Sophia's Chronicles
A/N:
It's been a while, huh? And it's a new year! Despite how bad the world seems right now, I hope you guys are having a good time and taking care of yourselves. I know I want to. I want to finish this fic soon too. I have come to realise that I have a bit of a problem with being concise, like I can't stop writing these mega long chapters. My resolution for this year is to learn to be concise so I can move this story along and give myself and you guys some closure. Maybe I can get some new hobbies that don't involve sitting in a dark room by myself for hours on end. Wouldn't that be a breath of fresh air, lol.
Here's a recap for you guys: The world was the centre of the fight for power between Lucifer and Kali. Lucifer wanted to unite the pagan gods under him while Kali wanted the old order of having no ruler. Their struggle for power led to the ultimate confrontation in Lonford where she decided to use the Brahmastra, a weapon of mass destruction. Lucifer tried to throw his enemies off by using the Winchesters again, who were trying to stall the fight. Meanwhile, Zara had told Jack where the kidnapped Sita was being held and he freed her. The angels tried to smite Lonford but Lucifer was far too powerful to let that happen. In the end, Lucifer won the battle, shot Sam in the chest and was about to punish Zara for daring to defy him. That's when Luc barged in, despite having already broken two of Death's commands (don't meet angels and don't use archangel magic), and broke the remaining two (don't get spotted by Lucifer and don't let anyone call him by his name). This caused the universe to warp severely and trigger an alarm in the Void, which wasn't noticed because Sophia had started a revolution in the Omniverse to tip the scales of chaos. Chaos levels rose exponentially to the point of almost destroying creation and even though this empowered her arch nemesis, Khaos Alpha, it also strengthened her ally, Khaos Omega, who was able to reach through His cage and instruct her into sending the other Sophias home. Now, the fate of the Void is in her hands and she too was zapped back into a universe she thought was her own but turns out it wasn't – it's Forty-Two's. God had no other choice but to hurl Jack into Purgatory and clean up Jack's mess, but not without forcing some change to the timeline.
Chapter 91: Glitch In The Matrix
The Bunker – 22 December 2012, 3.13am
Zara awoke with a loud gasp, jolted upright in the bed as her lungs drank in the air.
"Zara, Zara! Hey, hey," Sam rose with her and rubbed her back, voice still raspy. He blinked away the blurriness of sleep as fast as he could. Her chest was rising up and down heavily under his gentle touch. "What happened?"
"I… I don't know," the fabric of the blanket bunched in her fist as she struggled to ground herself. Vivid images used her mind as a theatre stage without consent. There was war, flaming balls coming down from the sky and blood. The sight of red was all she could see now. Red coming out of… out of Sam's chest. Dean's accusatory eyes looking up at her. Her fear of amputation fuelling Abaddon's vicious glee. And… and Jack. Before she could glean anything further, Sam's subtle rubbing on her back snapped her out of her daze. "Sam…"
She rested a palm on his chest. The very feeling seemed impossible. "It's just a nightmare," he assured her, pulling her into his arms.
"W-what happened? Last night? Tonight," she suddenly asked. With everything playing in her head then, her ribs closed in on themselves, leaving her poor heart little room.
"You don't remember?" he grew puzzled. A belated suspicion pulled his brows into a crinkle. He cupped her cheeks with his hands to study her paled, frightened face. "Zara, what's wrong?"
Her pupils frantically darted about. Her body yearned for rest but her mind refused to cooperate. "I really can't remember, Sam," she gulped. "Tell me what happened."
"Well, uh- We were gearing up to go to Lonford," he hesitantly began. "Jack told us to find these satellite things and McGuyver them to blast away a bunch of monsters. But just before we left…"
So far, everything was like in the visions. "Uh huh," she urged him to continue.
"It all stopped," he said, confused even though he knew it to be true. "Lucifer and Kali… struck peace. They didn't go to war."
"Huh?" Now that was unexpected. Zara tried to imagine it—Lucifer in his favourite white suit, confronting an angered Kali with a kidnapped goddess under his thumb, while his kingdom was being attacked on all sides. Victory had been a possibility, she knew that, but peace? It's not like me to doubt Lucifer. So the big win was here after all. She thought she'd been relieved. Yet it felt like a cosmic whiplash. "How do we know that? Did Jack tell us?"
"Uh… now I don't remember," Sam frowned. He shut his eyes tightly to conjure a memory but soon gave up, simply rubbing his eyes. "I'm still hazy from waking up. You know what, we should just go back to sleep and think about it in the morning. World's not ending yet, right?"
He slumped back against the pillow. It wasn't so easy for Zara. The stunning level of detail in those images suggested something more. As she looked back at him, she could practically see where the bullet had been lodged in his chest. Right in the aorta—a fatal shot from Abaddon's gun. Abaddon's gun, how did I know that? Even the very feeling of her nerves crumbling was clear to her then. For some reason, she had believed Sam was dead. To even think that to be true… it instilled a cyanide fear in her gut. As she lay back down, she rested her head against his chest. The warm feeling of him enveloping her, the reassuring thud of his heart… it calmed her and lulled her to sleep.
Once the dawn arrived and the birds sang, reality claimed its place in the world. There was no sense of urgency, no sirens telling everyone to seek shelter. The air was still. Sam found Dean snoring on an armchair, his laptop entering sleep mode. Just as he shifted the laptop out of his brother's arms, the elder Winchester ruffled himself awake mid-sleep, mumbling, "…pull those pistols or whistle Dixie."
"Mornin'," Sam greeted. An unseemly grin punctuated his surprised huff. "Were you- were you dreaming about Josey Wales again?"
"I reckon," Dean answered in a Southern accent. Once he realised what time it was, he groaned and rubbed his eyes.
"Have you been up all night?" Sam asked as he set the laptop on the table and led his brother to the kitchen. There, a steaming pot of coffee awaited them, as well as the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.
"Yeah, been looking for signs," he sighed as he plopped down at the table. Zara, having poured the pancake batter onto the stove, filled Dean's mug with the much-needed bean juice. "It's too good to be true, isn't it? 'Lucifer' and 'peace' in the same sentence?"
"Definitely," Sam agreed. Just then, Zara slid two plates garnished with bacon and eggs before them. "Oh, you don't have to do this, honey. Give us a minute, we can help out."
"It's okay," she said meekly. Darkening eye bags pulled at her eyelids. Still, she managed a smile. "I want to do this. It's a miracle that we're all still here."
She ran a hand through his hair. Her gaze lingered for a long second before she returned to the pancakes. "Mmm…" Dean let out the loudest moan after a forkful of eggs entered his mouth. "She's made this so many times but it hits different every single time. Sam, you better put a ring on her."
"It seems like you want to," Sam jibed.
"I'm just sayin'," Dean shrugged. Soon, a plate stacked a foot high with pancakes made an appearance while Zara joined them at the table with her own breakfast.
"So, what's the sitch?" she asked him.
"I've been keeping my eyes and ears open, but so far, only radio silence," Dean reported. "It's like all those gods just shook hands with Satan and went back underground."
Lucifer's seething, fiery eyes invaded Zara's mind with no respite. She suppressed a shudder. He's mad at me. She saw his fury up close, his hand wrapped around her throat. It was just a dream. Right? Whatever it was, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was in some deep trouble. Suddenly she'd lost her appetite. She pushed away the half-finished plate.
"Not gonna get that?" Dean asked fleetingly before replacing his empty plate with hers.
"Hear anything from Cas?" Sam continued.
"Not really. He said something was up with Heaven after the angels tried to smite Lucifer," Dean replied amidst hungry munches. "So much for the angels taking a stand."
Smiting… The ear-deafening thunder practically erupted in Zara's head. The scene was clearer than ever. Lucifer catapulting the blast back into the sky, falling back into the earth like a comet while webbed lightning radiated outwards across the clouds. It's like I was there.
"That does not sound optimistic," Sam snapped her out of her daze. "You know what, I'll check in with the other hunters, see if they got anything."
"Great, I'm gonna head out on a grocery run. Text me if you need anything," Dean announced.
It was unsettling how naturally things were going. Dean just popped on a jacket, grabbed his keys and hopped out the door. Sam and Zara settled at the table in the study while he pulled up a contact list for them to share the load. She was eerily quiet, as if the air molecules would just whisper something into her ear, let her in on their little secret.
"Sam," she sighed, pressing two fingers to her temple. "Something's off. I know I've already asked this and you guys already filled me in, but… it just feels weird. It's like I wasn't here yesterday."
"But… you were," he insisted. His gaze was fully devoted to her from across the table. He reached over for her hand. "I promise, you were right here with us. Maybe you just forgot, you know? We've all been having a rough time. It's normal. Even Kevin crashed last night. He's usually up by now. It'll get better, okay?"
She simply nodded. She got her phone out dialled a number she'd memorised by now. The ring she had anticipated was rudely replaced with a sharp-toned chime. "We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."
"What the hell?" she stared emptily at the phone screen. She tried the number again to no avail. "Jack's not picking up."
"He did say he had a plan yesterday," Sam reminded her. "He said he was working a different angle on the whole situation."
Zara remembered. She turned to look at the very same bookshelf he'd been standing at. She could practically smell the weed. Her nose crinkled at the thought. It was there that she had told him about Sita. Her heart stopped abruptly, and then resumed in erratic fashion. "No…" she muttered. "Oh my God…"
He went to free Sita. What was I thinking? If Lucifer catches him… She hadn't even realised how heavily she was breathing until Sam rushed over to her side.
"I shouldn't have let him go," her lips quivered. "What have I done? What if he's hurt?"
"Zara, relax," he said with more worry than consolation. Her sudden frenzy was a mystery to him. "He's an angel. He can take care of himself."
She shook her head. "You don't understand…" her voice broke as she blinked back the tears. "He does stupid, irrational things. And he's not picking up the damn phone."
"Gee, does that remind you of anyone?" Sam dryly said. Zara simply narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, I'm just kidding. Ease up. He'll be fine. I'm sure he's just too busy smoking bowls."
"He needs it to calm down," she swiftly defended, leaving Sam to hold up his arms in surrender.
"I'm just saying, your friend has a problem," Sam remarked.
"I know…" she finally relented. "He wasn't always like that, you know? He used to be the chillest person ever. Chill, goofy, but responsible. But now that I really know him… it's like a façade. He's clearly not dealing with some things."
"And I'm sure you can tell him all of this when he returns your phone call later," Sam added. "Meanwhile, I would like some help getting through this list."
"Right. Of course," she shook her head to rid herself of her worst fears. Minutes just ticked by as the two got in touch with familiar names. Nice as it was to hear from the 'community', the task itself was arduous and required the same repetitive questions asking about any new cases or omens. Apart from the odd nest here and there, things mostly seemed normal. The two of them were almost done when Zara decided she'd had enough. With Sam's assurance that he could finish what remained, she grabbed a motorcycle from the garage and headed out to 'stretch her legs'.
The rough sputtering of the engine faded to the back of her mind. The frosty wind kept her hair out of her face but more credit had to be given to the open-face helmet. Just her and that open road, flanked by dry grass fields, gave her some time to think. She didn't want to jump to any conclusions, though she felt like she should be jumping to her death. The Morningstar was a flaming red dot in the sky, an ever-present reminder of who the world belonged to now. The familiar little town appeared again. On any other day, she would have at least tried to frown less. There was only business on her mind now. Didn't take long before she found a back alley entrance to an abandoned squatters' den. It was mercy that she found the homeless man before he OD'ed—he would instead receive a neat gash across his throat. Blood pooled on the ground as Zara recited the incantation.
Bubbles erupted on the crimson puddle. "An old-fashioned blood call behind the Winchesters' back? You do like a challenge," the serpentine voice slithered into her ear. Lucifer's enthusiasm could be felt even from this brief snapshot.
"I just wanted to be sure I could reach you," she answered, kneeling by the puddle.
"What brings?"
"Just checking in. Yesterday was the big day, right?" she tried hard to regulate her fizzy breathing.
"Not quite what I'd expected, but it is true—we won. And without having to break out the ol' archangelic wrath. I wouldn't have thought. You should've been there, Zara."
"You're right. I… wasn't," she hesitated, eyes growing sharper as he confirmed what she'd doubted. "The Winchesters decided not to go."
"Such a shame. I was on top of the world. Would've been a great day to step on their necks."
Zara remained eerily still, even as the dead man's fingers continued to twitch as a last resort to cling to life. It was funny how she could imagine Lucifer doing what he said he would but the images in her mind of 'last night' were of a completely different kind of clarity.
"Zara? You still there?"
"Yes," she was quick to answer. "Uh… hope you don't mind me asking but what really happened there? Doesn't really sound like Kali to give in to you so easily."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, see-"
She could vividly imagine his smile fading as his tone declined subtly in mirth. That wasn't a good sign.
"I was ready to bulldoze that little town to the ground, regardless of what that wench said. But there was an incident that forced me to reconsider."
This was the point where his chin would tighten, winding up the energy he'd need to strangle someone when he'd finally snap. Zara subconsciously rubbed her neck.
"You're not gonna believe this. That flouncy little hippie and her gold anklets escaped. Somehow hopped out of maximum security prison like it was nothing."
That was when it really hit her. "You're… you're talking about Sita?" she said with a dry tongue. For a second, she heard nothing. A girthy chuckle scribbled into the air. Breath abated, she stared into the blood puddle. He wouldn't stop laughing. "Lucifer?"
"Oh, it's nothing," he dismissed in the midst of his airy laugh. "It's just- it's just that uh, this prison is stronger than any that I've built in Hell. It's so strong that I wanted to make more enemies just so I could put them in there. But whaddaya know, Goldilocks just busted out of there like it was NO BIG DEAL? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"
Zara recoiled away from the puddle. Separated by realms as they were, his booming anger thudded in her chest with no respite. More maniacal laughing ensued, until its momentum deflated with a sigh.
"So there went our little hostage advantage. But you know what, I still got Kali to stand down and agree to my terms. Party's still on."
After the grating intensity of his outburst, she swallowed a hard gulp, and asked, "So, are there any clues as to how Sita got out?"
"Judging by the bloody scene I came to, I'm guessing she had help. I don't think they taught her how to wield a knife in Helpless Damsel school. This was definitely the work of someone from the outside," he guessed. "Finding the location, I can understand. But getting in? Only you and I could do that, and I know it wasn't me…"
Zara swallowed a deep breath. Here it comes.
"It couldn't have been you either. You were in the bunker all day with the Winchesters."
An immense wave of relief washed over her.
"I went to check the eyepiece and it turns out that the last recorded entry was… me. How weird is that?"
"Yeah…" she crossed her brows too. "You mean someone tricked the system into thinking it was you?"
"That's literally impossible. There's only one me, unless you're saying some kind of shapeshifter's involved. But even then, an archangel's light can't be reproduced so easily."
"Who knows? It sounds plausible," she exhaled deeply, although the details puzzled her as well.
"But one thing's clear—the moment I get my hands on whoever did this, I'm gonna pull out every single one of their nerve fibres and staple it to a chair."
"Sounds like a plan," she grimaced. "So what do I do now?"
"Nothing. There's gonna be a lot of things shifting around. You'll be called as needed."
"What, really?" Zara grew alarmed. "Y-you want me to stay with the Winchesters."
"Considering your immense success in getting them to do our dirty work, I'd like for you to stay in this role. Be my on-the-ground person who can look at everything from an outside perspective. Also, you're going to keep an eye on the Bunker until our little transition is complete. A sleeper cell, if you will."
"B-but you don't need them anymore. You don't need the bunker anymore. You have everything. You own the world," she desperately reasoned.
"It's not about what I can have, Zara. It's about what I can take. Jeez, I know it's been a long time but I'm just asking you to wait a little longer. Trust me, plenty of fun awaits us after I'm done reorganising. So just hang tight. Meanwhile, don't forget to use protection."
Just like that, the red bubbles burst and the puddle went stagnant. She waited until she reached the bike, parked far enough away that the stench of fresh blood left her nose, before thinking her first thought. Jack, what did you do? She tried his cell again but the same message played. With no other option left, she resorted to prayer. "Malachiah, I hope you're hearing this," she whispered firmly into the air, shallow breaths pacing in and out her lungs. "Whatever you did with Sita, you're in grave danger. Lucifer will find you. Please…" a tear streamed down her cheek. "Please be safe. And pick the damn phone up when I call."
On the journey back through the town, she spotted the Impala parked conspicuously, backseat loaded with what looked like a few boxes. Parking next to it, she pulled off the helmet in time to see the most curious sight of all.
"Dean?" she called out.
"Zara, great, you're here. Now help me out with this," he urged through a clenched voice. She rushed over and grabbed the tail end of the man-sized tree he'd been dragging across the parking lot and helped him heave it over the roof of the car.
"What's all this stuff?" she peeked into the backseat. "Are those Christmas decorations?"
In the midst of securing the tree to the car with a rope, he confirmed, "What? It was on sale."
"Oh my God, you've actually lost it," Zara gasped as she walked around the car to where he was. "What's going on with you?"
Dean just stepped back and dusted his hands off. "How long has it been since any of us celebrated Christmas, huh? Year after year, it's one fight after another. This time, even the bad guys called it quits. You know, I stayed up all night looking for a reason to leave the bunker armed to the teeth, but there's nothing. I mean Cas called with some news about Heaven but we can leave it up to the assholes on the cloud to deal with that. How often does an Apocalypse end this way?"
"What if it hasn't ended?" Zara muttered.
"Then that's next year's problem," Dean shrugged. Seeing her twiddling her thumbs, he rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're right – it's not like me to do this. But coming out here, seeing folks go on as normal… I don't know, it gives me hope that we can at least have this holiday."
Her facial muscles remained tense as she considered what he'd said. "You're seriously going to do this?" she criticised. "Without Christmas groceries?"
The Bunker – 25 December 2012, 10am
A radiant glee spread across Dean's face as he flicked the switch. Just like that, the yellow LED lights snaking around the branches of the tree faded in and out. "And… she's live," he congratulated himself. Hours had been spent hanging ornaments in all the right places. Now they sparkled and shimmered from the light reflecting on their surfaces. The tree had been set up under the arch that led to the old telescope, capitalising on the room's symmetry.
"Dean, is this really the time?" Castiel monotonously asked. "With everything happening in Heaven and on Earth?"
"I say, there's no time like the present," he shrugged. When he turned away from admiring the tree, he shot an accusatory glare at the angel. "You're not wearing your sweater."
Castiel rolled his eyes. "This is not imperative," he refused.
"It is if I say so," Dean retorted. "I got everybody one. Now go and change."
Just then, Sam and Zara walked in with the cookies and eggnog. Like Dean, they had questionably designed sweaters suited to the season's theme. "I still can't believe you made us all do this," Sam smiled.
"Well, I figured if the world was ending, we might as well have one last Christmas," Dean reasoned. He reached to grab a cookie but Zara slapped his hand.
"Not until everyone's here," she warned.
"Wow. Catty," Dean's eyes widened. "Hey, did you hear from Jack?"
"I'll try him again for the fifth day in a row," she said, dejected. Just as she was about to leave, she shot him one more glare as a threat. He waited until she was well out of sight before stealing the cookie from the bottom of the plate. That was when Kevin walked in.
"Hey, look at you," Sam welcomed him. "All festive and not sleep-deprived."
"Only because Dean confiscated my stationery," Kevin grumbled. "I still don't get how you guys can just stop thinking about what's out there."
"Evil's always gonna be out there," Sam told him. "Right now, we just gotta let it take a number while we take care of ourselves, alright?"
Kevin relented with a tilt of the head. His dark eyes found something far more amusing in that moment. "Holy shit," he gasped.
"Am I wearing this correctly?" Castiel said as he slowly sauntered in. The three men simply had their mouths agape, which made the angel slow down to a stop. Dean struggled to hide his laughter but soon didn't bother. On his green sweater was the comical image of a wreath with a reindeer's head in its centre. "I'm assuming that a mistake has been made."
"No, no, this is perfect," Dean smirked, immediately clicking a photo on his phone. "Okay, let's just add some finishing touches to the tree."
He handed out some star-shaped decorations which the four took turns to hang on the tree. Kevin stood back to admire the whole tree. "Something's missing…" he squinted. "We just need the angel at the top of the tree."
"Oh, rats," Dean cursed as he gave his brother a dispirited look. "I forgot."
"Okay, I'll go," Castiel offered, throwing up his hands.
"Not you," Dean gestured him to stop. "We'll just have to do without it, okay? I can't be perfect all the time. Hard to believe, I know."
Zara soon returned, expressionless as she set her phone face down on the table. Sam looked at her expectantly, half-knowing the answer. She simply gave him a shake of the head. "No luck," she muttered despondently.
Even her bright red sweater could not enliven her vibe. "Hey, I'm sure it's just a matter of time," Sam assured her, though he was starting to doubt it himself. "Maybe he's having a technical problem. Angels aren't known for being good with technology. No offence, Cas."
"None taken," the angel responded. "Computers look at me weird."
"This is Jack we're talking about," Zara reasoned. A heavy tone beset her voice as suspicion crept up on her. "It just doesn't make sense. I've tried praying to him too. My gut just tells me that something's wrong, but I don't know what." When she looked back up, she was met with concerned gazes but what caught her eye was the luminescence behind them. The swollen glow of Christmas lights, the colourful presents and the food on the table grounded her in the present. "What am I doing?" she sighed. "I'm bringing the mood down. After all that you guys have done to make this special…"
"Hey, you didn't do anything," Sam insisted. "You've every right to be concerned about this. Jack might be a hard one to track but you know what, we should all pull our weight if you think something's wrong."
"No, no," Zara refused immediately. "Maybe you guys are right. I'm probably worrying about nothing. For all we know, he's passed out on dope after saving the world. It's too soon to worry."
After another round of back-and-forth, they set up the camera and stood before the tree until the flash went off. "Awesome," Dean remarked, checking the photos. Just then, a distinct buzzing broke through the festive air. It was Zara's phone. Exchanging surprised glances with the others, she picked up the phone only to see a number she didn't recognise. Cautiously, she pressed it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Zara?" a female voice said.
"Yes… who's this?" she frowned.
"Hey, it's Jen. Remember me?" the woman said. "We, uh, we met in Jefferson City. At that party. I was drunk."
"Oh, Jen," Zara exclaimed to the others who were waiting in anticipation. When they appeared befuddled, she further clarified, "From Jefferson City. You manage Jack's… band."
That was when Sam and Dean eased in remembrance. "Yes, and a little more than that actually. I'm kind of his assistant. As in, I keep track of his schedule," she added.
"He must be such a handful, right? Disappearing everywhere," Zara jibed.
"Tell me about it. But actually, that's what I've been meaning to talk to you about."
"Oh?"
"I actually found your number in a note deep inside a drawer. I'm not even sure I'm supposed to find it. Maybe. I don't know. It says Emergency Contact and it only has your number."
"Oh gosh, is he okay?" Zara asked, breath stuck in her throat.
"I was gonna ask you, actually."
"Wait, you haven't seen him? At all?"
"I mean, what he does in his spare time is his business and I don't pry. He doesn't like it when people pry. But, if he has an appointment, he always makes it, y'know? He was supposed to be at the orphanage to read the kids some Christmas stories. They were really looking forward to it."
"The Orphanage…" Zara repeated.
"He does it every year. It's not like him to miss something like this. Or the banquet at the homeless shelter. So, um, I don't know if I'm just being paranoid. The last I saw him was about a week ago, and he said he was going to meet you. Did he ever make it?"
"Yes, he did," Zara faithfully replied, though some deeper thoughts were now stirring within her. Though that was all she needed from the conversation, something stopped her from hanging up. "I saw him last on the twenty-first."
"Oh man, so where could he have gone? Hey, weird question but uh, has he been acting weird lately? I mean weirder than usual," Jen probed.
Zara gulped. Does messing with Satan's grand scheme for world domination count? "Not that I've noticed. He's always been the one with crazy ideas. Ideas that people like us think would never work, but it somehow does for him, right?"
Jen huffed in amusement. "Right? It's like he's lived ten lives and has all the answers."
Zara chuckled and this time, a genuine smile stretched across her face. This, coming in response to another human being who was 'normal'? The absurdity was not unrealised. "Okay, so, you've spent a lot of time with him in the past few years – maybe you can tell me when he picked up… smoking?"
"I thought he always had it. It has become more regular. I don't ask. Especially 'round this time of year with how he gets. I don't have to tell you, right?"
Now that she really thought about, she realised she had never noticed these things. Christmas was always spent in prayer in her house, until Jack sneaked her out to make wishes with the fireflies. Some forlorn yearning made her doubt herself—the wistful wondering of whether she had been a good friend. After all, a friendship between an angel who read to orphans and fed the homeless, and a servant of Hell whose last kill was a countable number of days ago didn't seem that plausible. It didn't seem fair. "Let's just assume that you do. What does he get like?" she asked, gaze despondently sweeping over the plates of hot food. Sam helped serve some onto a plate and handed it to her. She mouthed a 'thank you' to him.
"Oh, you know. He doesn't really talk about it. But I can tell that he's kind of lonely. For God's sake, the guy dresses up his dogs, cats and Ser Adler for Christmas and cooks them meals. It's kinda weird. He just sits at the table with the pets and talks to them like they're people. And the way he just spends all this time visiting and doing things for strangers, it's like he has no place to be. He just wanders around a lot. Don't you think that's weird?"
"Um, yeah, totally," she affirmed too quickly, like a new light of strangeness had been shed on her own life. "But you have to understand that he's wired that way. He's like a… a different species."
Dean cursorily shot her a questioning glance, but she thought little of it. "I guess. Maybe I'm just worrying too much. You're his best friend so I suppose you'd know better. Do you think we'll hear from him soon?"
It was a novel feeling for sure, that someone who genuinely believed that Zara understood Jack now looked to her for an answer when she had less than nothing. I can't just say that I don't know, can I? Knowing who he really was – an angel with an attitude – she suddenly felt responsible for maintaining his appearance for the rest of humanity. She couldn't tell anyone that she thought he was in hiding or captured by the Devil for eternal torture. That… there's a possibility he could die. Her throat closed up on itself instantaneously. If so, the people in his other life, the ones that depended on him, would have to know. "The honest answer is that I don't know," she muttered softly. "And… and I'm scared, Jen. I don't know if he's okay. I'm worried sick."
Some half-stutters could be heard from the other end of the line. And then, a sniffle. "Oh… okay." The way the short utterance sounded made even Zara's heart sink. "It's always hard to tell, isn't it? The ones who seem the happiest always hurt the most inside. Anyway, I guess I've taken up enough of your time. I'll call you if I hear anything. Nice talking to you."
"Yeah, you too. Merry Christmas," Zara bid farewell and ended the call. As soon as she set the phone down, her shoulders dropped with a heavy exhale. For the first time in forever, she did the unthinkable. She prayed to God.
Purgatory
Hopelessly dead leaves crunched under the heavy footsteps of the sprinting archangel. Their thudding sustained an exhausting crescendo, unfaltering in response to the noisy clamour that followed Jack like a swarm of angry bees. He ducked just in time as a hardy rock buzzed past his head. Barely a second later, he hopped a thick bundle of roots to avoid tripping. Despite increasing his pace, it didn't seem like the mob would lose his scent. Their angry growls and hungry snarls only seemed to get closer, almost tickling his ears in an unwelcome invasion of personal space. Normally he'd be ready to fight, but the horror stories had been clear about this place – you start one fight and you'll never stop. It was a simple evaluation of the odds.
Maniacal laughter erupted crisp clear from his left. The creature launched herself at him and broke his streak. "Dammit!" he cussed sharply, the wind knocked out of him.
Her ragged hair hung in sparse clumps as she mounted him. With a loud roar, she bore her shark-like incisors to get the largest chunk of him. All Jack could see were rows of those teeth – rotten, dirty tokens forged from a million years in this decrepit forest. Something feral awakened from within him. The scared little orphan inside of him came out of the shadows. From that moment, it was mere seconds before the sword materialised in his hand to deliver a swift plunge into her gut. A clenched groan burst from her mouth. Beyond the immediate, he grabbed her head by the greasy hair and diced it off with practised ease. With a little toss, he drop-kicked the severed head and sent it soaring towards the racing mob.
A vicious chorus of an uproar erupted in the distance. He took off again. Soon enough, a clearing appeared amidst the crowded tree barks. As he approached, it was not a simple clearing but a vast crevasse separating this plateau from the next one, which happened to be so far away it barely appeared in the mist. There seemed to be no other choice. The archangel adeptly leapt off the cliff and let his wings do the rest.
And there it was. Silence. In the air, none of those monsters could reach him. His glide towards the other side was smooth, a perfect aerodynamic calculation. He took some breaths to think about his options. "Staying alive in Purgatory, huh?" he huffed to himself. "It's just for a while, right, Gran?"
Several seconds passed peacefully. If he closed his eyes, it could have felt like any other day. Looking down, though, he saw the ground far beneath him – a tar wasteland. Black rivers running in a shallow course across a vile pit of skeletal and fleshy parts writhing around.
"Mm. Sexy," Jack sardonically remarked. "Guess I'll be staying up here indefinitely." He released a belated sigh. "You know, G-man, I almost thought You sent me to the worst place You made to punish me for being an idiot. But You know what, I'm doing okay. You knew I'd be able to handle this, didn't You? You put me here because You believed in me. Definitely not because You were trying to teach me a lesson… right? I mean, You had to know that I'd be bad at compliance. Especially considering the hot, steamy mess You first found me in. Anyway I'm holding up okay. Just waiting for Your all-clear. I think I'll be fine here as long as I'm flying all the time. Leviathans can't fly right?"
A distinct whistling faded into earshot. It was at this moment that he recognised something shooting straight in his direction. "Fuck!" he sharply cussed, spinning in the air to narrowly miss the shot. A long, wooden spear peaked at a distance from him and then descended back to the ground. "But they can see me. Of course. And launch fuckin' harpoons! Fuck!"
He sped away in the air. The attack was unrelenting. Every projectile dodged was a prelude to another homed in on him. It tested the very limits of his flexibility as he dipped and surfaced in the air in a frantic struggle to avoid impalement. He'd barely caught a blink when the next shot of six spears rapidly raced at him from below. Jack's bronze-glazed wings wrapped tightly around his body to narrowly swirl through the centre of the spears. Even for him, it was starting to be clear that this wasn't a sustainable strategy.
So the Stormbringer did what he could best. He threw his inner chaos into the sky and pulled together the droplets dispersed by this action. The fierce friction that crackled created electrostatic sparks. Combined, these became strong enough to strike the ground in a chorus of lightning strikes. Cries of pain were heard and amidst the petrichor, the smell of smoke wafted high into the atmosphere. Jack was just about to breathe a sigh of relief. He shouldn't have.
The wind parted to make way for the indignance of one last remaining enemy. A spear, impossible to spot from his periphery, grazed coarsely across his exposed pinion. Jack released a tight grunt, reeling from the sudden incision. He tried to fly away again but the sharp pain from his left wing made it increasingly difficult. With controlled whimpers, he descended into the nearest refuge he could find – a cliffside cave.
While rain poured from the plump clouds of his making, he leaned back against the rocky wall, watching the crystalline droplets sing him a calming tune. Now that his path had been masked and he had a second to himself, he inspected the injured wing in his hand. Some feathers had been ripped out and some were roughly mangled in the site's penumbra. He gently combed them out but this wasn't without winces and groans. It was just a matter of taking deep breaths and clenching teeth. All that was left was a sore limb. "I'll survive," he told himself.
Impatient shuffling rattled from his left. Jack flinched. He stared into the dark end of the cave. Something about its cold, dank interior was welcoming. Not in the way the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven was welcoming, no. It was the indifferent invitation of baseness, his oldest friend. Shadows bustled about from deep in that abyss. Jack ventured forth.
Voices seemed to bounce off these walls. Hobbling feet scrambled all around him. He could feel their eyes aching to devour him. Those beastly eyes… it was eerie how it felt like he was back home again. Home… is that what that was? It was the most familiar thing he'd known. It was like he had shed his skin. And then, the inevitable happened.
A creature jumped at him from behind. They clambered to subdue him. He was forced onto his knees. One large creature pulled his elbows taut behind his back while another bore her sharp claws against his neck. If they wanted to hurt him, they would have. And if he wanted to hurt them, he would have. A rock was struck to spark a fire. The torch came ablaze, casting incandescence into the crevices.
"It's been a while since a man locked my arms like this," Jack moaned. The creature behind him growled threateningly.
A woman stood over him. The leader, he assumed, from how the others kept their distance from her. She held the torch. Her eyes were sunken. Her flesh was melted into her skeleton. "Angel…" she snarled, baring a row of humanoid teeth flanked by sharp canines. Her hoarse voice was thin and sharp like a dagger. "How delicious you must be."
"A real snack," Jack hissed back, eyes sharpened. "Werewolf, are you?"
"Then you know we like hearts," she stretched a crooked smile. Her follower took that as a sign to shift her claws from his neck to his chest.
"Let's not pretend I can't make an example of you, sweetheart," Jack told the one ready to dig through his ribs. The creature froze, though not without a sour face. Then, turning to the leader, he said, "I have a proposal for you."
"You are not in any position to be negotiating," she maintained, gesturing towards his subdued form.
Jack rolled his eyes. He dropped his weight to the side, catching the one behind him off guard. In that split moment, he used his legs to collapse the creatures knees and escape his grasp. With the creature off-balance, Jack locked the subduer's head with an elbow. The female who was eager to claim his organs rushed at him only to regret it when he had a free palm firmly strangling her neck. The audience was just about ready to pounce on him. "Wait," he ordered, voice echoing off the walls. They fell deadly silent. He tossed the two in his arms to the ground. "I urge you to think very carefully about what you want to do next. Whatever you choose, I will be standing here. Alive." Though they were scowling and silent, he could see the slight tremble rippling through them. "So," he turned to the leader. "Ready to talk?"
She nodded solemnly.
"Considering how you've chosen to hole up in here, I'm guessing topside isn't so great. You want to survive. So do I," he began. If he listened closely, the gentle ventilation of air painted a map of this place. In that map, an opening could be heard as a distant rustling. "You really dug deep to get in here."
"There is a shaft that leads to the forest above," she confirmed with the tonality of a snake. "But Leviathan rule the land. Hard to hide from them."
"And hard to hunt too, I suppose," Jack added. "You're famished, I can tell. There's something I can do to help. I can get you some fresh meat."
"You are fresh meat," she pointed out, sniffing the air to get a taste of his virile heart.
"I'm afraid this one heart is all I have and I kinda need it," Jack said suavely. "But, I can provide what you can't get on your own. One fresh carcass a day."
Rapid inhales spread across them, like it was too good to be true. The leader had no choice but to acknowledge the tempting offer. "And what do you seek in turn?" she asked.
"Shelter," he simply said. "I'm going to stay here, and all of you will leave me the hell alone."
Somewhere, Some Universe
"Sophia, wait," his choked voice begged. I dared not turn around. "Please."
"This was a mistake," I said, still facing away as I buttoned up my armour. "Forget this ever happened."
"I can't," he insisted. God, why does he have to be such a Lucifer? Worst of all, he thought I was her. "Something happened to you, didn't it? In the Void? God, look at those scars on you. It all probably scrambled your defences, brought out what was really underneath the surface. This is all you, Sophie. Why are you trying to hide it?"
"I wasn't thinking. If I wasn't thinking, it's not 'all me'," I tried to quell his doubts. This time, I did turn around, keeping my palms nestled in each other as I imagined my doppelganger would. He was still… bare. Upon sensing my hesitation, he draped on a robe. "I'm sorry for misleading you. It was never my intention."
Sam's eyes conveyed Lucifer's aloofness in a perfect mimicry. I could see a light extinguishing behind his pupils and in classic Devil fashion, it was reinvented in a cold, scheming gaze. "Must have been some brain fog if you handed me a dirty secret on a silver platter," he spat out, almost playful.
"Your silence about this is costly, is it?" I asked, bored. "Let me ask you something. What is Michael more likely to believe—that I betrayed him for a hot moment with you, or that you forced yourself upon me out of spite?"
That certainly took him aback. His head tilted, eyebrow raised. "That's low and… so unlike you," he pointed out bitterly. I held my breath. Had I given myself up? I didn't realise that Forty-Two had more honour than me. Before I could initiate any compensatory strategy, an unseemly grin pulled at his lips. "I like it. This… shadow you."
"So we have an agreement," I stated and walked away. "Good talk."
I could feel his lingering gaze tracing me as I left his line of sight. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I was out of there. That was close. Now I needed to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do. Obviously, I couldn't remain here. I didn't belong here, and from what I knew, Forty-Two was kind of an important person here. Married to Michael, Supreme Sovereign over the universes made by God and Amara. The highlight, I'd been told, was the massive highway connecting the two universes. A means of peace and trade between the worlds. She was integral to their very existence. And I… I killed her. Granted, it was Khaos who had pushed us to that psychosis, but it was my hand that held the sword. I took her away from this world.
How could it have been so easy for me to slaughter the one who trusted me? It still didn't feel real. Speaking of, it was uncanny how the hallways of Heaven here were so pristine, as if they'd never seen a day of celestial altercation. The marble floor glowed softly amidst the shiny gold carvings. It all seemed so nostalgic to me that I didn't even notice where my legs were taking me. Habit had led me to the archangels' floors. Creeping leaves had overtaken my doppelganger's door. In another world, this was my door. I was trespassing, yet it all felt like mine. I stepped in. It was like I had gone back in time.
Flora climbed every wall and nestled in every corner. Shelves with books, tables with all manner of scientific instruments… it was all so eerie. I stepped onto the balcony behind the main desk. A gasp was caught in my throat. I could see all of Heaven. It was exactly as I'd remembered it, a picture preserved in mist. When the nearest star blessed the realm with its rays, a diamond shimmer reflected off of the delicate vapour. Imperium's great architecture appeared grander than it had ever been in that generous glow. The bustle of angels travelling between floors and buildings was like bees hunting for nectar. Down in the centre of the capital, I saw that majestic grand fountain again, with its crystal water spouting in an elegant display. How much has been lost from my home…
I stepped back. This had to stop. I had to stop. This was all a mistake. I wasn't even supposed to be here. The only reason I wound up here was because I thought the Interface would send me back home, where I would mend my marriage and construct a strategy to obtain those Keys of Conflict. It would be the only way to free Omega, who could stand against our nemesis, Alpha, and get me my son back. My sweet cherub, I will hold you in my arms again soon. It felt like it was only yesterday when I had bid him to never look back as he held Khaos' hand. Never look back, so you'll never have to see what Mother will do for you.
It seemed the only option left was to get back to the Void. That pesky Primordial would be loitering, no doubt, but now He shared control over the Interface with me. That meant I had a fighting chance yet. Or so I thought. I had journeyed all the way to the edge of the universe, only to find the gate to the Void, Aphelia's Arch, missing. Khaos was one step ahead. I couldn't wrestle for control with Him in the Void if I couldn't get to the Void in the first place. He'd locked me out. My lips pursed. There wasn't much more I could do with my anger.
Reluctantly, I returned to Forty-Two's office. There had to be something in her books about getting to the Void. Luckily, I knew where she'd put her journals—exactly where I would too. The challenge was in finding the right time period to search. Considering her age, and the well-settled universe highway gifted by Khaos, her written logs about the Void had to date far back. There I was, digging ravenously through the books, without half a mind anchored to my surroundings.
"You're home," a voice interrupted. I froze, setting the book back down on the table, and straightened my back. I should have anticipated that I'd be noticed.
"Michael," I recognised, and turned to face him. Dean Winchester's sullen face stared back at me. "Why, I've been looking for you."
"Dearest Wife, I thought you'd know to find me in Rigalia," his brows furrowed slightly. "I had to hear from Lucifer, of all people, that you had arrived."
"Did you, now?" I sighed, crossing my arms.
"I know, I know," he shut his eyes for a long second. "His presence makes you uncomfortable. I hate to prolong any bad blood between the both of you. But we both know that he is needed if we are to win against Necropolis. God knows this is more pressing than the Apocalypse."
More context I don't have. "Of course," I answered.
"But enough about him," Michael shut the door and stepped further in. "I came here for you."
