A/N: Thanks for all your lovely comments and follows! Sorry it's been a while - I've had college finals and boring stuff like that. But hey, it's my birthday today (I'm now officially an adult - how terrifying) so I thought I'd get a chapter up. Enjoy!
The next few days are spent planning, training, preparing. They're in a small town in Wyoming this time, just off of Route 25. It's chilly, but not snowing.
The former occupants are dead or fled. Kayla doesn't dwell on it.
She sits in on the meetings with Lucifer and his head demons. Well, "head" is probably being generous. There's Meg, who has been a little skittish around Lucifer since the whole Kayla-almost-drowning-under-her-watch incident, but otherwise she's as devoted as ever and Lucifer doesn't question it. The rest, the ones accompanying them on the mission, are crossroad demons – simply because they can teleport. Much quicker than driving halfway across the country.
The mission's a simple one: unleash a strain of croatoan virus on a small population and let Pestilence do the rest. The demons will carry out the dirty work while Lucifer oversees proceedings from a distance. Part of Kayla knows this is just a cover for keeping her away from potential danger, but she doesn't care. Her feet itch to be out there, doing something, anything, useful instead of lying around like a spare part.
The meeting draws to a close. Lucifer tells them to be ready to leave in an hour and the demons begin to file out the door. "How d'you know I won't get infected?" Kayla asks, when her and Lucifer are the only ones left. She knows if there was a possibility the disease could affect her she wouldn't be allowed anywhere near this job.
Lucifer – back in his usual, now blood-free shirts, after what Kayla likes to call "Gabriel-gate" in her head – turns to face where she's sitting perched on a desk pushed against the side of the room. He leans against the wall on his shoulder in an oddly human way. "My grace will keep you immune," he says, as though it's obvious. She supposes it is; she's never even had chickenpox.
She nods and hops off the desk, stretching out and stifling a yawn. Lucifer frowns. "You should have slept."
"'M fine," she says through another yawn. She mentally slaps herself and tries to wake up. When that doesn't work, she shrugs it off and walks to the door. "Suppose I'd better go put on an extra pair of socks or something." She flashes him a grin as she passes him. "It's a big day."
He reaches out and grabs her elbow before she gets to the door, stopping her. "Take this. I know you're good with a knife."
In his hand, offered hilt first, is Gabriel's sword. She hasn't seen it since she pried the blood-covered metal out of Lucifer's grip when Gabriel died, but the sword is clean now and she can look at it in more detail. There are golden engravings along the hilt – she thinks they're Enochian – and a strange kind of sapphire inlay just underneath the pommel that wraps thinly around the grip. It seems to irradiate the deep blue color faintly, and it hurts her eyes as she inspects it.
His words, the way he holds the sword out to her, his body language – it's all very casual, but she knows the significance behind this exchange, and he knows she knows. Neither of them mentions it, so she plays along. "Thanks, Luci," she says cheerily. The nickname rolls off her tongue without permission and they both freeze; him surprised, her knowing only a select few call him that – are allowed to call him that. After a millisecond Lucifer relaxes and nods slightly as if to give his assent, and she grins, reaches forward and grasps the hilt of the sword.
The room spins.
A faint sting tingles down her spine and her vision swims. Lucifer's still holding the other end of the sword so she grasps his forearm with her other hand to steady herself as she attempts to snap out of it. She's vaguely aware of his other hand instinctively reaching out to help hold her up.
It only lasts a couple of seconds and then she's completely fine. The only evidence anything strange occurred is the death grip of her left hand on Lucifer's right arm. "Are you alright?" he asks, concern leaking on to his usually perfectly controlled features.
Kayla gasps like she's forgotten how to breathe. Maybe she has. She forces herself to look up at Lucifer with a bright smile. "Woah. Dizzy turn." She sounds the part, but she can't seem to pry her fingers from around is arm.
Lucifer only frowns deeper, and gently uncurls her steel fingers from him with his free hand. He holds it for a second longer than necessary and she's struck again by how cool his skin is in comparison to hers. She always forgets.
He lets go of the sword and Kayla realizes she's still holding it. "I, uh, I should go," she says, turning to leave as she slides the sword under her belt, letting her jacket fall forward to cover it from view. Any traces of tiredness have been wiped away; every one of her senses is on high alert, her body pumped full of adrenaline. "See you in an hour."
She still feels his eyes burning into her back even when her restless legs take her halfway across the tiny town.
In this small pocket of civilization, it's easy to believe the world is ending.
Kayla watches coldly from the window as the apocalyptic setting unfolds below her. The infected run riot, destroying everything they can. Some have weapons: guns, knives, crowbars, anything they can get their hands on. The rest blindly destroy everything in their path with their bare hands. The air is thick with the screams of the uninfected, car alarms and the sound of glass smashing. Smoke begins to obscure her view, rising from overturned vehicles and burning buildings.
It's pure chaos.
Kayla turns back to the scene in the room with a smirk playing on her lips. Pestilence has arrived.
"Everything's in order," he's saying to Luci, "we'll be ready to hit the big cities in around six, maybe eight months, provided you want them hit all at the same time. It would be quicker to target them individually, but –"
"No," Lucifer cuts across smoothly. "Hit them all simultaneously. We have the time."
"As you wish." A particularly loud crash resonates from outside the window and Pestilence's eyes flicker towards the source of noise. He seems to notice Kayla for the first time. "What have we here Lucifer? Have you brought me a specimen?" His eyes roam over Kayla hungrily. Her right hand hovers over the sword hilt under her jacket and she stares him out. "You know, I could create all kinds of beautiful symptoms to go along with the virus if I had the right," his face splits into a sleazy grin "petri dish." Kayla narrows her eyes.
She wants to laugh at Pestilence's reaction when Lucifer says, in a voice full of ice and thunder, "That will not be necessary." She opts for a lazy smirk.
Pestilence's eyes flick between her and Lucifer like he's watching a tennis match. His features are slack, his mouth agape. "But I could –"
Lucifer's fist clenches at his side and the rest of Pestilence's words are cut off by a harsh choking sound. His hands claw at his throat and Lucifer looms over him, tall and threatening. "Not while you are bound to me. You will do as I say and I am telling you she is mine, understand?" His voice is quiet but chilling. Any other time, Kayla would be indignant, pissed even, if some guy was staking claims on her like that. Any other time Kayla would step in and make a comment about not needing some douchebag to fight her battles. But this time, Kayla feels a thrill as he defends her.
Because it's Lucifer.
Luci releases his hold over Pestilence when he nods hastily. "Didn't think you were the type for pets, boss," he snarls and disappears before Lucifer can do something much worse than crush his windpipe.
Kayla turns back to the window. The crowds outside have dispersed. The sound of car alarms has risen to fever pitch, practically deafening her, and she starts when she feels Lucifer standing right behind her. He silences the harsh noise with a sweep of his hand and just like that, the landscape is peaceful once more. Just a little burnt and war torn around the edges.
"I think we're done here," he tells her, and she nods and turns around in time to see him stiffen for a split second. He relaxes and smiles. "Ah," he says, as Meg appears in the doorway, managing to somehow appear both urgent and unhurried.
"Got a problem Father. Guess who?" Her drawl is as slow as ever as she leans against the doorjamb.
Lucifer nods, unsurprised. He smiles wider as he grabs Kayla's arm and they fly.
Flying is how Kayla likes to think of it, anyway. It's easier to wrap her mind around that than teleportation.
They reappear instantly in the parking lot behind the building they were just in. Kayla stumbles a little on the landing - she seems to be getting worse rather than better at handling the strange sensation – and notices the stinging sensation in her back from earlier has returned with a vengeance. She shrugs it off best she can and focuses on the scene in front of her.
On the other side of the lot two men stand, both armed to the teeth, both with matching gritty expressions. The Winchesters. More importantly, the true vessels.
The shorter of the two has already whipped out a revolver with a distinctively long barrel and is aiming it at Lucifer's skull. "I don't know why they bother," Lucifer mutters. "They already know their fancy guns are useless."
Kayla wonders which one is Luci's vessel. She's still looking at the one pointing the gun in their direction. She scans him critically. Pissed isn't the word for his expression. He's wearing it like a mask, using his anger as fuel and swallowing down all his other emotions. She narrows her eyes skeptically. The guy's a mess, even she can see that.
When her gaze travels to the taller of the two, she's surprised. He's younger than the other, maybe around her age. He's angry too, only angry, angrier than his brother, but not at Lucifer specifically. At everything. He reminds her of himself, before Luci found her. But his expression is calm and controlled in a way she never was, although his confidence wavers the more he looks at Lucifer.
The he looks at her and it's like he's magnetizing her, pulling her body towards him without consent. She feels it at her core, an insufferable urge to stand at this man's side and never leave. She grits her teeth, her feet scuffing the ground as she uses every ounce of self-control she has to stay still. When her resolve isn't enough, she grasps Lucifer's forearm, trying to anchor himself to him. He glances over at her, confused. "Oh," he says quietly, like he sees the battle raging inside her. "I didn't think – that's not – hmm." His eyes meet hers and his expression softens. "Here," he says, taking her hand in his and connecting their grace. It placates whatever weird kind of uncontrollable need is inside her and she exhales, allowing herself to relax. "Better?" She nods.
The Winchesters have been watching this exchange with agape expressions, although they can't see the grace glowing from between Kayla and Luci's entwined hands. The taller one is curious, the shorter slack-jawed and incredulous. "Son of a bitch has got himself a girlfriend!" he proclaims disbelievingly.
"Dean… she's human." The taller – Sam – lowers his gun slightly, Kayla notes.
"Ah, little Sammy. My vessel. No wonder you're attracted to him, I would look devastatingly handsome wearing him." He flashes a grin at Sam, who scowls in response. "But," he adds, wrinkling his nose a little, "the conscience has got to go." Kayla laughs loudly.
Sam looks down, expression unreadable. Dean positively fizzles with anger. "Don't you talk about him like that, you bastard."
Lucifer rounds on him with a bored expression. "Oh, hello Dean." His voice is noticeably cooler. "Almost didn't see you under all those shirts. Why you boys try to wear every single item of clothing you own at once I'll never know." He rolls his eyes.
Dean doesn't retort, but instead glances at their hands again, suspicion lining his features. Luci notices. "Where's your pretty boyfriend, Dean?" Dean's eyes snap back up to Lucifer's, jaw clenched. His hand noticeably tightens around the gun. "Haven't seen him since he burned poor Meg half to death. I'd like a word with him sometime."
Dean's eyes narrow. "You shut your mouth about Cas."
Lucifer chuckles. "Such a way with words. My brother," he says to Kayla in way of explanation, "has the most fascinating obsession with humanity. This one in particular. It's almost kind of cute – if a lion abandoning his pride for a cockroach is cute."
Dean bristles. "If you want to get him really riled up," Luci adds, quietly so only Kayla can hear, "mention Detroit in an ominous tone. Works like a charm." Kayla laughs, the sound harsh and echoing in the chilly air.
Sam looks up, straight at Lucifer. "Who is she?" Lucifer stares back for a few moments, and Kayla's got to hand it to Sam, he doesn't back down.
"She has a name," Kayla mutters defensively, free hand instinctively resting on Gabriel's sword. Her vision blurs a little around the edges and the stinging in her back becomes a slow burn, but she ignores it. She can handle it.
Lucifer smirks at her. "Kayla is the reason I don't need you anymore, Sammy. That's as far as she concerns you."
Kayla watches the brothers' expressions closely. Dean's is all relief and daring hope with a touch of skepticism. Sam's is much the same, but she sees a flicker of disappointment cross his face, followed by disgust at himself.
Lucifer notices too but he doesn't mention it, or mock Sam. He simply frowns thoughtfully. "Well, thanks for the chat boys, but we have business to attend to."
Before the Winchesters can react, they're gone.
Kayla's hand is still on the sword. Her vision swims as Lucifer pulls her through dimensions, and the pain between her shoulder blades becomes unbearable. It's like someone is branding her with hot metal.
Before she can register what's happening, she's blind and burning.
A horrible terrifying shriek echoes around her. She's vaguely aware that the sound is coming from her own mouth. She can't stop it.
All she can see is darkness and she's spinning, she's falling, she's on fire. Going down in flames.
