A/N: Hello, people of the Earth! I should explain some stuff. This scene takes place in a Catholic church (I've never been in a Protestant or Orthodox one. Everyone in my family is Catholic. Hell, everyone who married into my family is Catholic) on the outskirts of Philly. Moreau is someone I kinda stole from Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance, where, coincidentally, I got a lot of stuff for Cassie. Notes are at the bottom. I only own Cassie.

When I woke up (I'll be honest here), I had no clue where the hell I was. Reaching out, though, I felt four full glasses and I downed them quickly, frankly not caring if it was water or vodka. All I knew was that my head was on fire and this was the mother of all hangovers.

Once I returned to semi consciousness, enough to open my eyes at least, I started taking note of my surroundings so I could at least have a clue. The building I was in had a high white ceiling and white walls decorated with stained glass windows. The smell of incense (and not the kind I was on infrequently, the good old Mary Jane) hung sweet in the air, and a voice praying,

The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down
in green pastures,
He leads me beside the still waters
He rests my soul. (1)

The voice was deep, smooth, and French accented. Was he the reason I was here, in what I could only assume was a church? However, I did recognize the prayer he was saying though I had never been in a church before. Whenever someone died at my school (hardly a rare occurrence), there was a prayer service for them. The prayer—the Twenty-Third Psalm—was one of those most often said.

Noticing my open eyes, he cut off. "Ah. You are awake. That is good."

I groaned in pain. The water didn't do much to help the fire in my bones. "Good? What about that is good?" Rolling my head to the side, I saw the owner of the voice. He had close-cut black hair that curled close to his dark skin and eyes an unusual shade of gold. He was tall and somewhat muscular. He wore all black, with a bit of white showing at the collar, marking him as a Catholic priest. I internally sighed. Total waste of eternal virgin. (2)

"It is good that you are alive and the hallowed ground hasn't killed you as you slept." He helped me to a sitting position. "I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Moreau. It is a blessing to have you here with me, sister."

Sister? That threw me off a bit. "Sister? But we're not related."

Moreau stood up, smiling. "Ah, but we are. We are all children of the Lord, whether our birth be heavenly," he gestured to the large crucifix hanging in the front of the church, "Earthly," he pointed to himself, "or demonic." He aimed a pointed look at me.

Yeah. That helped. Not. Me, a demon? First, those weren't real, just a story to scare children into behaving. Second, that was stretching it. Sure, I was no angel. I've lied, cheated, and stolen. I drink, smoke, and occasionally do some select drugs. I've had one night stands. I've spent a few nights in juvie. I killed. At least, I think I did. Last night was more terrifying nightmare than reality—a fuzzy memory at best. The only part of it that I remembered, that felt real, was the pain. And that was still there.

Taking a chance, I forced myself to my feet, leaning on the pew I was set on. Then something flashed in my vision. Grabbing it, I saw it was white, long, and bony, and when I added the slightest amount of pressure on it—"Holy fuck!" I yelled in pain. Following it, I saw it was attached to me, at the base of my spine. "What the hell?!" Alright. Maybe I wasn't completely human, after all.

Moreau seemed merely amused. "I should explain, non (3)? Let us start with a principle—one you should know now that you are part of this world. There are three realms—Heaven, Assiah, and Gehenna. For simplicity's sake I shall explain the latter two. We live in Assiah, the world of humans, the realm the Father set aside for us. Gehenna is a reflection of Assiah, only filled with demons and evil, as well as damned souls… everything the Father wanted to keep away from us. I shall explain the damned souls later, as well.

"Normally, communication between these worlds—it does not happen. But demons find objects to possess, anywhere from a speck of dust to a human being. Your father was a demon possessing a human."

"My father?"

"I'm getting to that. Your father was an, ahem, special case. He is Zarathos, Demon of Vengeance, and slave to Samael. Zarathos was once an angel charged with assisting the Prince of the Heavenly Host, Michael, in assisting the weak and innocent of humankind. But he was tricked. Samael brought him to the darker parts of Assiah, showing him those in power and the corrupt, and he was, inevitably, driven insane. He became a demon; his mission to protect the innocent perverted into a lust to punish the guilty, and forced to serve Samael. When he isn't doing that, he seeks out evil souls and consumes them, bringing them to Satan, and that's what you did last night. When you killed those men, their souls were brought to Gehenna. It was to be expected. Awakening usually occurs around the sixteenth year. Unless you inhabit hallowed ground, at night, in the presence of evil, you will become like that again."

A lot of this, almost all of it, went over my head, and flaming skull on top of hangover on top of confusion is a recipe for excruciating pain. "Damn. My head."

"Oui (4). I have something for that." He produced a bottle of aspirin from his pocket. He gave it to me. "You may want to keep that. Assuming you will remain this way, transformation will not become any easier. Now, to finish my story. I saw everything last night—the murder, your Awakening, you killing those men, and then changing back and losing consciousness. I brought you and your motorcycle here last night as I tended some burns on you. I suppose I should also give you some words of warning—avoid Samael and his kin. The way your father became a demon and his hatred of the Trickster is imprinted into your blood. You must stay on hallowed ground whenever possible. You cannot change then. Also," he gave me something. It was a silver pin in the shape of a cross with purple and blue in it. "You will have to leave in about a week. You shouldn't stay in one place for two long. When you find a holy place, show the owner this, and they shall let you stay for a night or two because it shows that you are under the protection of the Knights of the True Cross. Or my protection, at least."

"Knights of the what?" As if my head didn't hurt enough.

"The True Cross. It's an organization founded by European Crusaders during the Dark Ages. They are exorcists, charged with two directives. The first is to kill demons with extreme prejudice. The second is to protect humans whenever possible. Half-demons such as yourself, not at all rare, are a, ah, special case. As demons, we are to kill you. But as humans, we are to protect you. A case such as this was what really brought this issue to light about six years ago, I believe."

I understood some of that now. "So, let me get this straight—depending on who found me last night, I could've been killed for something I didn't know about?"

He hung his head, somewhat ashamed. "Oui. Here," he gave me something else—a notebook with script on the front. "I've been working on this for the past few months. I hoped it would help someone like you—someone who was new to this world and needed help understanding. I must prepare for service. I have a place in the sacristy where you can stay (5)."

Notes:

1-The 23rd Psalm, one of the best known psalms and is usually read at funerals.

2-Catholic Priests take an oath of chastity and never marry or have relations.

3-Non-French-no.

4-Oui-French-yes.

5-Sacristy: separate segment of the church, usually near the altar, where items such as the priest's, deacon's, and altar server's vestments are stored, as well as chalices (cups where the Wine is served) and patens (dishes where the Bread is held). Usually closed to the congregation.

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