Death permeates the air, clinging to me in chunks of skull and brain. Blood spatters my clothes, slick on my skin. Lucille rests across my shoulders, my arms slung over it. Pieces of its previous owner are still embedded in the sharp wire, dripping down my arm.

Smoke clouds the skies as I step out of the factory. Sanctuary is a crumbling stone fortress enveloped in flames. The fire licks its way from the edges of the building to the heart, devouring every inch.

I grin, basking in the intense heat. Screams echo around, the groans of the dead following those choked off pleas.

Chaos reigns and I stand amidst it as the leader of it all.

Breathing in deep, death coats my lungs, and I've never felt more alive. This is hell on earth will be the closest I'll get to the pit as long as this Mark graces my soul.

It's a home away from home.

Half the day is gone, the afternoon sun bright and hot on my back as I stand in front of the window. My body is here in this room with my friends, my family. My mind, on the other hand, is caught up in the past. It's soaked in blood, filled with sick pleasure at the pain of others.

The fact that that was normal for me for a year, that I lived like that without any care - it fucking sickens me to my core. Remembering all of the devastations I caused, saying that I'm a monster now seems like childish name calling.

Sam interrupts the delicate silence. "What happened after Negan?"

I give him credit for managing to keep his voice impassive. Sam's always been good at that, though. The whole impartial lawyer - make no judgment until all the facts are laid out.

It could be that he knows what it's like to not be able to look at your own reflection?

Not having the mental capacity to entertain that line of thought, I answer the younger Winchester.

"Sanctuary was burning to the ground. The fires had taken over most of the building. There were still some people fighting for me, taking out Negan's followers. Most were just trying to escape."

I stare out the window, watching the people of this community happy and healthy and alive. They walk the streets with smiles, joking with friends. It's peaceful and quiet and why am I here?

This place, these people, I don't belong. That's why I left in the first place. Why the hell did I come back here? Why did I let myself do this? I swore that once I left, I would never return, and damn it, why?

Alexandria is safe. It's beautiful and thriving with people who are good and alive. I'm the fucking bringer of death, how am I supposed to stay here? I don't belong with the living, not after Sanctuary.

Shit, I don't even know if Hell will have me anymore. Even for them, I think I'm too much - too carefree and destructive for what Crowley has created.

"Aria, what happened?"

I blink, my vision blurring as tears roll down my cheeks. God, I'm a fucking monster. The words sit heavy on my tongue, tasting of ash and iron. Yet, I can't make my mouth form the words to tell them the horrors I committed.

They let the silence drag on for another minute. Tension fills the room, nerves turning organs into pretzels. I catch a few whispered voices, but nobody speaks up.

Well, I hoped at least.

"We haven't seen any Saviors in months. Kingdom, Hilltop, Alexandria - not a single one of us has had a run in with them. It's like they vanished."

I flinch at Jesus's words, how they set the stage for me to fill in this unknown. His intense gaze bores into my back, prodding.

"What did you do?"

That single question has the damn breaking. Tears slide down my cheeks, shoulders shaking. The weight of my actions crushing me, almost bringing me to my knees. I try to cover my mouth to stifle the growing sob in my chest and stop.

You have to tell them.

My words are a strained whisper, pushed through the lump in my throat. They're watery and ragged but I push out the awful truth, wishing I was dead inside again.

"I killed them all."

All the air is sucked from the room - a vacuum that eats all life forms. If only I could be crushed into oblivion by that void.

The memories race forward, forcing me to relive the greatest sins of my life.

"Sanctuary held a lot of Negan's highest regarded Lieutenants. It also housed a lot of innocent people...families." Drawing in a ragged breath, tears still falling, I persevere. "The fires from the explosion had taken over. It forced everyone out of the building and right into the hands of the walkers I let in."

Screams fill my mind - the grotesque sound of flesh being ripped from bone sending a shiver down my spine. I can still taste the rot of corpses and the bitter taste of death on my tongue.

"I let them turn," my voice wrecked. The sobs rack my body, every word evident of the agony tearing through me as I relive this. "I let them fucking turn," I gasp. "Those that didn't fall victim to the walkers...they, I-I killed them. I bashed their skulls in with that fucking bat."

My hands are clean as I stare down at them, but I see red. All I can see is the lives that I took - feel the weight of that bat in my grasp. They shake and I curl them into white-knuckled fists, eyes falling shut.

"Nobody was left behind. I tracked everybody down. It didn't matter whether they were a threat or not, I killed without thought. Dwight…"

I want to look to Daryl, to say something because I know he believes that man deserves whatever he got. He didn't, though. Not this. Nobody deserved what I did.

Snot drips from my nose, my cheeks stained with trails of never-ending tears. This dreaded silence is maddening. Desperation claws at my throat, wanting to disturb this overwhelming quiet, but I don't want to do it with my words. Not with this story.

The choice isn't mine, though. All of this is out of my control, the memories forcing their way forward, my tongue hostage in their attack.

"All he wanted was to protect his wife. She took her sister's place as Negan's wife in order to save him, and he was forced to watch her be with another man. Both were so willing to help me. Dwight was one of Negan's Lieutenants and Sherry had connections being a wife. They helped bring down Sanctuary."

I shake my head, bile burning the back of my throat. A silent sob rips through me, remembering how the light of the flames reflected in their fear-stricken eyes.

"They found me. I-I was, they saw what I did and... they should have run."

Sherry screams, guttural, raw. It makes the Mark sing with delight, my heart beating a little faster in excitement. Dwight's words are drowned out by her vocals. The roar of fire consuming Sanctuary and the growls of walkers don't help.

Bullets lie buried in his knees, weapons kicked far from his reach. He's forced to watch while I do what I do best, helpless to rescue his wife.

Blood sprays my face, warm against my skin. I swing the bat, Lucille landing with vicious precision against her ribs. The fracture is audible, the wet cry from Sherry a sick enjoyment. Death looms nearby, the gaunt man and his reapers busy with the slaughter I've left.

"Please, please don't do this!"

I lower the bat, head tilted as I meet the wet eyes of Dwight. He's a mess: tears and snot mixed together and reeking of desperation that will have no effect on me.

"You don't want me to put her out of her misery? Would you rather I leave her like this? A slow, agonizing death as her lungs fill with blood and she suffocates?"

Sherry's heavy, choked gasps fill the silence in the wake of my words. She wants to talk, lips mouthing words. But, she can't spare the precious air.

His panicked gaze shifts from her to me, dropping to the ground as a fierce scream escapes him. He digs his hands into the dirt, sobs thick and heavy. I roll my eyes, shouldering Lucille while I pick at the drying blood beneath my nails.

"Sherry, baby, I'm-I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, baby," Dwight cries, holding his dying wife's gaze. She lies on her side - a crumpled, bloody heap that barely breathes. Tears spill down her blood-stained cheeks, leaving pink trails.

"I love you."

A sharp gasp, blood spilling from her mouth. The words never leave her tongue. Her lips move, forming those three words and then she goes still. One last breath escapes, Dwight watching with wide eyes that shine with falling tears.

His scream pierces the carnage around us. Broken. A man shattered to his core. The Mark dances in content and I lower Lucille from my shoulders. Walkers draw near with the cries and I don't plan to stick around.

Sherry's blood coats the barbed wire bat. I tuck it under Dwight's chin, forcing him to look me in the eye. Hate seethes in his gaze, the fire of Sanctuary reflected there - a perfect image of the Hell that exists here.

"Just fucking do it," he spits, fists coiled.

I smirk, twisted like the darkness inside me. "Oh, Dwighty boy, why would I waste my time when walkers will do a better job?"

All his defiance - the rage and hate, die. The blood drains from his face. He grabs Lucille, palms sinking into the razor wire.

"Please, please don't."

The plea falls on deaf ears. I pull the bat free from his grasp, grinning at the sharp cry.

"Beggars can't be choosers. I'll see you in Hell, Dwight."

My eyes burn, swollen from the nonstop crying. The floodgates are open and there's no stopping them now. I rub the back of my hand under my nose, ignoring the noticeable shaking. At this moment, all I want is a pine box with me buried six feet below. Better yet, set me on fire and let me burn. Hell will make sure I do either way. If I burn, though, nobody can bring me back. Nothing can allow me to taint this world farther.

Apprehension presses in. I was waiting for this moment when the others would finally realize that perhaps they wanted more than they could handle. The truth has a price. For me, I've got to pay double.

Keeping my back to them, I wait, cataloguing the memories - where to stuff them so that they never reappear.

"What did you do after?" Maggie's question holds a frigid coldness that wraps its icy fingers around my heart.

I hang my head in shame, aware that this is my punishment. What I did won't be accepted, not by most. Maybe a few - Sam and Dean because they're morons and Cas, the angel brimming with guilt and duty - will move past this. The others, though, I don't see my stay in Alexandria lasting past this evening.

Another sob almost escapes with the thought, Carl's eager grin and crushing embrace bringing a fresh wave of agony. Coming back was the worst idea.

My voice cracks, broken and weak. "I took out the outposts, ensured that no one was around to carry on Negan's legacy. No one to exact revenge for what happened. Then I wandered. I walked in one direction and didn't stop."

"Then we found you," Dean states, accomplished that they managed the impossible once again.

Before the apocalypse, it would have been easy to figure out where I was. Disappearing from a Winchester doesn't exist. They'll always find you. Bloodhounds with a scent they never forget. Now, though, you're lucky if you can make it twenty-four hours with the person at your side. The fact that they found me was a miracle.

I nod. "Yeah."

But I wish you hadn't.

A/N:

I'm back! Let me start off with yet another apology for updating late because I can't maintain a schedule with this story. So, sorry everybody! I'm not even going to try and tell you that I will be on time next time. Per usual, I have too much on my plate which leads to a sleepy author who then has no motivation to write or edit. Just know that I will update. I came back to finish this story and do you all and the characters the justice that they deserve.

But enough with my apologies! Let's talk about my sweet, violent, broken girl. Okay, maybe sweet shouldn't be there, but let me try, guys. She's not that bad. Right?

We're one chapter away from wrapping up the mystery of this last year. Coming up next: how the Mark of Cain went bye-bye!

Thank you to everyone who continues to read this! This story is for all of you!