Zoey strode toward the bar, power thrumming beneath her skin. Despite Castiel's management of it, it was still writhing to hurt someone. It wanted pain and fear, and she was going to get it.
"You didn't have to come," she said softly. "This isn't going to be pretty."
"You will be safer if I am here," Castiel said beside her, keeping up effortlessly.
She chuckled. "Castiel, you more than anyone know how powerful I am. I don't need to be protected.
His brow furrowed, then abruptly cleared. "There."
She whipped around to follow his gaze. Her eyes landed on a man who was leaned against the bar, speaking to a woman who looked much younger than him. Zoey frowned. "Why him?"
"He killed his wife for the insurance money, and is now having inappropriate thoughts about his teenage daughter. That isn't her, but his preference has been running younger and younger lately."
Zoey saw red. "That's all I need, then."
xxxxx
Castiel watched her stalk toward the man. He sent an urge toward the young woman speaking with Zoey's soon-to-be victim. She walked away quickly, and the man frowned.
Words were exchanged, and the man followed Zoey into the alley. Castiel teleported from where he stood to the back of the alley, in the shadows. Though the chances were low, he wanted to be there, waiting for Zoey, in case she needed him.
She did not.
He couldn't focus on the words she was saying to lure the man further out of sight. He found himself entranced by the way she moved, the lilt in her voice, and the way her power had begun pulsing and flaring lazily. As if it knew it was about to get what it wanted.
He saw the fear on the man's face as she drove her hand into his chest. She was murmuring, and the man writhed for a moment before Castiel saw her elegant arm flex and the man's struggles stilled.
She dropped him, wiped her hand on her coat, and walked back to Castiel with a smile. "That… Was delightful," she purred.
He noticed that her hips were rolling more as she walked, and that her power was lapping outward, like a big, satisfied cat. Clear your head, he told himself firmly. You were a soldier of the Host, you have more self control than this.
Despite his words to himself, he found himself bending to meet her lips as she approached. She went on tiptoe, her small, hot hands on his chest making it hard to think. This kiss was brief, but when she went back down, her pupils were wide. He observed the fact with no small amount of satisfaction.
"Shall we go back?" she asked breathily.
xxxxx
"All right, this will work?"
Castiel nodded at Dean's question. "Yes. It is a very old ritual, but it will summon him."
"And then what? Zoey tries to kill him?" Sam asked, his arms crossed.
"No, she doesn't," Zoey said, coming to stand next to Castiel. He tried to ignore how the heat baking off of her affected his thought processes to listen to her words. "First, I'm going to try to contain him. Let's start small, and we'll go from there."
Castiel looked down at her. "Are you sure you want to attempt this? He may be able to kill you before you're able to control him."
She nodded firmly. "Yes. This is the only way. Think of it as a practice run."
"I still think this is a bad idea," Dean grumbled.
"And I still don't care," Zoey replied sweetly.
xxxxx
Zoey was almost dancing in anticipation. It was a rare moment when she got to use her powers like this. I may even have to use them to their full extent, she thought giddily.
Zoey's life, since she was very, very young, had been about control.
xxxxx
Being a Cambion offered natural defense against detection through childhood. So when Zoey's birth mother (who Zoey never found, and still didn't want to) left her at the bottom of the staircase in front of a monastery, she had been safe from demons and angels alike.
She had not, however, been safe from the cold, and her story had almost ended then and there.
But a monk whom she came to call Father Thomas had noticed and saved the baby girl he found at the bottom of the steps.
He also, because of the deep connection he had to the universe, recognized her immense power. So in that moment, Father Thomas decided to raise her, because he had pure intentions, and could only trust himself with such a precious, powerful child.
Zoey's childhood was not… Normal. She meditated rather than played, read rather than ran, learned martial arts and intense yoga rather than played with toys. Not traditional, but it kept her safe. Father Thomas helped her learn her powers, and taught her to control them.
He had also loved her deeply, and she him.
When Zoey was in her mid-thirties, Father Thomas had fallen very, very ill.
xxxxx
She was there the instant she heard about it.
She appeared at once in the dark, dank room. It smelled of sickness and sweat.
No, she thought to herself, it smells like death.
There was a young man kneeling beside her Father's bed, and he started when she materialized. Father Thomas did not. He joked that he was always expecting Zoey, and was therefore never surprised when she appeared.
Her eyes welled at the sight of him. In health, he was a big man, with a round belly and a happy demeanor. He was, she always thought privately, the epitome of what a monk should be.
Now, he seemed shrunken and small. She walked carefully to the bed, shooing the younger man away, and knelt next to her Father, taking his big, hot hand in hers.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, struggling to contain her emotions. "I could have stayed the disease, I could have saved you."
He smiled and squeezed her hand lightly. "Hush, child," he rasped. "I know you could have. That is why I forbade them to summon you."
She frowned, and the tears she'd been holding in won the battle as they fell down her cheeks. "Father, please-"
"Hush, child," he said again gently. "I am old, I have lived the life I was meant to. One day more than I was given naturally would be greedy."
She sniffled. "The world needs men like you, though."
He patted her hand. "No, child, now the world has you."
She shook her head. "Father Thomas, you know what I am. I am, quite literally, hellspawn. I am not a credit to the universe, I am a detractor."
He stared at her for a long moment. "My child, you cannot possibly believe that."
She blinked, but said nothing. She
did believe it.
He smiled. "Zoey, dearest, you are not a detractor. You will save people. You are a good woman, a woman I am proud to call daughter. You will save the world, I believe it with all my heart."
She let a beat of silence pass, then, "What if I do not believe the world deserves to be saved?" she whispered.
Zoey had seen a lot of bad. Her power fed on fear and violence, and it was a well-fed creature, indeed. War, strife, famine, she had seen it all, let her power absorb the suffering and make her stronger for it.
Zoey Crane did not believe the world deserved to be saved.
Father Thomas's hand grasped her with more strength than he'd shown the few minutes she had been with him. "Zoey," he said urgently, "I believe the world is a bad place full of good people. You must believe the same. You must. Lives, so many lives, will someday depend on you believing that."
Tears welled in her eyes again. "I don't want that responsibility," she whispered desperately.
He cupped her face with one hand and she tilted her head into it. "I know you don't, child, but you have it. I know you think your powers are evil, and that they make you evil. But what we are given does not tell us who we are. We tell us who we are. You will make the choice to be good or evil. And I believe that you will make the right choice."
She just smiled at his belief in her.
Father Thomas died two days later, in bed, in his weeping daughter's arms.
xxxxx
Her father's belief in her made Zoey who she was.
She began to seek out those who would harm others, and dealt them harm instead. Father Thomas would not have liked her methods, but it kept her power happy and sated. And Zoey had never held much belief in the "do no harm" nonsense her Father had spouted her whole life.
Some people needed to be harmed.
And she was the perfect catalyst for it.
xxxxx
"Is everything ready?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Castiel looked around, and she took a moment to admire his strong profile before he turned to look back at her. "Yes. I believe we are as prepared as we are going to get."
She grinned ferally. "Good."
xxxxx
Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:
I own only Zoey Crane, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken)
Reviews and comments give me life and keep me going.
And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.