Don't you have sound checks and all that?"
"Later, yes," he answered, eyes glistening to rest upon her. "But until then, I thought I'd drop by and check on you. I was just telling the boys how much I missed you."
"Oh no," she lamented as she studied the shared amusement in their eyes. "What did he tell you?"
"Nothing much," Sam shrugged with a playfully upturned lip.
"I was just telling Sam about your eternal struggle with literature in high school," Jack said before immediately breaking out into a giggle. "You never did learn the difference between an allegory and a metaphor. And I remember you were all like, 'Why's the curtain blue? Because it's blue!'"
"That was you, Jack," she reminded him. "You have the humour of a fourteen-year old."
"Cask of Armadillo?" Dean chimed in with an amused but plain expression on his face, as he handed her an uncapped beer.
"That was one time, Jack!" she lightly hit him on the shoulder. "So this what you been doing all morning, huh? Dragging my name through the dirt?"
"Had to fill them in on us somehow," he winked.
"We've all been there, Zara," Sam reassured her. "Struggling with school is quite normal."
"It's hard to imagine you struggling with school, Mr Stanford Law," Zara rebutted as she took a seat next to Dean opposite the two of them at the round table.
"You set the bar pretty high yourself, Ms PhD. I mean, Dr PhD," Sam shot back. "She writes a thesis by day and kicks ass by night. The superhero we all need."
"I passed chemistry once," Dean added, to the befuddled looks of the others. "Just wanted to put that out there."
"And apparently, I dropped out of angel school," Jack joked.
Soon enough, the team got to their next pressing matter, which was the issue of the strange helmet Jack found at Crowley's hideout. It was poised on the table, all rusty and creepy-like. Sam had gone out and gotten some books from a local library in the morning so Dean and Zara scanned through them while he fiddled with a laptop. Meanwhile, Jack announced that it was time for Ser Adler's breakfast. Without his needing to say so, Ser Adler crept down Zara's shoulder slowly enough that it didn't startle her. Still, everything about the lizard was new to her. She placed her palm on the table so that he could crawl onto it and make it to Jack. Midway, however, Jack decided that he'd do something fun. He made appear a small container of live crickets in his hand and tossed them one by one in Adler's direction. And just as he'd hoped, Adler pounced up to catch them in his mouth and chew them. Jack couldn't be a prouder parent.
"Okay, so, get this," Sam began, casting a curious side-eye to Jack but not questioning the sight. "Judging by the make and the rust, it's a Corinthian helmet straight from Greece. The question now is, who did it belong to?"
"It does feel wacky," Jack tossed another cricket to Adler.
"Wacky?" Dean pressed. "What d'you mean?"
"My magical senses are tingling," he shrugged. "Makes sense. I mean, why would Crowley want something like this if it couldn't mojo something for him? But… what does it do? Here," he passed the box of crickets across the table to Zara, who seemed all but ready to handle the responsibility. He took the helmet in his hands and inspected it, turning it about and squinting at it really hard. "Hm."
Zara picked up a little cricket, holding it up between her two fingers as she grimaced. The insect's little legs squirmed about, protesting its fate, but Ser Adler's expectant pose helped her ignore it. Here goes, she thought as she tossed the cricket to Adler. She suppressed a flinch as Adler shot up and caught it between his jaws before chewing the creature. Not bad.
"Hey Adler, take a look at this," Jack called out, scooping up the reptile and placing him on his shoulder. Now both archangel and familiar were studying the helmet. Zara held up another cricket, unsure if she should continue feeding Adler, but Adler's eyes seemed to beckon her. She hurled one. Sure enough, Ser Adler expertly caught his food like before. A small grin of victory spread across her jaw. Confident, she threw another one rather haphazardly. The trajectory of her shot was a great miscalculation, however. Time seemed to slow down as she realised her mistake. The flight of the mid-air cricket seemed to be directed at Jack instead. Dean was increasingly intrigued by the drama himself, like an avid sports fan waiting to see a ball hit the goalpost. Zara tensed, mentally preparing an apology for the cricket that would land on his chin.
But, as she watched, Jack was seamless. Eyes still maintained on the helmet, his lips parted and his tongue lapped up the cricket. A crunching sound indicated he chewed and he gulped to swallow. "I got nothing," he casually reported. Zara suppressed a gag and simply set down the container on the table instead. Not doing that anymore.
Dean cleared his throat. "Let me see that thing," he took his turn to fiddle with the helmet. "Maybe we should just try it on and see what happens."
"If it's a magical object, you probably shouldn't," Sam warned. "What if it's cursed?"
"Didn't do anything so far," Dean countered, eyeing the helmet with a morbid curiosity. "It can't be too bad, right? Guys?"
"Eh," Jack tilted his head with a positively uncertain expression.
Zara gave him a half-shrug. "You can be the guinea pig," she suggested.
"Alright then," he flipped the helmet upside down so that the orifice invited his head.
"Dude, don't," Sam stopped him. "I'm serious. We don't know what this thing is, what it does, so just hold your horses."
"Exactly. We don't have any idea what it is. We've jumped headfirst into danger for less," Dean argued. "And angel-school dropout here isn't any help either. No offence."
Jack shook his head, somewhat in amusement, watching where Dean was going with this. Ser Adler clucked something into Jack's ear and he listened attentively, all while maintaining a wary gaze on the object. "Yeah, no. Ser Adler thinks you're both right. This helmet thing could do anything from bringing back Centurion fashion to possibly chopping your head off clean at the neck. But we won't truly know unless you put it on."
"That's encouraging," Zara remarked.
"Ah, well," Dean stammered at the thought of losing his head, unconsciously rubbing his neck. "You're bringing me back if something happens, right?"
"Sure," Jack leaned to rest his elbow on an armrest. Dean could have sworn a malicious glee flashed across Jack's hazel eyes as the archangel watched him.
"Alright, here goes. Geronimo." Dean slipped the helmet on as fast as he could and shut his eyes tightly.
"Dean?" The sound of his little brother's voice was a comforting sign. But as he opened his eyes, he only came face to face with the blank looks on their faces, searching the air like a flight of bumble-bees circled his head. He looked about himself but found nothing out of the ordinary. "Dean?!" Sam called out again, panic more imminent in his tone.
"What?" Dean called back. Zara flinched at his side. Jack merely squinted at the air where Dean was seated. "Y'all look like you've seen a ghost."
"W-where are you?" Zara asked, eyes darting vaguely about the air where the voice came from.
"I- I haven't moved," he answered. "What's going on? Am I okay? Jack?"
"It seems that you are currently invisible," Jack stroked his chin all thoughtful-like. "Are you experiencing any kind of pain, hm? Any headaches, dizziness, nausea… blood dripping out of your orifices? And you'd better check the backdoor too, just in case."
"No, I'm not- Hm." Dean lifted up his butt to be sure. No stains on his pants. "I'm not having any of that."
"Then I think we have an answer, folks," Jack concluded. "It's Christmas at Hogwarts and you're Harry Potter."
"Huh?" That one stumped even Dean.
"You know," Jack flipped a palm to beckon understanding. "When Dumbledore gives Harry the cloak of invisibility?" Silence. "Seriously? You guys need to get a life."
Two hands poised on the sides of the helmet, Dean drew it off his head, holding it firmly between both palms. His eyebrows were sloped steeply as he regarded his brother and Zara. "Am I back?"
"Yeah, you can stop blue-steeling," Sam said. They remained like this, in stunned, awkward silence, before Sam heaved a deep breath in and turned his attention back to his laptop. "Okay, so… a helmet that turns you invisible. That narrows the list down." He tapped a few buttons on the keyboard. "Helm of Hades."
Is that so? Zara took note of that. Upon realising the identity of the helmet, Dean flipped the book he had with him to the proper page. "Helm of Hades," he recited. "Also known as the Cap of Invisibility. Yeah, no kidding. Used by Hades to fight Kronos… blah blah blah… last seen… used by Athena in the War Against the Giants."
"So what would Crowley want with the Helm of Hades?" Zara asked. The question was on her lips but an action was on her mind. Her fingers twitched restlessly under the table and she hid it by fiddling with her fingers.
"Isn't it obvious?" Jack spoke up, now calmer and more serious than he was moments ago. "He has a very powerful archangel sword in his bank. And now, this thing? He's preparing to attack a certain archangel."
"Lucifer wouldn't be able to see it coming," Sam deduced. "Not a bad plan, actually. Lucifer can't fight what he can't see."
"But what do we have when Crowley kills Satan and has the pagans for a fanbase?" Dean said.
Jack's eyes roved over the table ominously, their hazel glowing like they dripped fresh honey. "A recipe for disaster," he said sombrely. He remained like that for a while, until he checked his phone at which point his tone immediately flipped like a light switch. "Oh would ya look at the time? The sun is high in the sky and the guitars ain't gonna check themselves. I'll catch you later, alligators."
He got up, chirpy, and put on his black leather jacket over his Sepultura T-shirt – the one with the red skull on it. Zara stared at his movement, pensive, as he promptly exited the room. Barely a second passed when she too got up, meaning to hurry after him. "I think I'll hang with him for a while. Catching up and all that," she mumbled an excuse. "You guys don't mind, right?"
"Yeah, sure," Sam stood to put the helmet back into a designated box decorated with all kinds of warding. "Have fun." She seemed in a hurry but his ambient smile gave her a reason to pause. She gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving. When Sam turned back around to face his brother, he couldn't help the satisfied grin plastered on his jaw.
"You sap," Dean teased.
"Shut up."
Outside, Zara walked in leaping steps to catch up to Jack, who walked twice as fast as a Winchester – a true struggle for anyone who could barely keep up with the boys' casual pace. "Hey, wait up," she called out after him.
"Hey, you," Jack warmly greeted her. She hooked her hand at his elbow and they carried on along the sidewalk. "You comin' with? Niiice."
"Just walk," she ordered, routinely checking her surroundings. Jack observed her silently before his eyes flickered back to the front in understanding.
"What's going on?" he casually asked. "Do you need anything? Water? A burger? Something to help you loosen the fuck up?"
"If anyone asks where I've been, I was with you the whole time," she curtly said. "Can you do that for me?"
"Only if you tell me what you're doing," he demanded with his typical playful manner. "Where are you sneaking off to without your new boyfriend, huh?"
"You heard what went on in there. Crowley's going all in to take on Lucifer. And Helm of Hades? That calls for an urgent meeting with the boss," she explained.
"We have the helmet. Crowley can't do much without it," Jack remarked.
"But the fact that he even had it in the first place… what else could he have collected? We didn't think he was gonna be much of a problem before but now… I don't know," Zara admitted. "Besides, I'd think Hades would want his helmet back."
"You're in touch with Hades?" he puzzled.
"He's with us," she haphazardly revealed.
"So what, you wanna steal the helmet from the Winchesters and deliver it back to Hades?"
"That's the plan."
"And what would Sam and Dean think about that?" he posited. Zara's eyebrows creased into a mildly vexed frown.
"It's not about what they think," she answered softly. "The job comes first. And what they don't know can't hurt them."
"Are you're sure this is what you want to do?" he pressed. A mild breeze blew from behind them. His hand pushed back the intruding locks of his hair with a single sweep up his forehead.
"What's your problem?"
"I don't know," he mumbled with a shrug. "It just seems like the safest place right now is with them. And you're talking about sabotaging people who've accepted you."
"I don't know if you're choosing not to see what I'm doing, but since you wanted me to be honest, let me tell you this: being close to them is just a means to an end," she spelled it out emotionlessly.
"Really?" He sounded rather cynical. "So you and Sam rubbing your feet together under the table is just a means to an end?"
"Hey…" She couldn't stop the heat rushing to her cheeks though she maintained a frown-riddled expression. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"Honey, we all saw that," Jack grinned goofily. "Just admit it. You like them. And you like Sam more."
"Can we focus on the issue, please?" she cut him off. "Don't you see how important this is? Crowley's gearing up for war. The Hindus will probably declare against us soon and if they do that, the Greeks and the Persians may be next. I can't let that happen. If things get out of control… Crowley has the archangel blade and I'm sure he'll aim for the heart." Zara zoned out at the thought of things becoming so chaotic. "So are you gonna help me or not?"
"Help? I never said anything about help," he pointed out. But something she said rang in his head. I'm sure he'll aim for the heart. Lucifer being dead. His father, who he'd never even met before. The thought was like an itch in his brain he couldn't get rid of. "Fine," he relented. "I'll tell them that you were with me."
"Good," she smiled a rosy pink curve. "Thanks."
They turned the corner, which put them well out of sight of the motel. Zara broke away from him, ready to head off somewhere else. "Hey, don't do anything suicidal," he called out after her. "Without me."
Hell – 6 months ago
Lucifer sat opposite Zara across the round table in his room, observing her. Her back was up straight and she looked him in the eye when she talked. Her dark hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she wore a black tank top which showed off her toned arms and figure. Hell was in her eyes, in that confident glare, and a dark flame seemed to radiate from her. Lucifer was impressed with himself for having done a good job. But it wasn't time to celebrate yet, not till she'd shown him what she was truly capable of. The rebirth was just the beginning. The fun had yet to start.
"So… how was your first lesson with our resident witch?" he asked, simple smile on his lips and fingers clasped cordially on the table.
"It was alright," she said.
"Did you have any… insights?"
"I was under the impression that progress doesn't happen so fast," she answered, still emotionless. But upon seeing Lucifer's expectant gaze, she continued, "We're starting from the basics. But I'm sure we'll get there."
He nodded slowly. "Make sure she gets you where you need to be. Sometimes, people like to hold out on you because it keeps them useful for longer."
"You mean to stay alive?" she questioned.
"Exactly. That's the problem with outsourcing. People will say and do anything to hold onto life," he sighed. "You better squeeze out everything we need from her. You do know what we need, right?"
"Those spells to help you with your… vessel situation," her eyes flickered for a moment but she recovered quickly, though the flash of emotion was not unnoticed by the archangel. He allowed a tense silence, driving Zara's self-doubt.
"If we don't get those spells, it's Nick who suffers, Zara. I can always get a new vessel. You understand me?" he posited coldly. She nodded stiffly. "Do it for him."
She gulped. "I'm doing it for you," she responded, returning to her expected blankness. "The past doesn't exist anymore."
A smile inched across his face. "Good," he said. She'd passed another test. "There's also something else. I remember you telling me that you had some issues with the hawk. Now that it's a part of you, I expect you to learn to master it. Maybe that way, you'll have better reception with Sophia. That's actually the main reason I healed Crowley's bitch. As long as she's breathing our air, she might as well be useful in that area."
"I'll try my best," she said, then immediately came face to face with another expectant head-tilt. "I mean- I'll wring the bitch like a wet cloth until I find Sophia."
"Attagirl," he praised. "Now that you're…" he tilted a palm, initially held parallel to the table, sideways. "…settled in, you're ready to get to the real meat of our business. You are ready, right?"
"I trust your judgment," she answered. "What do you want me to do?"
There was a glint in his eye as he beckoned her to follow him. Zara trailed behind the tall archangel as he led her down the stairs. Down and down they went, further down than Zara had ever been in all the time she'd been here. The air grew warmer as they finally reached the dungeons, a long maze of hallways that were kept dark and damp for as long as they'd existed. There were prison facilities all throughout Hell but these – right under the main palace – were reserved for the most wanted of enemies. Lucifer opened a large wooden door at the end of one hallway and inside was a long room, in which people tied to chairs with bags on their heads were arranged in a large circle.
Abaddon awaited them, eagerly standing by a table with metallic objects on them. Upon their arrival, the three moved to an observation room, which was separated from the cell by a wall with a large glass window. "What's this?" Zara asked, though she knew immediately the current context of what was going to happen.
"Welcome to Torture 101," Abaddon greeted, voice sailing like a smooth ship across the air. "Where you will learn the human anatomy in close detail and savour the aroma of fear. But remember, it's always important to have fun."
"Our kind volunteers here are from a Javelin hotspot in Russia. Let Abaddon demonstrate and then we'll see what you can do," Lucifer introduced.
As she watched, Abaddon re-entered the main interrogation room and unmasked one of the prisoners. Unkempt greyish-white hair reflected the dim ambient light as bloodshot eyes circled in on the demon. His pupils widened, petrified, at the sight of the demonic eyes but he could only make muffled panicked noises through the duct tape sealing his lips.
"Hello, lover," she gave him a dastardly smile, stroking his chin with a devilishly crimson manicure. The man trembled where he sat though his eyes were frozen still from terror. She ran her fingers tenderly through his hair, a sick prelude to what was to come.
"You… don't have to do that," Lucifer told Zara. "Anytime now, Abaddon…"
"You have some information that I need," Abaddon began. "You can give it to me nice and easy… or we can play around a little." She picked up a tiny knife – a narrow blade that matched the width of her finger – and in a swift motion, swept it across his cheek, coming only so close as to leave a small incision. Nothing was obvious at first. Until the man made more muffled noises and a small line of red gushed from the wound. "Just teasing you. I bet you want a little more, huh?"
He shook his head 'no' but it was more like a shudder. Her index finger traced the edge of the duct tape as she carefully peeled it off his lips. "Please, we don't know anything," the man's thick Russian accent filtered through his newly-liberated mouth.
The bone-chilling anticipation of what was to come blared like a siren in his eyes, only feeding into Abaddon's sadistic glee. "Oh, I'm sure. Your bosses sent all of you to meet up so that you can talk about things you don't know," she dryly rebutted. She sauntered over to one particular feminine-looking person and rested her elbows on the spine of the woman's chair. "Kira here was cooperative. That is, after I laid out the stakes for her. She's a hard chestnut to crack, this one."
Abaddon yanked off the bag covering her head. Underneath, empty eye sockets stared back at the chair-bound man, crying bloody tears. The woman was eerily limp and it was only after a moment of silent observation did he realise that she took no breaths. Her head simply hung to the side, a lifeless vessel. The man felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He made no sound.
"But you know what, I might let you off easy. All you have to do is tell me who you and your little friends here work for. How's that sound?" She barely gave him time to answer. "Let's start with you."
He gulped, his round eyeballs darting around the room among his masked colleagues. "I- I- I work fo-"
"No," Abaddon interrupted. "Name."
"Huh?"
"You start with your name, honey," she added. Though the surroundings were relatively dim, it was just bright enough that her glossy lipstick shone and her copper curls appeared like they were coated in blood.
"M-my name is S-sokolov," he stammered.
"Hi, Sokolov," Abaddon drawled like a member of an AA meeting, using Kira's hand to wave at him.
"I w-work for Chernobog," he finally said.
"Ol' Cherny's still kickin', huh?" Lucifer muttered from behind the glass pane, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Wonder if that little hag Baba-Yaga's still around too…"
"What's so special about them?" Zara asked.
"The thing about these 'evil' deities," he began with emphasised air quotes. "They're easier to sweet-talk. They'll do anything to get back at their enemies, not like the 'good' ones who want something stupid like world peace. But I do suppose…" he paused in thought. "…Kali was a little too eager to shoot fire at me that one time."
They both watched as Sokolov introduced the other prisoners, each getting unbagged as Abaddon got to them. They were a diverse bunch, coming from all sorts of places. And the names mentioned indicated that these were important people. Lucifer felt an excitement bubble within him, slowly at first but picking up a rapid pace, as the names of the gods echoed in the interrogation room. There was Horus, Egyptian god of death. Morrigan, Irish goddess of war. Ishtar, Mesopotamian goddess of fertility. Parvati, Hindu goddess of love. Khepri, Egyptian god of renewal. Rama, Hindu god of virtue. Ares, Greek war god.
"That is one line-up," Zara remarked. Lucifer turned his head to her, arms folded but smile wide with glee.
"Oh, you bet," he answered. "I'm getting all sorts of ideas now. Sleep well because you're about to get busy."
"Me?" she puzzled.
"Yeah, you," he reciprocated her knotted eyebrows. "Why do you think I'm putting you through all this? You work for me now."
"Right," she conceded. "But I've never done this sorta thing before. I don't know if I'm the right person to do… whatever."
"We were all new to this once," he shrugged, tone unusually calm. "You'll flap your metaphorical wings soon."
The warm look in his eyes seemed so unusual of him yet he wore it like an everyday outfit – casually and with ease. Zara found it less strange and more curious, like the miracle of stars in the night sky. The visage of an ancient past that no longer could be. Or could it? He placed a hand on her shoulder as a reassurance and she returned a curve of the lips. Back to the interrogation they turned.
"Very good, Sokolov. I like you," Abaddon said. "I take it this is the first time you've dealt with a demon? You're doing good so far. And here I thought I'd have to stick some knives in your sternum to get some answers. I'll let you take the backseat if you can pick who I should question next."
Hesitation gripped the prisoner, unsure of what was right and what was wrong. The pangs of hunger had been assaulting him for hours now and his head was light. He shouldn't have even said this much. And giving someone else up? His chest grew heavy at the thought. And seeing their expectant and terrified looks wasn't making this easier.
"Come on, Sokolov," Abaddon pressed with a sing-song voice. "Which one of these little worms do you hate the most?" Again, a pause passed between them. "There must be someone here… someone who did something to upset your boss. That's why they send people like you, isn't it?" She towered over him as she slowly approached the chair, knife ready in her palm. "Someone who said something about your mom. Someone who hates your god. I mean, it's not like the Slavs are raking in followers anymore, right? They've all turned to Jesus now. And some, to my boss. Someone must have said something about that."
Inevitably his eyes shifted to a familiar target. Without him even needing to say so, Abaddon got the cue.
"Ishtar's one, huh?" she figured. Immediately, the named lady perked up in her seat, fearing what was to come. Abaddon turned to her. A bronze-skinned woman with accusative brown eyes widened at the sudden attention she received before staring daggers at Sokolov.
"I- I didn't say anything," he defended weakly.
"You didn't have to, lover. We can talk with our eyes all night long," Abaddon flirted. "Nifrat, wasn't it?" She now turned to the woman, who shrunk visibly in her seat as Abaddon positioned herself so close that there was barely any breathing space. "You're one to talk, Nifrat. Ishtar and friends were forgotten long before Chernobog. It's not really nice to hate on poor Chernobog, is it?"
Abaddon peeled off the duct tape. "I don't know what you want," Nifrat said rather firmly for someone who'd been roughly handled and starved. "But we're only small fry. We don't know what goes on with the gods. They only send us to handle the small negotiations. Like money. We don't even get to meet them. So really, you're wasting your time on us."
"You see, I just don't buy that," the demon tilted her head up in confusion. "If you're really that… unimportant, why did Javelin send more people looking for you? You should see the little conference room we found all of you in. Red really does go well with gold. But if you must insist that this is a waste of time…"
Abaddon snapped her fingers. Nifrat's neck twisted instantaneously into an impossible position. The circle of onlookers merely flinched in unison.
"I guess her life wasn't that important after all," Abaddon concluded.
"Ouch," Zara remarked from behind the wall. "That looked painful."
"Snapping necks can be very satisfying. Do you wanna try it?" Lucifer proposed out of the blue.
"What- like now?"
"Yes, now."
"Don't we have to question all of them? Meaning they have to be alive and breathing," she reasoned.
Lucifer dismissed her concern with a wave of his palm. "We'll figure it out." He knocked on the glass pane twice. Abaddon paused abruptly in the midst of her maniacal performance. Once reconvened in the private room, Lucifer gave her an order.
"Wait, what's wrong?" Abaddon stuttered through an uneasy grin as she looked between Lucifer and Zara, clearly not expecting this interruption. "Does my strategy not please you, my lord?"
"Oh this isn't about strategy, Abaddon. Just do as I say," he commanded.
With the help of some more demons, they had a new set-up. Nifrat's limp body slumped against the chair, alone with dead Kira. The others had been transported to their separate cells. Having a group interrogation was Abaddon's idea of a party but now that there were only two dead prisoners in the room, Zara felt less of a performance anxiety.
"Okay, so I wouldn't normally do this," Lucifer prefaced as he stood behind Nifrat's chair. He held a palm behind her head. A glow emanated from it. Slowly, the shattered spinal cord rearranged itself, bringing the head up in jerking motions as it took more of its original form. And then a gasp. Nifrat awoke again. "Just FYI, resurrections are tricky. Sometimes you get what you got, sometimes you get something that's better dead. Not like it matters now though."
"What- what's happening?" Nifrat heaved. Blinking rapidly, her eyes settled on the figure of none other than Abaddon, staring with mildly crossed brows and folded arms.
"Watch carefully, Z," Lucifer said as he shrugged his shoulders to loosen them up a little. Putting one palm squarely on the back of the prisoner's head, he cupped her chin with the other. "This is the basic form. I think of it like a… little baby bird you'd bring in from the rain. Keep it warm, hold it gently in your arms, and then…" in one brisk motion, he twisted her head. "Snap. You toss it out the window. You get me?"
"Sorta?" Zara replied. Her eyes tracked the details of his movement, avidly studying the technique.
"I'll do it again," he did the glowy thing with his hand one more time and again, the prisoner awoke with a gasp.
"What-"
"Uh, shut up," Lucifer snapped his fingers and instantly, Nifrat's head bobbed forward as though she were choking. The words tried to push through her mouth but none came out. "That's better." Again, he assumed the same position. "So one hand on the chin, the other grabs the back of the skull. And we're having none of that sideways turning crap you see on TV," he demonstrated by passively craning the head in his hands to both sides. "We only aim for 100% lethality in Hell, so if you wanna break it, you twist backwards."
Again with the sharp twist. There was an audible 'crack', just like before, but louder. It almost sounded soothing to Zara's ears.
"Now you try," Lucifer stepped back after snapping up another resurrection.
This time Nifrat only heaved more and slouched forward, every time hurting and draining her more than the last. Zara came to her spot behind the chair, venom oozing from the cold stare she gave the prisoner. The first thing she did was grab a fistful of Nifrat's hair to pull her head back so that she could put her palms in the same position that Lucifer did. One palm at the chin and another at the back of the head. Okay, you got this. A deep breath in channelled some force into her hands as she exhaled. While she lifted the chin up and twisted the head backwards as Lucifer demonstrated, she inevitably met with the prisoner's resistance.
Zara's teeth ground against each other as she tugged and shoved in what she thought to be the right directions. But all she got in return were the struggling noises of the prisoner. Abaddon was tempted to sigh in boredom at her pathetic attempt at a kill. "Okay, try it in one straight motion," Lucifer guided. "Don't hesitate."
Abaddon's frown only deepened when Lucifer stepped in closer, placing his palms over Zara's to help her. He tried to use minimal effort, only urging her as much as needed. Together, they broke the spine successfully but the very sight was enough to send a cold spike through Abaddon's chest. How delicate he was with her, even going so far as to spend his own time teaching a rookie the basics of fighting and killing. Somewhere in her gut that felt wrong. And that was something coming from a creature of Hell.
Once more, Nifrat was resurrected if only for Zara to truly do this on her own. Steadily, her hands went back to their positions. Zara began with visibly more force than she'd used before. "Just throw that bird out," Lucifer encouraged, half-amused by his own metaphor. "Toss it like a confident Hail Mary."
This time Nifrat's discomfort was more evident with those gargled "ah"s and "ugh"s. But despite the resistance, Zara pushed as hard as she could. Slowly, soft cracking sounds could be heard. Nifrat's face was bloodless, eyes wide and a little damp. She whimpered softly at first but with every one of Zara's attempts at a swift twist, her raspy mewls only grew louder. And that's when Zara paused, inhaled and went in for the kill.
"Please…" Nifrat begged, the muscles of her face contorting as she fought to utter words. "Please stop…"
Zara remembered the combat training – how Lucifer told her to fight like a demon. Her fiery journey to rebirth flashed in her mind for a moment. Energy surged through her muscles like lightning and in an instant, she managed a 'crack' almost as loud as Lucifer's. To hear it was one thing. But to feel it right under your palms… it was intoxicating.
"She's got it," Lucifer announced merrily. "Do it again."
Zara obliged. He made her do it a few more times until she paused of her own accord. "You shouldn't be using your powers so much. It'll hurt you," she said. It was a curious thing, for Lucifer to see her display such concern yet have none of it show on her face like some kind of machine from a dystopian future. But he was one to talk, considering he merely stared back at her with an indifferent expression. It was so obvious to her then – like never before – that there truly was a formidable, powerful being possessing that human form.
"I believe you're a good investment. You'll fix me up in no time," he replied with a playful tinge in his otherwise neutral tone. They held an amicable eye contact as a brief moment passed. "You need more practice."
"Still. I don't think it's wise to do it this way. I'm sure we can find more cost-efficient ways for me to practise," she reasoned. "Ways that don't involve wasting the lives of people who could give us intel."
"We'll hit up the nearest church," Abaddon pointedly suggested before Lucifer could insist.
"Very well," he sighed, the weight of Zara's concern finally catching up to him in the form of burning sensations in his joints. "Abaddon, take her with you on your rounds."
The Music Festival, Jefferson City, Missouri – 22 September 2012, 7.43pm
"Some tall freak is blocking my view," a woman's voice exclaimed, one of many in the large crowd. It was a cool, windy evening – the only solace in an otherwise sweaty and warm front row.
"How's a black eye for blocking the view?" Zara challenged, fists raised. She would have charged through the crowd if not for Sam holding her back with his giant leather-clad arms.
"Okay, calm down, Trooper," Sam hurriedly whispered. She relented and he let go, though her eyes still threatened to burn the woman where she stood. He flashed an apologetic smile at said woman and did a little hand wave to deflect attention from them. "Sorry."
"She was rude, Sam. You can't help that you're built like Mount K2," Zara remarked with her soft womanly eyes that warmed his heart.
"Don't you mean Everest?" Dean chimed in from beside them.
"No, K2. Because it's both tall and the most dangerous mountain in the world," she grinned, swaying like a shy schoolgirl as she said her cheesy explanation. Sam couldn't help but chuckle at her silliness, revealing the dimples that Zara always liked to see.
Dean gagged and stuck a finger in his mouth. "Sorry, excuse me while I find a nice corner to go and shoot myself," he mocked.
"Well you can climb me anytime," Sam flirted back, evidently conscious of his brother's discomfort.
"You keep that up, mister, you're gonna get lucky tonight," Zara bit her lower lip.
"Oh come on," Dean grumbled. "Right here? There might be kids."
"The only kid I see here is you," Zara teased.
"Yeah, and it's not just because you're short," Sam added. He and Zara shared a giggle over that with Dean just wondering how any of this was funny. Some things just get amplified by the moment, he guessed.
"Oh great. Now they're ganging up on me," Dean narrated. "God, is this show ever gonna start?"
Just then, the audience roared and the trio turned to see the stage being occupied by people who knew what they were doing. "Let's get this show fucking started!" Jack announced on the mic as he arrived, guitar slung over his shoulder and leather jacket lined with spikes.
"Jack, you are a God-send," Dean mumbled as he wryly turned away from the sight of Sam putting his arm around Zara.
As they watched, Black Eternity put up such an energetic performance that people were moshing and cheering in no time. And Jack certainly seemed to enjoy himself, whipping his long hair around in a windmill as he played the fastest and meanest guitar riffs known to humanity. His songs were one of hope and power, speaking of taking control and making a stand in a world that helped no one. His voice was slick like lightning and the music rough and rowdy like thunder. Not bad for a band that was playing in front of a large audience for the first time. Hell, it got Dean banging his head more than a few times. Zara also recognised some of the songs, having heard a softer, acoustic version when he used to play them for her years back. A warm feeling invaded her mind and soul, attacking a particular certainty she'd learnt to have in her time with Lucifer. It was unfamiliar but somehow, she couldn't help but welcome it this time.
Hours later, they reconvened in the Winchesters' motel room. When Jack finally appeared before them, they were all ready with pizza and beer. "It's about time, Mr Rockstar," Dean greeted enthusiastically. "Sorry to take you away from the paparazzi and groupies."
Jack let out a hearty chuckle as he took a seat at the table, now dressed in more casual leather. "Oh there'll be plenty more of that in the future, I'd expect," he replied. "So? What d'you think?"
"You were amazing," Zara beamed from next to him. "You killed it out there. Consider me a fan."
"Aww," Jack immediately pulled her into a bear hug, pressing the sides of their head together before giving her a quick kiss at the temple. "You really think so?"
"Yeah," Sam chimed in, smile ever-present on his lips as he regarded them. "Totally. You got Dean jammin'. That's an achievement."
"Is it Dean metal?" Zara asked playfully.
"Oh definitely," Dean replied.
"I don't know what that means but I love it," Jack was practically shaking in excitement. "But let me be real though. It really, really, really…" he repeated slowly for emphasis. "…really meant a lot to me that you would all show up for this. It's been my dream since forever."
"Man, you're doing God's work, saving heavy metal like that," Dean praised. "And the way you jumped while shredding that guitar at the same time… that's some Dave Mustaine-tier performance."
"Angel of music, baby. It's what I do," he replied with gusto.
"Really?" Zara tilted her head with a pleasant surprise. "Are you really the angel of music?"
"That's the thing, Z. I am whatever I say I am. That's the great thing about being a deity," he explained as a matter-of-fact. "I mean, who's gonna question me? So long as you talk the talk and walk the walk, the haters can suck it."
"Yeah, they'll have to answer to you and your hair," Dean pointed out. "I swear your hair has a life of its own."
"It is a sacrament of my very being," Jack leaned back into his chair as he proudly stuck his nose up in the air.
"Yeah, Sam's the same. One of these days I'll find the Holy Scissors and give him a Sacred Haircut," Dean raised both his eyebrows at his brother, who only returned a bored expression.
"And you're not worried about people pulling it or anything?" Sam asked, more as a challenge to Dean.
"Oh they can try," Jack answered back. "It's never really worked out for people before."
Zara huffed. "You really haven't changed, you know that?"
Jack shrugged. "It's only been seven years and I'm… forever years old or something, right?"
Their light-hearted conversation was only interrupted by the human need for sleep so Jack took his leave and returned the next morning. The sun was up and the hunters were fresh and ready for a new day. Bon Jovi wafted through the morning radio as Dean freshened himself up in front of the mirror. Zara enjoyed a warm cup of tea while browsing the local newspaper, sitting opposite Sam who was on his laptop as usual, looking for more clues on the Helmet of Hades. Jack was quietly scrolling through his phone when suddenly, a bunch of words on the screen made him frown.
"Sam," he muttered. When Sam looked up, the despondent look on the angel's face evoked question marks in his mind before actual questions could form. "I need to borrow your laptop."
"Sure," Sam obliged, shuffling the device to Jack's side of the table. The archangel went tapping away again as Sam watched. Meanwhile, Dean got settled in next to them while tying his shoestrings.
"I checked in with Vampire Boy again last night," Jack reported, eyes fixed on the screen. "I asked him to look into some other things for me."
"Who?" Zara asked.
"His sketchy Russian friend on the Deep Web," Dean answered. "Who may or may not be an actual vampire."
"Oh, I remember you and the Deep Web," she said with a sarcastic one-sided smirk. "I had nightmares for a month because little Me could have never guessed the kind of messed up shit people got up to on there."
"It definitely isn't for the faint of heart," Jack mumbled as he stared at the screen in concentration. "Anyway, Vampire Boy suspected that something was off about the maps we sent him. I asked him to do a little bit of digging and… let's see if he's found anything."
"You're really getting your money's worth from this guy, huh?" Dean remarked.
"Oh, don't get me started. It's a story worth telling, but a really long one," Jack winked.
Sam leaned over to share Jack's view of the screen. "It's just a wall of Russian text," he observed. "What's it say?"
"He says…" Jack's finger hovered over the lines that he translated. His dark shapely brows furrowed. "…the markings are a distraction. Every death corresponded with a cargo shipment from the same town to a mill not too far from here. What the cargo was… he's not sure. But as far as he can tell, there have been demonic omens in a town close to the mill though strangely, not a single demon-related death. Points to a shady operation that someone definitely doesn't want other people poking their nose in."
"He got all that from maps?" Zara was impressed. "Sitting in front of a computer across the world?"
"Yeah, he's pretty good at what he does. Good thing we're friends. I imagine it'd suck to make an enemy out of him," Jack huffed.
"What're we thinking? Crowley or Lucifer?" Sam wondered. Not Lucifer's, Zara thought to herself.
"Guess we'll have to find out," Dean concluded, getting up.
"Uh," Jack ambivalently glanced at his phone.
"You have something on, don't you?" Zara guessed.
"Yeah. Interview," he grimaced. "But you know what, I can cancel it."
"No, don't," she said within a heartbeat. That was something Jack picked up on and when he looked at her – really looked – he saw it happen again. The distance in her eyes. "We can handle a little recon."
"I'm coming along. I just want to make sure you're okay," he held her gaze. His tone could be solemn when he wanted it to be, which might have been strange but gave his friends something to trust. It's how they knew he was sincere – something unquestionable.
"Jack," she sighed with a faint smile. "You're the only one of us with a shot at something normal, okay? This is just another day for us. Let us handle it. Guys?"
"Yeah, totally," Sam nodded, standing right beside her with his hand on her shoulder. They both regarded him with concern, a dual pillar of support. "We'll call if anything happens."
"You're sure?" he looked between them, uncertainty tugging at his heart.
"Got you on speed dial," Zara reassured him, tapping her phone against her forehead. Jack noticed the notification light go off but pretended not to. The way Zara looked at him, all smiles and comfort, was eerie but it was her choice. He could only wait to see it play out.
"Make us proud," Dean added.
Jack exhaled shortly in amusement. "You guys," he muttered under a bubble-gum smile. "Be careful out there."
Shady Mill, Missouri – 23 September 2012, 1.03pm
"It's most likely using a closed network CCTV system, which was why Jack's hacker friend couldn't get in," Sam speculated. The trio stood leaning against the Impala as they surveyed the location from atop a hill not far from the mill. "If we can get into the security room, we might get a clue of what's going on in there."
"So… no crashing through the gates with guns blazing?" Dean pondered. Zara, holding her phone at her side obscured from the brothers, quickly tapped something and hit 'send'.
"Of course not. There are too many people in there. All of them probably demons. What if they're Lucifer's? Remember what happened the last time we went in guns blazing into a town full of demons following Lucifer's orders?" Sam argued.
"I remember," Zara chimed in.
"Relax, I'm joking. Jeez," Dean defended. "Tough crowd."
Armed and ready, the three crept towards the back end of the building, away from the main cargo arrival area. The back was less guarded and gave them an opening to pick a lock and enter. Zara felt naked armed with a mere angel blade – a massive step down from the archangel blade, which she normally felt with her whole soul when she had it. It was a part of her and not having it in such a heavily demon-infested place was nagging at her. But still, she'd been trained to live without it. This would have to do.
Dean took the lead. He surveyed the hallways as they tried to figure out a path, with Zara serving as backup when the short scuffles threatened to be louder than they would have wanted. Sam kept a lookout at their 6 o' clock, making sure no one stumbled across any stray bodies and called for backup. The walls were a dim greyish blue, the colour of forgotten memories. All Zara saw was a fresh canvas that needed to be painted. Having only blades that worked on demons, this was easy enough to accomplish. Red sprayed on the walls and the floors effortlessly. But minimalism was still the objective. On her own, the finished result may have been richer but hunting with the boys meant toning it down a little.
When it came to finding the right door, Zara signalled to the brothers to keep watch while she listened carefully with her keen archangel-assisted senses. Dean was sceptical but didn't question it in the moment. She seemed confident enough. Her eyes, being the only visible part of her face through the mask and hood, frowned deeply in concentration. She'd insisted it was important not to rush into rooms which could have dozens of demons waiting for them.
"This is so weird," Sam remarked. Dean followed his brother's gaze to find a camera on the ceiling, staring straight at them. "Why haven't they ambushed us yet?"
"Hopefully because they're asleep at the wheel," Dean speculated. Just then, a loud noise sounded. And then a bunch of distant yelling. Zara's eyes widened as she stared at the door and slowly backed away. Dean got the cue. "Hide!"
He took a chance with a random door and jerked it open, ushering Zara and his brother inside before going in and shutting it himself. A broom closet. Good. The proximal sound of a door being slammed open rang in their ears. Then a bunch of footsteps, thudding at the pace of a stampede. Zara's eyes, darting from one side to another through the closed door, told them everything they needed to know about the movement of the demons outside. More loud yelling. Their hearts raced. But soon, the noises outside the door ceased.
"It's clear," Zara confirmed with a pale, unblinking expression. They ventured outside, dazed for a moment. But as they walked freely, the air seemed clearer than before. "They've all gone to the front."
"What just happened?" Sam asked, exasperated. His chest was heaving and so was Dean's. Everything had happened so suddenly and quickly that it was a little disorienting.
"This place is something bad but I think it just got worse," Dean guessed as he looked around them.
"Let's not wait for it to get worserer," Zara tried to snap them out of it. It worked and they quickly got to finding the security room. It was easier now that their path was unhindered. Still, the sudden emptiness blanketed the air with an eerie chill. Once in the room, Sam promptly inserted a flash drive to copy the security footage. Meanwhile, Zara and Dean watched one of the monitors that showed the wide opening of the arrival area.
"The hell?" Dean puzzled at the sight of the demons being stabbed to death and engaging in what looked like a full-on battle. "Either we're extremely lucky… or we're not."
Without him needing to say so, Sam zoomed in on a particular pair engaged in a fight. Their unmistakably black eyes were a clear indication of what was going on. "It's demon-on-demon. What's going on?"
"They're Lucifer's," Zara identified. "Look at how they're fighting. The attackers are quicker and more organised. Lucifer clearly has been training them more." When she was met by intrigued gazes, she added, "I've noticed."
"He's also upgraded their fashion," Dean observed. Indeed, the demons that Zara pointed out were more sharply dressed in suits while the ones being killed wore more rugged, casual clothing.
"So… what? This is Lucifer ambushing Crowley?" Sam spoke the dreaded conclusion. "This is dangerous. We should leave."
"Leave? We haven't gotten what we came here for," Dean rebutted. "We need to know what Crowley's been up to."
"We have the footage. We can regroup at the motel with Jack and figure out what to do next," Sam reasoned. "He's our best shot at dealing with a large horde of demons. Maybe we should call Cas too."
Just as Dean was about to deliberate on what to do next, Zara suddenly perked up at the sight of something on one of the monitors. "Guys, it's Crowley," her eyes widened. "He has the blade."
Sure enough, one screen showed him cautiously holding the archangel blade as he stepped through a door. Zara was quick to refer to a floor plan to figure out which part of the building he was on.
"Zara, hold up," Sam called out.
"We have to go and get it," she stated, still focused on the floor plan.
"He's nearer to the front. Meaning demons in the way," Sam firmly said. Her back was towards him but it was entirely possible for him to envision the look of concentration on her face. It was a scary vision. "The longer we spend here the lower our chances of leaving alive."
"Yeah? And how's the progress on the footage?" she nonchalantly challenged.
Sam glanced back at the screen. It was still copying – about halfway through. "It's almost over. Just wait for a second. Please," Sam pleaded.
"I need to get the blade, Sam," she turned around abruptly and met his eyes with a sharp resolve. Her arms were practically shaking at the thought of getting to the blade. "If we let him go now, we might never get another chance." Sam seemed unconvinced. "Dean? A little help?"
"Huh? Oh, uh." He looked between his brother and Zara, unsure of whose side to take. "I mean, having that blade would help me sleep better at night."
"Dude," Sam shot his brother a disappointed glare.
"But on the other hand, getting out of here while we can would be nice too," he shrugged.
"Whatever happened to getting what we came here for?" Zara criticised. "You know what, arguing about this is wasting precious time."
She began briskly towards the door. "Zara, don't!" Sam hoped his sharp voice would be enough to stop her. She halted in her step, two feet from the door, and turned to him. "Jack would tell you to stop too."
His heart wondered if it could rest. "And I'd also tell him to wait 20 minutes before starting to worry."
Guess not. And then she was gone. Just like that. Sam simply gaped at the doorway, unable to believe that she'd just completely ignored him.
"You sure know how to pick 'em, Sammy," Dean broke the silence. He chuckled a bit but realised it was in poor taste when Sam refused to meet his gaze. "She's a tough girl."
"They all were," he simply said, before returning his attention to the screen. He pulled a hand down his stubbled jaw. "Since we're already waiting, let's see if we can find something."
He opened a file at random. This one showed a view of the cargo storage area from a different angle. As the boys watched, one large container was being opened by two demons. They seemed to be observing something off-scene. Soon enough, more demons appeared and with them were two unconscious people. The victims were tied up and blindfolded – the only indication that they were probably still alive. The demons hung them up on meat hooks by the wrist-ties inside the container and then shut the doors.
"That's it. That's the cargo. They're transporting people," Sam realised, horrified. He quickly switched back to the live feed. This time, the scene was wrecked by the scuffle. Only this time, the battle seemed to be contained on one side of the container. The other side was practically barren, save for a single truck whose open back faced the camera. And inside, the same two people, hung on meat hooks. "They were gonna take them away. But where?"
The sound of Dean grabbing his demon-killing knife snapped Sam's attention to his brother. "We can't let that happen," he declared. His intentions were obvious to Sam.
"No, not you too," Sam lamented. "We can't go there now. It's too risky."
"What do you want me to do, Sam? Leave 'em there? We do that and they go to Crowley-knows-where, or Lucifer-knows-where. That ain't happening," Dean retorted. "You stay here and make sure we get the footage. It's our best chance."
"But-"
"20 minutes. We meet at the back entrance where we came in, or you leave and get help. Comprende?" Dean didn't wait for a response. He marched out the door, just like Zara did. Sam's instinctive sense of doom only heightened.
Zara moved silently, cutting through the air with a practised ease. She felt half-free, now that she didn't have to pretend not to know how to move as stealthily as she did. Still, she had to keep in mind that Sam could watch her through the CCTV cameras. All she could think of was how funny it was that these upper floors, where she'd spotted Crowley, were clear of demons to protect him. This should be easy. Just the thought of severing his head clean from his body sent spikes of ecstasy through her veins. She could just imagine the glee on Lucifer's face. She couldn't wait.
"Hello, Crowley," she greeted with a serpentine sharpness to her voice. The former King of Hell found her in his line of vision with vitriol burning in his eyes. As she'd expected, the demon held the blade in his hands. Her blade. A cool wave swept over her just to see it again.
"Hello, darling. So sorry our last meeting had to be cut short," he said, confidence oozing from his smartly-attired form. "Haven't heard from that little weasel Martin in a while, so I take it you showed him where to shove the mullet?"
"He's the least of your problems right now," she eyed him with a hunger for his blood. Her short, wavy locks framed her face so squarely, like a painting of absolute ferocity waiting to unleash. Crowley's eyes deflected for a moment. "What's the matter? Seen a ghost?"
"Are you done teasing me, love?" he said, but from his averted pupils, it was clear that he wasn't talking to her. Zara spun around, only to find herself coming face to face with a blast of energy hurling her backwards. She landed messily on the floor. Her breath was knocked out of her in such a gust that she had to cough to recover. Frantically, she pulled her mask down to feel the fresh cold air against her face.
Still on the ground, she looked up to see who her attacker was. The icy green eyes seemed to pierce her where she lay. "You?" she muttered, just as she began to taste blood.
"Yes, me," the distinctly female voice said. Her dark, shapely eyebrows creased crisply to regard Zara with the same annoyance one would have towards a housefly.
"You don't have to do this," Zara said, weakly attempting to get up. "Esther."
Hell – 6 months ago
"And then Crowley was all like, 'Darlin', can't wait to see yer tits again'," the demon imitated in a poorly-attempted British accent that sounded more Scottish. The other demon listened in open-mouthed amusement to his friend's story. "And all I had to do was reply with a dozen kissy-face and water-droplet emojis. The stupid fucker bought it!"
The other demon doubled over in laughter. "So you were sexting him the whole time?"
"Oh me and the boys took turns. It was between that and cutting the bitch a new one," he boisterously exclaimed. The demons exploded in laughter. "Best part? We never typed a single word. It was all emojis all the time. And Crowley never suspected a thing!"
"And before you know it, all the pieces fall into place and we're back in business with a real king," the other demon concluded their exciting recount of the events that had happened two months prior.
"I swear, we could not have done it if Crowley had thought to send a search party for the bitch. I mean, witch," Demon One said.
"You know, Mo, you should write a book about it. Call it 'The Chronicles of Hell: The Idiot, The Witch and The Sext'," Demon Two suggested. The two broke out into laughter again.
"Hey! Could ya keep it down out there? We're tryna learn," Zara yelled, causing the two demons to snap back into their positions in the hallway on either side of the door. Esther's eyes twitched as she blinked to hide the tears. Though this was their tenth or twelfth lesson, the witch remained a shrivelled mess, shrunken in her chair and shaken by every sudden noise, no matter how soft. It was a miracle that she could even speak, though she was getting better with every lesson.
"Read it slowly, one more time," the witch instructed, gingerly holding Zara's palms in her own. "Focus on every word and the power within you."
Zara took a deep breath, concentrating on her inner state of mind. Eyes closed and body relaxed, she did as she was told. "Sequoro ipse, vici Perdita, fio."
A sudden bolt of energy surged through her, jerking her head to face the ceiling as her eyes rolled back in their emerald state. The flames of the candles became like long columns as they shot up, arranged around the white chalk circle on which they'd prepared the spell. The two demons, standing guard outside Zara's door, occasionally peeked in though they mostly made sure no one got in or out. This was how it was for a while now, and a while in Hell was certainly a long time.
Zara's consciousness shot through space faster than any rocket ever designed. It all happened so quickly that the feeling of sudden detachment from her body didn't quite register. Before she knew it, she found herself surrounded by complete and utter darkness. It wasn't like a black room – though it could have been. Thoughts of movement seemed to meet wisps of dark smoke in the space around her. Not that this could have been a 'space' in the proper sense of the term – she was but a floating orb of consciousness. But what was this place? Its aura was familiar, like she'd been here before. She soon found out why.
A flash of images attacked her at once. A soft but persistent droning noise. A voice – low, raspy and echo-y all at once. It repeated a line she'd heard before. "You're a long way from home, Zara."
She gasped. Her hands pulled away immediately, staring mortified at the witch. Zara panted heavily. All she heard was the sound of the demons rushing in and roughly grabbing Esther, who screamed in protest. Something about that felt unnecessary and wrong but the words just didn't make it out of Zara's mouth. Try as she might, she couldn't resist gravity and the magnetic pull of unconsciousness. Everything faded to black.
