"Jezebel," the seemingly man repeated, his tone laced with concern. In a blink, he knelt beside her, his gaze shifting to carefully inspect her injuries. "Oh, Jezebel..."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she reached out her arms towards him, a gesture reminiscent of a child seeking comfort from their father. Without hesitation, he enveloped her in a hug—strong, warm, familiar, and safe.

"Moe!"

"I can smell her on you," Moe whispered into her hair, holding her just a little bit closer. "What happened, my child?" After a reassuring squeeze, Jezebel pulled away and settled into the rocking chair. Across from her, Moe perched on the edge of her bed, his expression patient as he waited for her to speak.

"This is far from ideal," Moe sighed, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of pain. "I am regretful you had to endure any of this."

"Am I truly just 'Jezebel' to everyone?" she asked quietly, her fingers picking nervously at her pants.

"You are Jezebel," the man affirmed, his words causing a pang of sadness in Jezebel's heart. "But you are not merely a Jezebel. You are the Jezebel of Abel. You have done nothing wrong, except being born into a world that is coming to an end."

"An ending world?" Jezebel questioned, but Moe offered no further explanation. "I don't understand..."

"Listen, Jezebel," Moe began, swiftly moving to kneel in front of the teen and gripping her hands firmly. "I don't have time to explain everything about the worlds above and below, about the firmament and Sheol, of the past and revelation, but I need to tell you something—" He paused, freezing as his ear twitched towards her bedroom door. In an instant, he was at the window, staring down at the ground below.

"Moe—"

"Run," he demanded but Jezebel only could frown.

"I'm sorry—?"

A blade seemed to shine into existence from his arm and into his hand as he continued to stare emotionless over at the chapel steeple before him. "There's no time." He decided with a swift turn back to Jezebel.

He hurried over to the clearest wall that separated her room from her closer. With a shove, the old antique painting from her great grandfather thrown to shatter against the ground. Moe sliced his arm and Jezebel covered her mouth while he used his fingers to paint his blood on the wall. A purple smoke started to seep through her doors.

"Moe?" She whispered while staring at the smoke that seemed to come after her in tendrils. "Moe?!" A wave of his hand had the smoke dissipated, but he was far from done.

"Jezebel." Moe called the teen over calmly and held out his uninjured arm hand to which she carefully place her hand on. Grabbing her wrist, he laid her palm on the blood dripping down his arm and covered her palm in red. "When you feel most threatened, touch the signal with your hand."

"What? Moe, please can we... can we just go to our spot and just-just forget this all?" Jezebel begged as Moe let her go. "Moe please—!" A second rustle of feathers and Jezebel was pushed behind Moe in an act of protection.

"Armoni, what are you doing?"

In the dimly lit room, Castiel's authoritative voice reverberated, his trench coat billowing as he stepped forward. Next to him stood a stranger that seemed to look down upon everyone with a disgusted gaze.

"Castiel," Armoni responded firmly, his stance unwavering as he squared his shoulders. The air crackled with tension as the two men faced off, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Castiel's gaze bore into her Moe, his expression stern and focused, while Moe stood tall, his hand gripping the hilt of the dagger at his side.

Jezebel watched from behind her angelic protector, her heart pounding in her chest as she observed the weight of the impending confrontation hanging heavy in the air. "I will not let you harm this child." Moe stated and his fingers curled further around the hilt of the long dagger beside him.

"Think about the seals, brother—"

"The seals?!" Moe finally broke, barking out the word as if it offended him. His gaze looked over at the other man in the room whom Jezebel didn't know. The stranger's eyes made contact with her own and she fisted the clothes of the man in front of her instinctively. "Castiel, you must be mad if you truly are believing that heaven—!"

"Enough." The stranger interrupted with a mirror of the same dagger showing in his hand. There was a twisted smile set upon face when he pointed the sharp end at Moe and ultimately Jezebel. "You deceitful, lying ape lover. Hand over the filthy creature, brother. I'd hate to see another one of us disappear."

Jezebel had never seen Moe annoyed before much less enraged, but he seemed to grow an inch into a soldier that she had yet to witness on her friend. It all happened faster than she could realistically comprehend with Moe shoving her back to avoid Castiel's reach all while dodging the stranger's blade.

Her back hit the wall behind her and she was left breathless while Moe protected the both of them in a violent dance. Castiel's eyes darted over to her own emotionless and when an opening came, he twisted his movement from Moe over to her.

Moe couldn't have done anything in time and it was all too quick for her. In one blink Castiel was on the other side of the room and in another the war-brining angel was in front of her, staring down at her with a power that had her knees quivering.

"Castiel, don't you dare—!"

"Forgive me." His voice had a whiff of regret, but his face held none of the emotion. His sword raced forward from the side and Jezebel slammed her hand against the signal next to her.

"Close your eyes!" Was the last words Moe screamed to her and there was a pain in her side at the same moment blinding light burned against her closed eyelids. Jezebel let out a strained gasp as she dropped to the floor and touched her side carefully.

When she pulled her hand back, blood marred her hand. When she looked up, there was no one but her and a messy room that was evidence of anyone in there besides her.

"Jezebel Abel!" Her father yelled out as he slammed the door to her room open. When he stepped inside he froze at the mess. Jezebel couldn't breathe as his eyes took in the shatter painting, the broken bed, the cuts in the wall, barely grazing over his daughter sitting with a bloodied side, before thunderous eyes landed on the markings on the wall.

"Father, it's not—"

His thunderous eyes landed on hers and Jezebel tried to scramble away, but Jack grabbed his daughter by the nape of her hair and forced her up with a cry. He slammed her into the wall and grabbed her cheeks between his fingers to force her eyes on his.

"I will not tolerate demonic worship in my household." He whispered coldly and Jezebel groaned at the pain. "Your mother is in a coma and you're here summoning satan?! Ruining our lives?! Do you think this is a joke!"

"She's not my mother."

Slap!

Jezebel blinked at her father and though her mind slowed, she couldn't help the small smirk that lazily grew on her face. If there was any joke, it would be her father punishing her for demonic activity when he had both been born by and slept with a demon. Jack slapped her and this time a laugh did choke out of her.

"Come, father." Jezebel giggled as her head turned back towards the man wearing his clerical collar. It was the memorial service for all of the girls who hung in their white night gowns and all of the pews would be packed with nearly every single person in the town "You've done worse to put me through hell."

"Oh, you don't know what hell is." Jack hissed with a hand curling around her throat. It was almost welcomed this time as she felt a ball of rage build in her stomach. "But I'll make sure you know this time, you impish Jezebel."

By the time Sam and Dean had made it to the hospital, Rachel was already outside sitting on a bench. She was a mess, but in the alright despite the urgency in her short voicemail. "I didn't want to alarm you..." Rachel started as the two began their walk to her.

"I'm sorry?" Dean asked incredulously. "Are you telling me there's no danger?!"

"There's plenty of danger." Rachel snapped back with arms crossed and leaning in her good leg. "But Miss Michaels is begging to talk to you both." And the three were in the woman's room in no time. Hooked up to machines, but still awake Henrietta Michaels looked to be waiting for them.

"You look just like your father." Henrietta sighed out when Dean entered the room.

"E-excuse me?" Dean spluttered out and the old woman let out a wheezy laugh.

"John, right? He came by in, oh let me see... 1993?" She asked mostly herself with a hum and nodded. "Had these two little boys that just were the cutest little terrors."

Dean leaned back in his chair and tried to remember the trip to Davis, Oklahoma but no matter how much he thought about it, he was left at a blank. Even when he looked at his brother, Sam seemed to be just as confused.

"It's okay if you don't remember, it was just a passin'." She chuckled and thanked Rachel when the woman passed her a glass of water. "You two played out in my backyard while your dad and my granddaughter took care of somethin' that goes bump in the night."

"Guess it's a small world after all." Dean tried to chuckle, but Sam could only watch Rachel as she stuck heart monitoring diodes on her chest, legs, and arms.

"It sure is, but I didn't call you two to come talk 'bout the old days." Henrietta sighed out. "These old bones are dyin' and I need to tell you two the town's secret before that witch doctor gets me."

"Witch doctor...?" Sam asked just as Rachel began switching out the monitor on Henrietta to herself. Once everything was switched out, she opened the drip on Henrietta's IV even more.

"The city of Davis is under a curse." The old woman sighed as she allowed herself to flex as much as she could. "Well, the older folks are. Those of us who have seen, must not speak." Rachel sat quietly next to Dean and ignored his look of questioning.

"Do not interrupt me." The woman warned, "because otherwise I may not start again."

"It started with my husband findin' that Chaplain out in Turner. Amos was always a preacher at heart and a servant to His people, but above all he was a prophet." The room was quiet until Henrietta leaned over with a hacking cough. When she unveiled her hand from her lips, purple smoke dissipated through the air. "He always said the end was comin' and that an angel appeared to him with instructions to construct a church to keep out the demons of the world. Like Noah."

"Well, he sure had the right idea." Dean muttered under his breath.

"Chaplain Abel helped him construct a wooden church with salt in the walls, silver handles, plans for a holy water fountain, and best of all... a circle filled with salt around its perimeter.

"It was going great until that demon whore came 'round." Henrietta spat out with a round of choking coughs of purple smoke. Rachel closed her eyes to keep her heart rate even so no one would bother them. "G-good job, Rachel, sweetheart... Now, Sandy was a good woman, until she married Jack. From then on, she tried everythin' she could to keep them from building that church... even if it meant framin' a man of murderin' his own nieces."

"They claimed he tried to cover up for his brother and beat him before making him watch his brother be hung on the same branch of our daughters... with their nooses still tied to the branch."

"When he came home silent and bloodied, he went straight to packin' while Jack, Sandy, and a few other men watched him. We wasn't allowed to speak to each other and when he was finally at the front door with his bags he gave his last prophecy."

"Do you really want to do this, Jack." Amos questioned his old friend lowly, but the clerical man only stuck his chin up at him in response. "Then God has spoken His truth and your family will perish with you in flames. Your daughter will be consumed by dogs, wife covered eternally in soot, and cotton hall adorn your sons neck—"

Jeremiah punched the man in the jaw and sent him to his knees, Henrietta cried out to her husband with Sandy grabbing her shoulder to keep her still, but Amos only wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You might as well go, Moe." Jeremiah said calmly to the kneeling man and Amos slowly rose to his feet.

"God will see me back." He vowed with a strong voice and put his hat on his head. Carefully he grabbed his suit case and looked each one of the members in the room in the eye. "And He will bring Hell in Her wake."

The door shut behind Mr. Michaels and Henrietta fell to her knees at the sight of her husband gone. The room was quiet while the distant rumble of car roamed down the driveway and zoomed away from the house as if he was off to work.

Chaplain Jeremiah clenched his hands at his sides before he broke the stillness of the room with a fierce glare. A wave of his hand and his wife gleefully returned to his side with a small pouch that smelt like the woods nearby was in her hand.

"If you've seen, you will not speak." Sandy recited lowly with a chilling smile at the members before her. "This is your sacred, this is your oath, otherwise your family will pay the ultimate price." A pouch at each house was hidden as both a reminder and surveillance.

The young Henrietta couldn't help the sickening horror at the blatant use of witchcraft used in her him as the blonde woman dropped the pouch into a decorative teapot. Sandy dropped down to Henrietta with a big grin on her face and grasped the woman's hands in her own.

"We should talk more." Sandy declared sickly sweet and Henrietta wanted to vomit. "Come see me on Tuesday mornings at the church. I'd love to get to know everything about you, Miss Michaels."

"That was the last I saw of my husband." Henrietta sniffed after a solid fit of hacking out purple smoke. Her voice no longer sounded wise and strong, but old and frail like a smoker of many years that never stopped. She closed her eyes. "But I can feel him. I can hear him. He's in my dreams."

Henrietta Michaels folded over with a mouthful of blood falling onto her night gown. She gasped out breath after strenuous breath, but nothing seemed to agree with her lungs. As if she was breathing in a vortex.

"M-Miss Michaels!" Sam was at the woman's side in an instant. "I'll get the nurse-!" Rachel was sat on the chair with her eyes closed and still trying to keep her heart rate at an acceptable pace when she grabbed Sam by the arm.

"She knows what she's doin'." The former marine reminded Sam. "This is what she wanted."

"But, like this?!" Sam asked with a wave to the chocking woman. "Rachel you can't seriously think this is okay?!"

Rachel took in a deep breath, held it, before letting it. When she had fully exhaled, she opened her eyes to pierce her gaze onto the tallest man she'd ever known.

"I'd do anything for my family." She said seriously. "Sit."

"No, no, he's right!" Henrietta wheezed out pathetically and took Sam's hand into her own wrinkled one. She tried to focus on the man's face, but she appeared deliriously as she tried to gasp for breath. "He's comin', oh he's comin'! Once an angel and now fallen, he's comin'! You've gotta get them safe, save your family. You gotta hide!"

"Hide? Hide where?! From who?!" Dean was at her side in an instant, but the old woman was exhaling purple smoke at every breath. "Henrietta!" He tried to call out but Henrietta threw up blood once more before she spoke with a bloodied smile for the last time. She stared over their shoulders into the hallway for one last time as if she was watching a lost friend enter her life once more.

"He came for me."