Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 95: The Curse of the Ghost
The Void
The expanse was null yet claustrophobic at the same time. I felt surfaces where there were none and paths where all I had was a low whistling of gamma rays to go off of. Any point could have been a dead end—a body-crushing trap from which there was no return—yet I felt strangely called to by this place. Like it wanted me here. Maybe it was merely hypnotising me to explore further until I was lost forever in its thrall. It was at a time that seemed both like a mere second and a millennia that I finally broke through to a room with shiny black surfaces around me. I hadn't realised how smothered I'd been until I took a step forward and a vice-like hold dissipated from around me.
There were just four walls. Nothing on them except one of those indecipherable symbols again. I waited it out until the configuration of the Void shifted, as it would regularly. One wall slid away as the room rotated about its axis – a ninety-degree counter-clockwise shift about the vertical plane. Where the wall once was, a crevasse came into view and in the distance was another platform. I stepped back. Mentally keeping count, I had a running start to the edge and leapt to spread my wings. The smooth glide lead me to the other platform with ease.
The deafening silence was oddly comforting. My first time in the Void had been disorienting but now, I'd grown my sea-legs. The kaleidoscopic mutations of the space were still a challenge to get through, but the only way to go was forward. It looked like everything was falling in place for me, passages lining up to get me somewhere. Perhaps this was what control over the Omniverse got me. I remembered the Omniverse once again, the one constant around which the Void revolved. Last time I'd been there, all of Khaos' avatars—save Omega—were ganging up on me. In that struggle, Alpha and I had made it to the Interface just as all the workings of the Omniverse were being reset. We were both now rulers of this place. But what did that even mean? How could one tame the untameable?
The title sounded grand but I wasn't even sure it was the right word. Was I a Ruler? A Keeper? A Queen? None of the above?
"Archangel Sophia," a voice interrupted my thoughts. I spun to face the caller, poised in arms. The figure was unfazed, merely staring ahead as a statue. She was black as the Void and sculpted as a long, thin female. She had eight hands emerging from her back like a spider, each one adorned with cloth representing one facet of the electromagnetic spectrum. The apex of her head was wrapped in a cylindrical crown, one embroidered with ancient patterns. Once I recognised her, I sheathed my swords.
"Space-Weaver," I greeted. "Why have you sought me?"
"I wouldn't have if it were any other day, but we have all witnessed your actions in the Omniverse," she spoke in solid air-waves. "You are one of Two governing the Void, are you not?"
"Yes, it would seem so." My confidence was limited to that statement but not much else.
"I am one of many who depend on the Void. You can imagine it concerns us who is at the helm," she said. There were inverted crescents where her eyelids were meant to be, like eyes forever closed. In fact, she appeared more like a statue. It was typical of these beings to have such indecipherable forms. Her eight arms, however, were only slightly more expressive in their gentle up-and-down swaying. "Mere archangel, you wander aimlessly in search of your throne. Depend, must we, on you to balance Void and Existence?"
"It's true. I'm new to the job. But I'm not unfamiliar," I maintained. "Khaos Himself took me under His tutelage. Granted, there's plenty I don't know, but that's no cause for rejection. My sisters and I ran the Omniverse quite efficiently all on our own, without that pesky Alpha around."
"We care not about your spat with Alpha, nor any spats. So long as equilibrium is kept, we will not have a problem. Are you capable of that?" she asked. "Should the health of the Void be threatened, the entities may lash out. Against Existence or against you—that remains to be seen."
"That's… reasonable," I hesitated with a gulp.
"Alpha has never let it get that far. But you… you caused the Chaosmeter to swell. Many are not satisfied with that."
"It had to be done. It was fixed, was it not? The balance is restored," I argued. "I'll not let things get so dire again, but things have to change. There's a new administration. It won't stop until Omega is back on his throne."
"In your mission, stray not from your duties," she warned. "You will serve the Void, or the Void will have to serve itself. The latter may not end so well for you."
"Duly noted," I simply said. Everything I thought I knew before became question marks in my head. The price for the wrong answers would be too great this time. "Just this once, perhaps, could you show me where I need to be?"
A silence fell over her. That one sentence could have possibly sown the seeds of my downfall. To the contrary, she gestured and floated away. I followed her. "Navigation outside the Omniverse must occur to you," she said. I took it as a stern warning. "These walls obey no orders. You must be the Void to get through the Void."
I see why all these deities are so cryptic. "Something I haven't yet mastered, it seems."
"You are still Earth-bound. One must overcome these dimensions," she advised. The meaning still eluded me though it was something to think about. After all, I was an archangel—a divine being who already transcended material reality. What more could be overcome?
Soon enough, we arrived at the door to the Omniverse. It opened before me to reveal the hallway of windows on either side—windows into several universes, God's on one side and Amara's on the other. "Your messages and directions are appreciated, Space-Weaver," I thanked her. "If I may just ask: why you? You, but not others, chose to find me."
Her head rotated about her neck slowly to face me. "There are many who think as I do, and many who don't. The Void rarely speaks. It merely displays symptoms. I chose to manifest so we could hear your voice. So the symptoms think before they appear. After all, I am a mother, as you are. I had to see if you shared the instinct the Void needs."
"I do," I swore solemnly. "My instincts are stronger than ever. In any case, someone far more capable will take my place soon."
"The strings of Fate pull some way now, and another way in time," she remarked. I was left pondering what that meant when she melted into the ground and disappeared.
Ambient star-light caressed me as I ventured down the hallway. Seeing those galaxies swirling so peacefully tempted me to shatter these windows. For one, that would have been impossible. And second, it wouldn't have mattered. These universes were not likely mine, and from my recent experience in a reality not my own, I would still be empty inside. I chose to come back here for a reason. I had my work cut out for me. Back at the Interface, I pulled up analytics and logs from the last time I was here. It was like that very snapshot of time was captured and shown before me in numbers and strings. It was leagues above the current stable readings. What a nightmare…
My purpose, though, was to finish something I started. There was an expedition we sent to a universe where the first law of thermodynamics was broken—energy was not conserved. It was Forty-Two who had read to me the last transmission logs sent to us by the team, shortly before they went missing.
"The stars are barely luminescent. They're just not dense enough to produce enough light. They're constantly absorbing new energy but never having enough time to condense and become a stable source of nuclear fusion. One sister writes, 'The crucible of creation has spilt, and its effluent flows like a river that never stops.' This is clearly one of God's earlier drafts."
They were sent to find the first Key of Conflict, of which there were six to unlock Omega's prison. From their prolonged absence, I had to assume something went wrong. If this was the case, there had to be something there. With my last instruction to the Interface, when I'd beamed away all my doppelgangers to their universes, the exit portal was secured. So now, without a constant threat of death (or worse) looming over my head, I loaded up the universe. Just one step through the door and I would be there. For one final precaution, I passed in some commands, hoping for the best. From the command board, a little onyx octahedron manifested to the surface. I took it and stuck it in my chest. This would make sure that Khaos couldn't seal up the entrance to the Void again. With that, I counted my blessings and dove headfirst into a broken universe.
It was just as they'd said. A complete wasteland that challenged every pre-conceived notion. I barely dodged as a planet whizzed past me, refusing to take orbit around the faint star I neared. The star itself was far larger than the ones I was used to, but dimmed like it was on its dying breath. If my younger, naïve Self had witnessed this, she would have wept for it. Why, oh why, would God let it suffer like this? she would have wondered. The present Me knew that God never really had a problem with leaving things to suffer.
Lucky for me, I found the expedition vessel not so far. Bad news was, the expedition didn't make it so far. The simple reason? The ship was shattered into bits. Funnily enough, the shards and fragments remained separated mere inches apart from each other, retaining the shape of the vessel. Mostly, that was. One facet of the ship had a gaping hole with the fragments protruding out. A cursory glance through the hole revealed that it was empty inside. From the outward shape of the hole, it was possible that my doppelgangers had escaped. On the other hand, they would have used the door for that. No, this suggested external interference. I cast a glance around. The cosmos stared back at me. Not even a tingle or chime reached my probing senses. It occurred to me to call out to my doppelgangers but something stopped me. Just an uncanny intuition that archangelic radio would not help me, nor anything that would leave an echo of my existence in this ruptured fabric of space.
Six archangels were missing. It'd be hard to misplace something as powerful as we are. They were in search of the first Key. How this Key would appear, we didn't know, but I supposed we would when we saw it. So what did they see?
Another planet torpedoed straight into the centre of a blue star and exploded. This did nothing to inflate the star's core. The energy was just lost, never converted. I knew there was a precarious balance treading on a thin line here. If destruction outweighed creation, the universe would be dead already. It made more sense that there was the slightest surplus of creation somewhere. Sure enough, I found a trail – a wispy river of energy weaving through space. Following it to its source, I found a monolithic sapphire block radiating powerfully as it towered far over me. It was mounted firmly on a planet where Earth would have been, except this planet had red sands and sulfurous yellow skies. It was from this glowing block that energy was released, like God left a bookmark on a page He never planned to return to.
Carvings were engraved on the block in a language I didn't comprehend. The age of the etchings were almost discernible. The flat of my palm rubbed away dust. They progressed from the bottom to somewhere mid-way up, with the most recent being six identical symbols. Six. Using the age of the universe, I did some quick calculations. These six symbols were roughly as old as the beginning of the expedition. Was this… some kind of visitor log?
That was it. I turned on archangel radio and reached out to my doppelgangers. Silence closed in on me like a shell. Despite myself, I started to search the cosmos again to the stark realisation that the pit in my abdomen would not be relieved.
"Commander…" a voice came through.
"Come in," I responded, two fingers pressed to my temple.
"Find us, please. We're trapped."
"Hang tight. I'm coming," I traced the direction of the signal. "Did you find the Key?"
"Yes. Come quickly."
A rocky terrain on the moon with soaring cliff faces seemed to be the source of the signal. I walked to the edge of a plateau, looking over to the abyss below. "Archangels!" I called out. "Are you there?"
The abyss seemed to beg me to enter. It wanted so desperately to be seen. I found a cliff face that descended below at an angle and used it to slide down cautiously. The stars and planets disappeared out of view as the darkness embraced me. Once I found a cave entrance at the opposite cliff face, I leapt onto it using my wings as springs. A piece of ore was ignited to melting point to serve as a torch. I barely made it midway into the tunnel when something brushed against my legs. I gasped. Every ounce of reason fled from me at once.
At my feet lay one with my very own face. Dead. Her ashen wingprint was almost completely faded from the walls. I knelt down to close her eyes – a gesture I'd done way too many times. It never got easier. Strangely, I could not find any injuries. She seemed intact. I stood up slowly, unable to feel satisfied with this assessment. Still, I carried on. I had to find the others.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" My voice echoed along the stalagmitic path.
"Sophia?" I heard a voice not different to my own. It grew hollow, almost shaking like a curtain in the wind. "We've been waiting far too long…"
Every instinct in me wanted to run towards the voice and dispel any distress. My gait remained steady. The path widened and stalactites too greeted me from above. A circular opening appeared amidst the conical columns protruding both from below and above, like the mouth of a giant fang-toothed monster. "Show yourselves, now," I said. "Where are you?"
One more step. The sound of a spring snapping reached my ears. I sensed movement from above. Immediately, I dove to the side to avoid its trajectory. Before I knew it, pain shot through me like a bullet. I released a hoarse cry. Once the initial shock wore off, I calmed myself down through quick, shallow breaths. A sharp object had nailed my foot down. Where I once stood, a whole assemblage of spears had rained down on the spot. I had barely missed the avalanche.
"Sisters!" I called out again.
"We're right here." From where I had entered emerged a grey, floating thing, looking like the top half of a skeleton clothed in torn rags. The sound had come from its mouth. That was no archangel. Once the realisation had set in, it began a low, deep growl. I scrambled to pull the spear out of my foot but it was nailed down harder than Jesus on the Cross. I tugged at it a few times with grunts to match. The thing neared the opening.
"What the hell are you?" I snarled at it.
The more I looked at it, the more I understood. It wasn't going to say anything. Because it wasn't a thing at all. It was a manifestation of imbalance. The very embodiment of this universe's failings. With a mighty shriek, I finally managed to yank out the spear. It hurt like Hell but at least I could limp away. The creature blocked my entry so the only way was further in. I could feel its arms reaching out towards me, using magnetic pull to drag me into its arms. Not today. Every movement forward was at a great resistance, like I was just tied to wall.
I guessed this was it. The others were dead. No doubt about it. From the great fatigue I began to experience, it was clear that this creature had fed on their life forces, and it wanted to feed on mine. Breaths were getting laboured and I crashed face-first into a wall. It was a dead end. I could hear the hissing of the abomination getting close. With one last push, I burst through the wall. Nothing but a steep drop awaited me on the other side. My wings spread immediately and soared up to the moon's surface.
That creature was not fazed. In fact, its guttural howling indicated that things wouldn't be so easy anymore. It shot up to eye level and pointed at me with its bony finger. I felt an immediate hold on me like a lasso. With a mighty swing, I was uprooted and flung towards the nearest star, more specifically its core—the very same which destroyed things with no return. My wings flattened at my side to resist the gravitational pull. Indeed, my whole being came together in an effort to resist. My acceleration slowed to a stop but escaping was a whole new challenge. The core was dangerously close. I could see the electrical spikes on its surface by the time a single flap was made in the opposite direction.
My feathers were almost ready to snap off by the time I pulled myself out of the star's orbit. Heaving, I allowed myself to float away in space. My passive path took me back to 'Earth'. That was a close call. But even from here, I could hear the lonely creature's battle cry. It sent winds raging at me, hoping to knock me off balance. My feet staked deeply into the ground to deny him this victory. After all, this planet was familiar. All it took was forcing the tectonic plate's movement to ease the wind. The storm settled. The sapphire block was what it all kept me from getting to. It towered in the distance like a lighthouse amidst uncertain seas of sand. The closer I got to it, the louder the creature protested.
"Protecting your rock, are you?" I figured. I zoomed towards it as fast as I could. The creature's pull was hot on my heels but when I reached the block, its power over me vanished. One hand on the block, I held out my other palm threateningly towards it. It stopped in its tracks, merely scowling at me. It dawned on me then that the writings weren't logs; this was a tombstone. All the essences of people who trespassed in its territory flowed through the block.
It contemplated for a mere second. Then, its jaw dropped and it rushed forward for my neck. Power from the block flowed through me as I shot it in the chest. It fell far back. But that wouldn't be the end of it. Summoning the sulfurous clouds, the ferric sand and the toxic winds, I lay assault after assault on the block. As I'd suspected the creature writhed and groaned in pain. This little source of creation, one that maintained the teetering balance, had kept this thing alive all these years. It wanted to kill anything that disturbed the precarious balance. So I upended the monolith. Fire, ice and electricity burst forth from my hands as I circled the tower in the air. Finally, the structure gave way and shattered completely, releasing an ultrasonic shockwave that spread far and wide. The beaten creature dissolved in a piercing shriek. It was no more.
I stood victorious in the silent atmosphere. The pain from my foot returned to my senses but it was dulled already. This wasn't so bad. Or so I thought. As I looked to the skies, the stars began exploding. Uh oh. I flew amidst a constant sea of explosions, ducking and dodging to avoid debris spraying everywhere. The cosmos warped and undulated. It was all coming apart. Anything in the way would be completely disintegrated, absorbed into the Void as free energy—like landfill getting pulverised. It wasn't a good place for anything to exist, even more so than before.
I flew faster than light to Aphelia's Arch, barely making it through the portal before everything completely ceased to exist. My body was still left trembling when I made it to the Omniverse. What the hell did I just do? I destroyed a universe, that's what. I didn't even get to find the Key. My knees sank and I rested my head against the Interface.
"I couldn't do it, Omega," I said to myself. "I messed up."
A sudden static buzz erupted from around me. Visually, nothing changed, but I felt it. I felt chains shifting and gears turning. And then, the unclicking of a lock. A rush of new energy flowed through the Void.
"Omega…" I realised. "It worked?"
I wasn't completely sure how, but something had changed. In extinguishing the universe, I must have somehow returned the Key to the Void. Plenty of questions remained for sure, but all I knew now was the lifting of a heavy burden from my chest. Something worked. I would get to Luc soon. Sooner than later.
Purgatory
Soft whimpers escaped Jack's lips. Tears flooded down his cheeks. His palms gripped the chains attached to the cuffs tighter with each second. The occasional cry of pain would be forced out in this face-down prostrated position. The same vice from earlier was tightened around his wings but this time, it was accompanied by a crown of thorns going around his forehead, his mouth and his neck. The thorns wouldn't stop growing, not even after drawing blood. They were forming their own abode in his skull. Jack's consciousness receded fast like a wave after hitting the shore, only to then refuse the shore's welcome again. He sunk deeply into pain as if it were his own lover.
But this was just the beginning. Barely able to see through the pain, he helplessly allowed himself to be shoved in whichever direction the Leviathan were taking him. His knees collapsed a couple times. The beasts were nice enough to whip him until he stood again. When they brought him out to the yard, he had to squint from how bright even the cloudy sky was. The noise was unbearable. As soon as he stepped into their view, the crowd was quick to yell curses and growl at him. Every verbal assault seem to sting him like salt on his open wounds, or rather like holy water on a demon.
Less-than-gentle hands undid his cuffs and forced him upon the cross-shaped fixture in cruel irony. His wrists and ankles were secured to the structure with more of that same thorny vine around his cranium, drawing more blood yet. When he was mounted upon the wooden object, it was rotated so he would be upside-down. And then the festivities commenced. With bloodcurdling shrieks and howls passing for music, the beasts began hurling rocks at the archangel and more cursing ensued. At some point, whatever effluent that passed as holy oil here was splashed onto him and set ablaze. Jack could barely open his eyes. His body was a canvas for their anger. The moon waned like she had forsaken him, powerless to intervene in this perversion.
The smell of his own burning flesh was all he knew before fatigue lulled him to sleep. When he woke up again, it was in a fetal position in his own cell. He gave himself a once-over, finding that the wounds had left fading scars but these would do no justice to the complete hollowness within him. His wings drooped like a wilting plant, little energy remaining to prop them up. Cezar came to him that night, as he did every night.
"You did well," he praised Jack. The archangel could barely open his swollen eyes amidst the blue-black bruises peppering his face. "You gave us all a good show." The King squatted before him and pushed his hair behind his ear. "I hope this reminds you once again, who's helping who. Should any thoughts of straying cross your mind."
A pertinent reminder it was, considering Jack was chained up again and dragged out through the caves to the forest. The cuts and burns on his bare feet stung with every step. Coarse rocks and twigs were quick to make this walk arduous. Cezar's rough grip on his upper arm made sure he kept going no matter what. The Leviathan entourage had spread out into the forest to ensure their passage was undisturbed. A long walk it was, spanning miles over which flight could have taken seconds. It was fitting, Jack supposed, that his wings were presently off-duty. Every inch of him wanted to give up. He clenched his teeth and pretended that this feeling didn't exist. That trademark stubbornness, of course, was hereditary.
"There it is," Cezar pointed towards the rocks that broke the stream into a small waterfall. The blue lesion in the fabric of reality chimed with undulating divine energies. It was beautiful in a way, how pure it seemed amidst the grimy undertones of this realm. It seemed to be singing to Jack like he was the only one who could truly admire it. Jack moved closer to sample its frequencies. Before he could fully engage, the beast's hand gripped the back of his head and pulled it back. "The path must be secured in three days. I'll be watching."
With a rough shove, he let go of Jack. The archangel rubbed his bruised neck briefly and got to work. One palm stretched towards the rift, he summoned all his remaining strength to project a little thread of consciousness through the portal. If he was being completely honest, he wasn't even sure this would work. This rift had made it impossible for beings like them to pass through at all, let alone reach through it. Just when he was about to give up, it felt like a lock had clicked open.
"Zara?"
Men of Letters Bunker, Lawrence, Kansas – 30 May 2013, 1.01am
"Alright, the kids are asleep," Sam sighed in relief, slamming the door to the backseat of the Impala shut. "By kids, of course, I mean Dean and Kevin."
Zara sported a one-sided smirk as she climbed into the passenger seat, with Sam joining her in the driver's seat. "Finally, some alone time. Who do I have to kill to have you to myself?" she joked.
"Well, let's see: vampires, wraiths, djinns, oh- and Nazi necromancers," Sam animatedly gestured as the Impala pulled out of the garage. The midnight darkness had fell upon the open roads. The air was biting cold. The Impala, with its headlights, ambient engine rumble and heater, was their sole defence from the fabric of the quiet, sleeping world. It wasn't long before the radio was switched on. Funny enough, the midnight channel played Black Eternity. It seemed like all Zara could listen to these days was Jack's voice, be it the melodies of his lesser known works or the aggressive loneliness of his black metal discography.
Zara huffed. "My personal favourite was getting to see Dean LARPing as Braveheart," she chuckled. "And my handsome knight carrying me away," she said in a sing-song voice. Her phone quickly revealed a picture of the very event. Sam, in red face paint and knight armour, with Zara, in an elven attire, lifted in his arms. They were caught in the moment, baring smiles and gazing into each other's eyes. "Aw," she sighed as she admired the image. The picture was courtesy of their good friend, Charlie, who was quick to introduce Zara to the raunchier of LARP clothing, not that Zara was complaining at all. She swiped the screen to see another image of herself with Charlie standing together. The face was hers and the smile was hers, but the girl in the picture looked foreign.
Sam momentarily glanced at her before attending to the road again. "Looks like the both of you got on pretty quickly," he recalled.
"Yeah," she nodded, though her brows were riddled. "It's weird… having a friend."
Sam released a puff. "Are we not friends? Should I be worried?" he teased.
Zara lazily dropped her head back to the seat and craned her head toward him. "I mean like a girl… friend. A gal pal. Haven't had one of those in a while. Or… ever, really," her frown deepened as she thought about it. "Wow, I keep discovering how much of a loser I used to be."
She chuckled sardonically. "Hey, you're no loser. Friends aren't everything. Besides, you had Jack," Sam corrected rather sternly. "What about Jen?"
"Jen? Yeah, we talk," Zara confessed. "She keeps calling me. I don't know why. Guess she likes talking to me. Are we friends?"
"I'd say so," Sam, puckering his lips in thought, confirmed. "Do you like talking to her?"
"I do," Zara realised. "I don't know, it's just weird that people out there in the normal world want to interact with me," she shrugged.
"It's always nice to have something that reminds you that life isn't just about the ugly," he said. A particularly slow song of Jack's came up on the radio. It made Zara feel less alone with the vacuum in her chest. Someone else out there was thinking of him too.
"I fall down, and then, I get up again
I don't know when it ends, I don't know if it will
I just hope that it's all, all part of the thrill
'Cause my heart is beating fast and I don't think I can breathe
Where do your happy thoughts go when you need them?
I'm running out of words to say
I hope that you'll work with me and wait for it
I think I'm getting better now
It's all coming back to me"
Soon, they pulled up at a spot off the main road, amidst the grass in an open field where there were no trees and just mountains in the distance. "Did she have anything on Jack?" Sam asked.
They stepped out to the sound of crickets. "They've already lodged a missing person's report on him," Zara said as she pulled out the cooler from the backseat. "If only they could make a missing angel's report. I doubt it's gonna help otherwise."
Sam laid out the picnic blanket on the ground, using some stones to keep it from flying away. A small fire was started. They both nestled comfortably under a blanket and clinked beers under starlight. Some musings on the hunts and events of the past month were shared, not without playful jabs here and there. At some point, a game of trivia was started and a little competition went on to discover who between them knew more about history.
"Yes!" Zara yelled victoriously, gaining another point.
Sam groaned. "I should have guessed that one," he regretted. "I just finished a book on Indian epics."
"I mean, this city dates as far back as the god Shiva. Supposedly," she explained. "Some people even think that the gods actually live in the temples, which is real convenient considering there are 23,000 of them."
"Dammit, she's fearless and well-read. A dangerous combination," he half-cursed.
Zara's voluminous lips stretched to console him. "We could do a rematch if you'd like. Best, uh, three out of five?" she suggested, and then immediately broke into a giggle.
"The odds are that stacked, huh?" he replied. "Nah, I'll humbly accept us as equals," he pulled her closer with a hand around her shoulder. "I do remember coming across stories of people claiming that they saw actual gods in temples. Real freaky stuff. There were 'secret' spots where people starved themselves for days and ingested cannabis just for a glimpse. Lots of people died doing that."
"Probably where local law enforcement isn't so… present," Zara speculated. She snuggled deeper to get the most of his warmth. Her head was nested in the curve of his neck, like two jigsaw pieces fitting together.
"You sure know a lot about this," he noticed, rubbing her arm. "Have you ever been there? You mentioned your parents moving here. Is there family back home?"
"Uhhh…" Zara remembered the little village, with all its vivid colours, and the temple of Sita. "Not really. We didn't really keep in touch with our extended family. They weren't exactly the most… stable of people."
"Right." With the air in a standstill and the stars sprinkled across the skies, anyone could feel bigger than themselves. The Winchester scanned the constellations above with a curious disposition akin to Adam in the Garden, as if to bestow names upon Creation for the first time.
"Life's complicated enough without cousins or aunts or uncles," Zara sighed. "You're lucky to have Dean."
"I know," he said as cold fresh air flooded through his lungs. "It was always us against everything. Sometimes I look up at the stars and it reminds me of how small we all are. We're just a speck of cosmic dust. What my brother is to me… is bigger than all that. I know it sounds cheesy but it keeps me going."
"He literally went to Hell and back for you," she recalled. A pang of ache struck her heart. "That kind of love almost never happens. The kind that makes you willing to bleed yourself dry for someone. It's a love that goes beyond everything. It's so strong that it gives your whole life meaning."
"Yeah," he agreed readily. "But sometimes I worry that it isn't enough. Especially with everything that's happening right now. All hunters are at max capacity. There's just so much evil out there. I just have to believe that we can still make it through this."
Zara's blank gaze at the stars grew sharp. "Do you, though?" she asked earnestly.
"I have to."
"Hm." She pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned on her knees. The vastness above could make anyone melancholic. "You mind if I ask you something?" she looked back at him through eyes growing weary. "All this hunting… do you think that there's an end to it? Can we erase all evil?"
There was but the whistling of the winds and the crackling of fire. "Maybe. I don't know. But I know that we have to keep pushing back. We gotta keep the ball rolling."
"What if we're just playing a losing game? Maybe we think we're pushing back or keeping some kind of balance, but we're really not even making a dent. I mean, I'm just thinking out loud here," she wondered with a shrug.
"No, I get it," he assured her. "From where I stand, we are making a dent. All those people we save mean something. We can't lose sight of that. What's up there, we can't control. What's down here, we can."
"I'm all for that but sometimes… I feel like it's draining the life out of me," Zara bleakly said. His warm voice was a stark contrast to her icy tundra of a timbre. "Does it mean anything in the end? The people up there just push us aside, like we're nothing, to get what they want. Who we are or what we do has never mattered to them. We've barely been alive as long as most of the enemies we face, let alone gods and demons and archangels."
"You know, I… used to think that, but it's not true," he began, shifting his weight to his palms which supported him leaning back. "Gods have always needed us. To worship them, to make them offerings, to do their bidding. Without us, they have nothing. We can always use that against them."
"Or… we're just a sport to them," she countered. "Expendable things they can play with. We have to shut up and take what we're given, which just happens to be a small mortal slice of the pie. Can we really even say what good and evil are? Do we know enough to say that, from our little corner on this planet?"
"I'd say it was pretty damn evil for Lucifer to burn a whole town alive," he stated. "It's pretty clear."
"Yeah, obviously," she dragged out that last part. "But even Lucifer was once the purest angel in Heaven. How could someone like that become this? Was it always in him? Did God create him that way?"
"If I ever meet God, I'll be sure to ask Him," Sam dryly said. "Honestly, I don't know. Why did God send plagues and floods, if He's the good guy? We'll never be able to understand them. But you know what? We don't have to. Like I said, what we have, this human connection, that's all that matters. To Hell with everyone else."
A deep, long exhale pushed out of her lips. "Maybe you're right," she conceded.
"Have I finally convinced you?" he said with a half-chuckle. "It's harder work than I do for you in bed sometimes."
Zara burst into pearls of laughter, whose very sound unconsciously put a smile on his own face. "I'm happy to appreciate you as much as I can tonight," she replied lasciviously. When the moment faded, its remnant was corroded by the underlying implication. "It's, um- it's just that I wish we had normal lives. Imagine how happy some people must be, not knowing what's out there."
"I know what you mean," he ran his hand up and down her back. "I'd want that too. With you."
"Are we just… born into this?" she asked. "We don't have a choice to have what they have. Doing taxes, having a job, or whatever it is that old people do. We only get one life and- it's this," her voice wavered. "How do you come to terms with that?"
"In a way, we all did choose this. You chose to be free from Lucifer, even when that meant being on the run your whole life. You took that first step. Isn't that something to be proud of?"
All the scars that took refuge on my body would beg to differ. Sombreness had taken refuge in her aura again, bunching up like a thick cloud that resisted being expelled. But she tried anyway. "It wasn't something I chose, Sam. I didn't kick Sophia out. She left me. I never fought her. I just gave her everything. Like I allowed Lucifer to own my soul," she uttered in a single, drawn out breath. She stared deep into the fire, knowing it would always be there to welcome her with open arms. "There is nothing else for me. This is it. One minute we're here, the next we're gone forever. There are no second chances. It's all a set-up. I want you to know that."
"It's only natural to feel guilty," he admitted, though this was starting to usher in a gloomy cast on his face. "It's all in the past, Zara. We can all forgive you for that. It's who you are right now that counts. You have the power right now to change things. To make up for what you did. No one can take that from you."
A hard gulp shoved its way down her throat. She shook her head slightly, and turned towards the stars to implore them. Just one mortal woman against astral bodies formed by fourteen billion light years of expansion. "I just… I hope you understand, whatever happens." She sniffled. "Every day I feel like a clock is ticking behind me. It's telling me I need to be somewhere. I shouldn't be here. I don't feel like my life belongs to me." Another sniffle later, she pressed her face into both her palms. "God, look at me being Debbie Downer again. How the hell do you put up with me?"
"It helps that you're really hot," he answered, once again forcing a smile on her face. "No, seriously, you're the best change I've ever had. Before, with just Dean and I, we were doing fine. But when you came along, we- we became whole. I feel like I have a stability I never had before. Everything that made me feel empty… vanished." He subconsciously placed a palm over his heart, as if to check its occupancy. "Dean feels the same way too. I know you're going through something now and I wish I could make it all go away. But you're not as much of a burden as you think you are. If there's anything you believe in, believe in us. Or me, at least. I won't let anyone take you from me."
When she looked at him again, she was overcome with warmth bursting from her chest. He looked absolutely perfect then, with his wavy dark hair, razor sharp jawline and hypnotising eyes. "I wish we could have this forever," she told him, eyes growing damp. The smile of someone going into the afterlife bloomed upon her lips. "But all good things come to an end. And I'm scared of endings."
Sam pulled her without hesitation into his arms. She clung onto his shoulders like it was the last time she ever would. Plump droplets cascaded down her cheeks. But he was patient through it all. His large hands were capable of such tenderness, especially in caressing the back of her head. Zara's lips eagerly pressed against his neck and cheeks, and when emotional ammo had built up to its maximum, she came out with it.
"I love you," she said unequivocally, looking straight into his eyes. "I love you and that will never change."
For a second, the air stood eerily still. It was a long second. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. He gazed at her with the inspection of a craftsman perfecting his work. "I… I love you too," he spilled from the depth of his heart. Before the next second elapsed, their breaths were united in a deep, sealing kiss.
Two weeks later,
"Look, I'm not saying that she should have let the direwolf tear his arm off," Dean began, shifting his weight and placing a hand on his hip to better communicate to the stranger before him. The man simply listened attentively. "But if it did, I woulda made sure it looked like an accident. The kid's smart enough for her age. Problem solved."
"A-Are we still talking about the accidents?" the man stuttered. He was in a pair of joggers combined with a tank top, which conveniently hid the silver pendant around his neck. His blond beard and medium-length hair looked rather neat for a look so unkempt. The boys, themselves in stiff suits starch-ironed in the motel, supposed he was just being cozy in the close distance to his cabin in the woods.
Sam's eyebrows jumped sardonically. "No, uh, Game of Thrones," he sounded less than proud to acknowledge the events that had led to this tangent. "Anyway, what we came here to say was, there seems to be a series of feral wolf attacks in your area. Probably best to stay indoors for a couple days."
"And… the feds are investigating this?" the man crinkled his eyebrows.
"Well, they're no Whitewalkers but the bodies are pilin' up," Dean explained with a smug wink. "Nah, we just do what we're told. You know how these Upper Management folks are. Anyway, if you hear anything, give us a ring."
Dean handed the man his card. "Sure…" the man accepted with distinct lag.
Sam was already prepared to dig a hand into his jacket. Pull out his notebook so they could reassess the case. Whoever their monster was, the tracks were well hidden. It was likely a werewolf or a Hellhound but the boys had complacently assumed that there'd be a mess somewhere, or at least a motive connecting the victims. But so far, it seemed random. That was, until Zara came running from where the cabin was situated.
Heavy breaths challenged the integrity of her business jacket and skirt. Her predator eyes were wide and fixed on their interview subject. "He's a witch!" she yelled coarsely with an accusatory point to match. "He did it."
The men all perked up instantly. The accused took off into the woods before anyone could blink. And so the pursuit begin, with the boys directly behind and Zara closing in from a diagonal. Leaves and dust dispersed in the air from footsteps raking the ground impatiently.
"Vargr!" the witch yelled, casting his palm out. Out from the shadows, a growling appeared, taking the form of a wolf. It was twice as big as any normal wolf, had tenfold hunger in its eyes and shivered with every huff like it just could not wait to sink its teeth into flesh. The trio were halted instantly. Dean attempted to make towards the witch but the wolf was ready to pounce on him. Sam and Zara, being right in the reach of its jump, could not move either. With its intelligent assessment of every movement, pursuing the witch would have been a recipe for the familiar's meal.
Zara whistled at the wolf. It shuffled its feet to turn towards her in a rough jerk. She had a black pouch in her hand. "Witch-killing bullets," she said, eyeing Sam. She took a step back, and sure enough, the wolf followed. "Go after him."
"What about-"
"I got it," she slowly unholstered the gun from her belt. She did not blink. Not even taking her eyes off the beast. "Ready…"
In a single toss, the pouch landed square in Sam's fist. The wolf was ready to take him down. Zara fired a shot in its back. The creature roared deafeningly, but it would have been foolish to think it was defeated.
"Go!" she commanded them. The boys took off instantly with their guns reloaded mid-flight. Zara kept shooting the wolf to give them a head start. Now it had no choice. It turned to her slowly, bleeding from bullet holes but swollen with feral rage.
The witch had gained much traction, but came to a slow stop near an opening to catch his breath. He looked back where he came from. No one was in sight. A twig snapped to his right. He spun quickly, hand reaching behind into his pocket.
"Vind!" he yelled. Dean's gun flew out of his grip. Empty handed, all the Winchester could do was slowly raise his arms in surrender.
"Why'd you do it?" Dean asked. "What'd a sixteen-year-old do to deserve it?"
"It's not about them," the witch replied. The late afternoon sun was filtered through the forest canopy, so much so that the natural darkness falling over his eye sockets, beard and neck could not be dispelled. Underneath that tank top was a clearly developed musculature, one that could not be messed with in close range let alone considering his command of forces from afar. "My god Fenrir has called to me and I cannot refuse him. The Old Ones… they are risen again."
"Don't bother, because they're gonna be unrisen soon enough," Dean taunted. "If this is what they want, I'll put them six feet under myself."
Enraged, the witch shifted to cast his hex. In that split second, the sound of a gunshot pierced through the air. And another. And another. Finally, the witch fell to his knees, with Sam victoriously emerging from behind him. For a moment, there was abject disbelief on the witch's face. His eyes were wide like that of a madman, seeing through the veil of life and death. The bullets sparked from inside his chest and eventually, the man's jaw fell agape while his skin glowed in embers and he became nothing more than ash.
"Guess you could say, that was, uh," Dean paused with a self-satisfied grin. "Khal-easy."
Sam stifled the loudest groan. "Oh, for fu-"
Multiple shots sounded from afar. They exchanged alarmed expressions and immediately bolted back. Back at the spot where they'd left Zara was nothing but a mere blood trail. They followed the blood trail and heard the vicious growling not far off. The wolf was speeding through the woods and they could only assume it was after their girl. Instincts kicked in as they sprinted after the creature and unloaded their ammo onto it. But nothing seemed to work. Zara was backed up against a tree by the time they'd caught up, sporting a nasty gash on her knee where she'd fallen.
The boys were ready to rain bullets on the mangy thing – try as many as it would take, if at all – when a sharp clicking sound erupted from Zara's left. She had to squint to make out what it was. "Ser Adler?" she recognised. The wolf, much like them, was duly distracted by his arrival.
The lizard bobbed his head up and down like a battle taunt. The wolf, in turn, snarled at the thing and approached. Within the blink of an eye, Ser Adler scurried and pounced onto the wolf, square onto its face. The wolf tried to shake of the lizard, who was biting and scratching at its eyes, and even resorted to using its paws. Ser Adler's strong grip did not fail and neither did his attitude. While Zara inched away from the fight and back to the boys' side, the three merely watched in awe as the foot-long lizard took on a 120-pound beast in a rather substantial tussle. The wolf appeared to struggle greatly, thrashing about in an attempt to be rid of the lizard. At some point, the wolf managed to swallow the lizard. The wolf was still. And then, it suddenly dropped to the ground and writhed about while crying in hoarse notes. Blood poured out of its eyes and mouth. Within mere seconds, the wolf's movements slowed to a stop and its eyes stared blankly ahead, unblinking. Out from its belly, Ser Adler burrowed out through its skin to freedom, coated in a fresh layer of blood.
"Whoa," Dean said. "I'm never making any lizard jokes again."
"Is that really Ser Adler?" Sam wondered. "How did he find us?"
"Maybe Jack sent him," Zara answered with immense relief washing over her like a tsunami. She rushed over to the lizard and offered a hand. Ser Adler gently climbed up to her palm as blood dripped down his scaly exterior. As soon as they made contact, Zara's eyes rolled back.
"Zara?" Sam called out in shock. He tapped her shoulder, but no response.
Meanwhile, in her head, she was instantly beamed into a dimension of total darkness. She had no form, no body, and nothing could be seen or felt. "Zara?" an all-too-familiar voice called amidst the void. A gasp was caught in her throat.
"Jack…" she longingly said his name. "Is it really you?"
"It's me," the voice confirmed. "The same 'me' who beat up your punk-ass coke-toting ex and made you cry."
"Idiot," she cussed with an expanding euphoria. "Where the hell are you?"
"Look, it's complicated. I promise I'll explain," he said rapidly. "I don't have a lot of time. I'm in Purgatory."
"Um," Zara stuttered. "You're what now?"
"I'm talking to you through a literal rift in reality. Try to grasp this faster, alright? I need you to get me out. You're the only one who can," he said.
"W-w-wait," she struggled. "I'm still processing this. How did you- okay, probably not easy to explain. What do you mean only I can get you out? How…?"
"This is gonna sound insane," he hedged. "But you have to get into Purgatory. Only a human soul can travel freely between dimensions, like you do from Hell to Earth. You could hitch me a ride back. That is, if you want to. And I'm really hoping you do."
"Oh my God," she gasped. "I would go to Hell and back for you Jack, but I never guessed I'd be going to Purgatory. Son of a bitch. How am I even supposed to get in?"
"There's a very specific kind of Reaper for the undead types. Name's Mot, he's popular among the 'locals'. Ask him about the fine print, alright?" he instructed. "Look, I gotta go now, okay? I'm… I'm not alone. You have 3 days."
"3 days?" she repeated in disbelief. "Or what?"
"I- I don't want to find out," he simply said. And just like that, like a snap of the finger, it was over. Her eyes rolled back. Her lungs expanded for a large intake of air.
"How long was I gone?" she pushed the question out.
"Just a second," Sam answered as he brushed her hair away from her cheeks. "What was that?"
Dampness rushed to the very forefront of her eyes even with that mad frown on her forehead. "We have to get back to the motel right freakin' now," she said, still dazed. Every blink released the tears held prisoner. "I'll explain on the way." Ser Adler climbed to a more comfortable position on her forearm, though it wasn't without leaving crimson stains on her Fed suit. "Why don't we get you cleaned up, huh?"
It took all of Dean's willpower to not just slam the brakes in the middle of the highway. "What?" he exclaimed. "You're sure it's Jack?"
"He remembered a personal incident. So yes, I'm pretty sure it's him," she confirmed from the backseat. "He said he didn't have time and this was the only way. Why else would he send Ser Adler to me?"
"Okay, let's say this is really happening," Sam began, twisting in his seat to face her. "Are you really gonna jump headfirst into Purgatory? For all we know, that place is Hell on steroids."
"I have to," she sighed, puffy eyes staring solemnly out of the window. "He's saved my dumbass too many times. It's the least I could do in return."
There were no good rebuttals to that. Just the Impala's steady hum. "Look, we're gonna figure this out," Dean assured her. "No one jump into any inter-dimensional portals, alright? Let's think this through."
"We have three days," she said.
Sam tilted his head in askance. "Three days or what?"
"I don't know. It didn't sound good," she barely got the words out through trembling lips. "He said he wasn't alone. Think it means he's in trouble."
"We're gonna need Cas on this one," Dean suggested. "He's the only one who's ever had a glimpse into that place."
"There's a Reaper who can help us," she went on. "He can shuttle me in."
"Sounds real convenient, if you ask me," Sam remained sceptical. "Can't be that easy. Crowley and all of Hell spent months hunting every Alpha to get into Purgatory. And you're telling me that all he woulda had to do is find this Reaper?"
"Pretty sure no one sees this Reaper unless they've been at the tail end of our knives," she speculated. "There is a catch, of course. Jack said to read the fine print." She twiddled her thumbs in thought. "Don't know what he's signing up for, but it's gotta be a lot better than being in Purgatory. I hope."
The next seventy-two hours were a roller-coaster, passing by so quickly and pulling them in jerking twists. Dean nodded his head on the phone. His fingers automatically pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the tension.
"Dean, what I saw, even in that microsecond," Castiel began on the other end. "It could put Hell to shame. Whatever motivated me to find Purgatory paled in comparison to the darkness I saw from beyond. Just knowing that I could have unleashed a plague of Leviathan onto the Earth puts me at great unease."
"Right," Dean shook his head once, eyes still closed. "Is there anything you can tell me about these Leviathan? What makes them stop, uh, living?"
"There's no permanent solution. These are pretty resilient beings. They were created before angels and are far more powerful. In fact, the Archangels led several wars against them during pre-historic times. They still remained a menace," the angel elaborated. "Considering the circumstances, my best advice would be to avoid combat at all costs."
"Best case scenario, we'll never have to deal with those fossils," Dean considered. "Hey, wasn't there a tablet? The Leviathan Tablet? It's gotta have at least a footnote we can use."
"It could, but it's being stored under high encryption in Heaven. Naomi won't let anyone so much as look at it. Besides, I doubt Kevin will be able to translate its secrets in time," Cas said.
Dean sighed. "Dammit," he cussed. "What about beheadings?"
"That could buy you some time, but don't count on it," Cas warned. "So are you really going through with this?"
"It's Jack – he's come through for us before. We gotta at least try," Dean reasoned. "This sounds crazy, but we've done crazier."
"Then I'm coming too," Cas offered.
"You sure? Don't you have angel stuff to do?"
"There's always angel stuff, Dean," a deep sigh was heard. "But it's under control. First, Raziel. Now, Naomi. We're not short of solutions, surprising as it seems." A short pause later, "I can't let you face those monsters alone. This isn't your average day on the job."
"Damn straight," Dean agreed. "Okay, we'll text you the deets."
Meanwhile, Sam and Zara were hard at work in the kitchen. Sam laid out their best knives on the table and brought out any rations they would need. "Archangel blade would be real handy right about now," he grumbled. Ser Adler lay unbothered next to the weapons, his tail leisurely swinging in even oscillations.
"Why did it have to leave us?" Zara muttered to herself as she stirred the pot quite aggressively. Of course, she knew why, but that didn't help. "Why'd I have to lose it?" She tapped the spatula against the rim of the pot like she was hammering nails. Even Sam was caught off-guard by the loud clanking. "Could you pass the Phantom's Ash, please?"
Sam dug through the 'special ingredient' drawer and handed her the glass shaker with said ingredient. "How's the, uh, angel healing potion coming along?" he inquired with a curious glance into the pot.
Zara waved a hand over the steam to usher its scent into her nose. "Needs some…" she squinted. "Salt."
"How'd you learn to make this?" Sam watched her pile in salt and increase the flame as she stirred.
"Read it in a book," Zara simply said. To be fair, it was true. There were several books in the Repository. "God knows he probably needs it."
"I bet," Sam acknowledged. He turned to leave but she tugged on his wrist.
"I know this is all so sudden. I promised you I wouldn't do anything stupid like this," she avoided eye contact. "I didn't mean to drag the both of you into this."
"He's your family. That means he's my family," Sam pulled her back to his chest. "The world can't lose someone like him. I promise we'll get him back." They just remained like this for a while – a little moment of warmth before the storm waiting for them. "I should probably pack him a set of clothes. Do you think we'd be the same size?"
"Yes," Zara agreed. "He'll probably need a belt."
Sam went off to continue packing for their trip. The concoction bubbled and spat out an assortment of aromas. The pot was enclosed with a lid to let it simmer some more. Zara stepped back and placed her hands on the counter in a bent-over position, just taking the time to really dive deep into her thoughts. It was an endless torrent of self-abuse combined with morbid thoughts. Was it me? Did Lucifer get him? I shouldn't have told him about Sita. Amidst these directionless rambles, the straight course of rationality could not find its footing.
Ding! The phone summoned her. The message was a simple three digits, but its meaning was complex. Zara's heart dropped. She shut herself in the bathroom and called a number. "Lucifer?" she whispered.
"Hey, rug rat, been a while," the dreaded voice slithered into her ear. "Don't think I forgot about you."
"Never," she assured him, subconsciously twiddling with the crucifix hanging from her neck.
"I know I promised you we'd go wreaking havoc together—and I do intend to keep that promise," he began. "But what can I say? Being the King of Earth and Hell comes with responsibilities. I got people yapping in my ear all day. But trust me, it's everything we've ever dreamed of. You're gonna love this."
"Can't wait," she managed a forced smile even though no one was looking. "So, what gives? Why the red alert?"
"We made headway with Heaven. Who knew all it'd take was undermining their every move at their weakest moment? As I expected, Naomi is on board with us for the long haul. And I mean the ultimate haul," he informed.
"You mean Michael?" she recalled.
"Yes. But there's something she needs. Something only you can help with. Get to Hell immediately," he ordered.
"Whoa, whoa, wait," Zara stuttered. "You want me to drop everything and leave? What is it that she needs?"
"The demon tablet," Lucifer said. "One of Sophia's guarded secrets. You're the only one who can find it."
"Right now?"
"No, last year. Yes, right now, princess," Lucifer urged. "Tablets aren't unearthed in a day. Let's make it choppy, alright?"
"Right…"
"Your voice sounds different…" he noticed. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, it's just-" she shut her eyes tightly, searching for an excuse. "-that time of the month. You know how I get."
"O-kay… TMI," he hesitated. "Isn't it a week late for you?"
"It happens," she blurted out immediately. "Don't worry about it."
"Whatever," he dismissed. "This is important, Zara. Don't squander any time braiding Sam's hair. See you soon."
The call was cut. Zara turned slowly towards the mirror. It was notable even to herself how genuinely dumbstruck her reflection appeared.
Every nerve fibre was pulled taut. Zara scrunched up her upper back and released, taking in the fresh earthy air. She was shielded from the noon sun by generously tall trees, though the same protection could have been afforded by the interior of the deserted storehouse. Even when alone, her noisy headspace seemed to dominate her senses. As if on cue, her phone vibrated again. This time, it was a demon. The text read:
"In trouble? Expected you yesterday."
Which was immediately followed up with:
"Heard you were near Stratford. Ready to send backup, if needed."
"Dammit," Zara was ready to smash her phone with a rock. She paced about to and from the Impala. Some part of her just wanted to jump into the car and take widened reflection simply peered at her from the car's window when a second reflection joined hers.
"Hey," Sam placed a hand on her shoulder. As soon as she turned around, her deathly pallor struck his heart like a knell. "Zara, you sure you wanna do this?"
She hugged her arms close to her body. It seemed like her fingers would never be warm, or stop shaking. She swallowed a hard gulp and nodded her head. "It's why we're here," she simply said.
"If you're ever in doubt, just listen to your gut," he advised, eyes upturned in worry. "It won't ever fail you."
Except for all the times it has. The breeze that swept through the trees made them erupt in a rustling choir, as if nature herself was attempting to calm Zara down. Maybe I'm always where I'm meant to be.
"Whatever you choose, I'll be right beside you," Sam vowed. When the answer became clear to her, she took his hand and joined Dean and Cas inside, where they'd drawn the sigil and set up the ritual. While Zara lit the candles lining the circumference of the sigil, Dean added the ingredients to the brass bowl and Sam lit up its contents. Castiel recited the incantation.
"Te nunc invoco, mortem. Te in mea potestate defixi. Nunc et in aeternum!"
A dark cast fell over the sky, bringing every colour closer to greyscale. Thunder erupted and an electrostatic air swept around them. With the next, piercing thunder, the flames from the candles shot up in a straight, thin pillar. The humans shielded their eyes momentarily from the sudden intensity. When they looked back, a black-robed figure wearing the appearance of a darker man appeared before them.
"Who dares summon Mot?" his deep, strong, hollow voice bellowed in their ears like drums. The four were simply awestruck at the sight of him. He floated where he stood, looking upon them like they were miniscule and held an obsidian scythe which gleamed with a surreal glow.
"That would be me," Zara stepped forward. A sudden fire invigorated her blood. She commanded his attention without remorse. "Are you the Reaper who guards entry to Purgatory?"
"The very same," he confirmed with a deep-set scowl. "Mot's name is only spoken in death. Make your intention known before the balance is kept."
He swung his scythe once in a precise rotation. "We need to get into Purgatory. There's an angel who doesn't belong there," she said with due caution.
"It isn't your place to judge such matters," Mot announced. "You, mere mortal, dare go against Fate?"
This time, Dean spoke, "Going against Fate is kinda our thing. Look us up in the books."
"Yes, the famed Winchesters," Mot recognised. "Defiers of Destiny."
"We're getting him out of there," Zara remained steadfast. "Grant us entry and name your price."
Mot's rigid gaze seemed to pierce right through her. "So be it," he conceded. "Mot will allow one and only one mortal to pass. If you die in Purgatory, you will remain forever in Purgatory. That is the price."
They exchanged uncertain glances. Though the same question was on their minds, they could not demand an answer, that is until Castiel said, "Is passage for all of us not possible?"
"Mot is not fond of needless company, especially that of the angel who speaks," he answered with a stern look. "Only one shall pass. That is the law."
Their moods collectively dampened. Zara was poised to step forward, but Sam had an iron grip on her hand discouraging such movement. "What about two?" he asked, jaw set strong on those words.
"One," Mot said, undeterred. "Make a decision or return Mot's name with death."
This time the issue could not be side-stepped. Zara turned to face Sam. "I have to do this," she looked him straight in the eye.
"No," he shook his head, fighting ardently the stinging in his eyes. "Let me do it."
"That doesn't make it fair," Zara argued in a whisper. "I have the hawk. It'll give me an edge against those monsters."
Dean couldn't help but back up his brother. "Going to Purgatory alone? That's insane, even for you, Z," he stated.
"This is for Jack. He's my guardian angel. My best friend. It's not right for me to ask any of you for this," she reasoned, fidgeting again with her necklace.
"What about your promise?" Sam reminded her.
Every bone in her body wanted to collapse, just erode to dust. "I know I'm a bitch for putting you through this. But this time I have to be a bitch," she said as gently as she could. "Whatever anger you're gonna have, I deserve it. I'll take it all, no questions asked. I'll be grateful for the chance once I get back."
He had nothing to say to that. She stood on her tip-toes and pulled him in by the shoulders. He weakly reciprocated with hands on her hips as their lips united in a deep, soul-merging kiss. When they parted, it felt like she was missing a limb. As she presented herself to Mot, the Reaper cut open a golden rift in reality with his scythe. She was face-to-face with unknown horrors. A deep breath flooded her lungs. It wasn't herself she worried for, however. She looked back one more time to see their faces full of loss. In a way, there was a peace to be had. If this was the last thing she saw before death, it would have been enough.
"This path will take you where you seek to be," Mot explained. "The path back must be sought in itself." She nodded to him. To the others, he said, "Speak Mot's name to no creature, for there will be no mercy then."
"Your secret is safe with us," Castiel assured him.
Once Zara made sure she had everything she needed in a little knapsack, she bid farewell and walked into the portal. A bright light exploded from the rift in a millisecond, causing the boys to turn away. When they looked back, it was gone and so was Mot. The candles were extinguished and mere smoke rose up from their wicks.
Zara landed with controlled force, one knee up and one knee down, the best way she knew to be quiet. It was dark as hell so naturally, she blinked to draw on the hawk's power. Her irises glowed green. This was all she needed to make sure that no one was around her. At least, until she cut down the creature that had immediately thought to charge her. She was quick with her angel blade, as usual. She was lucky this time—it wasn't one of those nasty Leviathan she'd read about. Now, to find the right way to go…
Purgatory
Jack hissed in pain, eyes shut tightly. Cezar was bare atop him, sinking into his neck while carving his nails into the archangel's back. When he was done, they both simply lay next to each other. While Cezar had a satisfied exhale, Jack was curled into himself. "Just a few hours left," the Leviathan reminded him. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Hard breaths had calmed Jack down enough to clear his mind. "Did you ever see the tales of Zandra the Destitute in my memories?" he asked in barely more than a whimper.
"That whore goddess, you mean," Cezar recognised amidst his own relaxed huffs.
"She was a simple priestess," Jack began, holding the image of her in his mind. "When the vicious Queen of the Zenza attacked, she offered herself in exchange for the lives of the whores, beggars and anyone rejected by the world. It was the first time anyone showed them even the smallest drop of compassion, let alone someone who had dedicated themselves to holiness. The cruel Queen took the priestess to her chambers and for sixty-three days and nights, put Zandra through every horror imaginable. Zandra took it all, even inviting more upon herself, for every lash on her body was a lash spared on the bodies of those least protected."
"So?" Cezar huffed. "She was burnt alive on the sixty-fourth day. Do you crave her fate?"
His words did not register in Jack's head. He merely traced circles in the grains littering the rocky floor. "Even when she was gone, the Queen swore Zandra was still in her bed. Zandra's voice would come to her at night, singing sweet songs to put her to sleep."
Cezar yawned and turned to pull the archangel closer to him.
"One night, as the Queen fell asleep to Zandra's song, a young orphan boy climbed in through her window and stabbed her to death where she lay," Jack's eyes sharpened, pulling his brows into a strong frown. "Zandra's ghost screamed a deadly note, breaking the shackles of every prisoner of the Queen's army. We sang Zandra's songs while we tore the flesh of the Zenza and ate their hearts as they all fell asleep."
"Nothing but a stroke of luck…" The Leviathan's voice grew weary as he rested his chin on Jack's head. "That Queen could have never overpowered you."
"I promised Zandra's spirit that I would put her to rest," Jack muttered. "The only way I knew how, was to swallow her life force whole. Now that you've drank from me like a fountain, she's inside you too. I think she likes it so much better there."
"Wh- who's singing?" Cezar mumbled. His brows fought to understand but his tired eyes remained closed. "Y-you did something… to me…"
Jack felt Cezar's limbs fall limp on himself. He counted to twenty before carefully removing himself from the monster's arms. Standing upright brought with it an array of pain he was just introduced to. The torch illuminating the cell was put out, as it would have been when Cezar left him. For a moment, he just looked at the sleeping beast, imagining every horrible thing that could gain his revenge. But this wasn't the time. The Leviathan would not fall for the spell much longer, or again, so time was of the essence. He picked up the white cloth given to him as mercy, wrapping it around his waist and through his legs to fashion a pair of pants. It settled on his bony pelvis snugly, accentuating the striations of his lean abs. Though most of him was covered in all manner of wounds, his musculature still flexed as it would when he was ready to go into battle.
Steadily, he hobbled through the tunnels based on pure memory. He could practically smell the lake water. Darkness engulfed him from all angles. This would not perturb him, for he was a child of Darkness as much as he was a child of Light. The darkness was his sanctuary.
"So… what? We just wait?" Sam impatiently asked. He kept staring at the empty space where the rift used to be.
"Looks like," Dean said, an introspective furrow befalling his face as he cleared the sigil. "We'd better get comfortable then."
"Wait," Castiel urged them. A sudden alertness had caught him in its grip. He appeared to be sensing something. "We have company."
"Well, well, well," a female voice cut through the air. The boys spun to find a young blonde in a black suit, along with a crew of others behind her in the same fashion. All with opal eyes baring down on them. "If it isn't the Devil's Trio."
The boys reflexively pulled out their blades. "If it isn't Satan's rats," Dean growled. "Y'all never learn, do you?"
The demoness turned her head to the side. "Search the area," she ordered her colleagues. "She's gotta be here somewhere."
"Looking for Zara?" Sam inferred. "You'll never get her."
"That's not how this works," she smirked. "You'll hand her over one way or another."
The demons advanced on them. The three sprung into action. They'd gotten through a few demons with ease but it felt like they just kept coming. Cas decided this was enough and shot a beam of energy at the demons, knocking them back. This leeway was just enough for them to pile into the Impala and step on it.
"How the hell did they find us?" Sam wondered out loud.
"Sammy, I think we have bigger problems right now," Dean said, glancing at the rear-view mirror. Two SUVs full of demons was speeding towards them on the open highway. To make matters worse, the demons were shooting at them with assault rifles. From this distance, the bullets could not lethally reach them but the rain of patters on the Impala's exterior was enough of a warning.
"Hold on," Castiel advised. The flutter of wings sounded. Cas was no longer in the backseat. Within moments, one of the pursuing vehicles was derailed off its path, blocking the other SUV and tipping itself over. All Sam could see was bursts of light from where Castiel had flown in. But this only bought them mere seconds. Sam immediately pulled out his gun and shot at the wheels of the remaining vehicle which was rapidly catching up with them.
When the assault rifles were visible again, he had no choice but to duck back into the safety of the Impala. It was just in time too, as a bullet whizzed past his window and struck the side-view mirror. Dean's razor eyes darted towards the rear-view mirror to divine some kind of strategy. That was when a strange sight greeted him.
Back in the horizon, a sole figure appeared. Barely any details could be made out but the figure was draped in black from head-to-toe, helmet and gloves included, as they sped towards the scene in a motorcycle under the heat of the late afternoon sun. The figure pulled out a gun from what appeared to be a leather jacket and shot precisely at the SUV. Whatever was in those bullets, it immediately caused the vehicle to swerve and flip off the road. But that wasn't all. The figure threw something at the vehicle. A loud explosion was heard, though no flames were seen. Black smoke shot out of the incapacitated SUV and vanished instantly.
Dean slowed down the Impala at the juncture where the road split in two, but the motorist took the exit and simply sped off. "You saw that too, right?" he asked his brother.
Sam too was staring off at the strange rider. "Another hunter?" he guessed. Beyond that, they were both left speechless.
Purgatory
The hoarse roar erupted like a volcano, rocking every bone in Jack's body, vibrating in every crevice and shaking his heart from its seat. "MALACHIAH!" Cezar's guttural voice boomed as thunder far behind him. So it was only fitting, when Jack finally made it to the exit, that he summoned what little energy he had. His palms reached far into the sky, pulled every free ion and wove electrostatic webs around his fingers. And when he was ready, the electric spike was hurled into the cave. The cave walls collapsed in a noisy mess, blocking the exit with large blocks of rubble.
The archangel fell onto his knees, heaving for breath. Get up, Luc. It's not over yet. Soles firmly planted, his lumbar vertebrae straightened up column by column. The lake water was eerily still. The waning moon was near the end of its course, appearing as a frail crescent. The dark side of the moon prevailed and with it the shadow energies sewn into the universe, all of which heard his curse and now abundantly flowed through the air. What little light was emitted by the moon only deepened the hollows on his cheeks, eye sockets, ribs, abdomen, collarbones and biceps. With his hair ominously flowing down the side of his face, he appeared like a forest banshee.
Archangel of the night. Skeleton in the forest.
Suppressing winces and groans, he made it decently far. A waft of human scent struck him in an instant. If he could smell it… so could others. He hurried towards the scent. It was as if every creature had woken up from its rest. The air seemed to bounce with anticipation. Leaves rustled to his left. He spun in time for the low growl of the yellow-eyed, long-clawed female who approached with the stealth of a fox.
"Angel," she said, hungry eyes scanning him from head to toe.
"Kitsune," he identified in turn.
"Looks like you're half-cooked," she said breathily. "Don't resist and I'll make it end quick, I promise."
The grainy clarity of pitch blackness revealed a slow but steady incline on the edge of his lips. "I believe you," he simply said. She swung her left claw at his face. He swayed smoothly to his left, hair fluttering with him, ducked and dove right under her arm. He grabbed the back of her left shoulder and delivered a swift kick to her abdomen, even to the dismay of his knee, before sweeping her legs under her with another kick. With her on the ground, he pinned her down with his hands on her skull, thumbs sinking into her eye sockets. Enough pressure allowed them to bleed with mush, but not without a harrowing scream from her. From there, the surrounding bones gave way quite easily and slowed down her attempts at scratching him. The archangel ripped out her long, blackened nails and ripped her chest open like they were knives. Her heart was a refreshing meal, delivering the short boost of energy he so desperately needed.
The ground shook with angry vibrations—the stampede of the Leviathan horde. No doubt they were all on high alert. The archangel scaled the bark of the nearest tree and proceeded from there. Grime, blood and dirt mixed into a morbid palette on his body. He scurried through the branches like it was nothing. He knew it was the right direction when he heard feminine grunts and hard tackles.
An impressive body count lay like a trail around Zara. Her emerald irises glowed like a nocturnal predator as she parried and stabbed and struck down the creatures. Jack let himself down noiselessly from the trees. Keeping to the ground, he crept up and silenced the Crocotta who was rising again. He pounced up just in time to drive his fist through the Rugaru who was about to rush her from the back. She swung back fiercely with the angel blade, which emitted a single silvery shimmer that warned Jack to step back.
"Hold your fire!" he yelled, with arms defensively held up.
"Jack!" she exhaled, still panting from the heavy-duty combat. Without question, she jumped into his arms. It was but a glimpse of everything she didn't know she needed. She had to peel herself off of him almost immediately. "You look like crap."
"Thanks," he whispered. "You mind giving me a sec to grab a quick bite?"
By the very sight of bloodstains around his jaw, she understood what he meant. "No need," she dug into her bag and brandished the glass bottle. "Made this for you. Healing potion."
A deep sigh of relief fell out of his lungs. "Who's the guardian angel now?" he said, immediately swallowing every ounce of fluid in a single gulp.
"You deepthroat everything like that?" she joked.
"Shut up," he hushed, despite the concessionary smile on his face. A sudden wave of energy flooded his veins. He had to consciously clench and unclench his fists to make sure the feeling was real. Some inkling of angelic fortitude returned to him. It wasn't everything but it'd be enough. "We have to get outta here."
"I felt the gate," she said, pointing to the West. They made a slow jog in its direction, being careful to take cover and attack as needed. The azure light of dawn was beginning to paint the scene when Jack abruptly stopped. Zara could barely see his face underneath his long, hanging locks. His fists were balled up, fingers digging into his palms. "Jack, what's wrong?"
His heard turned to the right. "There's something I need to take care of," he muttered in a low rumble. No warning was given. He simply stormed off, with Zara taking long strides to keep up with him.
"What is it?" she asked to no avail. "This isn't the best time to be going the opposite direction of the exit!"
At least from this angle she was introduced to the damage on his back. It struck a sudden silence into her that she could not reconcile. She barely even noticed that he had led her into the entrance of a cave hidden amidst the rotten bushes. Once inside, the ground broke into a deep crevasse leading straight down.
"Wait here," he ordered her. He stepped a foot forward over the edge and then just dropped down in a straight line, taking her aback. The sound of his landing never came, not even after a solid ten seconds. She chanced a look below into the abyss. Flashes of light erupted like fireworks obstructed by cave walls. Muffled sounds of combat, crashes and repeated smashing against hard surfaces could be heard. Guttural howls and tearing of flesh sung a distant symphony. And then, complete silence. From where she stood, it was like the shadows had grown sentient. The hairs on her body stood up to attention. She took a couple steps back. Bloodied hands gripped the ledge.
Jack pulled himself up with ease. Dark, sticky stains were splattered all over him, indelibly marring the white robe he had wrapped around his lower body. "What was that about?" Zara asked, though not fazed in the least.
"Had to prove a point," he said, leading her out of the cave. Light was beginning to spread across the lands. Once the sound of the steady river came into earshot, they dashed in its direction. The sapphire blue exit portal twinkled invitingly among the rocks. The archangel's keen hearing caught the twang of a bowstring. He grabbed Zara and ducked, just as the arrow whizzed past their heads.
"Going somewhere?" Cezar emerged from the bushes. His stiffly-built torso was in full-view as he appeared alongside with several other Leviathan, who were now circling them. "Without me?"
From just this look, Jack could feel the Leviathan King's hands slithering all over him. He suppressed a shiver. He instinctively stood between Zara and Cezar, whispering to her, "Get started. Whatever you hear, don't look back."
She inched slowly towards the exit, with Jack moving accordingly to stay close to her. His grip on the angel blade grew taut.
"What is the meaning of all this, angel?" Cezar said casually, arms extending. "You promise me the world, and now you leave? I thought we had a bond."
Cezar slowly tilted his head. As smooth as a breeze, he used the archangel essence in his blood to exert a deadly magnetic pull on Jack. The archangel felt his breath sucked out of his lungs and fell to his knees, though he tried his mightiest to avoid being dragged.
"Jack?" Zara called out. She was transfixed by the portal in an attempt to open it. It was a matter of finding the connection to earth.
"Keep going," he grunted, keeled over on the ground.
"Hush little angel, don't say a word…" Cezar hummed. The other beasts advanced towards the pair. "Cezar's gonna conquer your whole home world…"
Jack attempted to lift himself up, but the pull was too strong. "Dammit, Jack," Zara cussed. With a great, deep breath, she channelled everything she could from the hawk towards him. Green tendrils etched into his skin, charging his essence with energy, as he finally stood up. It was just in time to swing at the first Leviathan who charged him. The beast was decapitated and he kicked the fallen head far away. A fistful of light was mustered and shot at another.
"Conjunti sumus, unum sumus!" Zara recited. She pulled out a knife and made an incision on her forearm.
"Take me home, baby," Cezar smirked as he sprinted towards her. Adrenaline shot through Jack's veins. He stomped a foot forward, sending a shockwave to knock the incoming Leviathan off their feet. He dove towards the King and knocked him off his trajectory. The two wrestled on the ground, tossing and turning about. Inevitably, Cezar overpowered Jack and pinned him down by the neck and a wrist. "Face it, you never had a chance. We had good times but I'm afraid it's all over now. You're never leaving this place."
Jack's face was contorted as he struggled to breathe and scowl at the same time. No matter how much he struggled against the Leviathan's grip, he could do naught. The flash of silver glinted in his eye. Cezar's head came cleanly off. Zara peeled the large beast off of Jack and offered a hand. The black goo oozing out of the decapitated head was inching slowly towards its body.
"I've been inside your head!" the severed head yelled behind them. "He's not worth it, Zara! You think he'd do the same for you? He's done nothing but lie to you. It's all lies! LIES! You've wasted your time!"
Neither of them paid any heed to the creature. Zara stepped one foot into the portal and grabbed Jack with her bleeding arm. They sunk into the portal. The rift closed shut and the Leviathan rushing them fell hopelessly to the ground.
Zara and Jack landed with a definite thud on the grassy earth under the evening sky. They both coughed as the impact knocked the breath out of them, squirming in pain. They just lay on the field bordering the open road like this for a while, not saying a word. Zara's hand unconsciously sought his and just held it as they cherished the silence.
Flanders Motel, Stratford, Iowa—15 June 2013, 8.34pm
"To Hell with this," Dean finished his glass of alcoholic comfort. "Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. What a f-freakin' line-up."
Sam was busy typing away on his keyboard. "Absolutely nothing on this Mot guy," he sighed again. "We don't even know what he wants in return."
"Don't tell me you're thinking of ringing him again," Dean warned in an aloof drawl. "I swear I'll put you in a fuckin' strait jacket and throw away the key."
"We need a backup plan," Sam explained, eyes still fixed on the screen.
Castiel perked up instantly. "Guys," he called out. His gaze swept over the floor in utter concentration. "It's Zara."
The brothers snapped to attention. Castiel vanished. The next instant, he appeared again with Jack and Zara's arms around his shoulders. Sam rushed to Zara and set her down on the chair while Dean helped Cas with Jack.
Dean was immediately sobered. Large part of that was the smell. The pungent aroma of iron, coupled with rotting flesh, made for an interesting potpourri. Not to mention the grimy patches—some a deep, oxidised red—generously peppering Jack's skin and greasy clumps in his hair. The surroundings appeared to register for him in a slow ascent. He was still slumped over and panting like anyone would after a marathon. Despite it all, the air was light. Everyone could finally take a breath. Sam tried to support Zara's face in his hands but her eyes were protesting wakefulness. He simply pulled her into an embrace. She slumped over onto his shoulder, weakly catching his arms.
Jack merely looked around himself in a daze. The opened bottle of Jack Daniels' caught his eye. "This for me?" he rambled as he grabbed it by its neck and downed the whiskey in a long, unending gulp. Dean stared longingly at the brown liquor as it disappeared into the archangel's lips.
"Well, it is now," Dean accepted. "So, uh…" The archangel's appearance—one that appeared natural to a sewer rat—could invoke a sense of insects crawling up one's spine, and Dean was not immune to this. "…how'd you end up in Purgatory?"
"Long story," Jack said. It was strange seeing him in this state for sure, completely absent of his signature grin. He looked to Zara, who was slowly regaining consciousness. He couldn't stop staring. It was like the moment true realisation had set in that he wasn't in danger, his anger turned inward and revolted against himself. Her evident suffering was further ammunition in this internal war. "It was all my fault. I was stupid."
"Jack…" Zara pushed out her own voice. She sat upright, no assistance from Sam. "…shut up. It's over."
A certain clucking resounded as the scaly creature crept down from the window. "Ser Adler?" Jack called out. As soon as their eyes met, the lizard leapt onto his chest, eagerly shrieking and scrambling on his torso. Ser Adler's claws were spread-eagle on his body. "I missed you too, buddy," he said with a withering voice, slowly stroking the lizard's body in a hug. Ser Adler climbed up his neck to his neck and even up his cheek, resting his chin on Jack's temple. Adler never looked calmer than at that moment. Finally, Adler decided to behave and rest atop the table though in the archangel's vicinity.
"You're injured," Cas observed Jack as he knelt before him.
"No shit, Clarence," Jack huffed.
"We need to get you to the Infirmary," Cas suggested.
"Appreciate the thought, but I don't think a First Aid Kit's gonna help me right now," he said.
"No, not an infirmary. The infirmary. Heaven's Infirmary," he clarified.
"No. No way," Jack declined, shaking his head. "Last thing I want right now is more eyes on me and questions."
"They'll have everything you need."
"What I need right now is to hibernate for a couple years," Jack insisted. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I could use though…" he paused. "A pizza. Or a dozen."
"Right, we'll order some grub," Dean offered.
Sam appeared unconvinced by Jack's reaction, but said nothing. "Brought you a set of clothes. Both of you should freshen up," he told Jack.
"Running water, hell yes," Jack released the deepest exhale as he leaned his head back. The archangel limped onto his feet and place a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Means a lot to me, Sam. I'm sure it must've been hard as hell to watch her go off like that. I know I would've thrown a fit. I'm indebted to you."
Sam simply nodded and swallowed a hard gulp. "It'd better not happen again," he simply said.
The trickles of water fought their way down Jack's body, overcoming great obstacles only to wash off sticky and tinted with an unhealthy pallor. He let the warm spray rain upon his face, eyes closed. Hands combed his hair back. Soapy hands embalmed his own corpse for an open casket. When he stood still, all noises seemed to creep back into their source at the sight of him. The tap was snapped close. He wiped the steam off the mirror, face-to-face with the arbiter of his own destruction. A deadly glower stared back at him. The high cheekbones and clean jawline did not smoothen the sharpness of his resting frown. The souvenirs on his body had already begun to fade but they would take their own sweet time. Besides, this was just another chapter in Luc's Grand Misadventure, he thought. You got what you wanted, Grandfather. I learnt what I needed to. He twisted his hair and squeezed out the dampness. Shed my old skin. Let me resurrect anew.
His Easter entry into the motel room, attired in red flannel and black denims, was like a ghost emerging from the fog. Somehow he seemed scrawnier than usual. They chalked it up to the wounds. The bluish scars lining his forehead, cheeks and neck begged the most question, for they dared to detract from his natural halo. The most dubious feature of all was the first to be acknowledged.
"You cut your hair," Zara noticed, glancing at his back. The length was shortened to a couple inches below his shoulders. "That's a first."
"It's a new me," he simply said. The light of calmness had finally shone down on him.
Later, the five settled about in the room as food was distributed. Jack scarfed down the pizzas, the meat, the diet coke, the pasta and more. "You have no idea how good this feels."
Zara watched in amusement as she took modest bites out of her portion. "Pretty sure I do," she rebutted.
"I mean, I know this is doing absolutely nothing for me, but wow," Jack cherished the taste of pepperoni pizza.
"You have that in common with Death," Dean noticed. He thought he was a 'passionate' eater but now that a new contender had arrived, he couldn't help but watch.
The name of the Horseman tingled Jack's senses. He took a slower bite.
"So, uh, what happened?" Sam probed. The archangel's earlier cryptic response wasn't going to cut it.
Jack sat eerily still. After an uncomfortable silence, he said, "That day—during Lonford—I was trying to fix things, as you know. But you see, I'm bound by certain rules. It's a… a curse written in my blood."
That certainly raised eyebrows, which did not help the slow brewing of turmoil under his skin.
"Don't ask me how it came to be. It just is," he continued, pulling his knees up to his chest. "One of those rules? I can't let an archangel catch a whiff of me. Guess what? An archangel did."
Castiel leaned forward in his seat. "Lucifer saw you that day," he inferred. "So what? How does that matter?"
"So I was punished," Jack remained fixated on the ground. "Sentenced to Purgatory."
"You mean… by God?" The uncanny realisation stole any relief from the room.
"The 'who' doesn't matter. Point is, I wasn't careful and I paid the price."
Zara's fingers fell limp onto her lap. "Why didn't you just tell us?" she asked, making even a soft whisper accusatory. He knew then, from that look, that 'us' really just meant 'me'. "We could've helped."
"There's nothing anyone can do about it. It's my cross to bear," he replied. "Besides, I'm not really used to… getting help. So, um, what'd I miss?"
A week later,
The crickets picked up their tune when the fluttering of wings arrived. Jack sauntered up the concrete path to the LA house. Its modern white exterior with floor-to-ceiling windows were a calm presence overlooking the city populated with lights. The dogs began to bark even before he made it to the door. He was just about to insert the key card when the handle twisted and the door swung open. A gasp greeted him.
"Hey, Jen," he shot her a faded smile. She stood rooted to the ground, almost paralysed. Even her dark, wavy hair seemed to freeze. He invited himself in, if only to satisfy the four-legged friends who'd scrambled up to him with hanging tongues and wagging tails. Jen merely stared agape through brown almond eyes, as the door closed behind her. Tank top, underwear and no makeup – the moment left her unprepared but not even the right clothes could fix that. It was just the verdict that destiny had brought. When the animals were petted and ordered to chill in their corners, he stood upright. "Jennifer Angélica Maldonado!"
"Huh?" she finally responded to the ghost before her.
"Don't just stand there," he took a faux stern tone. He took off the leather jacket and tossed it onto the marble kitchen island, revealing the red flannel underneath. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"
The air surfed on waves of Tame Impala wafting from the speakers. She finally dared to release her breath.
He took a cursory look around him. "Thanks for taking care of Dog, Shiba, Missy and Cat, by the-"
She ran and jumped onto him, legs and arms circling his waist and shoulders. Her mouth hungrily sought his. He teetered back a little, but held his balance with the kitchen counter as she dug into his tongue. He reciprocated in soft pecks. Carrying her on his hips, he ambled towards the guest room on the first floor.
All reason and conversation was left out in the cold for a couple hours. Her long neon pink manicure left marks on his back. The bed rocked steadily against the wall, causing tremors to rattle the room. They fell back, panting, onto the pillows.
"¡Dios Mío!" she exhaled. The blanket fell like a feather on her chest.
Jack suppressed a cringe. Do they always have to use His name? When they'd both calmed down, it was time to return to reality. "I heard you've been in touch with Zara. She told me everything," he began. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be gone for so long. I'm sorry I hurt you."
"What happened to you?" she asked the very question that sunk like an anchor in his chest. "I didn't know what to think. I thought the worst."
"I got involved in something I shouldn't," he replied. "But it's taken care of now."
"Involved in what?" she probed. The ambient cool-toned light traced his jaw and nose. He lay with palms on his chest like a sarcophagus, hollow inside but sculpted with artistic precision.
"It's best if you don't know."
"Of course, like every other thing that happens in your life," her voice began a subtle descent.
"Jen…"
"No, I know. I'm just a manager-with-benefits. I only need to care in front of cameras," she shrugged, turning to her side to face away from him. "It's not in my contract to have a mental breakdown every other day wondering if you got hurt or did something to yourself."
"No," he grabbed her waist and pulled her close. He caressed her body the more she shivered. Her reflection on the far window revealed the slightest glimmer of dampness on her cheeks to his keen archangel sight. "You just care about an asshole. It means a lot to me. It really does." She flipped back to wrap her hands around his torso. He, in turn, held her close. The feeling of a warm body so tender could awaken any corpse, especially one so… gifted in curves. His breaths gently receded and crashed over her forehead. "But it's like I've always said. I'm not the kind of man anyone should want. Everything you think I am, I'm the opposite. Falling for me will get you nothing but hurt."
"Then who's gonna love you for you? Hold you when you need it and tell you it's gonna be okay?"
His head teetered as he swallowed a hard gulp. "No one deserves that curse," he simply said. "Listen, if it's all too much for you, I get it. I'm not holding you hostage."
"Shut up, Jack."
And that was the last word on the topic. "So, do I even wanna know how everything else has been?"
"The guys tried doing a few gigs without you. They managed to keep things going for a while, but Dee and Mark finally called it quits. I'm sorry," she recounted. "They also had, um, not so nice things to say about you."
"Good to know," he dismissed. "Guess I'll just be solo-ing for a while. What about our little side business?"
"Investors pulled out."
He sighed. "You know, that's the problem with relying on people's goodwill. I wasn't careful. I chose to see the best in everything. It's a mistake."
"It's not. It's just who we are. What else can we do?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna do things differently this time. No More Mr Nice Guy," he vowed. "And I'm gonna do it all myself. Unless, of course, you wanna help."
"I wouldn't still be in this house if I didn't," she answered, craning her neck up. She leaned forward and kissed him again. In the undulating passage of skin tracing skin, their bodies slowed to an interwoven cuddle. He feigned unconsciousness until his senses picked up delta waves from her deep-sleeping brain. Slowly setting her in a comfortable position, he crawled out of bed to finally tick this off a checklist. There was plenty of time left until the sun rose.
He went upstairs into his own room and parted the hangers in the closet. An inconspicuous button was pressed. The wall seamlessly backed up and slid to the side. Inside, a small soundproofed room – white cushioning on all walls – was lit by incandescent white lights. There were shelves on all sides. One for shoes, one for suits and one for products, watches and other accessories. He clothed himself in black this time. High-waisted pants, low-hanging jacket and silk shirt underneath. His hair was untangled and pulled back to a tight, high bun that evicted the hollows of his cheeks from hiding. To top it all off, a Rolex watch, gold bracelet and a couple sprays of Chanel Number Five.
Amidst all this opulence, a little black device lay as a carcass on a table. He pressed the button on the side to bring it back to life. When it finally awoke, a number of notifications aspiring to be infinite awaited him. The more he read, the more work he realised had to be done. First things first, he took a casual stroll across Asia, assessing the situation. The atmosphere revealed its own mysteries. Something was off, other than the general state of the world, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. When he'd had enough of a taste, he went to do what the pit in his stomach resisted.
Fountains shaped as six-pointed stars spewed crystalline water as the car pulled up to the foyer. It was a cloudy morning in Turkmenistan when Jack thanked the driver with a generous tip. He took one hard look at the obnoxious gold statue that took centre-stage in the hotel's garden. He would never understand Gurbanguly's choices but he could respect the flair. One step into the lobby and a thousand reflections of the few chandeliers bounced off of the pristine white marble floors and pillars. There may not have been so many people here but Jack could mark spies from a mile away. It certainly made it easy that it was practically all of the staff sneakily studying him with a side-eye.
He had barely made it to the receptionist when a young man in a suit offered to escort him to where he needed to be—the empty restaurant with an audience of gold and marble busts lined along the intricate arabesque carpet. The waiter showed him to his seat by the glass wall of creeping flora thriving against a steady waterfall. "May I get you something?" the waiter asked.
Another voice answered for him. "Romanée-Conti, of course," the hoarse voice ran up the archangel's spine like a chime. The waiter nodded and briskly left to obey.
"Expensive taste. It's my favourite thing about you," Jack stood up to greet his host. Hovan held his hand in a single, firm shake. His Persian eyes were riveted on the archangel, analysing every inch of his face like a painting. He traced the back of Jack's knuckles. "Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice."
"Wasn't even sure it was you I'd be seeing," Hovan released his hand and gestured for him to sit, even pushing the chair in for him.
"Convinced now?" Jack asked with a curious tilt of the head and a smirk that played coy. Hovan, dressed in a wheat-tinted suit and black shirt, simply leaned back in his seat and watched him with an inspective frown. His left thumb supported his chin as if his jaw would drop otherwise. Anyone could have mistaken that glare for anger, but not Jack. "You're making me hot all over with that stare."
"Okay, it's you," the demigod finally concluded. The waiter briefly interrupted to fill their glasses with a fragrant, blood-bodied wine. "What happened to you?"
Jack tried not to roll his eyes at the umpteenth iteration of that question. "Let's just say I was out-of-commission," he said.
Hovan's thick brows furrowed deeper. A second passed. This was all he'd get. "Sensitive, then," he deduced.
"Glad you understand. You know how things get complicated with us immortals," Jack took a swig from his glasses. He rolled the liquid over his tongue, tempted to moan orgasmically. "Can't afford my enemies an edge over me."
"It's just one less than what they already have," Hovan pointed out.
"Hm," Jack stared at the running stream of water on the wall. "It's certainly worse than I thought. We're on a precarious path."
"It looks all tidied up on the surface, at the top of the food chain. But on the ground? It's all waiting to implode. I can feel it," Hovan mused. "If I can, I wonder what's going through Lucifer's mind."
"Best not to rationalise the workings of a madman," Jack advised. "I'll just have to pick up the pieces of what's left behind."
"But how? Even your former allies are paying their dues to the current administration. There's nothing you can do out of his sight," Hovan warned.
"Well, I've managed to do plenty so far. I'll just have to do it alone this time," Jack said with a nonchalant shrug. He took his time with the drink. He seemed distracted by the view of the chalky sky, all while feeling Hovan's eyes on him like a caress. "Start small. Fix what needs fixing. Basically restart the past decade of my work."
"If there's anything I can do-"
"That won't be necessary," Jack cut him off. He stood up and fastened his jacket. "Anyway, it's good seeing you. This was nice."
Hovan rose slowly, as if struggling to keep up with time. "You're already leaving? I hoped you'd stay a while."
"Not today, I'm afraid. Lot of cleaning up to do," Jack said. Something about the hazel in his irises dampened. It was like he couldn't even summon a smile. A tense silence fell between them. "I saw… evidence of your work for him."
Hovan rested his palm on Jack's forearm. Watching out for his own security's gazes, he leaned in and said, "You must know that I did what I had to. You were gone for so long. I figured you were dead."
"Oh, I do, though some of these deeds were 'creative'. Made me wonder if you enjoyed it a little too much. Fact of the matter is, you're too close to Lucifer. I can't afford his suspicion right now."
"You think I'd sell you out?" Hovan peered deep into Jack.
"I'm not saying you will. I'm saying that it might not be in your hands," Jack reasoned. Unblinkingly, he continued, "I've learnt a lot about not having control these past few months. I don't plan on experiencing that again."
Jack slid his arm out of Hovan's touch with a gentle sway. "Something about you has changed," Hovan noticed rather bleakly. "I hope that it's for the best."
The edge of Jack's lips jumped up briefly. "Be well, Hovan," he leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "I hope better days reunite us."
"Me too." The demigod stared at the angel's back as he departed as a mirage on the horizon.
A/N:
The song referenced is FileNotFound by Bones (it's a real tear-jerker). Bones is actually a great inspiration for Jack's character even though I did not originally create him to be like Bones. I recommend checking him out if sad rap music is your thing :'').
