Sophia's Chronicles

RECAP: Jack got back to Zara about the CCTV footage. Zara told the Winchesters that the trail led to Westney, a small town in Idaho, where people mysteriously disappeared. Upon further investigation, a lot more people went missing than reported. The hunters eventually discovered that Lucifer forced the Sheriff to make a deal in exchange for routine sacrifices from the town, which demons and the Shahapet repaid with abundant harvest and good health. After removing the mark Lucifer placed on the Sheriff, Zara faints and the Sheriff jumps out of the window because of guilt. A little monkey spy sees all of this and reports back to the Hindu god Kumbakharna, who passes on the info to the other gods. Jack's own little double agent, Paws, tells him what has been revealed, while Zara, Sam and Dean go to the other towns near Westney to similarly put an end to their demon troubles. Three weeks later, Lucifer shows up on the scene and sets the whole town on fire.


Chapter 83: Spirit, Absent

Rosie's Eats Diner, Detroit – 22 November 2012, 8am

"Here you go, Jack. The usual," the waitress set down a cup of coffee in front of him. She was an older, dark-skinned woman who emanated nothing but warmth. "Splash of milk and no sugar. Just how you like it."

Jack flashed her the brightest grin. "Thanks, Alisha," he kissed the air. "Love the new weave, by the way."

"Oh, stop it," she blushed. "Donnie just landed a job at the pharmacy. What you're seeing up here is my baby boy's first pay check."

She fluffed up her hair with a hand to emphasise how proud she was of it. "That's really sweet of him to think of you like that," he remarked, nodding. In the early morning hubbub, his smile was serene. "If I knew my mom, I'd get her… anything she wanted. Maybe a nice pair of earrings."

"I know you're still looking for her. Don't worry, darling, I'm sure the orphanages will pull through," Alisha sympathised. Despite himself, a concessionary grin brewed on Jack's face. If only it were that simple, he thought. But he did bring it on himself when he decided this was the place he'd start his second life in. Besides, these people were growing on him, so he couldn't help but talk about things. "Once your mama sees you, she ain't never gonna leave. You're just too sweet. And look at who you are now, huh? You're making all this money. I hear you're really blowing up. Where can I buy me some tickets to come see you sing?"

"You're always invited to come and see me for free," he promised with a playful wink. "But I gotta say, all this money… means nothing. I mean there's no one to spend it on. I don't need a lot for myself. So I'm not even sure I wanna continue with what I'm doing. Don't get me wrong, I love music. I love performing for people. But does there really need to be a paywall?"

The waitress laughed from the depths of her gut. She took a seat opposite him. "Boy, do you have any idea how lucky you are?" she questioned, her ghetto accent pinching and stretching her words almost like a musical instrument. "Look around you. Last week, I called in a plumber and he wanted to charge me for three visits just to fix a rusty pipe. I wonder what degree he got, 'cause I asked Andre next door and he fixed it in a couple hours flat. I mean, he fixed the sink in one hour but he fixed me up for an hour after that. All for free."

Jack burst into laughter at her suggestive gaze.

"Life here is tough, Jack. Ain't nobody from these streets becoming an astronaut, a lawyer or a doctor," she monologued. "Half the time, people be getting busted by the cops for shit they ain't even do. So for someone like you, who came up in these parts just like us, to make it big? That's huge. And when you win a Grammy…"

"A Grammy?" he repeated as he laughed, unable to conceive of it.

"You a talented little biscuit, I'll tell you that," she continued, chuckles on her lips. "When you win a Grammy, when those Hollywood folks give you a record deal, I just hope to God you remember us. Remember where you came from. These young bastard children need someone to look up to."

"I will," he swore. He met her gaze with a resolve that made whatever he said fact. "I'll make it big. But I'm not gonna sign on with anyone. I'm gonna be independent. I don't wanna sell my soul to some corporation that wants to own me. When I get big, it'll be because of me."

"Amen to that," she encouraged, getting up to resume her job. "Break a leg, Jack."

With a comforting pat on the shoulder, she left to serve other customers. With a smile imprinted on his face, he scrolled through the social media apps as he sipped on his morning coffee. It began with the usual – his friends posting about random things like places they'd visited or other trivial things, as humans did. He even chuckled to himself at times. They get excited by the smallest things. But one particular thing caught his eye.

His smile faded. "Pray for Westney?" he read out the hashtag. He clicked on it and a number of images and posts came up to only confirm the sinking feeling in his chest. "You've got to be kidding me…"

While his racing heart begged for the news to be false, his hand reached for the TV remote at the counter. The red button depressed. "This just in: In what appears to be a sudden turn of events, Westney Forest is now the centre of a large inferno, possibly the largest one in American history," the female newscaster said, as videos of the blazing fire showed up on screen. "The authorities have yet to determine the cause of the fire, though it is suspected that dry soil may be to blame. Westney is a small town in Idaho that adopted a national forest in 1977 and has looked after it ever since. Though it is unconfirmed, helicopter footage shows the very real, morbid possibility that no one in this town has been evacuated. Rumours are floating around that gross mismanagement by Westney officials may be suspect. Some even speculate foul play by foreign governments. Other towns dependent on Westney Forest have also been consumed by this fire, including Warmark, Cochmont and Everstone. The estimated casualty count is well over a thousand. More details coming up…"

It didn't matter how much more there was to be gleaned, because Jack already knew what this was. His fists clenched as he watched what the human reported of the incident. On some level, he thought it a relief that they were, for the most part, ignorant of the true evils that plagued existence. That made him think of the only person who was responsible for this. "You asshole," he mumbled under his breath. "You absolute asshole."

"Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Alisha gasped as she paused next to Jack. When she saw the running text on the screen and the horrific videos, her eyes were glued. A kettle steamed out of its mouth but she was too frozen to attend to it. She did the sign of the cross and whispered a short prayer. "That's horrible."

He paid for his coffee and took off in flight almost as soon as he left the diner. A sudden heatwave passionately caressed him. All he saw was darkness. The world was dark and up in smoke, but the bright flames wouldn't change that. The warm dancing tendrils of fire reflected on his smooth skin as he walked through the wreckage. There was broken glass on the streets from the shops. Ash stuck to his shoes and clothes as he sauntered down the sidewalk. A metal sign fell right in front of him. It read 'Sunshine Kitchen' – a diner. But the heat had sucked out the vibrancy of whatever pastel colours that may have been used on the sign. Now it just looked like another piece of scrap metal one would find in a junkyard.

He entered the diner. The worst of the fire had subsided but that only meant that the damage could be seen more clearly. Ash and soot covered almost every surface. Masses of stark black flesh lay on the floor and some cowered under the tables or at the seats. In his mind, the archangel could reconstruct exactly what happened. The floors had cherry red tiles, with the counter and seats matching. People tried to escape, but someone didn't let them. They were abused and knocked down until they caught fire. Others saw this and took cover under the tables to hide from the abusers. There were also those who had completely resigned to their fates. He walked over to a booth, finding an amalgamation of two burnt masses. He caressed the side of one of their heads. One corpse was larger than the other. From their figures, he could tell—A mother, comforting her daughter in their last moments.

He pulled away his hand to see black soot coating his palm. Not more than a few seconds later, the corpses fell apart into mere ash where he touched them. Now their bodies were headless.

Jack took a step back. A strange numbness came over him. It had always been inside of him – he knew that – but he'd pushed it deep down all these years. It was a kind of training he'd had since he was really young. "Tragedy serenades me again," he said to himself, dazed. Some extremely familiar feelings came to him. Feelings he thought he'd never feel again. It was almost like he could predict the future – see it like a painting come to life right before his eyes. The archangel desperately didn't want to be right but his instincts told him what needed to be known. "Don't make a fool out of me, Dad."

All he saw when he walked down the streets was not what was burned, but what was extinguished. The light of human life, completely destroyed. Such a pure, uncorrupted thing – he'd never known it until he came to this earth again. It had been a jarring experience, to come to a place where people lived and not see absolute filth in their hearts. Sure, there were always those who were criminal, greedy and vicious, but never as much as the pollution he'd seen growing up – pollution of the spirit, that was. A human soul was the first thing he'd ever seen to be so powerfully radiant. This was the site of a theft on the grandest scale. Old habits returned to the archangel as he went into every room, every corner of the city and just mulled over what had been stolen. He put himself through the physical pain of reimagining all of their faces, all their livelihoods.

Some voices came into earshot. Jack hid in the alley, behind a dumpster. Two people walked by, dressed in pressed black suits. Demons.

"Huh, it's a little cold out here today," the female one said to the other.

"Calm down, Pam, there's nothing left to burn," the other demon said as they shared a giggle. "Not until we get to Lonford, that is."

Lonford. Hearing that name immediately pulled a fire alarm in Jack's head. He didn't know what to think. He was feeling so much at once but he didn't want to commit to an emotion just yet, without knowing the facts.

"Didn't you hear? There's a new no-go rule about Lonford," Pam said. When the other demon just blinked, she rolled her eyes at him. "Jeez, Dim, don't you ever pay attention? The King said to watch Lonford, not attack it."

"Well that's too bad then," Dim pouted. "It's about time that demon traitor understood what Lucifer is really capable of."

"Trust me, the day will come," Pam swore. "I have faith in Lucifer's plan. I'm happy to burn as many towns as he says if it means we'll win."

Dim nodded in a determined agreement. "You really think anyone could've survived this?" he looked around himself at the flaming buildings.

"It's our job to check," Pam stated as a matter-of-fact. Some mutterings of what amused common demons faded as they walked further away from the alley.

Jack stepped out, staring straight at their backs. It would have been so easy for him to rip apart their twisted souls. In fact, he wanted to do just that. But rationality got the best of him. I don't want to leave a suspicious trail. There was someone he wanted to speak to, however.

He flapped his wings and arrived as a gentle wind in the Illinois house. The colourful flowers danced in greeting. It felt like they were talking to him in vibrant smiles, welcoming him back home. Naturally, he petted Dog as he settled on the front porch and found Ser Adler coming down to him from wherever he hid. Despite him smelling like he escaped a barbecue pit, the animals didn't mind him much. "Adler, you would not believe what's happened," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He ran a hand through his hair to push the locks away from his face. The lizard clucked in response to him. "I can't do that. Death said not to use archangel magic remember? I mean I've kinda ignored that at times but it wasn't ever to put out a 5000-square-mile fire. People are definitely gonna know something's up. Besides, everyone there's dead. There would be no use."

He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a small palm-sized box. The inside slid open like a drawer with practised ease, revealing an array of pre-rolled blunts. He popped one in his mouth and snapped his fingers to light the end. The length of time it took him to smoke the first one was sufficient to put the words together in his mind – that didn't take very long for him. He wanted to be as clear and eloquent as possible. He lit the second blunt as he dialled a number on his phone. Green smoke shot out of his lips just as the call got picked up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Zara," he said her name. Troubled or not, her voice gave him the comfort it always had. "Are you alone?"

"One sec," she said. The sounds of the Winchesters discussing something faded out as a door shut. It became much quieter on her end. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" he asked pointedly.

"Woah. Hello to you too. If this is about the fainting spells, I can explain."

"What?" his face contorted with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You know? How I've been fainting almost every other day? That's what this is about, right?"

Jack side-eyed Ser Adler with an unrelenting frown furrowing his eyebrows. "No, how the hell would I know about that?"

"I thought you were keeping an eye on me."

"Yeah, like, before. Now I actually got shit to do. I'm a busy guy," he plainly stated, shifting his weight where he sat. "Wait, what fainting spells?"

She sighed. "Recently, there's been a lot of weird cases. If you ask me, it's all these pagans coming out of the woodworks. It's taken a toll on the boys so sometimes I pitch in by channelling archangel magic. I mean I've been trained to use the Hawk when I need to, but using so much power from it is… is exhausting."

"Well, yeah," his voice suddenly softened a little. Still, his brows were knotted in impatience. "You're just a human. You're not built for using magic that strong. You might be built to hold an archangel, but that doesn't mean you can use magic meant for an archangel."

"Yeah, I'm… starting to see that. Castiel thinks it might be a problem."

Jack rolled his eyes into the back of his head. "Sure he does."

"They're thinking of trying to take the Hawk out of me."

"What?" Jack practically yelled. He pressed the back of his thumb to his temple, with the blunt tucked neatly between his index and middle finger. "They can't do that. You hear me? You can't let them do that."

"You're preaching to the converted," she snapped back at him. "Of course I don't want them to do it. But it might look suspicious if I resist. After the whole demon blood ordeal with Sam, they think I'm losing some part of my soul by using archangel magic."

"That's clearly bullshit, because you were already soulless enough to kill thousands of people in Idaho," he rambled in a breathless course.

"So… you heard about that. Is that what you're upset about?"

"Look, I'm not here to stand on some moral high ground and tell you how wrong you are," he set it straight. "But I need some answers. Will you tell me the truth?"

"Fine."

"I know you were at Westney three weeks ago," Jack took another drag. "You proved your point. The Indian gods have taken notice."

"Really? Do you know that like, for sure? Oh my God, you have someone on the inside, don't you? That- that little monkey. I totally forgot about that."

Her unbothered tone made her words meaningless to him. It was like the words just flew past him. "I know that this is just a set-up. Lucifer wanted them to see this. Wasn't that enough? Why'd he go and set it all on fire? That's so unnecessary."

"Lucifer loves to send a strong message. Being dramatic helps set the tone for how things are gonna be. If that place was still standing, people will think that the King of Hell settles for less. And he definitely doesn't do that."

His jaw tightened. Though the words he really wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, he knew she wasn't the person to tell them to. So he just bit back a harsh reply. Still, his deep, husky voice could sound spine-chilling if he lost his typical cheeriness. "Okay, leave that aside. What about the CCTV footage we got from Missouri, huh? All that footage I paid for to be analysed," he continued. "I was the one who told you about Lonford, how Crowley was kidnapping people for the Indian gods to feed their army."

"And Lucifer would be extremely happy to compensate you however you want," she suggested. "Just tell me what you want in return and I'll let him know."

"This isn't about currency!" he retorted. "I don't give a fuck about what he has to give me. My problem is that you gave him information intended only for you and the Winchesters. I told you all I'd gathered because I thought the three of you would hunt Crowley down and put an end to his little trafficking operation. But instead, you told Lucifer and now…" He rubbed his eyes in a brief pause. "Now I'm responsible for whatever he does with that information."

There was a protracted silence on the call. Jack contemplated checking to see if the call was still going, but her voice came through by then. "I… I don't know what to say. This is all so dumb. You really thought that I was going to risk exposing the bigger picture to the Winchesters over a grudge against Crowley? Come on, Jack. You already know where my loyalties lie. So why are you so surprised?"

"I thought you might do the right thing if you had a sense of control over your actions," he desperately reasoned. "Maybe all this time, Lucifer has kept such a close eye on you that you didn't have a choice but to do as he says. But I can be your safe space, don't you see? The things we share with each other can be protected. You don't have to tell him everything you know, because I can keep your secrets safe."

"Jack… You have it wrong," she let out a deep exhale. "Lucifer doesn't force me to do anything. I'm on his side because I believe in him. He's the one who's given me true freedom."

"You're delusional," he spat out. "I know his type. I've seen it before. Someone like you couldn't reach him."

"Do you think you could?"

"I…" he stammered. His mouth felt dry. Hazel irises scanned the spacious distance. Dark, full-bodied clouds hung over the air. "I could try. I don't know. But one thing's for sure. If I could, I'd march right up to him and give him a piece of my mind."

"Why don't you, then?"

"I can't," he emphasised. "It would put people in danger. People being you." An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at him to speak a half-truth to her, but he knew it was necessary. "Let's not get distracted. If you didn't tell the Winchesters about Lonford, what are you gonna say when they ask about the footage they trusted me with?"

"About that…" she hesitated. "I told them you said the trail led to Westney."

"Are you fucking serious?" he groaned. "How could you? You used me. That is not okay. I will not be used."

"I'm getting real tired of this conversation. If you're just going to get mad, at least tell me what you want to do to me. Do you wanna punch me? Hurt me? Stab me? Stop with all this beating around the bush," she snarled. "You know, I should've known that this was gonna happen. Lucifer always said that all friendships are transactions. I should've known that you were gonna be upset with who I really am. I don't know why I thought this would work. But if it really bothers you that I'm doing my job, then feel free to expose me. That's what you're gonna do, isn't it? You're gonna tell the Winchesters."

"No, I'm not. Like I said, I wanna be your safe space. I can keep your ugly little secret. Might be hard to believe, but disagreements don't always have to be resolved with violence," he said through clenched teeth. He took a few seconds to calm himself down with some more cannabis inhalations. "Zara, I love you. Nothing will ever change that, you hear me? I came back into your life because you need it. I look at you and I don't even know what you are anymore. But I know that all the things that made me love you are still somewhere deep inside there. I don't care how long it takes for you to realise it, but I'm willing to wait. But I want to make it clear: I will not work for anyone. What you have done is use me to advance someone else's agenda, and I can't be cool with that. And I did not agree to lie to the Winchesters about this. If you're gonna do something like that, at least talk to me about it first." He gave her time to let it sink in. "I don't hate you. I'll always be here for you, but I don't work for Lucifer."

"And I don't work for you," she said in return, voice much softer than before. He could tell she was struggling too, to find the words. "Was it right for you to tell me how to use this intel? You told me about it, just so I could use it the way you wanted me to use it. You're such a hypocrite. You're using me too."

"Zara-"

She cut the call, leaving him to stare emptily at the screen as he swallowed the bitter taste growing in his mouth. Zara's fingers trembled with the intensity of a dry leaf in a hurricane as she set the phone down on the bed. She sat against the headboard, knees pulled up to her chest. Her jaw trembled. Her lips quivered. The storm brewing over Illinois seemed to surround her, static biting her skin. A single droplet slid down her cheek and fell onto her shirt.


Rufus' Cabin, Whitefish, Montana – 22 November 2012, 12.24pm

The trickle of water came to a stop with a squeaky turn of the tap. Sam wiped his hands dry with a hand towel. The family was nourished and the dishes done – he could sit back down and continue the conversation. The door to his room opened then and Zara came out. He, like Dean, was eager to receive her input. He reached a hand out to her and she responded in kind, letting him pull her to a seat next to him at the table. All the clues popped out to him in an instant. The droopy shoulders, the freshly-washed face. Most telling of all was the puffy eyes that she tried so hard to hide.

"Hey… is everything alright?" he rubbed her forearm. Dean took notice and frowned in turn.

"Yeah… yeah," she nodded. She shut her eyes for a good second, more out of tiredness than anything. "It was Jack."

"Did you tell him we said thanks for the intel?" Dean chimed in.

"H- he knows. He uh- he blames himself for the Westney fire," she told them, words weighing on her rose-coloured lips. "He's really… going through it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a concerned look. "Well, that's not right," Sam remarked, caressing her back. "What he told us helped us stop something very wrong in Westney. Those people are dying right now because of Lucifer. Jack shouldn't blame himself. We'll get justice for Westney someday, and all those other people Lucifer massacred."

"Yeah, you can count on that," Dean agreed, his own scorching blood fuelling his sense of purpose. A tense air had fallen over the whole cabin that day. The news had broken them all. They just didn't know what to say to each other. Thinking the same thoughts, running the same lines but feeling like they had to say it out. And they had, before Jack called. "If anything, we shouldn't have thought that Lucifer would just let us put an end to his whole operation there. We should've been prepared. This is a goddamn war. We need to wake up."

Sam's gaze was fixed on the table. Some deep thought was running through his head – mere images, 'should's and 'ought's. "It's starting to look more and more like it. I mean, with all the weird shit we've been running into lately. Things were weird before, with the Rakshasa and the egregore, but this? Things are escalating and we've only been dealing with things as they come up. If there's really a war, I'm not sure we're prepared to handle it," he worried. The hunter's journal certainly became busier in the past three weeks.

"We can't do this alone," Dean began. "I say, we call up every hunter we know, tell 'em what's going on. Everyone needs to chip in. Keep an eye out, share intel, the whole nine. If we're fighting a war, we need our army."

"An army, wow," Zara exhaled. Great, another thing to worry about. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea. More help we can get, the better."

"It'd certainly take a load off your shoulders," Sam remarked, rubbing her shoulder. "You've really been pumping out fatality after fatality with that magic nuke of yours. It really looks like it's taking a toll on you."

"Yeah," she rubbed her forehead. "It's been draining. I feel like I've been through weeks of chemotherapy."

Dean was visibly alarmed at that. "Look, it's been real helpful so far, no denying that. But in my experience, if it looks too good to be true, it probably is," he said. "You get that, right?"

"I do," Zara reassured him. "And I don't mean to disagree or anything. I totally get your concern." She crossed her arms and straightened up in her seat. "I just want to point out, again, that we need all the ammo we can get."

"We know that," Sam added. The way he and his brother both faced her in this little triangle of their conversation seemed more like a serious parental moment. "I think what Dean's trying to say is… it's not worth your life. I've been there, Zara. I used to think that the ends justified the means. That I could cross certain lines just so I could go to bed feeling like I did the right thing. But that… couldn't be further from the truth. It was just a sick game Lucifer made me play. Now he's making you play it too."

"Is that what you think is going on?" Zara looked between the both of them, her shoulders rising and falling with an exasperated breath. "That Lucifer wants this? This is powerful magic – it's basically just as powerful as he is. He'll be cautious, not excited about it."

"Exactly," Dean warned. "Maybe he wants you to use it. Let it feed on you like some kind of parasite until you get so weak, you're harmless. He's already on the lookout for you. If you do this, you're just giving him what he wants."

"And you know, I've been thinking about this a lot lately," Sam rubbed his stubble. "Back in Westney, it was so easy for me to find you with just the blade and a tracking spell. Think about it. If I could do it in a matter of hours, maybe it'd be so much easier for him. If he hasn't found you yet, it could be because he's biding his time."

"We need to get ahead of him for once. Take control of the situation," Dean concluded.

Zara had nothing to say to that. It seemed like their minds were already made. "So, what are you saying?" she asked emotionlessly, trying her best to push down anything that could betray her loyalties.

"I say we wait for Cas and Kevin to get back," Dean stated. "They're beta-testing Raziel's spell. It's supposed to help us find the primordial triple-A battery. After that, we'll talk to them about it and see about getting the Hawk off your plate. That way, you'll be off Lucifer's radar. It's gonna be okay, Z. It's the right thing to do."

If Zara felt like a freshly-risen zombie before, this made her want to jump back into the grave. These last few weeks had been especially taxing. She thought it'd be smooth-sailing once Westney went up in flames, but things only got worse. They'd been ambushed with case after case of known pagan forces stirring trouble in the States, for which she had her own reasons to worry about. She'd done her best to bring up the cases to the boys and put an end to them, even if it meant pushing her own physical limits. It wasn't like she couldn't take pain – she was used to plenty of that during her training. But this was different. It was like her body refused to cooperate. Still, she had enough willpower to push through it all and play her part.

On top of that, Jack's phone call had been… something. She didn't know what it was. Why it had to be now, of all times that she was in spiritual crisis. Is this a crisis? Her angry heart pounded against her ribcage, as though begging to be set free to unleash madness on everything around her. The things he said to her echoed in her head. She'd heard him be stern with her about things before but not like this. This resentment in his voice was something she never expected. It was sobering for sure. I should've cut him out before. It became more and more of a struggle to hold onto the things that really mattered when he floated around in her thoughts.

When Cas and Kevin came back, she had meditated herself into a comforting numbness. Conversation went on about their little experiment.

"The test is pretty foolproof," Kevin explained. In his hands, he held a strange pyramid-shaped metal object. It was the colour of brass but knowing its maker, its angelic ore would be far more powerful than any earthly alloy. "Raziel gave us this thingamajig that basically works like a metal detector. If we have what we need, the apex will glow green. Otherwise, it just stays like this. So far we got nothing. We tried it on the Helm of Hades, an angel blade and even the Veil of Veronica – don't know how he got his hands on it, don't ask."

"This proves nothing. None of those objects even fit the inclusion criteria," Castiel discussed from where he sat at the couch. Lines grew on his forehead, which probably said a lot about the angel's ability to buffer his vessel from the effects of stress. It had been decidedly hard these recent months.

"So how do we even know this thing works?" Dean wondered, eyeing its intricate exterior with some awe. There were several Enochian inscriptions and its general architecture appeared foreign to him. "What are we calling it, by the way?"

"The Nalkam are scientists, innovators. They're experts on almost any given field. If Raziel says this will work, I have no qualms about taking his word for it," Cas answered. "It just takes one instance of finding the ornament to prove that the device works. That, by definition, would also mean that we have what we need. The reasoning is circular but I have faith that Raziel's device will help us. As for its name, I suppose he's open to suggestions."

"What about…" Dean trailed off in thought.

"Oh no," Sam uttered, remembering Dean's way with language.

"The Rock of Ages," he suggested, with an incomprehensible grin.

"Real original, just like your Jefferson Starships," Sam lamented.

"It caught on, didn't it?" Dean argued light-heartedly.

"It doesn't even make sense," Sam rolled his eyes. "What does that even have to do with what it does?"

"Well, maybe your memory's fuzzy, but that was the song I played just before you swan-dived into the cage with Lucifer. And if you pushed aside your plain disrespect for my talents for just one moment, you'd see that this Def Leppard classic is a symbolic representation of kicking Lucifer's ass, which is our damn imperative," Dean rambled in a self-righteous manner. Sam was taken aback by his brother's eloquence.

"Well, the Rock of Ages will have to be our secret," Castiel advised. "Until we gather all the materials we need for the exorcism, confidentiality is of utmost import. It's the only way we can remain one step ahead of Lucifer."

Unspoken agreement was shared among the five, though Zara had been quiet this whole time. She knew what was coming, but more importantly, she stared at the call history on her phone. Her indecisive thumb swiped up and down several times, unsure of committing to a couple taps.

"Speaking of being a step ahead," Sam looked over at her. She noticed him staring and finally tuned in with the conversation. "Remember how Raziel said it'd be hard to tell if The Hawk would be a problem?"

Yeah, Zara thought. I told Raz to make them forget the issue. That backfired amazingly.

"I think we have an answer," Sam continued. "It's clearly… starting to show its hand. And we don't think it's gonna get any better. Zara agrees."

All eyes fell on her. "Hm. Yeah," she passively said. If anything, her weary voice sold it more than anything, as well as the fact that she sat all closed up on herself in the corner of the couch. "We've all talked about it. The risks seem to outweigh the benefits. Would you have a differing take on this, Cas? Maybe something we haven't considered?"

"No," he said, much to her reluctance. "I have the same sentiments. One remembers the time Sam became a cosmic monstrosity because of the demon blood."

Sam recoiled at that harsh description, but he wasn't one to protest.

"But I must give fair warning," Cas leaned forward in his seat, hands forming a steeple as he considered what was to be done. "The procedure required to salvage this situation can be… dangerous. It also produces a great deal of pain."

"You've done this before," Dean reminded him. "We trust you. Let's just get this done with so we can all have at least one reason get a second of shut-eye."

And so it came to be. How did I let this happen? she wondered, dazing into the air before her as they secured her to the chair, arms and legs bound. Dean fed her a couple fingers of whiskey, which she downed eagerly. Lucifer would be disgusted if he knew. How did I get so weak? I'm supposed to be in control. I'm supposed to be invincible. Sam instructed her to bite the cloth as he tied it around her mouth. I'll be dead before I see you, Luc.

"You sure you wanna stick around, Kev?" Dean turned to the prophet. "I gotta warn you – it's not for the faint of heart. You can just go to your room and put on some Yo Yo Ma or whatever helps you relax."

"No, uh, I'm good," his throat shuddered as his gaze flickered between Dean and Zara. It seemed to him like he was the only one who thought her cold, unmoving gaze was uncomfortable, like the calmness of a person who knew they were walking into death. Sam gently rubbed her shoulders to prepare her for what was to come.

"Ready? Breathe in," Castiel guided. Air filled her lungs. She saw a concern in his blue irises, but was inevitably drawn to the reach of his khaki-sleeved wrist into her sternum. She remembered how Lucifer had done it before, but his hand had felt more trained and steady. Lucifer had had the precision of a needle, while Castiel had that of a machete. Both would do the job, but one less fine as the other. When the light of her soul was exposed, it was the real deal.

Hoarse screams pushed their way through and out her trachea. Her jaw clenched and her teeth ground against each other so hard they could've produced sawdust. In that moment, all else disappeared. Her last sensations were that of slowed-down time. Those images played over and over in her head while pain dominated her whole body. Sam's hands clamped down on her shoulders in an attempt to both limit her movement and to console her. Castiel's eyes glowed angelic blue, brows intensely crossed in concentration. Dean stood at a reasonable distance, arms crossed and looking her straight in the eye with aggressive concern. And Kevin – Zara couldn't yet put together what had him so flustered, what with all that recoiling from immense pain, but the clues were immediately ingrained in her head. Kevin seemed to be lunging for something on the table. Something that glowed green. The Rock of Ages.

Oh no… they'll… figure it out… her mind weakly concluded. But for a single moment, Kevin looked back at Zara to investigate the cause of the green glow. When he saw her, with her hellish screams and the unthinkable feat of an angel reaching into her soul, shock paralysed him. He couldn't help but let the surgical morbidity of it all permeate his every thought. It was only a matter of time before his head grew light in a frantic attempt to disconnect from the situation. The last thing Zara saw before she gave into the pain was the sight of his eyes rolling back into his head and his thin figure toppling back onto the floor. At least there was some peace to be had.

Her vision grew blurry and faded in and out of blackness. There was all kinds of movement she couldn't understand. Dean's red shirt was a smear in her sight as he rushed over to check on Kevin. Castiel tried his best not to let it faze him. The lights flickered and buzzed, but she blamed it on Castiel. She was wrong.

Some inkling of premonition – just the slightest amount that was innate in any human – could feel a wave sweeping through the air. The ground shook beneath them. Their glasses on the table rattled with movement.

Within the blink of an eye, Castiel disappeared from her line of sight. It took her a while to even notice. First, she stopped feeling Sam's hands on her shoulders. Then the pain slowly dissipated, though this took a while, as did her blurry vision. Soon, her own screaming stopped, and her hearing was unblocked. It was like being plunged into existence from a state of unconsciousness in a spiritual car crash – so sudden and jarring.

Everything became clear again. The papers and magazines were strewn on the floor. The angel was somehow impacted against a far wall to her right. Dean knelt over Kevin's supine frame but was taken aback by something else. Sam appeared at Castiel's side as the two remained with their mouths agape and eyes widened. It all pointed to a rather abrupt gust of wind. An exhale finally retired from Zara's lungs. That's when she saw him – a skinny figure in black from head to toe, face obscured mostly by a veil of dark, straight hair and a hand that pulled away the Backwoods roll from his mouth.

He stood authoritatively among the chaos. The uncaring, grassy smoke fumed out of his nostrils as he stared down at the angel Castiel. Jack snapped his fingers. The ropes loosened themselves, but Zara did not yet dare to stand. She was just as frozen as everyone else.

Strike One, Death's voice whispered straight into his mind. He ignored it. Jack was well aware he'd broken Rule Two – never meet an angel – but nothing in him cared.

"Jack," Sam uttered breathily.

The archangel's fist unclenched. His deadly stare threatened to fire a thousand blades at the angel, who looked back with horror. A lot of things went through Jack's mind, but his primary interest was in taking another drag. With another inhale and exhale, he diffused some of the vitriol. Keyword being some. As an attempt at peace, he lifted his chin and eased his expression to a mere neutral. This time, he turned and bent a knee to get to Zara's eye level. His cursory visual scan revealed her vitals. Heart rate: through the roof. Breathing: rapid. Pupils: dilated.

He reached his non-smoking hand to her cheek, caressing the tears away with a thumb. She hadn't even noticed she'd been crying until then. Her skin trembled under his touch. It was a good thing he'd changed out of his ash-coated clothes, or else Zara would be having a sneezing fit by now. By then, Sam, Dean and Castiel had found their feet and approached slowly, somehow having drifted to one another's sides in an unconscious solidarity. Each of them had several questions.

"Wha'rd malydfngthes place?" a confused garble erupted from the three of them. They looked amongst each other and decided on an unspoken order. They began again.

Sam first. "What are you doing?"

Then Castiel. "You're Malachiah?"

And Dean. "How'd you find this place?"

Zara saw Jack shut his eyes in crisp annoyance, a habitual feeling she'd learnt to suppress. It almost amused her to see it on his face. He didn't display that attitude when he stood and turned to face them, of course.

"I should be the one to ask the questions here," he pointedly stated, an eerie calmness floating about him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What needs to be done," Dean said firmly. "Look, I don't know if she filled you in but there have been some issues with-"

"The Hawk. Fainting spells. Got it," Jack summarised. Yet he wasn't soothed. "But what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"It's a liability," Dean argued, each word growing more forceful than the last. "It's hurting her and it could be Satan's bait."

"The only thing I see that's hurting Zara is you," he pointed out, specifically eyeing Castiel.

The angel wouldn't back down either. "Accessing a soul can be painful," Cas explained. "But in this case, it was necessary and consensual."

"People consent to all sorts of things. That doesn't make it right," Jack stated as fact. "Suicide – you think that's okay? Because that's what would've happened here."

"You're misreading the situation," Castiel calmly stated. "Her life might be in danger."

"That's big talk coming from you, dickhead," Jack sharply retorted, ready to pounce on the angel. And he would have, if Zara hadn't held him back.

"That's enough!" she summoned enough energy to yell. "What's the matter with you?" Her infuriated gaze pierced through him.

Though Jack let her keep him from charging into Cas, her hands firmly tugging on his upper arm, his venomous glare didn't cease. "I almost lost people I cared about because of this douchebag. Hell, it could've been me in the body count," he pointed with just his eyes at the angel. "All because of a war he led. How many angels died because of you?" he accused. "And now you stand here, as if you're any kind of expert on keeping anyone safe."

That shut them all up. Castiel wasn't one to argue about that. He knew he deserved the blame. But for it to be brought up now, when he'd been doing nothing but reparations for his actions, was unexpected to say the least.

"We all have blood on our hands here," Sam slowly brought up. "And I know you care about her. Believe me, we do too. We wouldn't have decided to do this if we didn't think it was absolutely necessary. Why don't we all just take a breather and sort this out, huh?"

Sam's pleading gaze made Jack reconsider. He took a deep breath, in and out. "Fine," he relented. He tried to distract himself as they all took a moment to calm themselves down. That was when the limp body on the floor became clear to him. "Who's Sleeping Beauty over there?"

Dean suddenly remembered what he was doing before the interruption. "Oh uh, that's Kevin," he used a finger to scratch his head, befuddled about that situation.

"Is he like, an intern or something?" Jack guessed.

"It's Kevin Tran," Castiel said again, narrowing his eyes at the archangel. "The prophet."

Jack suddenly felt self-conscious, unsure of what that tone meant. "Good for him?"

"Shouldn't you already know that?" Cas pointed out. "The names of all the prophets are hard-wired into all angels."

"Right, right," Jack nodded. He just shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess I just have some kind of amnesia."

"Was it Naomi?" Cas concerned. The archangel just looked blankly among them.

It took an awkward silence for Sam to step in. "Cas, he hasn't seen another angel in ages. He's just rusty, right?" he looked towards the archangel for confirmation. Nothing more needed to be said.

Meanwhile, Dean was attempting to get a response out of Kevin. He knelt at the boy's side again, tapping his cheeks gently. It didn't take long for Cas to go to his side and help out, while Jack stepped near the boy on his other side and just watched for the sake of curiosity. He was taking another puff when the prophet finally showed signs of coming to. Kevin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before daring to open them. When he did, he fixated on the first thing that he saw.

A compressed shriek escaped his lips as he scrambled backwards into Dean's arms like a kitten that got caught in the rain. "What's that?" he sputtered, eyes frozen on the tall, lanky figure who stared down at him. Just like with Castiel, that expressionless, soul-piercing stare from Jack along with his long, dark hair that hung straight down the sides of his face, was enough to startle anyone.

Jack chuckled. His trickling laughter turned into pearls as he regarded the prophet's bewildered expression. The Winchesters exchanged looks for sure, but didn't press further. After brief introductions, it was time to get down to business.

"I didn't know you were an angel," Kevin said sheepishly. "Sorry I freaked out."

"It's aight. People stare at me weird all the time. I'm used to it," Jack reassured him with a wink. They were sat next to each other on chairs facing the couch, on which Sam, Dean and Zara sat. Castiel chose to stand right next to Jack's chair. To him, the archangel said, "I'm not gonna apologise about what I said earlier. You know it's true. But… I understand that people can change. People can learn to be better." His head was only turned to the side to speak in the general direction of the angel, but he looked directly at no one. "I acknowledge your good intentions, but I can't let you proceed with this extraction. It's dangerous and counterproductive."

"What about her soul?" Castiel folded his arms, as if looking over Jack's shoulder would help him regain some sense of control over the situation. "Using magic like this, it has to have some consequence. It is the law of balancing forces."

"Her soul isn't the trade-off here," Jack clarified. He leaned back into his chair despite Castiel's stiff posture. There was a pin-drop silence – absolute anticipation – as he lit up another nonchalant blunt after putting his previous one to rest. Dean mildly frowned at the gesture, but said nothing. "Let's bring up the demon blood for a moment. The thing you're all frightened of; the thing y'all think's gonna happen to Zara. It only corrupted Sam because it fused with him as a person. Blood into blood. His soul became powered by demonic energy. But what we see in Zara's case is quite different. The Hawk doesn't demand anything of her soul. It's using her as nothing more than a warm blanket. Nothing's gonna happen to her soul. Lucifer's responsible for it anyway."

"Say what now?" Dean shifted forward in his seat. "Lucifer is what?"

Jack sighed, indifferent vapour billowing out of his lips. He had a tired look in his eyes when he met hers. "Darling, you must have repressed so much," he remarked, playing into the deception she'd set up. "Maybe the memories were traumatic, so let me enlighten you. When Lucifer took Zara over two years ago, he found himself making certain sacrifices. The price of freeing Sophia…" just uttering her name made him feel queasy, like he was some stranger. "…was that Lucifer would be responsible for keeping Zara's soul safe. Free from corruption, free from consumption. So it's not her soul I worry about. It's the rest of her."

He let the information sink in for a moment. Zara was stunned, more than anything, that he'd laid that out bare even if it wasn't the whole truth. It was something so intimate that she felt naked now that the others knew.

"Wait, so…" Sam contemplated. "Lucifer made a deal."

"Yeah," Jack confirmed. "He won't allow anything to mess with her soul. If the Hawk was as dangerous as you thought, don't you think he would've done something about it? He hasn't, so that should be sign enough that your decision to remove it from the one place it remains safe was just unfounded nonsense."

"What about-"

"Her exhaustion?" Jack cut him off. "Purely medical," he declared to the group. "Tell me Zara, have you experienced the following symptoms? Muscle twitching?"

She nodded. "Yes," she hoarsely pushed out a reply.

"Nausea?"

"Yes."

"Headache?"

"Yes."

"Fatigue? Confusion? Slight memory loss?"

"Yes, yes and yes," this time, Zara really paid attention.

"You been sleeping a lot? Your body feels like dead weight?" he continued. "Heart skips a beat sometimes? Vision gets blurry?" He didn't need to wait for a verbal reply. Her nods were sufficient. "What you're experiencing is the equivalent of electroconvulsive therapy. Every time you shoot an archangel's laser beam out of your arm, you're subjecting your body to a lot of energetic stimulation. It's like lighting a candle with a flamethrower."

"Huh," Dean gaped.

"My prescription? Get a lot of bedrest. Drink lots of water. And maybe cool it with the party tricks next time," he suggested. "It's okay to use it a few times here and there, in moderate amounts. But man, you really cranked up the voltage this time."

"Jack, I…" Zara trailed off, combing her hair back with a hand. "I don't know what to say. I was really worried there for a moment. Thanks."

Her irises flicked up to see him. In that simple connection, all seemed to be resolved. It felt like a weight lifted off her chest. I'm not a disappointment after all.

Sam put an arm around her and rubbed her back in consolation. That warmed Jack enough to flash them a smile. He stood up abruptly. "Looks like my work here is done," he said suavely.

He was just about to leave when Kevin's voice beckoned him to remain a while longer. "I… I just remembered something," the prophet's brows dipped as he searched his mind. "When you were reaching into her soul, the Rock of Ages… it lit up. Green."

"Def Leppard was here?" Jack asked around, but they all seemed absorbed in another line of thought.

"Of course," Castiel realised, widened eyes sharing the same emotion as the others. "The Hawk – it's an energy source. It must have been exposed just now, which allowed the Rock of Ages to pick up its signal."

"Um," Jack looked at each of them. "I'm lost."

"Raziel gave us a thing," Zara explained, confined to her spot on the couch. Her expression revealed much lethargy, but he knew her intentions better than that. It was reluctance. "It tells us if we have a primordial ornament. That's one of the ingredients of the exorcism spell."

"Right, you guys are doing a thing," Jack recalled. Cas gave Dean an alarmed glare from behind Jack, but Dean just gave him a subtle shrug as if to say 'it's okay'. Kevin passed the Rock of Ages to Zara and she held it carefully in both her palms. Her mind gingerly tugged on the Hawk. That was enough for the apex of the pyramid to light up incandescently green.

"God," Sam exhaled in relief. "This is perfect. It's been under our noses all along."

He proclaimed a liberated smile to his brother, who had to agree. "One ingredient down. And it's the hardest one of them all," Dean said.

"See, it all works out. And no one had to penetrate anybody," Jack asserted with a boyish chuckle on his lips. "But that Hawk, it stays with her, alright? It's a powerful object. Can't have it falling in the wrong hands. It belongs with Zara." He especially targeted Castiel with that last monologue. "And Sam…" he authoritatively held up a finger. "She's a stubborn one, so make sure she follows my advice."

Jack gave the angel a concessionary flat-lined smile out of nothing but courtesy, and left.


That night,

Her head felt like cotton candy when she finally laid down to rest. Instinctively, she wrapped her hands around Sam's bare torso while he put his arm around her back. It was the easiest way to fall asleep for the both of them. Zara felt her consciousness sink deeper and deeper into a corner of her mind she'd reserved for times like these. For a servant of Hell, even sleep was a useful tool.

With careful manipulation of her dreamscape, her unconscious mind constructed a familiar scene. It was a chilly autumn night and Zara walked down a park tail, hands in her pockets, all alone. She found the diverging path on the left and followed it, until a damp breeze greeted her. She'd found the lake – the one she'd always sought for peace of mind before things changed so drastically. She went to her favourite bench and assumed a front row seat to observe the pregnant, chalk-white moon.

She waited a while for her call to get through. At least, there was something to still be enjoyed in such a simple but forgotten pastime. She used to love the quietness, the chirping of crickets and the view. The moon admired itself in its reflection in the lake. She remembered how much this had meant to her, despite her gripe with her past life. It had to be this place where her life changed forever.

She heard the flapping of wings. It was like déjà vu. She saw his back first, obscuring the view of the moon. Then he turned around, just as he had that night, revealing his scarlet irises.

"You called?" Lucifer sat down next to her and admired the landscape just like she did.

"Congrats on Westney. I hear you really sold it to the Indians," she commended.

Lucifer couldn't help but grin. "You know, Zara, it's refreshing to finally deal with a human with such acumen as you. You've done well these past few months. And to think I almost let you rot away in that room, drinking yourself into a coma," he beamed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm… proud."

She looked deep in his eyes and found a surprising sincerity. To hear him say that, words couldn't encapsulate what she felt. It only reaffirmed her faith and sense of belonging to him. Something deep inside her was comforted. "I'm grateful. Really," she told him. "But victories aside, there's something you should know. The 'random' pagan attacks are getting less 'random' and more frequent. It's almost every few days now."

"… And?" Lucifer beckoned.

"And we're stretched thin. It's just Sam, Dean and I. We can't handle so many cases. Demons could help us," she suggested.

Lucifer huffed. "That's what you're worried about?" he asked like it was the silliest thing ever. "Zara, come on…"

"It's starting to look real bad. They're getting wary," she warned. Her trepidation was such a stark contrast to his easy posture. "They wanna call up other hunters and form some kind of army."

He just gave her a bored side-eye. "So you're saying there are too many cases and you three can't handle it on your own…"

"Yes."

"But the Winchesters also wanna get help for dealing with those cases," he summarised, doing a gesture like he was calculating something in the air. "Doesn't that kinda… solve your problem?"

"They wanna form an army to take you down too," she further said. He huffed.

"You really think I'm gonna spend a second worrying about some fragile humans just because they're running around with a- with a little more gusto than the average population?" he mocked. "I thought you knew better. And in any case, they're free labour. They're helping me exterminate the pests."

"You're still not getting my point," Zara persisted. "Our enemies are getting stronger. They take what they want, in broad daylight, in defiance of you. I'm disgusted by it." Her chest was practically heaving as she spat out her truest sentiment. "I thought you would be too. We have to do something. Send a message that this isn't okay."

"Zara… dear Zara," he sighed. "Defiance is the point. I need my opposition to think I'm getting weak. I need them to think they can take advantage of me. Westney's just the beginning. We're gonna lose a whole lot more before we start winning again, permanently this time. The point of you getting your little hunter friends to work these cases is so we can all transition into this smoothly. I need the pagans to feel resistance but only so much that they wouldn't suspect a thing. Hunters are perfect useful idiots for this. Little by little, these maggots will come out of the woodworks thinking they have the upper hand. And that's when we strike."

Zara released a concise, sharp breath, which Lucifer assumed to be relief. But her words would suggest something else. "So you mean to say I put myself through an electric chair the past few weeks for nothing?" she rambled. When he stared curiously, she explained what she meant – about how she used the Hawk more than usual and how it was beginning to drain her physically.

"Why the hell would you do that? It's too much effort," he simply said, crinkling his eyes.

She shrunk back in a mixture of confusion and resignation. "Because I wanted them to die, Lucifer. Because they're a threat to us," she explained. "Isn't that what I've been doing for the past several months?"

"That was when they first started giving us trouble. Now we must be more careful. So next time, let the help handle it," he waved a hand dismissively. "I need you to save your strength. We're gonna need it later."

Zara nodded in passive agreement.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to know?" he asked, standing up.

Certain events of the last few hours came to mind. Zara dreaded his reaction. That she let Castiel stick his paws inside her soul at all… that would be enough to set him off. And he seemed so content and sure, just the way she liked to see him. Jack's words from their phone call earlier came to her mind. I'm in control here.

"No, nothing much," she shrugged. "I just miss being me."

"You're always you, silly," Lucifer encouraged her with a serpentine curve of the lips. "Remember, your charade is an act of devotion of the highest order."

Thanks, Dad, she thought.