AN: Hi, everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on this site. I shan't bore you with the details of working full time as a nurse, losing inspiration multiple times, moving more than once, and finally settling enough to pick up my words, as it were.

To ease myself in, I'm re-writing my first Supernatural story. I wrote those over a decade ago, and my writing has improved by leaps and bounds. I can't help but cringe when I read those stories, but they are what they are. I'm not deleting them from my profile, but now these new stories shall take their place. With a hell of a lot more lore to work with, this is hopefully the start of something great.

Let me know what you all think of it, please. I accept comments and critique, but have good arguments for your complaints.

With that, I give you, "Divine Retribution, Redux."

***DRR***

What a day, to be honest. As she walked the streets of Brooklyn, dodging the cracks and the crevices of the ancient streets, she felt the blood pumping within her and within the ground below. So many people died to create this place, this small section of this insignificant world. And she was supposed to keep an eye on them all.

Ariel Godson shook her head. To the casual observer, she looked to be about fifty years old with the air of powerful old blood hanging about it. She didn't claim any connection to the New York royalty, but she still acted like them. She was infinitely more powerful than any of the mud monkeys around her.

She was tired of this. Year after year, decade after century, she held up the pretence. What faith she had once was no longer worth protecting. She was simply to serve, to watch over these specks of humanity and slime-covered dregs of their society. She was to protect them, as per her orders.

She would never return home. She held onto that promise for so long, a father's words into the suffering ears of a traumatized daughter, a lie to ease his conscience and to aid her healing. A bandage to cover the deeper wound. She would return home, he said, when he called her again, when her penance was complete.

Her penance… like she done something wrong that day. Like she didn't fight as hardest as physically and emotionally possible to resist what had been done to her over those years. They seemed like forever ago, but the scars remained. How could they not, when he dropped that particular bombshell on her at her lowest point.

Ariel shook her head, feeling the shadowy presence inside of her. That familiar presence that strengthened her and wrought steel to her spine. She was the only reason that Ariel had not yet fallen to her knees, had given up time and time again.

"Dr. Godson!" A long-timer nurse called her out as she walked through the doors of New York Mercy Hospital, interrupting her reverie. "Why are you in today? You're not on call."

Among the doctors, Ariel Godson was the one that they looked to for answers. She was always there with a laugh and a smile, to kick your butt if you were out of line, and a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to your troubles. She had worked here in Mercy's ER department for thirty-five years. She was the person to go to for anything, from advice to assistance to mentoring.

She didn't need to do it, after all. However, what Ariel despised the most (besides the mud monkeys that annoyed her) was boredom. At least here, pretending to be one of them, she could not focus on the endless time that she had to kill.

"It's all right, Daphne. I need to work. The chief knows not to pay on the days I come in. " That was always the explanation that she ever gave whenever she came in for extra shifts, which was almost every day. Among her human colleagues, she was the eccentric one, working twelve to thirty-six hour shifts and then coming back within hours to do it all over again. She even worked pro bono hours just to help the hospital out. Still, she worked with a smile in her heart and an drive that most marathon runners could envy. That was the mask, at least.

"Okay, then. We've got a trauma coming in: MVA with four vics, one major. ETA's ten minutes." When the call came out, Ariel ran down the hall to the locker room. Making sure that the door was locked behind her, she materialized into her black sneakers and the sea-green scrubs, hospital issue. She double-checked the pant leg pockets to make sure that her tools (needed for the deception, for who could explain a human who could heal all with a simple touch of her hand) were there and that the stethoscope was draped properly around her neck.

She had seven minutes before the trauma came in as she checked the watch on her right wrist. "Daphne, do we have the trauma rooms open and stocked?"

"Yes, Doc. It's been quiet, so far." She looked through the twenty-two charts on the desk. Indeed, it had been quiet.

"She chuckled as she ran out to meet the ambulances, the sirens roaring nearer and nearer. "Never say 'never', Daphne."

"What you got for me?" She helped to pull the stretcher out and began her visual assessment. The paramedic smiled slightly at the sight of the ever-working doctor before rattling off the bullet.

"MVA vic, 12 year old male, contusions to chest and head lac to frontal lobe, but he's alert and aware. Vitals stable. BP 104/74, resps 20 and regular, pulse 78 and going strong." The paramedic looked down at the boy for a moment as he asked after his mother. "The major's in the ambulance behind us."

Okay. Peter!" She yelled to one of the residents coming outside with a determinedly grim look on his face. "Get him to Exam Two. Need a c-spine, chest x-ray. Make sure that his airway is secured and that he won't crash in the next twenty minutes. Run the call." Turning back to the boy, she leaned down and talked to him. "Your mom's coming in, son. Don't worry." When the attending came and took the little boy away, she turned back to the major. She got out of the way as the paramedic from the bus continued CPR on the ground.

"MVA major, 4 year old female, LOC when we got there; contusions on chest; broken right radius-ulna, and an open right tib-fib. Splinted in field. Severe blood loss from glass in face and arm; probable nicked brachial, femoral, and radial arteries. Heart stopped two minutes ago, one of epi in the field, no response. Strung a line, 200 ccs bolus of normal saline."

"Okay!" She took the stretcher and ran through the doors of the ER. "Get her to Trauma One!" She could sense three nurses and another attending following her, but her mind was on the little child beside her. Ariel felt the life force draining from her. With all of her skills, she would not let this one die on her, not a little girl.

"On my count! One, two, three!" The nurses and the attending helped her to lift the little girl off the stretcher and onto the gurney, and then all of them went into motion. "All right, tube her and continue CPR! Let's get an airway in her. Dr. Samuels, get that bleeding stopped. She needs every drop! I want monitors and trauma panels drawn! Let's get her warm and back!"

When she was in control of a trauma, Dr. Godson morphed from a kind woman to a staff sergeant, her voice strident and intimidating enough to make the most experienced drug dealers and gangsters lose their bowels. She listened to everything around her, all of the voices and noises and trauma, and broke through the chaos with a single word.

Uriel, one of her younger brothers, would shake his head at her for even trying to save the "mud monkeys", as he referred to humans. To her, these humans were once her Father's art, his beloved. Now, they were just a way for her to pass the day. She did her damnedest, but she refused to lose any sleep if she lost one.

"Got a rhythm! Sinus brady, pulse 45 and strong at carotid." There was a sigh of relief as the little girl opened her eyes. Elizabeth looked at her, before the girl closed her eyes again and the monitor beeped.

"Doc, stats are dropping! She's bleeding from somewhere!"

"Cross-clamp her femoral artery now! Be careful with that fracture!" Taking a look at the kid and the bruised abdomen that wasn't there before, she yelled again, "Ruptured spleen! Call the OR! Tell them we're coming up hot!" The attending rushed to call the surgeons, but the child flat-lined again./

This child was going to die, no matter when the labs came in or how fast the surgical team could get to her. She had no choice. As she yelled at the attending to restart CPR and for the nurses to prep the crash cart, Ariel accessed her powers (she used it so rarely these days, relying instead on the knowledge that she had gained over her service) and channelled it to her palm. It felt like warm water lapping against her hand, like the waves of the ocean that she had seen before.

She just touched the child lightly on the forehead, pretending to look at the glass embedded in her face. When she let her powers flood through the child, she held her breath until she felt the girl's life force increase. There was a beep on the monitor, and the nurses' voices came back into her hearing with a muffled update.

She could not pay them attention, instead just nodding. After that, everything blacked out as she felt herself hit the floor.

***DRR***

"Dr. Godson!" Someone was thrumming their knuckles against her sternum, trying to get her to respond. "Dr. Godson!" Her eyes hurt to open, but she forced them to anyway.

"Wha... what happened?" She took Peter's hand to stand up on unsteady feet, mindless of the blood on her scrubs and gloves. The trauma room was empty of everyone; where were the nurses? More importantly, where was the child?

"You blacked out, Doc, for a moment. You didn't stop breathing and your stats were normal, so Dr. Samuels called me in to help deal with the little girl first. I keep telling you to cut back on those pro-bono shifts, get some sleep like normal people do."

She raised her eyebrow at the resident, talking to her like one of his mates. "How's the girl?" She looked around the empty trauma room./

"She's up in Surgery right now. Docs said she's gonna pull through."

"Good." She raised her hand to stop his tirade when she began to walk. "The mother's going to have questions about her children, and I gotta answer those first." She stripped off her gloves and shook her head again. "But first, I need some coffee."

Rubbing the back of her neck as she sipped at her coffee at the main desk, Ariel read over the records in front of her. From the bystander's reports to the police officers on scene, the mother and her three children were driving through an intersection when a driver t-boned his car into them on the passenger side. The driver at fault for causing the accident was uninjured, but his blood alcohol level was through the roof. He would be spending the night in the drunk tank before being charged with four counts of attempted vehicular manslaughter and another charge of driving under the influence. The mother had suffered a broken leg and lacerations to her face and hands. The two sons were similarly injured, only with broken arms or concussions into the mix. The daughter was the worst injured.

Sighing, she stood up and slipped on her white coat. Time to talk to some worried family. As she opened the door that roomed the mother, she noted the worried father and an older son, probably twenty-three years old, guarding their family matriarch.

"Ms. Newman?" She pulled a chair over to the mother's bed. She looked over to the father and brother. "Are you family?"

"I'm her husband. Where's my children?" He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm Dr. Godson. I looked after your daughter. Now, your sons are stable. Your youngest has some cuts on his face and arms, and he's been asking for you. Your fourteen-year-old has a broken arm and a concussion, but he's coming out of it."

"What about Sarah?" This time, it was the son asking the question.

Ariel nodded. "Your daughter was seriously injured. She came in with her heart stopped, a broken arm and a broken leg, as well as some nicked arteries." She always served it straight to the families: better for them to know the truth than to sugar-coat it for them. "She's up in Surgery right now. Your daughter's a fighter, Ms. Newman." She stood up and looked at the family. "You can visit your sons right now; they're in the next room over. We'll give you an update as soon as we have more to know."

"Thank you, Dr. Godson." Mr. Newman shook her hand, tears falling down his face. She nodded to them all, before leaving them alone and racing up the stairs to the OR suites. The charge nurse knew immediately when she saw her bloody scrubs who she was here for. "The Newman girl's in Theatre Four. They got everyone working on her right now."

"Thanks, Nancy!" Ariel hung her coat up and switched into clean scrubs. Scrubbing her hands and slipping a mask on, she slipped into the busy room.

Like Nancy had told her, the room was full of people. Dr. Whitten and Joseph Isaacs were working on reducing the leg fracture. Dr. Alexander was suturing up her side. There were scrub nurses working with all of them, passing them tools and making sure that all was working well. The anesthesiologist stood up the machine and kept track of her vitals.

"Ah, Dr. Godson!" Dr. Alexander looked over his shoulder to her and shook his head. "Why are you interrupting us?"

"Observing this time. So, how is she?" She looked over at the pale girl's face.

"She's going to make it. The arteries were sutured first. Her spleen's removed, but she's healthy enough for it not to be a concern right now. All the glass's out, the wounds clean." He sighed for a moment. "She was hemorrhaging internally from a slight laceration to her inferior vena cava, but it was sutured up. She went through only two units before all the bleeding was under control."

"He pointed with his chin to the two doctors. "Whitten heard about the case and got right in with Isaacs at his side. They finished fixating the arm, and they're almost done their work on the leg. Right, Thomas?"

Dr. Whitten talked without taking his eyes from the drill in his hand. "Another screw, and we'll be done. She'll be in casts for at least two months, but she'll walk without a limp and use this arm without any problem with some physiotherapy afterwards."

Joseph Isaacs looked up at Dr. Godson with a weary smile on his face. He was an orthopedic surgical resident under Dr. Whitten, and he was under the best surgeon in Mercy Hospital. "Nice to see you, Doctor."

"You too, Joseph." She walked over and took a look at his work on suturing the arm. "Your work's improving. You using the pigskin?"

"No. Doctor Whitten has me into more surgeries, and I observe while suture."

"Less yakking, more sewing, Isaacs." Dr. Whitten barked as he handed the drill off the field. "Maybe if you finish up without fawning over ER's docs, I'll let you assist in the hip replacement tomorrow beyond suturing. That is, if you can handle it?" Without another word, they all got back to work.

Ariel smiled and left the room, stripping off her gear and getting back into her coat. She headed back down to the ER. She had a promise to keep, after all.

***DR***

Dr. Godson watched the family cry with joy as she told them about little Sarah's progress. The boys were with their mother right now, and she called for some porters to bring them up to Recovery for them to see their daughter when the nurses deemed it ready. All in all, it was a good start to the day.

Well, it would have been. The chief shook his head at her and told her to go home. Fainting like that was not acceptable. Besides, it was her damn day off. Get out of here, he said. Go see the city, take in the sights. Read a damn book.

Waving her hands in defeat, she headed into the locker room and saw Peter studying over one of the health records. "Peter, I'll see you on Friday. Be ready for me to ride your ass for questioning me." She took a look at him, and saw him almost cry out in unfairness. "I know my limits, and I've been working this job longer than you've been alive. You're only a first-year resident, and the first lesson that you're going to learn is that those with more experience than you are here to teach you, not for you to poke fun at. It's fine outside of work, but not after an emergency like that."

She heard the door slam as he left in an undignified huff. She just shook her head. The door opened again and Dr. Samuels came through. He was an attending here for the last two years, having completed his residency under her. "What did you say to Collins?" He asked as he poured himself coffee.

He told me how to do my job, John. Told me to cut back on working and narced on me to the chief." She turned and looked at him. "I didn't eat breakfast today. My blood sugar was low and I was dehydrated. I don't need a first-year telling me what to do."

"Ariel, he's young. Give him a break." He held a hand up. "Still, you're right."

She closed her locker and slipped into her jacket. "I'm going home. I'll see you in a couple of days."