Fallen, Book 3: Missing Girls and Mystery Monsters

by The Urban Spaceman

Determined to help humanity even as it teeters on the brinks of apocalyptic destruction, Avariel teams up with a family of Hunters—the Carver siblings—to find a college student whose disappearance suggests something out of the ordinary.

3. Tequila and College Tales

Fallen

Book 3: Missing Girls and Mystery Monsters

Chapter 3

- Tequila and College Tales -

Avariel stood in the motel room looking over the sleeping forms of the two human girls. She thought of them as girls, even though they were twenty-three, and technically women in their society. Compared to the length of Ava's years, they were children, infants, barely a full stop on the last page of the book. Yet despite the fact that she had watched the Earth for many thousands of years, these children, at times, were wiser than she They knew things, and saw things, that she did not know and could not see. It was a weakness of angels, she realised. Sometimes they could not see what was right in front of their faces, and even when they could see it, they couldn't always understand it.

The girls, along with Danny, were already working on the witch problem. As soon as Pippin had returned from the hospital, conveying Kayleigh's thanks for rescuing her, they had got to work on tracking down as much information as possible about Dylan Thomson; what classes he'd taken in college, what clubs he'd joined, who his classmates had been, his room-mates, which library books he'd checked out... Another day or so, and they assured her they'd have everything she needed to track down the other witches of Dylan's coven.

Working with them, she had almost forgotten about the other humans she was tasked with observing. Deciding it was past time that she checked up on them, she activated her Watcher-vision, and, for a wonder, found Castiel with the Winchesters. The angel did not know she was Watching, of course, though he was probably paranoid about it by now. He seemed to take the knowledge that she Watched him as a personal affront, though she didn't know why. She would have thought he'd be glad that she was keeping him, and by extension, Sam and Dean, safe from the Watchers in Heaven. So far, he had yet to show her any gratitude at all.

There was something afoot in the town they were working in, she realised. The three of them were inside a motel room, looking at crime scene reports. Killings... murders and suicides. A couple who had devoured each other. A man who had shoved desserts down his throat. Another couple who had killed themselves after shooting dead a colleague in the office block where they worked. And there was more. She sensed a change in the vibrational energy of Sam and Castiel. Something was interfering with their natural energy, manipulating them on some minute level. She let go of herself, stretching herself thinner, reached out, and touched Castiel with a tendril of her own celestial force.

Immediately she recoiled in horror, sickened by the hunger that was slowly growing within him. Angels did not lose control; they did not get tired, or hungry, and they desired nothing except to be instructed and loved by their Father. But something was influencing Castiel, or at least his vessel, and she suspected it was the same thing that was touching Sam, making the boy wide-eyed and sweaty. She had touched it for only the briefest of moments, and she could still feel the taint of it dirtying her. A feeling rose in her stomach, a deep longing to return to the small farmhouse where Katie had grown up, to see her family once more. It was a gnawing hunger within her, and at that moment, she knew what she was dealing with.

She hurried to the telephone within the room, picked up the receiver, and dialled the number of the arch-angel Gabriel. He answered after three rings.

"House of Fun, how may we help you today?"

"It's me," she said. "I need to meet with you urgently. It's about the Winchesters."

"I'm at Chrissy's house in Hollywood."

"Chrissy?"

"Aguilera. Don't worry, she's not here... away touring Europe or something. Bring a bottle of tequila."

The line went dead.

She wasn't sure how serious he was being, about the house or the tequila, but she didn't have time to wonder. Taking one last look at the sleeping humans, she teleported to a nearby liquor store. As soon as she arrived, the shop's alarm sensors detected her and the external bell began to sound. She exerted an electrical force from her body, interrupting the power supply to the alarm and the CCTV cameras, and the shop fell silent. It didn't take her long to find the tequila; she selected the most expensive one on the shelf. Then, she teleported again.

The house she found herself outside of was large and luxurious. Two high-performance cars were inside the garage, and there was music coming from the upper floors of the house. When she approached the front door, it opened automatically, and she stepped into the opulent building. Following the sound of the music, she climbed the wide, sweeping staircase, letting her hand run along the wooden bannister. At the top of the stairs she looked around at the various doors, and picked the double doors to the left which most likely led to the master bedroom. It was where the music was coming from, and when she listened a little closer, she realised it was Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries blaring out over the sound-system.

Again, the doors opened at her approach, to reveal Gabriel standing in the centre of the room, wearing what appeared to be his favoured gold silk dressing gown and holding two shot glasses in his hands.

"Welcome, Brynhildr," he said. "I don't suppose you thought to bring salt, did you?"

She shook her head. Brynhildr was a Norse shieldmaiden and leader of the Valkyries; Avariel had no idea what it had to do with her. "Why do you need salt?" she asked. "Are there demons nearby?"

"Nah. It's for the tequila. You can't do shots without salt. Or lime, come to think of it. Nip out and get some, will you? Make it fresh lime, too. I can't stand the supermarket stuff. Leave the bottle."

She put the bottle of tequila down on the table and teleported to yet another store, where she picked up a bag of salt, then teleported to a field in California where lime trees were growing in orderly rows. Mentally, she commanded one of the ripest limes to fall, and caught it before it could hit the ground. Then she teleported back to the house in Hollywood, where Gabriel was waiting with two glasses of the tequila. He gestured for her to join him at the bar, and she took a seat on one of the high stools.

"As you requested," she said, putting the salt and lime on the table.

"Good girl. Now, have you ever had alcohol before?"

"No, not yet." She looked at the tequila bottle, and what floated in suspension at the bottom. "I feel sorry for the worm."

"You don't drink the worm, you drink what it's suspended in. Here." He slid one of the glasses to her. "The order goes salt, tequila, lime. Like this." He sprinkled a layer of salt across the top of his hand and used a slicing motion with one finger to cut off a slice of the lime. Then he licked the salt, downed the tequila, and bit down onto the lime. "Now, your turn."

"This does not look hygienic," she said feebly. He gave her a pointed look, and she gave up trying to get out of it. She mimicked his actions, licking the salt from her hand, swallowing the shot of tequila, and biting into the lime. It was like a horrible explosion of foulness in her mouth. "I don't understand the point of this," she said, spitting out a lime pip onto her hand.

"Human games rarely have a point," he said knowledgeably. "The point of this one, however, is mostly to do as many shots as you can and see who's left standing at the end."

She picked up the bottle and turned it over in her hand, reading the blurb on the back. "It will take many, many more of these to intoxicate either of us."

"True. But we're not here to get drunk, we're here to enjoy a bottle of tequila and conspire against Heaven." He poured two more shots of tequila and narrowed his hazel-brown eyes at her. "So. Tell me about my favourite apes."

"They are investigating a string of deaths in a town where Famine touches all who dwell there."

"Wow, really, Famine? I was not expecting that. Drink your tequila."

She obeyed, drinking her second shot of the liquid. This time, she didn't bother with the salt or the lime. "I don't think they know what they are up against yet," she said, "but they soon will. Already they are being subtly influenced by the Horseman."

"Hmm. Do you think they're ready to take on another Horseman?"

She scoffed. "No. They are like children, stumbling around in the dark."

"Then maybe you should enlighten them."

"And fall under Famine's influence myself? I felt his touch when I was merely Watching the town. I can only imagine how much worse it would be, to be physically present there. Besides I doubt I could help them without raising their suspicions."

"Good point. Those two baboons have a habit of doing the opposite of what I want them to." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and poured two more shots. "Drink." She obeyed. "Alright. We'll let them do this on their own. If they're going to trap Michael and Lucifer in the cage, they're going to need to get better at vanquishing opponents far more powerful than they are. Will you keep an eye on them?"

"Of course."

"Good. I'll step in if necessary, but I'd rather not reveal my hand unless I must."

"A poker term," she mused. Poker was something she had watched a lot of, from Heaven. An interesting game of skill and luck with many variables. His expression raised a question she had been pondering ever since Bartholomew had told her where to find the arch-angel. "Gabriel, may I ask you a question?"

"Six," he replied.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were going to ask how many women I had in this bed last night, right?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No, I was going to ask why you chose to pose as a Trickster. You are one of the most powerful beings in all of existence... you could have been anything. Why... this?" she asked, gesturing at his vessel.

"Why not this? I had to be something, and those pagan gods were all about bowing to the sun and sacrificing people when the winter solstice blah blah blah. To be honest, I did consider being Quetzalcoatl—those Aztecs really knew how to build their pyramids—but I wanted to get away from the whole 'feathered' look. Pretty much everybody else has to pander to their worshippers, but Tricksters exist without worship, as agents of chaos and deception, powerful and beholden to nobody. I knew it was the last place other angels would look for me. Plus, it's fun. I get to screw around with the apes. They have an amazing sense of humour. I especially enjoy irony. It's so... delicious."

"And this life makes you happy?"

"Happy enough, yeah."

"Then why do you want to return to Heaven?"

"You know, you're less deferential than Bartholomew described. Have you always asked this many questions of your superiors?"

"No, before rebelling in Heaven, and taking this vessel, I was a very proper and respectful grigori."

"So you just arrived here on Earth with an attitude problem?"

"I guess so," she shrugged. "I suppose my 'attitude' stems from the fact that I fought the law and won. I held my own against a powerful seraph, and have managed to manipulate my way into reaching Earth and finding you. Is my 'attitude' a cause for concern?"

"Depends on who you ask. I'm sure Michael and Raphael would smite you for your impudence, if they could. Lucifer would find you to be an amusing toy, something to be played with for his own entertainment."

"And you?" she asked, genuinely interested in his thoughts about her.

"I guess I have a soft spot for people with suicidal bravery and a blatant disregard for 'proper' behaviour." He used his hand to lift her chin and look into her eyes. "But I can end your existence with a snap of my fingers, and if I have reason to believe you're straying from the path, I won't hesitate. Don't betray me."

"I won't," she whispered, suddenly too afraid to make further assurances that she was loyal to him.

"Good." He released her chin and smiled at her. "I'm becoming quite fond of you. I'd hate to have to get rid of you. Now, tell me what you've been getting up to here on Earth since we last met."

She swallowed her fear, and sat up a little straighter. She suspected he didn't truly care, but that he was bothering with 'small talk' at all took the sting out of his threat. A little.

"Recently, I worked with a family of hunters to rescue a young woman from the clutches of monsters of unknown intent and classification."

"Was she grateful?"

"Yes, very."

"Did you tell her what you were?"

"No," she admitted. "I let her believe that I was simply another hunter."

"Ahh. And why'd you do that?"

"Because you were right," she said, downing another tequila. The bottle was almost gone, now; they were nearly down to the worm. "People have a desperate need for answers. Some answers I simply can't give, so it's better to say nothing. Humans, for the most part, are not ready to hear the truth. I think that even some angels aren't ready to hear the truth."

"Well well. Seems I've got myself a fast learner." He put his hands together in mock prayer, and looked to the ceiling. "Thank Dad. Now, time for you to run along. Go back to saving humans or whatever it is you're doing. And don't forget to keep me apprised of what's happening with my monkeys."

"I'll let you know as soon as there is news."

"Good girl. Don't be a stranger."

He poured one last drink for himself and tossed the empty tequila bottle to her, which she caught one-handed. As soon as she grasped the bottle she was teleported back to the motel, and found herself looking over the Carvers once more. When she looked at the clock on the wall, she discovered no time had actually passed whilst she had been with Gabriel, and yet her body clearly told her that she had been hundreds of miles away from here... and that she had been drinking tequila. Why Gabriel had chosen to send her back in time, to the moment she had departed the hotel, she did not know. Perhaps as a display of his power, a reminder of what he was capable of.

In the double bed, Merry stirred, and groggily opened her grey eyes. When she saw the empty tequila bottle in Avariel's hand, she smiled sleepily.

"You've been out having fun without us, Ava?"

Ava looked at the bottle in her hand. There was no real way she could explain this to the girl. She suspected Gabriel would not approve of humans knowing about him.

"No, I was just drinking as I watched over you," she lied.

"I didn't know angels even drank. Isn't that a sin or something?"

"To be honest, I no longer know what is and is not a sin in my Father's eyes, Merry," she admitted. Then, she put the bottle down on the table. "You should go back to sleep. It's still early morning."

"Yeah," Merry agreed. "So... you really don't sleep, huh?"

"No." Humans seemed to have problems understanding that she required no sleep. No matter how many times she told them, they didn't seem to believe it. "Pleasant dreams, Merry."

"Pleasant drinking, Ava," Merry said. Then she lay back down, closed her eyes, and drifted off back to sleep.

Left to herself again, Ava settled into a more comfortable stance, and resumed her observation of the Winchesters.

o - o - o - o - o

The Carvers were holed up in one of the motel rooms, mostly because the van was too small to comfortably accommodate three people and an angel. Ava waited patiently whilst Danny did things on his computer, and Pippin made phone calls to the campus where Dylan had studied. Merry, claiming she lacked the technological skills to put up with a laptop and the 'people skills' to make phone calls to strangers, kept herself occupied by cleaning some of the weapons she and her sister owned.

"And you don't have a hang-over at all?" Merry asked, for the third time that morning.

"No."

"But you drank a full bottle of tequila. You should be paralytic. Or at least throwing your guts up."

"Angels are not affected by intoxicants in the same way humans are."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. No eating, no sleeping, no getting drunk... what do angels do for fun up in Heaven? No offence, but I can't imagine you guys as the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll types."

Ava thought about the question for a minute. It was true that angels needed no sustenance; celestial beings never aged or hungered or tired, and they lacked the ability to understand concepts which came so easily to humans; fun, for example. There were no games in Heaven. There was no television, and though there was music it was not as varied as it was on Earth. The closest angels came to 'fun' was inhabiting the Heavens of human souls, experiencing little slices of human existence in the form of relived memories. But an angel who experienced the Heaven of a human was not privy to that human's thoughts or emotions, and though an angel could interact with a memory, doing so was usually frowned upon.

"We generally do not have 'fun'," she said at last. "We watch the Earth and guard Heaven. It is our duty."

"And in all your time of watching and guarding, you never thought about coming down here and having some fun?"

"No, there have been orders against interference, and angels who disobey are cast out if... corrective punishment... fails."

"Is that what happened to you?" Danny asked, glancing up from his laptop screen. His blue-grey eyes were full of curiosity—the human trait which she felt she could best understand and relate to. She, too, was curious about many things. Sometimes, her curiosity had driven Bobby to distraction.

"Technically, no," she replied. Perhaps these humans had earned an explanation. "I left before I could be cast out, they simply barred me from returning without permission or accessing Heaven's power."

"Then how do you do the stuff you do, if you're without Heaven's power?"

She gestured at his laptop, which was plugged into the mains. "Your computer will run indefinitely whilst it is powered like that. When you unplug it and take it away from a source of power, it will continue to function on its battery for a period of time. Then, it must be recharged."

"You're saying that your batteries are going to run out if you don't get plugged into Heaven?" he asked. He was concerned for her; she could tell by the expression on his face.

"Not if I am sensible about using my powers. There are certain things, such as healing people and smiting demons with my touch, that I can no longer do, and other things, such as attempting to travel through time, that I should not attempt to do lest I weaken myself and am unable to recover."

"What happens if you can't get... refuelled?" Merry asked, finishing her work on her pistol. She put it down on the bed and picked up another gun.

"I don't know," Ava admitted. "It's been a while since one of my class of angels fell or was cast out. The last time it happened, most of them couldn't bear to be cut off from Heaven. They wandered the Earth until they were weary of it, then chose to become human so that they could die."

"How cheerful."

"Sorry to interrupt such a macabre discussion," said Pippin, tossing her mobile phone down onto the bed, "but I've just about finished up here. I've got as much info as I can over the phone, the rest is going to need a more personal touch."

"Danny? How's your stuff going?"

"All done. I've sent the info to the printer in the van. Everything from Dylan Thomson's campus address to his exam scores."

"Great, I'll go grab it," said Merry. She picked up the van keys and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

"Your sister appears eager to see me gone," Ava observed.

"It's nothing personal," said Pippin. "We're just... not big on outside help."

"For what it's worth, I've enjoyed your company," Danny said. "Working with you has been interesting."

The motel door opened again, and Merry reappeared with two sheets of printed A4 paper. "Here you go, Ava. I'm sure you'll be able to track down the rest of Dylan's coven with this."

"Take this, too," Pippin added, handing over her hand-written notes. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Ava said, to all three. "What will you do now?"

Merry shrugged. "Keep hunting. We'll put out feelers, see if we can find the urn that was stolen from the museum."

"Do you think we'll see you again?" Danny asked her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe."

Because she disliked goodbyes, she teleported to a quiet area of campus at Adelphi University's College of Arts and Sciences, New York. It was a large, red brick building set amidst a sprawling garden. The skyline of New York was visible only in the distance, partially obscured by a foggy haze.

It was lunch time, and students were walking about the campus, talking to each other, some carrying sandwiches or paper cups of coffee. It was a vibrant and lively place, the air charged with excitement and potential. The faces of the students ranged from eager and happy to tired and overwhelmed, each of them a little island of humanity, floating around other islands of humanity. United by what they were, but separated by who they were. Not unlike angels, Ava mused. As above, so below.

She looked down at the paper in her hands, and read the name of the lecturer for Dylan's English literature class. Professor Thomas Wright. Room number 349 was where his office was based, but Ava did not teleport directly there. She needed to blend in here, as she had in Knott, if she had any hope of finding answers. People would not be inclined to answer the questions of a woman who randomly appeared in a room without using a door, and she was not in the mood to answer the same questions over and over again about the nature of her existence.

There was a small wooden signpost nearby, and she walked towards it, studying it. One of the arms read 'Humanities and Languages Dept.' and pointed towards an entrance of the building. Ava followed it, walking along the path, stepping around the students. A few of them looked at her briefly; mostly the male students. Katie was, she supposed, visually appealing by human standards, so it was natural that men should look. They could not help what was in their nature.

Once inside the building she walked the halls until she came to a staircase, and then began to climb. She passed a few students, a few members of faculty, even a security guard, and none questioned her right to be there. It was perhaps very fortuitous that her vessel was a young woman, and not an elderly man. She would not have looked so inconspicuous here in an older body.

It didn't take her long to find room 349, and she knocked on the door, waiting to be called in before stepping into the room. Professor Wright was behind his desk; a grey-haired man wearing a pair of corduroy trousers and a tartan jumper over a shirt and tie. His brown eyes appraised her briefly from behind narrow wire-framed spectacles, before he glanced at the pile of papers on his desk once more.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Professor Wright?" she enquired, just to be sure this was the correct man.

"That's what it says on my door." He looked up again, and studied her more closely. "I don't recognise you from my classes. Are you a student here?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," she admitted. "But my brother was. Dylan Thomson? He graduated last year."

"Ah yes, Dylan," he said, putting down his pen and smiling. "I remember your brother well. He was very talented. But what brings you here today, Miss..?"

"Amber," she lied. "My name is Amber. And I was hoping you could help me, Professor."

"Help you in what way?"

"My brother passed away a few weeks ago," she said.

"I'm so very sorry to hear that." The sadness and sympathy in his eyes was not feigned. It seemed this man truly did remember Dylan Thomson fondly.

"Thank you." She tried to make her facial expression convey sadness, but she wasn't sure it was working. It felt... strange.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?"

"A car accident," she said. "He was hit by a drunk driver." Improvisation was a skill she had never needed before, and she decided she had some small talent for it.

"A devastating loss," said Professor Wright. "You and your family have my deepest sympathies."

"Thanks, I'll pass your condolences on to my parents. As to why I'm here... I know Dylan had a lot of friends here, whilst he was studying, and most of them don't know about his passing. I was hoping to contact some of them, to pass on the news, but unfortunately Dylan's phone was damaged in the crash, so we've been unable to search through his contacts. As you taught my brother, I hoped you might have some idea of who his friends are, and how I might find them."

Professor Wright sighed, took off his glasses, cleaned them with his shirt, and put them back on his face again, leaning forward to look at her. "Certainly, I can give you the names of some of the students he was closest to, but I'm afraid that I can't release personal information about any students, past or present. The university operates a data protection policy. I hope you can understand."

"Yes, of course," she said, biting back her frustration. Names, at least, were better than nothing. Perhaps if she got names, Danny Carver would be able to use his computer to track the former students down. "I would appreciate anything you could do for me."

He picked up his pen and a blank sheet of paper and wrote down several lines; names, she could see. Then he folded it up and held it out to her. "These were the three students your brother always arrived in class with, and sat with."

She took the paper and opened it up, reading the names. Simon Brandwood. Gretta Walker. Calvin Hall. "I appreciate your help, Professor Wright" she said.

"There is one other thing," he told her. "A lot of the students like to visit a bar, just on the edge of campus. It's called Garden Life—named after our campus. I heard your brother and his friends mention it a couple of times, and I think they were regulars. Could be somebody there can give you more info than I can."

"I'll check it out right away."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't bother. It doesn't open until eight."

"Oh." That was slightly inconvenient, but not a real problem for an ageless being possessed of infinite patience. "I'll check it out tonight, then."

"Good luck, Amber. And again, I'm truly sorry about your brother's passing." He smiled. "I'm sure there's one more angel in Heaven, now."

She nodded her thanks and left the room, not even bothering to correct him. Humans could not become angels, not even in Heaven, and she was almost certain that Dylan hadn't gone to the realm of eternal peace and happiness. More likely he was suffering in the pit of eternal damnation and despair, and rightly so. He hadn't been some naïve child, tricked into practicing witchcraft by a wily demon. He had been a grown man with his own mind, and he had made his own choice. He had inflicted suffering upon his home town, and now he deserved to be punished for it. And, if she was successful, he wouldn't be suffering alone for very long.

o - o - o - o - o

Garden Life was a large bar situated not far from the campus. There was a neon sign hanging outside it, depicting the club's name alongside the image of a tree, which Ava found to be amusing. Loud rock music blared out from the building, and people were entering and leaving through the door, though more entered than left.

Ava had spent several hours waiting for the bar to open, passing the time by visiting the café near Perugia where she had taken Bobby after being released from her circle of holy fire. Again, she ordered chocolate icecream, then decided to try coffee, which tasted even worse than the tequila Gabriel had made her drink. For some time she had watched the customers of the café, observing them as they dined and talked, a silent witness to the tiny slice of humanity. These people didn't even know that an apocalypse was upon them. Oh, they'd heard about the earthquake in Rome, seen news of devastating weather in America, heard about the fires in Australia and the floods in Bangladesh and India, but they hadn't connected it with the end of the world. Very few people knew what was truly happening, and if they'd known that they were perhaps only months away from a croatoan outbreak, they would probably not have sat calmly sipping their grandé cappuccinos. They would have panicked.

When the café had closed for the day she had teleported herself to the coast and sat watching the waves in silence, being relaxed by the sound of them breaking against the shore, slowly doing their best to wear down the continent. In a few million years they will have been successful, and the face of the Earth would be unrecognisable by humans today, just as it would now be unrecognisable by the prehistoric ancestors of mankind who had lived in a frozen Europe.

At last her internal clock told her that it was nine o'clock in New York, and she returned to America. The sky was rapidly darkening, but humanity was still wide awake. People eating, drinking, talking and dancing, living their lives, as oblivious to the apocalypse as the customers of the café outside Perugia. Life seemed driven to continue, and it wasn't a feature particular to humanity. Out of the ashes of fires grew new shoots. When a storm blew over a tree, it made room for new growth. Lands devastated by floods eventually became wetland ecosystems, teeming with life. Wherever there was death and destruction, there was life and growth. But what would happen if Lucifer had his way? In Heaven, it was said that Lucifer would burn the Earth to ash, just to kill the humans and scorn his father, but Ava wasn't so sure. Reducing an entire planet to ash would be a lot of hard work, even for a being as powerful as an arch-angel. Lucifer already had a way of selectively killing humans; the croatoan virus.

Similarly, she knew what some of the demons thought; that Lucifer would kill humans, then demons, and claim the world for himself. The demon Crowley, who had given the Winchesters back the Colt in the hopes that it would kill the devil, had made his concerns very clear. Ultimately, the plan had failed, and the Colt had proven useless against the arch-angel, causing him only a minor amount of pain and damage which he had healed from quickly. Where Crowley was now she did not know, nor did she care. With any luck he was dead; it was what all demons deserved.

She had to wonder; if Lucifer hated humans, and loathed the demons he had made from their tortured and corrupted souls, what did he think of angels? When Lucifer had been cast out of Heaven, none of his brothers and sisters had stood up for him, and though many grigori had fallen not long after, it was not out of a desire to follow Lucifer, but out of their own selfishness and greed. If Lucifer managed to control Earth, and Hell, would he then turn his gaze towards Heaven? Would he attempt to punish those who had silently watched as Michael cast him out of Heaven and banished him first to Earth, and then to his cage within the deepest layer of Hell?

Unfortunately, speculation was all she had. Lucifer's thoughts and motives were unknown to her, and she was content to keep it that way. All angels were her family, even the ones who had fallen, and Lucifer was no exception. But he was the only one who had become a monster; he was the source of all demons. But it was worse than that. Only God could create new angels, but the Devil was not the only one who could create new demons. Taught the lessons of corruption by Lucifer, the demons could now create more of themselves, by torturing human souls condemned to Hell. And, because time moved faster in Hell, all it usually took was a few short Earth-years to create an army of new demons.

To Ava, the answer to the demon problem seemed clear. If angels intervened on Earth, if they showed themselves to people, helped them, instructed them, then people would know that Heaven and Hell were real, and they would be less likely to perform sinful acts which resulted in their being sent to Hell. In this way, they could starve Hell of the souls it needed to create new demons. Sadly, the angels did not seem inclined to intervene, though whether it was a command of God that they not interfere, she did not know. If it was her Father's command, then why had he brought back Castiel for his interference? Why was she herself still free to act on Earth?

Speculation would get her nowhere, she realised. In all likelihood, she could probably never hope to comprehend God or his plans, and right now, she had a job to do.

She entered the bar, her eyes immediately adapting to the lower intensity of light. There was a stage and a dance floor, a live band with a female singer— nowhere near as good a singer as Ava, of course—playing slow music. Couples danced on the floor, their arms wrapped around each other, some kissing, oblivious to everybody else, as blue and red spotlights on the ceiling slowly created patterns on the people and the floor. The whole room smelt of alcohol and pheromones; not a pleasant combination, so she switched off her ability to smell the humans and the chemicals their bodies produced, and found the smell of alcohol slightly easier to deal with on its own.

It was the first time she had been inside a bar, so she spent a few minutes wandering around, observing people. They were students, mostly, or at least of student-age, though there were a few older people too. Those who weren't dancing and drowning each other in pheromones sat at tables or stood around in groups, talking amongst themselves over the music. The topics of conversation were many and varied; sports, art, music, literature, cars, family, food, love, sex, television... each human had their own opinion about everything. It was, in part, what made them; they were a collection of thoughts, feelings, memories and opinions. They were each tiny miracles, with souls they had been imbued with through means unknown. Each one of them had the potential for great power, and yet their lives were so easy to snuff out, their bodies so small and frail.

When Ava reached the bar, she found an opening, and stepped up to where a black-haired woman sporting several interesting-looking facial piercings in her lips and eyebrows was stacking clean glasses on a shelf. When the woman saw Ava she raised one of those studded brows, and said, "Got any ID?"

"I'm not here to order a drink," she replied. "I'm looking for information."

"This isn't a library, kid," the woman replied. She said 'kid', though Ava doubted she could be more than five or six years older than her vessel.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but the library doesn't have the information I need." She leant across the bar, finding it difficult to hear the woman over the sound of the music. "I'm looking for somebody who might know my brother. He used to come here, I think, when he was studying at the university."

"Who's your brother?"

"His name is Dylan Thomson."

"Hmm... Dylan... Dylan..." the woman said, biting the corner of her mouth as she thought. "Tall guy, brown hair, amazing green eyes?"

"Yes, that's him," she replied, seeing no need to ask the woman to quantify 'amazing'. It was one of the approval-words that humans used.

"Yeah, I'd see him in here a lot. Never got his surname, though." She smiled. "Why are you looking for someone who knows him?"

"Because my brother died a few weeks ago, and I'm trying to find his friends, to pass on the news."

"Geez, I'm sorry," the woman replied. "What's your name, kid?"

"Amber."

"Well, Amber, let me get you a drink while we talk."

"Thank you, but I have no money."

"Don't worry about it, it's on me. Name's Max, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Max," she said, offering her hand. It was one of the traditional human greetings. Max eyed her hand with surprise before shaking it.

"So, what'll you drink? Nothing alcoholic, mind."

"I'll have a root beer, please." She had enjoyed the last one enough to have another, and she watched as Max took a bottle out of a fridge below the counter and poured the contents into a glass. Ava took a long sip, and found that this root beer tasted even better than the last one. She smiled as the bubbles fizzed over her tongue.

"Do you mind me asking what happened to your brother?" asked Max.

"Car accident. He was hit by a drunk driver."

"Those DUI bastards," Max scowled. "My uncle got hit by one too, now he has three metal pins in his leg and walks with a limp. I hope they slapped the guy who killed Dylan in irons and put him somewhere he daren't pick up the soap in the shower."

Despite her familiarity with many human ways, Ava did not understand that particular reference, but she knew that anger was sometimes a way of offering sympathy. "It's ongoing," she replied. "We had the funeral weeks ago, but I don't think most of Dylan's college friends knew about what happened, so I'm here to track them down and pass on the news. I think it's what my brother would have wanted."

"Well, your brother was really popular," Max said, leaning against the bar. "Half the time I saw him he had some pretty girl hanging off his arm... usually a different one each time. But there were a few guys he hung with most of all, even when he had a girl with him. Seven of them altogether, including your brother. They seemed pretty tight."

"The friends I'm looking for in particular," she said, "are the ones who went on the road-trip with him, once they finished their studies."

"Well, I don't know anything about that, but you could try asking Wayne."

"Who's Wayne?"

"One of the guys your brother used to come here with. He decided to stay on and get his Masters, took a summer job over at Pepé's and has been at the uni since the new term started. He couldn't have gone on the road-trip, but he might know who did."

"I don't suppose you know Wayne's surname or his address?" she asked hopefully.

"Sorry. But I'm sure the manager at Pepé's will have that on record."

"Where is Pepé's?"

"Italian restaurant over on East Park. Manager's name is Franko. Tell him I sent you over, he should give you what you need."

"Thanks. I appreciate your help."

"No problem." Max studied her for a minute, then smiled. "Have you been in New York long?"

"No, I just arrived today. On the train."

"And are you finding your way around alright?"

"Yes, I have a pretty good sense of direction, and the locals have been friendly so far."

"You got somewhere to stay?"

"A motel in the city," she lied smoothly. She was getting better at this ad-lib stuff.

"Cool. Y'know, I'm on a split-shift tonight, and I get off at eleven. If you've nothing better to do, I could show you this great pizza place, they do an awesome takeaway."

Ava studied the woman for a moment, her posture and body language, the slightly mischievous glint in her eyes, and the pheromones her body was producing. "Is this a sexual advance?" she asked.

"Do you want it to be?"

"I... ah... am flattered, but I don't believe in sex before marriage," she replied, coming up with the first excuse she could pull up out of Katie's mind. She did not want her first sexual experience to be with somebody who had such a penchant for painfully sticking bits of metal through parts of their body. Besides, she hadn't even watched The Exorcist yet.

"Pity. But you know where I work if you change your mind."

"Right. Well... thanks for the drink," she said, pushing her empty glass across the counter. Max picked it up, brushing her fingers briefly across the back of Ava's hand. Humans seemed to enjoy touching, though she could not understand why. It was nowhere near as good as root beer.

"Catch you later, Amber."

Ava left, feeling even more confused about humanity than ever. If the purpose of sexual intercourse was reproduction, then why did men have relationships with men, and women have them with women? This wasn't the first time she had witnessed it—it was very common throughout human history—but it was something she had never understood. Why would two people engage in what was essentially a fruitless relationship? The whole thing made about as much sense as two angels being intimate. It was simply a pointless exercise resulting in nothing.

But then again, humans had proven, time and time again, that they were ridiculously emotional beings. The things they did for what they perceived to be romantic love were often foolish and incomprehensible. Men cheated on their wives, and wives cheated on their husbands. People made foolish declarations of their feelings, only to retract them when the chemically-induced fuzziness wore off. 'Love' was often blamed for people committing sins, such as lying, cheating and even murdering. So perhaps love was why people stayed in relationships that could not possibly result in children. Perhaps that, along with loyalty, were strong enough within some people to resist temptation. After all, a man or a woman who had a barren partner might still feel compelled to stay with that partner, out of love and loyalty, even though the union would bear no children.

The thought of having a relationship with a woman, though, was unappealing to Katie, and Ava was not prepared to upset her vessel to that extent—the chocolate icecream was bad enough, for now. The least she could do was find somebody whom Katie did not find too objectionable, to experience sex with. Clearly it was something which would require a lot of planning ahead for; she would have to find the right person, the right location, the right time...

But not today. Today she had an investigation to continue. Once she was outside the bar, and in a suitably quiet area, she teleported to East Park, and looked for the Italian restaurant. She found it easily, and was pleased to see it still open. When she stepped inside the building she was greeted by accordion music playing over the sound-system, and an olive-skinned maitre d' who smiled automatically at the sign of a potential customer.

"Good evening," the suited man replied, approaching her with a menu in the crook of his arm. "May I seat you at a table?"

"I'm not here to eat," she said. "I need to see Franko."

"I'm sorry, but Franko is a very busy man. If you have any questions or complaints about the service here, I am more than happy to assist."

"I need to talk to Franko about one of your employees. Wayne? A woman called Max, at Garden Life, said he might be able to help me."

"Ah. I see. Very well, please follow me into the back and I'm sure Franko will see you."

He led her through the restaurant and she glanced around at the diners as she passed. They were mostly couples seated opposite each other, smiling over their lasagnas and pasta. The garlic bread smelt wonderful, and she suddenly found herself wishing she had some money with her. Perhaps later she would visit an ATM machine and rectify that.

He passed through a door that said 'staff only' on it, and then took her past a hot, steamy kitchen where two cooks were working over large cookers, funny little white hats perched on their heads. The corridor was darker than the restaurant area, and not quite as clean. There were one or two small cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, and she saw a spider extending one of them. Spiders were one of the creatures she liked most of all. They were fascinating; complex yet uncomplicated. She had once Watched a spider spin a large web in a garden, and the next morning the entire web was covered in droplets of dew, giving it the appearance of a beautiful chain of fine transparent beads, each one reflecting the light of the rising sun into tiny prismatic rainbows. Seeing such beauty and intricacy in something as seemingly random as nature had touched her deeply, and even though she had been in Heaven at the time, she felt almost as if she could feel the love and attention her Father had poured into creation.

A door at the back of the building bore a small plaque which said 'manager's office' and her guide told her to wait outside whilst he himself stepped in and spoke quiet words to the manager. Of course, he probably thought he was being quiet, but Ava could hear everything that was said. When he returned from the room and told her to enter, she did, and he himself went back to the front of the restaurant.

The office turned out to be less Godfather-like than Ava had been expecting, and Franko looked less like a mafia boss and more like a sweaty man in a shirt that was a size too small for him. He smiled beneath a thick bushy moustache, and gestured towards the chair in front of the desk.

"Please have a seat," he said, sitting down in his own wheeled office chair. "Tony tells me Max sent you? Something about Wayne? He's not in any kind of trouble, is he?"

"No, nothing like that," she replied. She sat down and relaxed into the chair. "My name is Amber, and Wayne was a friend of my brother, Dylan. Sadly, Dylan passed away a few weeks ago and I'm trying to contact Wayne to let him know what happened. I think Wayne can also help me find some of my brother's other friends. I'm sure they'd all want to hear the news, since they were so close at college."

"Ahh, I see. Well, I'm sorry but Wayne is out of town at the moment, some big science convention down in NJ. We're not expecting him back for another couple of days."

"I don't mind waiting," she assured him. It's not as if she had anything else to do right now. The apocalypse wasn't going anywhere, and the Winchesters were still trying to figure out the Famine situation. "If you were able to tell me where Wayne lives, I can try his house later."

"No offence, Miss, but I'm not going to go handing out my employees' addresses to a stranger, even if Max does vouch for you." He sat back in his chair, and studied her for a long moment. "I'll tell you what, though. Wayne still works here part-time, and his next shift's Wednesday night. Come back then, and I'll make sure he has time to talk to you."

"Alright," she agreed, but was secretly vexed. Trying to pass as a human was frustrating, especially since she would be able to find him herself, if she knew what he looked like. But without an image, and only a first name to go on, she was stuck here. She felt certain that if Merry and Pippin had been here, they would be able to get the address out of the manager, or maybe Danny could hack into the man's computer for it. But Ava lacked the twins' people skills, and the boy's computer skills. All she could do was wait, and play along. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem," he said. "Can you remember the way out?"

"Yeah, I can remember," she said, attempting to sound as casual and unconcerned as possible.

"Good. Guess we'll see you Wednesday, then."

"I guess so."

She left the manager's office and decided it would be prudent to leave via the exit route, rather than just teleporting to the street outside. The maitre d' said goodbye to her as she left the delicious-smelling restaurant, and then she was out on the street once more, with nothing to do until Wednesday. This whole 'hunter' business was trickier than she had initially thought.

o - o - o - o - o

"The usual, Amber?" Tony asked as she stepped inside the restaurant on Wednesday evening.

"Yes please, Tony," she replied with a smile.

"Excellent. Right this way."

'The usual' in this case was a table beside the window and the largest size of garlic bread available, with a glass of root beer to go along with it. For the past three nights she had been coming here and dining whilst waiting for Wednesday, and it was nice to be treated with a welcome whenever she showed up. She'd never really been made to feel welcome anywhere, before.

Of course, the welcome didn't come free. She'd visited an ATM machine on the opposite side of the country and run electrical currents through it until it had started dispensing cash, which she now used to pay for her food and drink. She did not consider it theft, because the money belonged to no single person; rather, it belonged to the bank, and it only existed for them as a series of numbers on a computer. Besides, she was in the process of becoming a successful hunter, and she was working to save the world and all of humanity from the apocalypse. She felt she was entitled to something in return, and it wasn't as if she was doing something terrible like murdering innocents. The theft of the money was for a good cause; it was helping her to build up trust in the humans she was trying to squeeze information from.

"Is Wayne working tonight?" she asked Tony, once he'd seated her at the table and brought her a drink.

"Yeah, I'll send him out with your bread," Tony replied.

"Thanks."

He disappeared with her order and she turned her gaze to the window, watching several seagulls snapping at an empty carton that was slowly being blown down the street by the breeze. Though her nights had been spent in the restaurant, dining on unhealthy food and getting to know the staff, her days were spent sitting on a park bench, a pair of sunglasses ('borrowed' from a shop) over her eyes. To the casual observer it would have appeared that she was just sitting watching the ducks swim on the pond. In reality, her mind soared to dizzying heights as she reached out and touched the minds of birds; a falcon a hundred miles away, hovering above its prey before diving at speed towards the ground, pulling up just in time to avoid a fatal collision. A golden eagle on the other side of the country, soaring high above the mountains, riding the thermals. A gull that glided above the waves, swooping down to pick at something small and edible seen from on high.

Though angels had wings, they weren't at all useful for flying on Earth, because an angel needed the physical form of a vessel to take any action, and whilst out of a vessel, they weren't subject to the effects of gravity and weather. Sometimes she wondered why her father had even given angels wings in the first place, though of course, why he did anything was a mystery to her.

"Amber, right?" somebody asked, interrupting her train of thought.

She looked up to find a young man looking down at her, a large round garlic bread on a plate in his hands. "That's right," she replied.

"I'm Wayne. I've been told you've been looking for me? Oh, sorry, this is yours." He put the plate down in front of her and took the seat opposite, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. He, like Dylan, was a good-looking man, with short brown hair and friendly blue eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe you knew my brother, Dylan Thomson?" she asked, picking up a slice of the garlic bread and tucking into it before it could go cold. There was nothing worse, she had discovered, than cold garlic bread.

"Yeah, Dyl and I spent a lot of time together. He told me he had a sister, but he never mentioned you were so pretty," he smiled.

"Thank you, but I am married," she informed him, because in truth, Amber was married, and she was pretending to be Amber.

He held up his hands in protest of his innocence. "I meant nothing by it. Just a compliment. So, what brings you to New York?"

"Bad news," she said, putting down the slice of bread and attempting to look sad. "I'm sorry to have to tell you but my brother died a few weeks ago. He was hit by a driver who was under the influence of alcohol. The doctors told us he suffered no pain."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said, frowning. "I suppose that's why he hasn't replied to any of my emails or texts."

"Yes," she agreed. She had no idea what had happened to his mobile phone, but suspected the twins had disposed of it. It was probably a lump of melted plastic inside a shallow grave. "Anyway, I came here looking for some of his friends, but I believe most of them have moved on, and I have no way of finding them. Max, in the Garden Life bar, said you might be able to help me."

"Of course. I can send all his friends an email, if you like, telling them what happened."

"No!" she said quickly, and then held herself back when he looked surprised by the harshness of her voice. "I mean, I don't want such terrible news to be passed on by email, it's so cold and impersonal." And the last thing she needed was the other members of Dylan's coven being tipped off that he was dead and somebody was onto them. It would only make them suspicious and wary.

"You're not going to go around the whole country telling his friends about his death, are you?" Wayne asked.

"Not all of them, no. But I would at least like to visit the friends he went on his road-trip with. Dylan told me of some of their adventures, and he always spoke very fondly of his time on the road. Sadly, he never mentioned anything but first names to me, and a couple of them evade my memory at the moment. I'd like to visit those people personally, and perhaps advise anybody else by phone. I think it's what my brother would have wanted." Suddenly, she was struck by inspiration, and she continued before Wayne could speak. "And to be honest, my reasons for wanting to do this are also a little selfish. You see, I'm putting together a tribute photo album to Dylan, that I can show to my son when he's old enough to understand. A way of showing him who his uncle was, and the things he loved. I was really hoping to get some first-hand accounts of stories from Dylan's closest friends, and maybe some photos from his trip to go in the album."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Wayne said. "I tell you what, if you can hang around until tomorrow, I can give you some pictures for your album too."

"I would really appreciate that," she replied, with her most practised smile. Hopefully, he didn't find it too eerie. "And if you have any stories to tell, I would happily hear them. Anything I can pass on to my son would be wonderful."

"Sure, I got plenty of stories. If you've nothing better to do tonight, I'll be finishing up here about ten-thirty. I could take you back to my place, dig out those pictures for you, and tell you of some of our wild freshman antics."

"I'd like that. If it's not too much trouble," she added.

"For Dylan's little sister? It's no trouble at all."

"Great."

"Well, I better head back to work now before Franko fires me. If you want to stay here until I'm finished I can ask Tony to keep you supplied with root beer, on the house, but I'll understand if you've got stuff to do and want to come back later."

"I don't mind waiting," she told him. Free root beer? How could she turn that down?

"Alright, I'll be back in a couple of hours, then."

When Wayne left, Ava turned her attention back to the garlic bread. Her meeting with Wayne had gone better than she could have hoped for, and he seemed not to suspect anything was amiss. With a little luck he'd be able to give her everything she needed tonight, and by tomorrow she could continue with her bonafide witch-hunt.

o - o - o - o - o

"And then," Wayne said, barely able to contain his laughter, "Dyl and Cal walked up to this group of bikers, still dressed in the mini-skirts and tank-tops, and asked if anybody wanted to pay twenty bucks for a lap dance."

"That couldn't have ended well," Ava replied with a smile. She was sitting in one of Wayne's armchairs in his apartment whilst he sprawled out on the sofa, a beer in one hand a picture of Dylan and one of his friends in another. He handed the photo over to her; both men were little more than boys, so young and full of life, without a care in the world. How had they gone from that to devilry and witchcraft? How could they be so blind, so stupid? Why hadn't they seen the hook behind the worm?

"Well, we got to see exactly how good the guys were at sprinting. I never thought I'd see the day when a guy could out-run a Harley, but Cal and Dyl did it that night."

She put the photo down on the table, on top of the small pile she had collected from him already. Beneath the pictures was a list of names: Calvin Hall. Jonny Garcia. Christopher Green. Samuel Richardson. Kyle Dunn. Their addresses had also been hand-written by Wayne. Each one of them had gone on the road trip with Dylan, and as far as Ava was concerned, each one of them was a probable witch. There was a second list, of names and email addresses, but Ava didn't intend to do anything with those; it was only the people who had been on the road trip and summoned the demon from the book of spells that she was concerned about.

"It sounds like you saw a side to my brother, that I never did," she said. Then, she further improved her ad-lib skills. "After Dylan came home, he was... different. Often quiet, sometimes moody. I think he felt like he didn't fit in there anymore. Like he'd outgrown us, or something."

"Well, you know Dylan. He loved to try new things. He was fearless. Always looking for the next big adventure."

She nodded. That did indeed sound like somebody who might view the apocalypse as an opportunity, rather than a catastrophe.

"Part of me wishes I'd gone along on the road trip," Wayne continued. "But I guess I'm too boring and sensible, because I decided to stay and get educated, for whatever that's worth these days," he added with a wry chuckle.

"I think you made the right choice. The world will still be here, when you've finished your masters. It's not like it's going anywhere."

"True enough. Are you sure I can't get you a beer?"

"No thanks, I don't drink." Except when pushed into it by arch-angels, she added mentally. "Besides, I've consumed enough root beer this evening to keep me wired all night."

"Hah. Sorry about that."

"Don't be." She gestured at the pictures on the table. "How did you all meet?"

"Chris and Sam came from the same town, so they sorta stuck together at first. I met Kyle during my first class, and we met Jonny in the library... he's a short guy and was struggling to reach the top shelf for a book the first time we saw him. Cal and Dylan were in the same classes, of course, and they met Chris and Sam through Cal's brother, who was dating Sam's sister. Kyle, Jonny and I met them in Garden Life during our first week. To be honest, I never thought we'd be friends. Cal... ah... made a disparaging comment about Jonny's height, and he was always sensitive about it, so they got into a fight, and we were all kicked out. But we managed to have a laugh about it afterwards, and became good friends." He took another drink of his beer, and put the empty bottle down on the table, next to two other empty bottles. They'd been talking for a while. "So, tell me about you," Wayne said.

"Oh, I'm sure Dylan told you pretty much everything there is to know about me," she said dismissively.

"One or two things, but I'd prefer to hear about you from you. You're nicer to listen to than Dyl." He gave her a warm smile.

"Well, there's not much to tell, really. Born and raised in Knott, lived there most of my life. My husband, Jerry, and I were married pretty much as soon as I was done with school, and my son, Jack, was born almost a year ago."

"It's good of your husband, to look after your son whilst you do this album for your brother."

She shook her head. "My husband is in Afghanistan at the moment, on deployment. My parents are looking after Jack."

"That can't be easy for you."

"It isn't," she said, thinking of how much Amber had struggled with the responsibility and the worry. And the loneliness, too. Other than her child and her parents, she'd had nobody. All her friends were away studying, her husband was fighting a war away from home, and now her brother was dead.

"Do you ever wish you could go back and do things differently?"

She thought about the question for a moment, not as Amber, but as herself. If she could go back, would she do things differently? If she hadn't restarted the rebellion, the grigori who had died would still be alive. She herself would be up in Heaven, rather than outcast here on Earth. But, strangely enough... she didn't miss home, even a little. Back there she was nobody. Just another Watcher, and she wouldn't even be called upon to fight unless the forces of Hell laid siege to Heaven. Back home, there had been dozens, hundreds, just like her. Silently watching and reporting anything of interest.

Here on Earth she was cut off from Heaven's power, but she had something that she had been missing before; a purpose. Even though she had been rendered mostly powerless, she could still help people. She could still save lives and souls. Here, she made a difference in peoples' lives, and she was perhaps one of the few angels who actually cared about humanity enough to risk everything she had to protect it. And even if most of the humans she encountered didn't know what she was, she herself possessed the knowledge that she was doing good. To her, it felt as if she was doing God's work.

"No," she said. "If I went back and did things differently, I wouldn't be who I am now. And I rather like who I am now. My life might not be perfect, but I believe I am where I'm meant to be."

"That's a very wise view to take."

"Thanks." She glanced at the clock, which read 2am. "It's getting late, I should go, let you get some sleep."

"Are you kidding? I'm not going to let one of my best friend's sisters go wandering around New York at two o'clock in the morning. Please, stay here for the night. You can use my bed, and I'll kip on the sofa."

"That's not necessary, I'll be fine."

"And I'd feel just terrible if something happened to you. Please, for my peace of mind?"

"Well... alright," she agreed. It wasn't as if she could do much of anything at this time of the morning. She would need time to find the other witches, and to assess whether they too were working spells similar to Dylan's. Here, she could at least spend a few hours looking for the men in question.

"Great, let me show you where you'll be sleeping."

He stood up and led her through the apartment, through a door and into a small bedroom where he flipped on a lamp switch. There were various charts up on the walls, most of them relating to chemistry and physics. To Ava, they were like a child's finger-paintings, crude and sloppy. Humans were starting to get things right, but they had barely scratched the surface of scientific knowledge. They hadn't even figured out how to properly bend light around an object to make it invisible, or manipulate time even a little.

"Please excuse the mess," he said, throwing a pair of shorts from the bed into a laundry basket. "Hardly the Ritz, but you can sleep in as long as you like and I promise I won't throw you out."

"Thanks, Wayne," she said.

"Don't mention it."

He hovered by the door for a moment, seemingly debating with himself. Then, without warning, he stepped forwards and brought his lips down to hers, kissing her softly as one hand cupped her face, holding it still. Ava was too surprised to even react, momentarily stunned to inaction. For a wonder, Katie was not mentally objecting to the kiss, but that didn't help Ava, who could only stand there in confusion. She should have seen this coming, but had turned off her ability to detect human pheromones. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Wayne pulled back and removed his hand from her face, her skin momentarily cooling as the air touched it. "I'm sorry," he said, appearing genuinely guilty. "I shouldn't have done that. You're married... you have a kid. I'm sure Dylan would punch me for that, if he was here. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," she said. "As far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

"Thanks. I apologise if I've made you uncomfortable. And I promise, I didn't ask you here just so I could make a move on you."

"Wayne, it's fine," she assured him. It had been an interesting experience, yet despite Katie's lack of protests, she had felt nothing. When humans kissed each other she knew it denoted attraction, yet she did not find herself attracted to him. It was something, she suspected, that she wasn't capable of feeling, though she did feel some fondness towards certain humans, such as Bobby, and the Winchesters. "It's water under the bridge," she said, utilising a phrase she had heard humans say many times.

"Alright. I'll leave you in peace. Good night, Amber."

"Good night."

Wayne backed out of the room, closing the door behind him, taking his guilt with him. Ava looked around the room briefly and then sat down on the edge of the bed, so that her body would be comfortable whilst she searched for the remaining five witches. Already, thoughts of Wayne's kiss were being dismissed from her mind, a small and unimportant event that did not affect her in any way.

Closing her eyes, she let her body relax, and began to search.

- o -