Well, this is about as fillerish as filler chapters can get-But I promise that the next couple will be more interesting!

~Christianne

PS~ One instance of language in here.

Nikki POV

I slowly entered the barn, my gun drawn. Part of me was saying that this was the stupidest thing I've ever done; I had no idea what I was walking into, and I didn't have back up. But the part of me that I was listening to was just too damn curious.

After about ten minutes, I was convinced that there was nothing here.

I gave a frustrated huff, and gave a hay bale a good kick, tipping it over.

What did I even think I'd find? Maybe a scrapbook depicting the hazier parts of my life? My mother living in peace, waiting for me to come back here?

"Idiot." I hissed under my breath.

"Well, now, that's a bit harsh." I spun around, and shot towards the voice.

Zack simply turned, and examined the bullet hole three inches from his head. "No one ever told you what a proper greeting looks like, huh?" He sighed, taking a few lazy steps towards me.

"What the hell?" I asked him. "You give me coordinates to an empty barn?"

"Like I said before; I'm just the messengers." Zack explained calmly. "It was a test from my boss."

"A test?" I repeated.

"Yeah. So see how well you follow orders, or something. Truth be told, I wasn't really listening. Staff meetings are so boring." He further explained. "Now, I have a Korean massage to get to…" he trailed off, then started to walk away.

Without thinking, I threw my hand forward, and Zack froze. He let out a pained groan and doubled over, grabbing his stomach. "Stop it." He growled.

"No." I snapped. "I have questions, and you're gonna answer them."

"Quit pouting." I scolded. Zack, who was sitting on a hay bale, elbow propped up on his knee, chin in his palm, gave me a harsh glare. "It's not becoming."

I was spray painting a devil's trap around him. One hand was working the spray paint, the other was still in a tight fist, keeping Zack still, and in a good amount of pain.

"I'm not pouting." Zack snapped. "I'm brooding…Toddlers pout...sexy men brood."

I snorted at his logic, and stood up. After tossing the empty spray paint can in the corner, I let my grip on Zack's insides go. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, and straightened up.

"So, what do you wanna know?" he groaned in defeat.

I was sitting on a similar hay bale, outside the trap. "What's the Filius Concuoivi?" I asked.

Zack scoffed. "Above my pay grade, sweetie." He chuckled.

"That's not what I asked." I snapped. "I asked what it is."

He sighed and ran a hand through his meat suit's blond hair. "Concupivi Filia Caeli Telum." He said. "That's the full name. Literally translates to coveted weapon held by the sky."

I lifted my eyebrows. "Well…what is it?"

Zack shrugged. "Well, I'd say it's about five foot six, brunette, not a bad ass—gotta nasty attitude though."

I glared at him. "I know I'm supposedly this stupid 'weapon in the sky'."

"Good, you're catching on." Zack said approvingly, smirking.

"What can I do?" I questioned him.

"That, Nikki, I really don't know." Zack said with a shrug. "No one does, really. All we know is your powerful. But, wanna know what I wanna know?" Zack asked, rising an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure I do." I said flatly.

"I wanna know how you're so powerful." Zack said, getting off the hay bale and walking to the edge of the devil's trap. "'cause, right now, I can tell you're human. It's the smell, you know? I know, without'a doubt, that you are mostly human. Not enough'a anything else to be sensed. And at the same time, Nikki, the power you radiate is almost enough to make me pass out."

I stood up. "Really?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah." Zack chuckled. "Personally, I think it's your drive."

"My drive?" I repeated, cocking a hip and putting my hand on it.

"Yeah, what motivates you." Zack explained, a grin on his face as he leaned closer to the edge of the devil's trap. "Your anger."

I left Zack in the devil's trap.

He could stay there forever, I didn't care.

I drove, and kept driving until I was on an empty back road. I slammed on the breaks, bringing my Mustang from 95 to 0 in about 30 feet in the middle of the road.

I opened my door and walked out onto the road, leaving my door open.

"You know," I yelled up at the sky. "You suck!" I yelled at God.

"I was a good girl!" I kept yelling at the sky, pacing around my car on the gravel road. "I went to Catholic school, I never cheated on my boyfriend, I went to church every Sunday, I pray every night—so why in the name of sanity are you doing this to me?" I threw my arms up.

"I'm mad!"

"I'm mad at Dean because no matter what I do, I'm still a damn witch to him! I'm mad at Greg and Olivia for dying! I'm mad a Chris for dying! I'm-I'm mad at Sam because he can't see that I'm right here!" I emphasized the last three words by hitting my chest. "I'm mad at my own damn mother because she left me on the steps of a church like I was the fucking Sunday paper-"

"That's enough."

I spun around and saw Used-to-be-Fake-Chris standing behind me. I stared at him blankly.

"Don't get me wrong, screaming at the Big Guy in rage, I support that." He reasoned, walking a little closer, his face lacked the usual humor it held. "But leave your mom out of it."

"Leave her—She abandoned me!" I yelled at him.

"No, she didn't." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said, shrugging a little.

I was breathing a little heavy from my screaming, and was looking at him in shock. "What?"

"She didn't abandon you." He said.

My breathing slowly started to steady, and I raked a hand through my newly short hair. I used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe my face, it was wet with tears and streaked with snot.

"C'mere," Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said, gesturing to the hood of my car. I hesitantly followed him and sat a foot or so away from him.

We sat in silence, in the dark, for a good five minutes before he spoke. "You know, I've known for a long time I was gonna have to tell you this at one point. Practiced a few times…I just never thought I'd have to tell you when you were this young."

"I'm 23." I said, my voice came out rough and broke a few times.

"Compared to me, you're a baby." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris told me. There was more silence.

"She was…special, your mom." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris started, staring up at the sky blankly. "Human, but special. I was the first one to take notice."

"It was fine, at first. I'd pop in on her, see how she was doing, you know? Make sure she was fed and happy, took care of people who cause her problems. Like I said, it was just fine in the beginning…Then…" he trailed off.

"You fell in love with her." I realized, recognizing the look in his eyes; it was how Greg looked at Olivia.

Used-to-be-Fake-Chris looked at the ground. "I told you I was ripped away from her once." He muttered. "It was…" he chuckled once and shook his head. "It was catastrophic."

"Why?" I asked, pulling my leg up onto the hood to rest my chin on it. "Did your people not approve of interspecies hanky-panky?"

Used-to-be-Fake-Chris legitimately chuckled. "Well, they don't support it. It's not so much the sex, it was more the feelings."

I snorted. "They don't like feelings?"

He shrugged. "Not real big on them, no." He admitted.

We lapsed into silence again.

"What am I?" I asked him. My voice was almost back to normal, but quiet.

"I don't know what you mean." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said innocently.

"You already told me I wasn't totally human." I reminded him. He stopped and nodded. "So, what am I?"

He looked up at the sky. "You know, I know what it feels like." He told me. "To be homesick."

I looked at him oddly. "Why do you think I'm-"

"You could have driven any direction, and you're on Highway 41; the highway to Peshtigo." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said stoically.

I looked down at my fingers. "How long has it been since you've been home?" I asked quietly.

"Centuries." He said automatically. I looked up at him, but he was still staring at the sky.

"You should get going." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said suddenly. "Find some place to crash and get a good night's sleep.

"Don't have much cash on me. I'll probably just curl up in the back of my car." I sighed.

"Over my dead body." Used-to-be-Fake-Chris said, reaching into his pocket with one hand, and grabbed my hand with his other. He smacked a wad of hundreds into my hand. "Don't spend it all in one place."

By the time I looked up at him, he was gone.