Claire parked at the salvage yard that evening. Sam and Dean were still all hush-hush with Jody, Alex was pacing her room, talking quietly to someone on the phone, and Sara was trying to knock cans off the fence while she tried to figure out why her Dad hung up on her.

Something was up. She could tell. Otherwise, no way would she have agreed to meet Cas out here so late. But he could be in trouble. Claire had to sneak out from her bedroom window – an act she had almost perfected – and she was pretty sure Jody didn't notice.

"Hello, Claire."

Claire jumped, startled, and turned to Castiel. "Jesus, Cas!" she snapped. "Don't do that!" she frowned, looking around. "How'd you get here? Where's your car?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Did you bring anyone with you? Do they know you're here?"

"No, they were acting all weird," Claire frowned. "A lot like you, actually. Are you going to tell me what's going on or not? Because you know I'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you would," he said, and something in his voice changed and made Claire shudder. He took a step towards her, and she stepped back.

"Cas," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Seriously. Tell me what's going on here." Her hand rested on her coat, and she could feel her angel blade on the inside, so close but so far.

"Well, Claire," he said, and all traces of Castiel were gone and in that moment Claire realized this wasn't him. "What's going on is that I can barely hear myself think over Castiel screaming at me and begging me not to hurt you. He's actually trying to evict me. Too bad he can't."

"You son of a bitch," Claire growled. "Get out of my dad's body!"

"Well that sounds weird," he acknowledged.

Claire snatched the angel blade from her coat, holding it firm. "Don't come any closer. Seriously."

He looked amused. "You're too cute." He glanced at the blade, and Claire gasped as it burned white hot, dropping it. A moment later she felt a strong hand around her neck, slamming her up against the truck and holding tight.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, trying to pry his fingers from her throat. "What do you want?"

He looked disappointed. "Now, you're a smart girl, Claire. I saw that paper you wrote on religion. Surely you must know who I am?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she desperately struggled against him. "No!"

"Do I need to sing the Stones song for you?" he asked, grinning.

"Let Castiel go!" she demanded.

"Let him go?" he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, honey. He let me in."

"No, he wouldn't do that!"

"He did. And up until now, has. Boy, you should hear him. He is screaming." He closed his eyes and inhaled, as though he were enjoying it. "Music."

"I left a note in my room," she lied. "They're going to come find me."

"Oh, Claire. No you didn't," he told her. "You're smart, but you're not that smart. You came driving out here thinking it was Teen to the Rescue, and now you have to face your consequences. That's how growing up works, kiddo."

"Eat me," she spat.

"You really do spend too much time with Dean," he told her. "So, here's how it's going to be – tell me where the Cambion is and I won't crush your windpipe." He squeezed a little, and Claire coughed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she wheezed.

"Spare me," he rolled his eyes. "Where's Crowley's kid, Claire? I've actually had a rough day and all so I'm not in the mood."

"Go fu –"

"Shh, none of that," he said, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Now, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. Understand? Tell me you understand, Claire."

Claire nodded, almost wanting to cry from anger – she hadn't been this scared since her mom died. Instead of panicking, she told herself to hold on, any second Sam and Dean would bust in and save the day, just like they always did . . .

He released her, but didn't step away, keeping her pinned against the truck with nowhere to go. "You would make a fantastic demon," he mentioned, brushing some hair out of her face, not gently. Claire flinched, and this amused him. "Seriously," he said. "After we're done here, I might take the time to work on you personally. I could probably have your dark little heart all twisted in a matter of days. All we'd have to do is work on that pretty soul of yours." His eyes lit up like he'd forgotten something. "Speaking of – I'm going to have to touch it."

Claire didn't know how to reply to this. She wanted to say something, but for once was frozen with fear.

"I know, it's weird," he nodded. "And it sounds a little scary. But there's a spell on Sara so no one can tell me where she is, and I need the power boost to break that spell. I promise it'll only hurt a lot for a minute before you lose consciousness. Well, maybe two. Sam lasted two. The point is, it's gonna hurt. Feel free to scream."

"I have a better idea," Claire said, finding her courage, and kneed him in the groin.

It only gave her a second of an advantage – she ran for the Chevelle, plugging the key into the trunk but not getting a chance to open it when Lucifer's hand connected solidly with the side of her face. She fell roughly into the dirt and felt blood well up in her mouth. She tried to scramble away, but he yanked her up by her shirt, slamming her roughly against the Chevelle, and shoved his hand into her chest.

Claire had never felt so much pain in her life – and that was coming from a kid who had a lot of unset broken bones. The most unbearable part of it was the heat – she felt sweat pour from her face not even ten seconds into it. The only other sound besides for her screams of agony was the sound of a high pitched ringing as Cas tried to take control and failed. Tears streamed down Claire's face and she begged God to just kill her and get it over with.

She gasped when Lucifer let go sooner than he should have – he was looking down at his chest, which had been pelted with bullets. Claire tried to catch her breath, wondering which Winchester had just tried to ice the devil with regular freaking bullets, before looking up and finding the exact opposite of a Winchester.

He was in his mid-twenties, with curly brown hair pulled back off his face in a low ponytail. He had a slight stubble on his face, and his eyes were a familiar dark brown. He wore a black leather jacket over a V-neck red shirt, several charms around his neck. His jeans were old and ripped, but still fit him well. He wore heavy combat boots. Despite all this, Claire and Lucifer were both looking at the gun in his hand.

Lucifer sighed and rolled his eyes. "Now who is this guy?" he complained.

"Doesn't matter to you," the man replied in a thick Scottish accent. "Step away from her, now."

"Sorry, laddie," Lucifer said in a bad imitation of the man's accent. "No can do. Go give a speech."

Claire scrambled to open the trunk of the Chevelle, grabbing the jar of Holy Oil and spinning around.

"Hey, bitch!" she yelled.

Lucifer turned to look at her, and growled in annoyance as the jar of Holy Oil broke against his chest, drenching him. "What the hell?"

Claire reached into her pocket, grabbing her lighter. She quickly flicked up open, opened the flame, and threw it after.

Nothing was quite so sweet to her than the sounds of Lucifer screaming as he disappeared.

Claire collapsed against the Chevelle, dizzy and feeling very sick. She could almost feel her soul inside her chest, throbbing with pain.

She blacked out for a moment, and when she opened her eyes, Dreamy McHottie the Scottie was on his knees beside her, pulling her up into a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" he asked as she rubbed at her head.

"No," she said, wiping some blood off her face. "But I'll live. Thanks for that back there. I'm pretty sure you just saved me from becoming a demon."

"That didn't kill him, though, I'd guess," he said as he helped her stand.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. "That's freaking Lucifer." Her eyes widened. "Holy crap! Sara! I've got to save my friends, he'll be going after them!"

"I'll go with you," he said, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans.

She nodded and followed him to his truck, a huge F350, pitch black and new.

"Jeez, this thing must drive like a tank," she said, climbing into the passenger seat.

He grinned. "Or a boat."

He put the truck in drive and headed for the road. His sleeve rode up a bit, and Claire caught sight of the anti-possession symbol tattooed in black ink on the inside of his wrist.

"Are you a hunter?" she asked.

He glanced at her, then back at the road. "It's complicated."

"I know that feeling," she muttered. "I'm Claire, by the way."

He shot her another grin. "Nice to meet you, Claire. I'm Gavin."