Book Five : The Weight of the World - livjwinchester (2024)

Chapter Text

Well, weren’t we f*cked.

Bobby and I didn’t dawdle and left Sioux Falls in no time. I grabbed a handful of sleep in the car as we rushed to Maryland. We stayed with no news from either of the brothers for hours, until Dean called me as the Sun was just rising, to tell me he and Sam had been transported into a plane as the Last Seal was broken. They had no idea how it happened and I was too drained to even wonder.

The next day, Bobby dropped me in the convent in Ilchester for me to retrieve my ride and by the time I drove back to finally meet again with him and the brothers, I had missed a demon attack that had sent my mentor to the hospital. f*cking Hell, literally. I didn’t even see Dean and Sam right away. They had left before I got there. They got word about some kind of weapon their father had stashed somewhere. I honestly barely listened to what my boyfriend was saying on the phone, too worried about Bobby’s state at the moment. The doctors stabilized him and allowed me to wait in his room, even past the visit hours. Damn, I started to enjoy hospital as much as I did churches. All that blinding white light, the sick scent of chemicals, the endless corridors inhabited by stressed and sad people - and of course, its invisible procession of reapers that were working around the clock in these walls. And the very idea that in the next months, such places would never empty with what was bound to happen made it all gloomier. There we were, the end of the line was on the horizon, and it was dark, doomed and desperate. Rumor had it it was also pretty scorching.

The boys came back empty-handed but not without news. First, they explained exactly what happened to Bobby, saying some demon called Meg orchestrated the assault. It was the second time I heard that name, first being when Jo Harvelle told me she was after this piece of crap, and I thought that if I ever found that demon, I’d be more than happy to deliver it to my fellow huntress. Then, the brothers went to tell a pretty crazy story about something called the Michael Sword, that that Zachariah angel said to be one of Heaven’s most powerful weapon, key of the upmost importance to fight in the Apocalypse. And it was Dean.
“I’m sorry, my brain got lost between stupor and stupid, can you repeat please?”
“I’m the Michael Sword. His vessel. Like Cas is wearing that Jimmy guy.”
I looked at my man, bewildered. An archangel’s vessel. I stayed dumbstruck for an instant, before realizing it actually made sense. ‘The righteous man that laid blood in Hell’.
“That- that’s the reason why Hell and Heaven wanted you in and out of the Pit. In for starting the war, out for fighting in it.”
“Well, at least angels still resurrected me. And they chose a pretty special one to do that.”
“Yeah, in a big plan that had you killed first.” I wanted to shake him up but I was too tired for it. “You can’t say yes, Dean.”
“I know, come on, that bastard Zachariah? He locked me up in the anteroom of Marie-Antoinette, with crap beer and cheap burgers. He and his angels, they can all go screw themselves.”
I scoffed, relieved and happy to see he was still my good ol’ Dean, despite whatever happened with the angels and against Lilith. Neither him or Sam said a word, but I felt pretty shameful about that - not sure if it was for the fact that I had been too weak to face her or that I had rushed headfirst into that fight to begin with. Outside, as I was taking a break on watching Bobby, the youngest Winchester came to find me. He wasn’t feeling that good either, obviously, since he had been fooled same as I did. He had Ruby pushing him to kill Lilith for months, and I had Piers, convincing me I would save him if I sliced the bitch first. Well, Piers and Chuck, but surely that mediocre Prophet had his transcription wrong.
“It’s not your fault, Sam.” I said empathically between two puffs of a smoke. “We’ve all been pawns in a game which rules keep changing.”
“Still, I-”
“Don’t do that. Don’t beat yourself up.”
He looked at me with mortified eyes. He was guilty, but not responsible for what happened. But I saw that none of what I could tell him would make him feel better. For all I had in common with Dean, I never related more with his little brother than in this pitiful moment of self-blaming and remorses.

“So, let me ask the million-dollar question.” Sam sighed, later. We were all back together, gathered in Bobby’s hospital room, and we’d just learned the old hunter might not be back on his feet for a long time. “What do we do now?”
“We save as many as we can, for as long we can, I guess.” His surrogate father replied, not quite ready to give up. I was relieved to see his bad injury didn’t break his strong character.
“I say we fight.” I stated, a bit frustrated from that whole situation.
“Hold on, Sarah Connor, it’s Heaven vs Hell we’re talking about. Whoever wins, we’re boned.”
“And what if we win?” Dean said, his arms crossed as he was leaning against the window. “Screw the angels and the demons and their crap Apocalypse. They wanna fight a war? They can find their own planet. This one’s ours and I say they get the hell off of it.” He kept exposing his argument, slowly pacing in the room. Not that I needed much convincing cause I immediately liked that idea, but the way he presented it was bold. I liked seeing him like that. “We take them all on, we kill the Devil, Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves.”
“And how are we supposed to do all of this, genius?” The bedridden hunter grunted.
“I got no idea.” Dean replied and I jeered. “But what I do have is a GED and a give-them-hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”
Bobby called him nine kind of crazy for that, but I was loving every single one of them. Unleash a little Hell. We didn’t have a plan yet, but I embraced the spirit.

What I didn’t embrace was how cold and thorny the relationship between the Winchesters was turning into. After months of not communicating very well and being suspicious to one another, the start of the Apocalypse had naturally thrown an even darker layer over any of their interactions. Obviously, Dean did not share the same leniency than I did towards Sam. My man seemed to blame his little brother, harder than I thought was necessary. Surely, he was thinking that it would make Sam realize what was at stake, but to me, it was just loading him with more guilt than the manipulated hunter should be carrying. But I had already tried to dodge the bullets of their crossfire, and wasn’t so keen on keeping doing that. I hoped that Dean wouldn’t ask me to side with him on this, cause I didn’t want to serve as a third party to count the points in their dispute.

For now, finding a way to help Bobby was a higher priority, and we all got our hopes up when we received an impromptu visit from our favorite angel, a couple days later. It was my first time seeing Castiel since he’d been dragged back to Heaven, but most of all since he rebelled for Dean. I wasn’t surprised to learn he did, I guessed he had it in him for months. Maybe I even had that feeling the very day we first met. The angel greeted me with a slow nod and what I thought was a very light friendly smile at the corner of his mouth. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but just seeing him, alive and in one piece, put a much larger smirk on my face. Unfortunately, he didn’t come with good news. Becoming a renegade, he had lost his connexion with the forces of Heaven, and thus some powers granted by it, including his instantaneous healing. Which meant Bobby would sadly have to stay in a wheelchair for a while.
“I guess I know the answer, but you don’t happen to know a little something that could help?” Dean discreetly asked me for the old man not to hear.
“No, Dean I don’t know magic that can undo internal bleeding induced nerve damage. And even if I did, that’d be flesh transmutation and alchemists have forbidden such practices long ago, for good reasons.”
He nodded and grunted “Yeah, a simple no would have been enough, but thanks.”
“Dean, we need to talk.” The trench-coat angel stepped in with his serious tone. “Your plan to kill Lucifer-”
“Yeah, you wanna help?”
“No, it’s foolish, it can’t be done.” Cas replied, almost being sassy.
“How do you know it can’t? We haven’t even begin to search for a way.” I commented.
“Liv, I know you have a daring personality, but you shouldn’t pursue this non-sense either. I believe in another solution.” Castiel looked hopeful about this. “There is someone beside Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse.”
“And who’s your surprise Herakles?” I mumbled, casually sitting on Bobby’ bed.
“I- am not looking for a Greek demi-god.” He said, caught short.
“Then who?” Dean asked, unamused.
“The One who resurrected me and put you guys on that airplane. The One who began everything. God. I’m gonna find God.”
I swallowed a gasp and had to bite my lips not to burst into laughter. Puzzled, Dean was looking too intensely at the angel to notice my reaction, but Sam and I shared a glance. He looked confused too. The way Castiel sounded so serious didn’t help, but the very idea that the All-Father cared to come have a look at how Earth was doing was too much to handle for me, the pagan witch in the room.
“God?” Dean repeated, closing the door.
“Yes, He isn’t in Heaven, He has to be somewhere.”
“Try New-Mexico, I hear He’s on a tortilla”. My man joked and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. As Castiel was saying something about flatbread, I exhaled loudly out of my nose, wheezing and my shoulders shaking with my giggles.
“Liv, come on.” Sam said as he understood why I was laughing so hard.
“I’m sorry, I- HAhaha.”
“Thanks for the support, love.”
“Oh I’m- Uh!” I cleared my throat. “I’m not laughing from your joke - though it was a good one - I’m- Cas, you can’t actually be considering that option.”
“I am.”
“She’s got a point.” Dean argued. “We don’t even know if there is a God, or if He’s either dead, and that’s the generous theory -”
“He is out there.”
Dean kept going. “Or, He’s up and kicking and doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us.”
The angel stared defiantly at the hunter. It was tensed enough, but I felt like adding some weight on the rational side of the balance.
“Dean’s right. Cas, you’re running after a miracle that’s never gonna happen. You don’t even have any proof that any other thing beyond your fluffy wings exist.”
“None of you really believed in angels until we showed up. He’s somewhere, and I will find Him.” He looked resolute, but I was stubborn as a mule.
“We had demons, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise angels were real too.”
“Then how do you explain any of us exist? Hell, Heaven and Earth? God created it. He created all.”
“Well, Earth is a planet that formed when the laws of the Universe did their trick, and it didn’t take seven days. The rest are parallel plans of existence inaccessible to humans, because some doors only open with a little magic. No giant dickhe*d creator here.”
“Hey, kid, don’t be disrespectful.” Bobby grumbled from his chair.
“What? No gods stopped the sacking and destructions of pagan sanctuaries during the unfold of the Roman empires. If Zeus closed his eyes when Constantine put his own face on a statue dedicated to his son Apollo, then it seems pretty clear there’s no big bearded daddy in the sky. There’s only humans and monsters, fighting, and books for the winners to tell the tales.”
Dean turned to Sam as to seek confirmation on historical evidence. The youngest shrugged and puckered his mouth.
“The Emperor Constantine was very prone to respect local customs, even after the Edict of Milan was proclaimed. I should know, my garrison overwatched it.” Cas asserted, reminding everyone in the room how old he truly was. “I’m surprised you don’t even believe in your gods.”
“They’re concepts for guidance, Cas, not actual people. I firmly believe what I can see. The Sun’s real. The Moon’s real. All the cruel and twisted stories depicted in paganism? It just make more sense to me than your ethereal all-powerful Lord that, if he really exist, has proven to be either sad*stic or disinterested. We have a very real Apocalypse to face, and no time to run after mere chimeras.”
The three hunters caught in-between our argument kept their mouth shut, and the atmosphere was now very awkward. Castiel and I shared a lot of common values when it came down to protect our friends, but obviously, the subject of religion was best to be avoided for our next Yule dinner. Or Christmas. Whatever.
“Sorry buddy, but Liv has a point.” Dean said, sensing it’d be his place to intervene. “Look around, the world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of the days here, and He’s off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut.”
Not that it was a competition, but I was glad Dean sided with me on this one. Whatever Cas was planning, I wouldn’t follow him this time.
“Enough. This is not a theological issue, it’s strategic.” The rebel angel looked cramped. “With God’s help, we can win.”
“It’s a pipe dream, Cas.” The oldest Winchester insisted.
“I killed two angels this week! Those were my brothers. I’m hunted. I rebelled for you, and you still failed.” He frowned at Dean, almost aggressively. “Y’all did. But the world is doomed and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” He added, turning to me.
I didn’t add up on the conversation, too eager to step out and have a smoke to evacuate the tension.
“You didn’t drop in just to tear us a new hole.” Bobby announced with his well-known poetic sense. “What is it you want?”
“I did come for something. An amulet.”
“What kind?” I asked, naturally curious about the subject.
“The very rare and powerful kind. It burns hot in God’s presence. It’ll help me find Him.” Castiel explained, before dropping his glance around my chest area.
“Hey, eyes up.” Dean barked.
I starting laughing again. “You gotta be kiddin’.” I said, taking the rugged black cord around my neck up until Dean’s pendant appeared from beneath my shirt. “This?”
“May I borrow it?”
“No.” I snapped, before even checking my boyfriend’s face for validation. “It’s a gift I intend to keep, Cas.”
“I need it.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to insist.” He stood firm, turning to Dean who mimicked a grimace. It was his turn to be caught in crossfire for once.
“Any chance you can get your hands on another of these amulets?’
“No. And we don’t have time to lose.” Castiel replied.
The hunter sighed, as if he was thinking. As if he was actually considering it.
“Now you gotta be kiddin’ me.” I stood up, flared out. “Dean, you gave me that pendant, you told me how precious it is to you!”
“You’ll bring it back, right?” He said to Cas.
“Yes, I will. Though I don’t know how much time my research will take.”
Dean closed his eyes. I looked back and forth between his brother and the old hunter, and none stepped in. I was aghast but most of all, ignored. After a short instant, Dean took a sharp deep breath and walked closer to me, his hand palm up requesting me to comply. I laughed again, but very sourly this time.
“Wow. Big day for respect, as I can see.”
“Liv, please. I agree with you, it’s a crazy theory.” He said in a soft voice that wouldn’t work on me on that moment. “Still, we gotta explore every lead.”
“Oh yeah? Funny, it ain’t what you said when I went hunting under my terms.” I furiously took the pendant off my neck, and strongly hit it on his chest. “Well, keep your angel, I guess I’ll be better off working again with my demon.”

Outraged, I quickly greeted Sam and Bobby goodbye before slamming the door on my way out. Castiel’s ridiculous fantasy to find the biggest dickhe*d there is was only outperformed by Dean’s absolutely out-of-this-world audacity. I wasn’t boiling about how he ended up siding with the angel, but actually by the fact he didn’t seem to realize this gift had a whole another meaning to me. That small brass figure - that I was convinced was of a pagan deity that I could not identify - hold different symbolic layers of our relationship. When Dean gave it to me, it first proved how he still trusted me, despite the bumps we had faced. I knew it was in his possession for years and that he wouldn’t give it to anybody. Because that pendant was a lucky charm, it also showed he still had hope. Hope it could help me get better, hope he didn’t stop believing in our relationship, that we could still get through anything together. And finally, the fact that he got it from Sam who got it from Bobby also laid a pattern. It had passed through all members of that small re-arranged family and it was my turn to be welcomed in it. It had no other value than to be honored to be wearing it. But now I had to learn that the lovely symbol of the romantic bound between Dean and I actually was a trinket to localize Heaven’s number one? The big creator? It cast something murky, almost obnoxious, upon the item and what it represented for me. I simply refused that idea. Our relationship was ours, and ours alone, and I hated that some higher forces were lurking upon us. Anyway, needless to say, as much as I loved him, I wanted to punch Dean in the face for having me to return that amulet.

There was my toxic trait. Sometimes, I just needed some air, and would leave for a various amount of time to just be by myself. Not that it was the first time it happened, but this one hit different. I couldn’t hide between being forced to work for the Grounds or having to chase a demon. No, that time, I just got pissed and took off. It wasn’t just being impulsive, it had more to do with the need to be elsewhere, including away from Dean. I ignored his calls to let him know he messed up. I was let down by him and I wanted him to know. Not to the point I wanted to throw anything away, but still. He f*cked up. He had to realize he f*cked up.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t even have the privilege to call me a liar, because I was very serious about making that call to Barbatos. For a few days, I established myself in northern Texas where I had found a remote abandoned house, the perfect kind to summon my favorite frenemy.
“Should I be afraid you might drench me with a gallon of boiling holy water?”
“Well, swear you won’t teleport me when one of my friend is in danger ever again, and I might consider to keep you in one piece.” I wasn’t planning on cooking Barbatos like a poor lobster anyway, but the slight perplexe look on his face had me convinced he wasn’t too proud of the way we parted. “It’s the end of the world, so I’m gonna need you. But we’re gonna set some ground rules.”
“I’m all ears, young lady.”
I opened the frontdoor and leaned on the frame, lighting a cigarette as the most astonishing twilight brushed orange strokes in the sky. “First, no teleporting me against my will ever again, especially if it means we’re leaving people behind.”
“That I think you made it very clear last time.”
“Second, no more lies and secrets.”
“That would depend. I can be honest, but remember I have some higher allegiance.”
I eye-rolled so hard, I let out a grunt. “Barb, f*ck with that. I didn’t call you to get a servant on board. If it’s my last summer on Earth, I wanna have fun and not care too much, so I figured my demon friend would do perfectly.”
“Demon friend? Are you sure?”
“Well you asked me to trust you, to me that’s how it goes. And friends don’t lie to each other. So when I have a question, I’d just like you to answer.” I said exhaling some smoke in a smirk, to which he responded the same.
“Then I’ll have conditions too. My task is to keep you alive, so I have unlimited veto about whatever target you’ll run after.” He exposed, passing by me to take a look outside. “Also, about entertaining activities, I don’t do karaoke and drinking contest, first one for my own self-esteem, second for yours. You couldn’t keep up with how I handle gin.”
“That I am sure.” I laughed, not disagreeing with his terms. “Anything you’re fun at or we’re gonna have a dull summer?”
“Pool. I’m good at playing pool.” Barbatos answered and I couldn’t help but imagine a game between he and Dean.
“I got one last demand, or warning, actually.” I declared, a bit more serious. “Demons I can deal with, but we might encounter some angels, and them, I’m not sure I can handle yet. You sure you’re up for it?”
“Absolutely. Fighting by your side will be my honor, whoever we may slay.”

We shaked hands and that was the first of many nights we spend together. I questioned the demon about the recent events and he told me how he went to meet with Sam when he and Ruby were questioning Glasya, one of the other and last demons of Lilith’s Entourage. He wanted to witness how Sam’s abilities had grown and understood the hunter had more chances against Lilith than I had. Barbatos actually didn’t care much about whether Sam would start the Apocalypse or not by taking Lilith down - he actually didn’t care at all that the big ending was unleashed - he simply wanted to make sure Sam would create a small window to get me away from the Demon Queen.
“Then why didn’t you simply prevent me from confronting her?” I asked as he teleported us to a diner.
“I tried to tell you not to, but you wouldn’t listen. The only other solution would have been to lock down in a bunker, or send you to the moon, but that wouldn’t have helped our partnership, would it?”
“... Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” I was forced to recognize Barb had really grasped how my personality worked.
“You are not the easiest companion to deal with, I hope you are aware of that.” He sneered, stirring the ice cubes in the large soda he ordered. “Honestly, I sometimes have pity for your boyfriend.” I almost choked on my onion rings. The guy had manners, but also absolutely no reserve. When he said he’d be honest, he wasn’t lying. “Why aren’t you spending that ‘last summer on Earth’ with your beau, by the way?”
“I never said I wouldn’t see him. I’m just-” I didn’t want to bitch on my boyfriend with my hellish guardian, so I didn’t get into details about why I had fled to Texas. “I’m actually even thinking about going to see them, soon enough, to check on Bobby, and on Sam too. I just have some other plans I don’t want the Winchesters to be involved in.”
“Didn’t that attitude got you in troubles already?”
“It did. But I need you regardless of that. And after the whole mess with Ruby, I’m not forcing them to work with a- demon again.” I said quietly for the next table not to overhear us. “So I’ll just hop by, from time to time, to see Dean, in between our summer job.”
“You had my attention, but now you have my curiosity. What is this job you are dragging me into?” Barb inquired in a more playful tone than usual.
“Well, I’m after some big fish. One Hell of a big fish.”

After a couple days in Texas, I headed west, to make a stop by Sioux Falls before going back on my own adventures. I figured the boys would drive Bobby back to his place soon and I had an idea. Our old man needed some help with adjusting his house to his wheelchair, like arranging a sleeping area in the living room, moving all the essential stuff to cook on the lower cupboards in the kitchen and, even more necessary, building a ramp for him to be able to roll up the few steps of his porch. I had spent some time moving stuff in my homehouse (that I kinda missed), so I had a blurry but general idea of all that needed to be done. But I didn’t want to tidy cabinets and leave the big part of the work to the boys. Bobby had done so much for me, allowing me to live with him after I ran from the Grounds, both times. His numerous calls after Dean got sent to Hell, to check in with me. I could do that one thing for him. I could build that ramp.
Problem is, I didn’t study normal maths and geometry, so I had to do it my own way. I first went to grab my CDs collection that’d been rotting in the old shoebox I brought back long ago, and put on Green Day’s Nimrod, my first and forever favorite album of theirs, on Bobby’s small stereo. There’s something in the dumb banging of punk rock music that helped my brain to work more fluently. Now that I was focused, I needed to envision what my masterpiece would look like. Aligning scraps of planks and pipes wasn’t clean enough for me to take precise measures, so I threw the junk away and started over. As I was stretching my arms and massaging the back of my neck, I watched a plane in the sky, loudly and slowly getting closer, Bobby’s house only being less than 10 miles away from Sioux Falls airport. The image of a landing strip got me an idea. I snapped my fingers and conjured a dozen of small wisps, to have them fantomly mark what the ramp would look like. I took a measuring tape, not minding getting my hands right through the small yellow floating flames that didn’t hurt me. I wrote down all the measures I’d need, before taking Bobby’s truck and going to the nearest Home Depot. The employee there was surprised to see one girl buying so much wood on her own, but I didn’t really paid attention to his misogynistic glances. Not that I didn’t notice, I simply and purely didn’t give a f*ck. As I carefully drove back from the shop, an ad on a board caught my eyes.
“Oh damn.” I rushed to the closest Virgin store and quickly made my impromptu errand, too happy to get my newest treasure that I had totally forgotten was on the way.
Back at Bobby’s, I unloaded all the materials from the truck and started tracing on the wood with a pencil how it should be cut, as I was listening to 21st Century Breakdown, Green Day’s brand new album. Focused on my handiwork, I didn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics on my first listening. But from the title and the cover - a graffiti-like illustration of a couple kissing in a fiery red and yellow background - it had a little Apocalyptic vibe. After an hour, only interrupted by happy headbanging that didn’t help my sore neck, I wasn’t done with marking and prepping all the wood when I reached the end of the album, so I just played it again from the beginning. That’s always how I’d get into some new music. I’d just hyperfixate on one album, for weeks, until I grow sick of it and move on to another. As an adult, I didn’t have much time to listen to my favorite stuff, but as a teen, I was a maniac with that. After my year long passion of Nirvana’s short discography of two albums and one live recording, I stumbled on Green Day and oh boy, did I drive my sisters crazy with them. My Nimrod phase lasted for almost three months, a full six weeks for Insomniac and a solid month going back and forth between Kerplunk and Dookie. Hannah thought I was being ridiculous with that obsession, which didn’t stop me and even encouraged me to also get into other bands. Sam was amused to see her twin lose her sh*t and bang at my bedroom’s door to lower the volume, and I think that’s secretly the reason why she’d keep hiding her walkman, so that I couldn’t borrow it and enjoy my music in a peace and quiet that would have pleased everyone. Samantha was such a goblin. Remembering all of this, I realized that was also surely the reason why they switched rooms at some point, so that Hannah wouldn’t share a wall with me anymore.

The next day, I was half-way through my seventh listening of 21st while finishing my task when two cars parked in front of Bobby’s house. The first one was the old hunter’s Chevelle, with Sammy behind the wheel, and then of course came dear old Baby.
“You’re not carrying me in my house like I’m a freaking cripple!” I heard as I put my music on pause.
“Well, sorry to break it to you, Bobby, but- duh!” For Sam to get that cramped, I guessed that our sweet old man had been a delightful charm on the long way here.
I got back on my feet and grabbed some water, as the cloud of dust lifted by the cars slowly cleared and unveiled Dean’s handsome silhouette. I sensed a blood rush going to my cheeks and felt ridiculous for it because I was still mad at him for the pendant thing. Was I, really? Yeah, I was. I couldn’t let him think I’d let that go so easily. But well, to be honest, for that sweet ass, I’d let go of many things.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Said sweet ass asked, having a look at my DIY mess.
“Building Bobby a ramp for his wheelchair, and you guys arrive just on time.” As much as I was proud of all I could accomplish on my own, I had to admit that the big automatic sawing machine was definitely out of my league to handle.
“That part’s still gonna be too steep for Bobby to climb.” Dean suggested when he examined my sloppy blueprints. “Should be at least twenty inches longer, for the angle to be lower.”
I didn’t know where he got a sharp eye for crafting stuff, but he actually had a point.
“Like that?” I waved my hand to rearrange my wisps like he said, and indeed, it appeared like it would be much easier for our diminished mentor. Dean watched at the little flames moving around and smiled. I knew how he’d always thought my powers were cool, and there was something cute in the way he looked. But I was still mad at him, right? “Shall we go build that damn thing already?” I blurted out, snapping the wisps in small fireworks.

After Bobby was settled inside, the Winchesters and I got to work. The oldest volunteered on the scary sawing machine and Sam and I assembled my blurry idea into a proper ramp that’d come in great relief for Bobby. Even all gathered to help the old man, some tensions were still perceptible in the repairshop. No doubt the brothers hadn’t sorted out everything between them, and my dramatic departure a few days before most have added more on Dean’s shoulders. But there was no way I would stop enjoying that little project of mine, so I went back to grab the little stereo to keep my work process going. And I had to push the volume all the way up to cover the sound of the chainsaw. Hannah would have hated it that loud. So did the beloved ass I wanted to irritate a little, as sweet revenge.
“Liv, really?!” Dean yelled as he finished cutting on the longest planks Sam and I needed for the general structure.
“Yep!”
“Oh, Green Day’s got a new album?” Sam asked, wiping sweat for his forehead with his left sleeve, a hammer in his right hand.
“Don’t encourage her, Sammy, she can be worse than me when it comes to music.” His brother grunted behind his protective glasses, not caring much about all the sawdust in his hair and on his dark shirt.
“Yeah, and it’s great!” I replied to the tallest of the pair, ignoring Dean’s comment. “I’ve always loved that band, and what can I say, when I commit to something, I don’t break my word.”
Getting the shady remark was for him, my boyfriend grabbed another plank to cut, but from his face, I couldn’t tell if he was teased or offended. Barely a minute after, he waited for Sam and I to be busy nailing the longest part of the ramp to go and shut the stereo off, right when my favorite song so far was starting.
“Hey!” I barked. “Architect picks the music, dumby worker shuts his cakehole.”
“Wh- Hey, you don’t get to rewrite my punchline!” Dean frowned, this time looking offended.
“Oh, look at me, I just did” I smirked, as I turned the stereo back on and walked away, twisting my hips on the rhythm of the song and lipsyncing on a line that said ‘She is one of a kind, she’s the Last of the American Girls’. Dean took off his glasses and sighed loudly.
“Hey guys, so: let me go check if I can be anywhere else but here.” Sam said, cleverly reading the room.
I grabbed the hammer he was holding as he went out, to keep on with our task. Dean didn’t with his. He lowered the volume of the music without shutting it down this time.
“Are you high or something?”
“What, I have one moment where I’m enjoying myself and suddenly I took weed?” I laughed still moving my shoulders on the song .
“Okay, let’s address the elephant in the room then.” He was serious, too much to my taste. “I thought you were mad at me. For the pendant.”
“Oh, I am.” I replied, as I grabbed some more nails. “But also I don’t care. Or maybe I’m mad that I don’t care.”
“What the-” He looked at me as if I really took some substance. “Then, why are y- Sorry but, what?”
I sighed in disappointment, convinced we could sort that discussion out with angry sex. But Dean just looked plain angry, not conveniently horny-angry. Too bad.
“Okay, elephant in the room then.” I said, twirling the hammer in my hand and pointing its head at him. “You were an ass, to ask me to give the pendant back.”
“Cas said it’s only tempora-”
“Worse, you didn’t even ask. You requested it, completely neglecting the fact I had already told Castiel no.”
“Look, I-” He nodded, leaning his head back. I noticed he also had sawdust stuck on the skin of his bare neck because of the sweat. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“Thank you.” I grinned, pushing aside the fact that I was horny-angry.
“But, listen.” No good sentence starts with these words, but I let him expose his pity excuse. “I couldn’t refuse that to Cas. He’s Heaven’s most wanted because of me, and he’s fighting on our side now. I can’t let his efforts go to waste.”
“But you can let me down for it.” I had stopped eye contact with him, and was staring at the heavy hammer in my hand. I was holding it only between my thumb and slightly scarred index finger, not giving in to its weight pulling the tool towards the ground. “Look, I’m all up for Castiel to make his own decisions, I literally encouraged him to. But- I don’t even want to argue longer on this, it’s ridiculous, just- I’m not even really mad at you, I was just hurt, that’s all.”
I thought the conversation was done from here, that we’d just put that behind us and pretend it never happened. That was forgetting Dean could be stubborn as stubborn can be.
“So, that gave you the right to behave like a bitch?”
I froze, staring at the ground, but I could see in my peripheral vision he had crossed his arms. ‘Dude’s an Aquarius, what did I expect from the fixed air sign?’ I thought to myself, for sure reconsidering my point of view on astrology. I could have let out a chuckle if only I didn’t know that would only piss him off more than he already was. I dropped the hammer on the ground in a banging noise that resonated between the walls of the hot and dusty repairshop, and took a few steps to turn off the stereo myself. Too bad, I liked the next oncoming track.
“Okay, let it all out.” I told him, and surely that was all he was waiting for.
“All out? Cool, then you can friggin’ stop giving me the silent treatment when I call you. It’s getting old, really, these mood swings of yours. Second, don’t brag about going off with a demon. I’ve never met that f*cker, and I don’t care he saved you God knows how many times. After that damn Ruby hellride? No way that’s getting a pass. And finally, you just show up here, like nothing happened, all bossy and teasing and still obviously holding a grudge. What the hell, Liv?! What am I supposed to do with all these mixed signals?! I- I’d just want us to get on the same page, and move on to get our head into a little problem called the damn Apocalypse! Even if that means we give a trinket to a freaking angel to get to it. Are we clear?”
Damn, he was hot when he was furious. I was literally biting the insides of my cheeks not to let an aroused smile spawn on my face. I knew I shouldn’t tell him I made new plans with Barbatos, that surely wouldn’t do any good. Plus, he was right, my attitude had been inconsistent. ‘But that to expect from the mutable fire sign’, I thought, definitely planning on having another look on my birthchart.
“Okay, you are right. I messed up.” I admitted, honestly equally eager to ease things between us and to get out of this umpteenth fight. I was so tired of it. “Let’s trust Cas on his quest to find… dickhe*d-in-chief. And, I promise I’ll keep you updated on where I’m up to.”
“So that means you’re not coming back with us?”
“Dean, I-” Well, f*ck it, what’s the point on keeping secrets anymore. “No, cause I’m going back on chasing more demons. With Barbatos.” He clenched his jaw when I said that. “I still have to deal with that f*cker of Piers scheming with demons, because I know he is, and it must have something to do with the Apocalypse. So you and Sam work on Lucifer, Cas finds his daddy, and I give a little kick in the witchy demonic alliance that’s been formed behind our back. ‘We gotta explore every lead’, right?”
The hunter turned his back, brushing the dust off his hair. “You never give up, do you?”
“No.” I walked closer to him, and got on my tip-toe, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Would you have fallen for me, if I were a wise, quiet, run-of-the-mill doll?”
He exhaled out of his nose and I sensed from his trapezius muscles he released some tension. “Obviously not. But you’re getting out of hand.”
“The world’s getting out of hand, Dean, I’m just rolling with it.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, as a big spoon doing its best to find a comfortable position. “I never want us to fight, you know. I’m f*cking tired of fighting, actually. Not hunting-wise fighting, that I’m all up for it. Just- what’s even the point of us, getting so worked up against each other? It’s the f*cking end of the world. Let’s not waste our energy on stupid arguments. You behaved like an ass, and I behaved like a bitch. Good for us, how about we don’t make a fuss out of it and just keep on rocking?”
He pivoted so that we’d end up face to face. I wasn’t sure I convinced him and I didn’t care either I did or not. That was the whole point, to stop having to justify everything to one another. He also wrapped his arms around me and didn’t budge when I put my hands in the backpockets of his jeans. I never required much to feel pulled to him like gravity twisted its laws, but the combination of the heat, sweat and that new-found heedless apathy got me feral to get a solid piece of him, right there, in that moment.
“Rock and roll, then.” He said in a deep voice, his hot breath against my ears as he captured my neck with a kiss.

Intense foreplay had to do for this once, because of all the work in the house we still had to get done. I only stayed for two more days, though, which still let me some time to do some reading and diggin’ into the old hunter’s library with Sam to gather everything we could find Apocalypse-related. Given that we had to move Bobby’s bed downstairs, his bedroom was now almost empty so we established in there for our research. We hadn’t spent that much time together since Dean’s last birthday and I had to admit I had missed that. The divine intervention that had saved them from the crypt in St Mary’s Convent had cleansed him from the hold the demon blood had on him and he was back to his proper self.
“So clearly, locking you down was indeed pointless.”
“Can’t blame my brother for trying.”
I chuckled and mumbled, more to myself than to my study buddy. “I can’t blame him for long about anything anyway.”
I was sunk into one of Bobby’s armchairs that we’d moved to the upper floor, my legs crossed, busy -and bored- putting bookmarks in old prophetic manuscripts I had brought back from my Coven long ago, that could contain some hints about Apocalyptic omens. Bored, because they weren’t many to mark, witches from my lineage had always stayed away from demonic influence - well, until my Mother broke that implicit oath. Sitting right on the floor, Sam took on a whole another mission: writing down every piece of information we had on angels. We assumed there were good chances we were the first hunters of the country to ever meet some, let alone work with and get one to turn on Heaven, so Sam insisted on having this knowledge archived somewhere. I thought that it was a very good idea, so I helped him by telling him about our heist into the Grounds Headquarters with Castiel, drawing him the best I could what the large Enochian sigil looked like, made a poor sketch of that shiny angelic blade Piers threatened our trench-coat rebel with. I then came to the part where we got saved by Gabriel.
“Big bright light and whoosh, we were out of there!”
“Wait. You got saved by an archangel and never told us?” Sam asked, flabbergasted.
“Technically, he saved Cas. Not me. Heaven don’t care much about my guts.”
“Well, that got confirmed with Chuck’s gospel and what Zachariah told Dean…” He was pensive, trying to put the pieces together, before saying with a gentle smile. “I’m sure we’ll find an explanation someday.”
“Or maybe we won’t. Don’t forget the world’s coming to an end.”
“Don’t be such a buzz-killer.”
“I’m not a buzz-killer, quite the contrary actually. I’d be blasting some more music if Dean wasn’t right at the end of this corridor, getting his four to five hours daily nap he calls his sleep schedule!” I giggled, stretching my legs like a cat. “I wanna have some fun, live a little, you know? Take down some demons on the way, and also learn how to take down angels if we ever need to. But- you know what, no disrespect, but I actually don’t wanna sit, buried under piles of book and taking some notes no one’s gonna read cause there’s a good chance we all gonna die anyway.”
I put the books piled around me on the ground and stood up, stretching the rest of my body.
“Wow, that’s- that’s a cynical change of perspective. I’m not sure I’m on board with that path of action, Liv 2.0.” Sammy confessed, still in a nice way.
“2.0? You’re too kind, I’m so inconsistent, I’ve stopped counting.” I chuckled again, more sardonically, as I walked out the room with the clear intention of interrupting Dean’s sleep schedule.

I left the next morning. I saw no reason to keep on working with Sam, I had told him all I knew about angels and I was deeply convinced that whatever chances we had against the Apocalypse did not lie in a book. Bobby had also forbidden the boys and I to stay, not that he was displeased by our company, but because he didn’t want more help from any one of us. My guess is that he was too moved by all the attention to the point it bothered him, so he needed some time alone to get accustomed by his new limited condition, under his terms. Even stuck in a wheelchair from now on, Bobby remained a strong, adamant and resilient spirit that was quite inspirational to me. Then, there was Dean. Of course, I wanted to stay with him. I still wanted to wake up every morning by his side, to share a cup of coffee he’d always brew exactly as I like it, to go on random road trips and find the cheapest cheeseburger place. I gave that a thought, honestly, since some of the happiest moments we’d spent together were when he had a death timer over his head with his deal. Since, we’ve had great moments, on the roads or at Bobby, but they were always tainted with sadness, both his and mine. I was much aware of the load that was slowing us down, the angels, the Grounds, my Ritual. The old me would have let Dean his chance to solve everything and fix me, but that wouldn’t have been fair to him. I owed it to myself to try. So yeah, I wanted him, but I had to get me back first.

Not sure if there’s a word for carelessly hanging with a demon during a hot summer, but that was my vibe. Affirmative about putting as much distance between the Grounds and I, I had Barbatos meet me on the west coast, that yet again, would be my refuge. With the jumpstart of the Apocalypse and what we had planned on doing, better be careful and not be too easy to find, so I decided we’d stay in the big, crowdy and loud mess that was Los Angeles. This was the exact opposite of all I had ever known. From the soaked and snowy forests of Massachusetts to the blazing turmoil of the city of Angels, that felt like a giant leap for me, and I had spent my fair share of time in Boston, I thought I knew big cities. But not quite like Los Angeles. Even having visited a ton of places on hunts with the boys, nothing compared with the chaotic, wacky energy of LA. It was over-the-top in ways I had never seen, with massive hummer limousine passing by at any hour of the day, people marching down the street in full flashy neon and sequined cow-boy costumes. Everything was utterly stupid. I loved it.

No ordinary person would have just driven through LA and found a free place to stay on their first day. But if there’s one perk on having a demon on board for such a crazy journey, is that he can get you a perfect stash to stay. There was something about the Silver Lake district that I liked, so Barb excused himself for a couple hours, and came back with the keys to a condo. Apparently, he had possessed and impersonated some dude working in a travel agency to get legit tickets for a whole tour of Europe, that he delivered in person to a lucky couple, as a ‘once in a lifetime surprise opportunity’.
“These lovely people are on their way to the airport, where their plane to London leave in three hours. They have tickets to Paris, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Madrid, Vienna and a two weeks road trip throughout Italy, so you shall be free to occupy their accommodation for at least the next two months.” The demon explained in details, as he rejoined me in a nearby Starbucks and handed me the keys with a fuzzy yellow pom-pom. I looked at him in awe, with still a little heartache about that Italy roundtrip that I knew Dean would enjoy.

The one-bedroom flat was slightly larger than the one I had accidently put on fire in Boston, but here it had a large window oriented south-east. It was situated in Teviot Street, not far from the Silver Lake reservoir, in an almost-hidden apartment block. Not quite comfortable with the idea of taking down the wall decorations neatly arranged by the couple - two mid-40s men, Marcus and Alejandro, that from a picture stuck to the fridge with a California Bear magnet, appeared to be together since a joyous 2000 New Year’s Eve party - I decided I would concentrate my research on their small kitchen table.

After a few days visiting the city, it was finally big fish time. I had been so busy with the Seals, and Cas’ baby rebel steps, and Sam’s demon blood dark era, and Dean’s damaged persona, and my own mental breakdown to manage, that I hadn’t had the time to dig deeper about that mysterious demon Piers has been working with.
“You said it’s a Prince of Hell, right?” I asked as I sat on one of the high chairs on either side of a counter separating the living-room and the kitchen.
“I believe I said there is a high probability it is.” My companion replied, blowing on his noodle cup. His long hair was tied in a high bun, and vapor coming out of his food formed condensation on his large sunglasses. He looked like a hipster literature student, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the far-fetched situation I lived in now. “If that theory is confirmed, it will not us take long to find out which one.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, first because, originally, Lilith and her master Lucifer only created four Princes. And then because your endearing hunter has already taken one down.”
“Azazel?” I mixed my own noodles as I was thinking. “So all Princes have yellow eyes?”
“Indeed. Word is, that feature was decided to emphasize some ranks among demons. You may remember Lilith had white eyes.”
“But so did Alastair? He couldn’t have been as high-ranked as Lilith.” After all my research about demons, I was really interested in finally getting answers about the actual chain of command of Hell, especially now that Lucifer was back to run the company.
“A mere and meaningless whim for Alastair. He only got white-eyes once Lilith assigned him as Master of the Rack to torture Dean and have the First Seal broken. That rat was a simple subordinate before that. From my legion, actually.”
“What? You commanded a legion?”
“Absolutely, it was our task as Nobles. Lilith did not grant us a fancy eye-color, though. I would have loved purple eyes.” He said in a real disappointed tone.
“You wear enough purple, Barb’, you’re one kohl liner away from turning into an emo boy.” As much I was making fun of him, his victorian-like classy outfit actually went unnoticed in Los Angeles. Another proof that the town was on another level of nonsense. “Ok but, since Azazel has been around for decades, does that mean the other Princes are also on Earth?”
“I don’t think so, but I cannot make big assumptions. If they’re in Hell, that would be just as much a problem, because I’m persona non grata there, and would quickly be detected if I stepped back in the Pit. Fortunately for us, there is another one I believe to be somewhere on the surface.”
“Who?”
“The eldest and original leader of the Princes. His name is Ramiel.”
“You think he’s the one Piers borrowed his powers from?”
“No.”
“-?” I had my mouth full of spicy noodles, so I let a very confused facial expression speak for me.
“I told you, young lady, that you shall show a little patience. Whichever of the remaining two Princes we are going after, we have to remain careful.” He had finished his food, despite not needing any, and finally wiped his glasses clean. “Either way, we’re gonna be demon hunting. I believe this will most certainly not be too much trouble for you, given your experience on the matter.”
“You’re flattin’ me, Barb’.”
“But-” He insisted on the word. “As you pointed out, we’re gonna have to keep an eye open for angels.”
“Yeah right. Dean’s taught me a nice sigil that cast them away!”
“How chevalresque of him. Listen, I have great faith in your abilities and audacity, but I doubt you will always have the time to bleed yourself up and draw that sigil.” Barbatos noted, as he threw his empty noodle cup in the trash and poured himself a cold ginger ale. “And even if you did, imagine Heaven sends his Hosts twice a week, you would end up in a hospital for anemia in no time.”
“That sounds ‘bout right.”
“If they find you, what you will need is either to be able to kill them or run from them.”
“Running’s gonna difficult, they can zap themselves away, same as you.”
“Yes. And if you didn’t fight with the rogue angel Castiel, he could have concealed and protected you from such concern.”
“No, no way. I’ve seen Dean’s x-rays, I don’t want Enochian sh*t engraved on my bloody ribcage!” As much as I was grateful to know Dean and Sam were safe, especially my boyfriend being an archangel’s vessel, the very idea to have my body altered with ethereal inscriptions was a no-go. The anti-possession pentacle was ugly, but at least, it was ancient mesopotamian occultism, unrelated with nowadays faiths.
“Then if you cannot hide from angels, you are left with no other choice but kill those who will come on your path.”
“Well, let’s hope we won’t have too many of them, cause I can’t kill angels.” I stated the obvious, taking the rest of my food to the trash. “But I know there’re some angel blade around that can do that.”
“Yes.” The demon went on with his explanation, zapping on the tv without using the remote. “But it is rare, and the most efficient way to acquire one is to kill an angel and take his. You can see the ouroborous here.”
“Piers has one.”
“And how do you suggest we steal it? I cannot teleport into his office and ask him to surrender it, and you’re most certainly not going after him now. Also, with the Apocalypse officially on the go, he’ll most certainly keep it with him.”
“Barb, sometimes you are too clever to be pleasant to have around.” I said, slouching on the couch. “What channel are you even looking for?”
“Horse races.” I turned to him and he immediately justified himself. “It’s a hobby of mine, you humans have excellent ideas when it comes to entertain yourselves.”
“You call animal abuse entertainement? Damn, can we get back to killing angels?”
He chuckled and turned the tv off. “I might have an idea about that issue.”

I hated Barbatos’ idea. It wasn’t even a proper idea, but more like an experiment. But given the global emergency the world was promised to, I gave it a chance. ‘I’m sorry, dude but I assure you I will get that covered someday’ I told him when he unveiled his design. I stood no chance against angels on my own, but there was another of Barbatos’ ‘high probabilities’ that he actually could. In the who-knows-how-many-years-old my demonic partner was, he had unfortunately never faced angel in combat, so it was a huge leap of faith we’d have to crash test once some fluffy-winged warriors show their faces. ‘Nobles receive orders and make sure they’re applied, but they usually don’t get into the vulgarity of the battlefield’ he said. Still, the lot of Lilith’s Entourage was placed in fifth place of Hell’s chain of command - or sixth, as its position was perpetually challenged by the King of the Crossroads.
“‘King?’ Did Lilith really give him that title?” I asked Barb as we were taking a walk on the smelly streets of Culver West.
“No, that arrogant filth actually came up with it. He was supposed to be managing the deals on behalf of Lilith, nothing more. If you ever were to encounter with him, I am quite certain you would call him a dickhe*d, as you always so elegantly like to say.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Crowley.”
I had heard of him before, when I was looking for Dean’s deal. Barbatos suspected that snake to attempt a coup downstairs, now that Lilith was gone and a large part of her Entourage taken care of. With Lucifer busy looking for his own vessel, only the last two Princes remained to assure some sort of integrity in Hell’s hierarchy. To find out which one had Piers under his grasp, we decided we’d go after that Ramiel. If he attended to Hell’s management once, surely he could help us have a better idea of how things were unfolding exactly down there.

2009, June 30th

So we went on following demonic omens, which wasn’t as easy as it used to. Back in the days, going to places where both out-of-season storms and unexplained death occurred was almost a guarantee to find demons. But, with the Apocalypse, the weather was no longer a very reliable indicator, violent hazes and odd temperature fluctuations happening everywhere - and a little more in the US than any other place in the world, for our greatest pleasure - so checking every town that showed signs was an impossible job with the usual way of transportation. Fortunately, demonic teleportation booth was now a thing for me to scout out the country. The process was convenient, but the job was tiring, dull even. Many times, we'd hit a place where no demon had actually stepped in, or else was already gone. After a few weeks, I was so bored, yearning for some action.

Our luck turned at the end of June, in a stupidly steaming town in Arizona, on the far outskirts of Phoenix, where some hail had been hitting the area for the past eight days. A couple was reported missing, their car found abandoned on a restaurant parking lot, the seats soaked in blood. I knew I needed to check the place to see if I could find any rest of sulfur, but the multiple hints indicated usual demonic pattern.
“Okay, before we start, I’m gonna need to hit the tobacco store, I’m almost out.” I told Barbatos as he zapped us midtown. “Also, I’m gonna check in that hotel over there, start tracing back the victims’ address and of their relatives, try and see if the demons sad*stically reached out to them recently or if they’re already gone - again. I am not tracking down a demon for three days all for nothing like last week.”
“I renew my apologies for that utter fiasco.”
“No need, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Still, we lost precious time. I’m gonna have a quick tour downtown, see if I can spot the kind of holes demons could hide in.”
Since we were in this type of town that’s just long stretches of road after more long stretches of road, and it was almost 100°F, I wasn’t against the idea to not be walking under the scorching Sun for nothing. “Okay, meet me back at the hotel in an hour then. And, Barb!” I halted him before he disappeared. “If you’re late, I’ll call you, so answer the damn phone I got you when you see my name on the screen, please.”
He simply smiled and nodded before taking off.

My errands of three Strike packs done, I lost track of time settling in my small and dusty room, doing my starting research and checking I didn’t forget to bring both my sets of ammunition. Over an hour had passed and Barb was still out. I called him, and that top-hat idiot didn’t answer his damn phone. I went out, got myself some water and started walking along a long stretch of road under the scorch. ‘f*cking stupid demon’ I cursed, calling my companion for the second time. Still nothing. After half an hour and almost reaching the end of the town, I finally got hold of him.
“Barb! I called you like four times already, where the f*ck are you?”
“Sincerely repentant that I got you to worry for me, but I must confess I got myself humbled… in a devil’s trap.” He didn’t sound too worried though.
“What?! Some hunters are in town?”
“No, I thought I’d be funny to ambush myself in an old warehouse.” The way he said that was so serious, it got me confused. “Yes, obviously, hunters are in town.”
“Damn, we’re gonna have to do something about that sense of humor of yours.”
“I would be much grateful to you if you’d accept to give me a helping hand on the unfortunate matter I fell into before we do just that. I’m in the storage section of an old car factory, half a mile south down the central avenue.”
“I’m on the central avenue, be there asap.”

Damnit. It was the first time such a thing happened, and even if he was more of a general than a soldier under Lilith, I knew Barbatos was skilled in combat. Whatever hunter managed to trap him couldn’t be half bad. It didn’t happen a lot, but I didn’t like to run into other hunters on a job. The only time it didn’t scramble down was when Jo and I worked together, and even then, it didn’t finish too well.
Luckily for my fancy partner, the car factory was easy to find. It was abandoned, not for so long given the amount of equipment still in place - I figured the owner struggled as long as they could to keep the company rolling after the 2008 economic crisis. The storage warehouse had shelves full of parts, brand new and ready to be installed or sold, collecting dust. Searching the place, I spotted a door leading to another part of the facility. A door with a line of salt all along. Keeping one hand on my holster, I opened it quietly, to find my demon, left alone in a dark corridor, barely lit by an emergency exit sign.
“Look at you, dumbly pinned like that.” I smirked, stretching my back as I was searching for a switch to turn on the light.
“And look at you, nicely trapped as well.” A voice said behind me, putting a knife under my throat. I froze, before realizing I knew that knife. The menacing presence also felt familiar.
“Dean?” I snapped my fingers to conjure wisps and light up the room a little. Seeing that, my assaillant stepped back. It was indeed my dear professional idiot of a boyfriend.
“Liv?!” What are you doing here?”
“Chasing demons, with my demon.” I made fun of the embroglio, pointing out Barb behind me.
“What- You’re Barbatos?” The hunter asked, realizing he didn’t trap the right target.
“I’d have preferred us to meet under much jollier circ*mstances, Winchester.” He said, checking the time on his pocket watch. I looked around and saw Dean had drawn the devil’s trap on the ceiling, cleverly concealed by large pipes when we get in the corridor. I burned the sigil off to set my road companion free. “And I thought the youngest to be handsome, but I see you pulled off quite a prize as well. Not as tall, but still.”
“Barb!” I yelled, confound, forgetting about Barbatos lack of reserve.
“What the f*ck kind of demon is that?” My man was very much confused.
“The kind you can trust, Winchester.”
He grimaced and frowned, not so happy to be told what to do by a demon. “Oh, I think I’m trusting you enough to stray my girl around like that.”
“Wow, first: Dean, hello, I’m right here, and second: Barbatos, don’t provoke - and objectify - my man like that, please. Where’s Sam by the way? You’re on your own?” Couldn’t believe I had to use Sammy as a decoy to not have things escalate between my boyfriend and my demon friend. There was something odd to have both of them at the same place, same time. Even if I didn’t like each of their overprotective act that I never requested from either of them, I kinda hoped for Dean and Barbatos to get along, as different as they were.
Dean clenched his jaw, which wasn’t a good sign, but at least he didn’t comment any further. “Yeah, he wasn’t feeling like hunting.” I figured the brothers still hadn’t settle their own dispute about who is and how much responsible, for launching the Apocalypse.
“Still searching for infos about Lucifer’s vessel?” I asked him as we all stepped out that dark corridor, back into the largest storage warehouse.
“Yeah, so far nothing. And I don’t know what demon could have intel about that, so I just follow omens, going after any of them.”
“You’re looking for a needle in a haystack.” Barbatos intervened, three steps in front of us.
“What, you know a little something ?” Dean asked.
“I know that angelic possession works with rules of consent, as you already know too, but that Lucifer’s a little special. Not anybody can be an archangel’s vessel, those are hand-picked or else the host would crumble.”
“Hand-picked, uh?”
“Yes. Heaven’s little favorites. But I won’t teach that to the Michael Sword himself.”
“So what about Lucifer?” I inquired, unaware that Barbatos could have helped Dean this whole time.
“Well, I don’t know who that might be, but they’ll be just as much under Heaven’s radar as you are, Winchester. Still, an average powerful enough host could handle the weight for a few months, if that true vessel were to refuse continuously. And same goes for Michael.”
“Define ‘powerful enough’.” Dean seemed to finally realize how much of an asset Barb could be.
“Well, such power can appear through different ways. Devotion is a common criteria for angelic possession. So Lucifer’s vessel could be anyone from a Satan worshipping cult, for instance. But I think that, for the world most famous fallen angel, despair could also work the trick.”
“Despair?”
“Yes. It’s a sad and hopeless, yet meaningful motive. The kind that drives people to make sad and hopeless decisions.” Barbatos’ explanation hit a little too close to home, given I had signed up to the Grounds on those kind of terms.
“So what, I gotta hit every psychiatric yard of the country? Damnit, thanks, I get the needle in a haystack now.” Dean grunted, covering his clear eyes as we stepped back outside under the Arizonian heat.
“No, not the country. The haystack’s much larger, it can be anyone from anywhere in the world.”
“Well thank you, Arliss Loveless, aren’t you a jolly bean to be around.” Dean said and I chuckled, imagining the punchlines these two would throw to each other across a pool table. “What about you? Anything new about who your former psycho boss works for?”
“Not really. If you come across anything about a certain Ramiel, we won’t say no.” I replied, unwrapping the blister of one of my new cig pack.
“That’s the kind of thing I like to hear.”
We turned around to realize an asian-originated woman in her solid fifties had apparently been expecting us outside, and was slowly walking towards us. She didn’t flinch, stepping on the large gravel that surrounded the factory in her dark heels boots that matched perfectly the strict vibe of her grey checkered suit. It occurred to me her outfit really didn’t match the weather. As much as I thanked such a hot day to grant me to see Dean in a plain tight shirt, I was sweating in my light red denim vest that I kinda didn’t have a choice to keep on. Barbatos didn’t care for the temperature, he was a demon. Which could mean our surprise guest were one as well, or…
“Angel.” Barb noted, reading another sort of vibe. “Ready on your signal, young lady.”
“Wait a minute.”
She came closer but stopped by a good ten yards from us.
“‘The kind of thing you like to hear?’ Well if that bald son-of-a-bitch Zachariah sends you, tell him my answer’s still no.” Dean barked at her.
“You’re allegedly thinking I’m here for you.” She condescendingly replied. Her vessel didn’t look menacing but her attitude sure was. “Your reputation got it right, you do need to climb down your high horse. I’m not here for you.” Hearing that, Barb made a slight side-step, in front of me and the angel noticed. “Oh Lord, corrupting one of my peers wasn’t enough, you got yourself a demon lapdog too?”
“Castiel is what, a bucket of thousand years old?” I teased, going around my partners and stepping forward anyway. “I think he’s old enough to make his own decisions, he didn’t need me.”
“Indeed. Word is, he didn’t fall for your pretty eyes.” She glanced quickly at Dean. “Anyway, you’re the person of interest for now, witch.”
“Why do you want with her?” I could see my hunter was tensed and I knew why. Our knives were no good against angels.
“It’s Liv, right? See, I work for our Intelligence service, and my superior would simply like to know you a little better. You’ve been escaping our radar, so we’re… curious.”
“Intelligence?” I wondered and turned to Dean, see if he had heard of such a thing. “What’s that? Heaven CIA?” Barbatos tapped the ground with his sword cane which I knew meant he was getting nervous. He wasn’t very keen on me provoking our foes, but my attitude got my dearest to chuckle. Not that I cared for any kind of validation but I liked that I was setting another mood through the tension in the air. Everyone was so serious when we were three against one, and even if it was an angel we were dealing with, I simply was fed up of their grand demeanor. It was time they started to lose a couple feathers. “What’s your name, angel? You know mine, I guess it’s only fair you share yours.”
“Esper.” She answered plainly.
“Esper, right. Well, gimme one good reason I should trust you and meet with your boss? You should know in advance, I don’t do good with authority figures.”
She scoffed and crossed her arms. “I see, you’re hard to convince. May I propose a trade then?”
“A trade?”
“Yes. I heard you’re after the demon Ramiel. We might know a thing or two on how to find him. But you’d have to come with me first.” On paper, the deal sounded interesting. We had lost enough time, as Barbatos noted sooner that day, and I was eager to get things moving.
“Absolutely out of the question.” Dean snapped.
“Young lady, no.” Barb agreed with him.
“If I heard correctly, I think our guest have asked me, not you guys.”
Dean snapped his tongue, belligerent “Liv, come on, you said it yourself, angels are no better than demons - no offense dude.” He slipped to our top-hat ally.
“None taken.”
“Esper, I propose you another kind of trade.” I took a couple steps in her direction, ignoring the patronizing argumentation behind me.
“I’m all ears.”
I quickly grabbed my Ruger and pointed it right at her. “You could tell me where Ramiel is, or else I shoot you.”
She laughed. “Come on, a gun is no use against my kind.”
“Wanna bet?” I smirked. “I might have a magic trick up my sleeve.”
“Liv, you crazy?” Dean yelled.
“Do try, witch.”
“If you say so.” I said, immediately taking the shot right to her stomach, a move that surprised the whole of our small assembly. The bullet got the angel to flinch, but not quite like it did for the couple of demons I got to try my upgraded handgun on. Esper scratched the wound to retrieve the bullet, and healed her vessel, only leaving a bloody hole through her suit.
“Is that- a holy oiled bullet?” She looked both shocked and offended.
“Yeah, doesn’t seem as effective as I hoped, though.” I replied, not hiding that I was disappointed that my improvised Colt-like ammo didn’t work on celestial dickhe*ds.
“You worm!” She gnarled, taking her shiny blade from her jacket.
“Barb!”

I wish I could have seen Dean’s face in that instant he saw an angel rushing at me with a very much lethal weapon in hand while my demon sidekick spewed the thick dark smoke that’s his true form, not to escape but to jump into another meat suit. My meat suit. It’s quite a stupendous state, to be possessed by a demon. Bizarre and eerie, of course, but since my hellish friend never used my body to commit multiple mischiefs and mass murder, I guess it makes my experience pretty peculiar in the matter. That was his idea, the one I mentioned earlier that I hated. When he presented it, I thought he was doing one of his twisted jokes, but he was dead serious. And he had a point. As a pretty ancient demon, he could stand against angels, as long as there weren’t too many of them. And even if we were losing the advantage of fighting as a pair, it was safer for emergency teleportation. He wouldn’t have to watch where I was or rush to me, since he was literally in my body. I knew he’d be very sad to leave his fancy meat suit behind, but he was very much dedicated about that mysterious mission of keeping me alive and I wasn’t argumenting on it. That day against Esper was a grand reveal for Dean to find out, but it wasn’t our first jump, for Barb and I. We had made a crash test, far on the outskirts of LA some night - not in the apartment I was squating, just in case things went south - and we had also used that secret move one day we found ourselves pretty outnumbered against eight demons. During that hunt, we had discovered that Barb’s demonic telekynesis actually synergized with my fire special effects, which offered a great element of surprise, including against Esper.

“WHAT THE HELL?”
“Stay back, Winchester, everything’s secured.” The demon replied to the hunter while mentally constraining the angel, knees on the ground, in a quite impressive swirl of flames.
“Liv?”
“Guess again.” Barbatos grabbed the chrome blade on the ground, and kneeled, pointing it to the Heaven Intelligence employee. “Quite preposterous to bring the object of your own demise to a quarrel, don’t you agree? So angel, you were saying about Ramiel?”
“That information is classified, I won’t spit one word of it.”
“So not only you tried to trick my protégée into following you to Heaven, but you also had no intention to respect your part of the deal? And people say demons lie.” My knighty Hell-friend purred in my raspy voice. Barbatos plunged the angel blade into Esper’s shoulder, almost all the way through, to pin her down.
“Omnipotentis Dei potestat…”
“Go to Hell!”
“Been there, hate that. Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco...” The angel started screaming, her eyes flashing with some blue light. “Omni potentis Dei potestatem invoco, abrogo terra, hoc angelorum in obse quentum, Domine expuere, Domine expuere, unde abeo Dei per… Domine in caelo, portas aperi. Filius ad te redeat. Caelum clauditur. Domine custodiat te.”
With a bright blinding light, the Host of Heaven was expelled from their vessel, who fell unconscious, but without a scratch on her body. The demon smoothly twirled the angelic weapon between my fingers, giving an amused side-eye to my flabbergasted beloved who just stood there, ten feet from us. I caught in the reflection of the bloody blade that Barb kept my eyes black.
We didn’t find any demon in that town of Arizona that day. Either they sensed an angel was around and fled, or they were already gone when both Dean and my dynamic duo arrived on the case. Yet, it conveniently happened to be somewhat of a win for Barbatos and I. We learned that not only demons, but also angels could tell us where to find Ramiel, and we now had just what we needed to interrogate some feathered soldiers.

“I know you didn’t like the anti-possession one, but that is one weird-ass tattoo.” Dean commented as he was taking a shower. We had returned to my hotel room after a long drive to drop that poor discombobulated vessel woman back at her place, a few towns over. “How d’you call that again?”
“An exclusionary circle.” I replied, looking at it in the mirror in between two spits of toothpaste foam in the sink. My newest sigil that I had inked in my right shoulder blade wasn’t completely healed yet - and still sensitive to the Sun thus why I had to keep a damn vest all day. “Works as a passage through a warding, for one demon only, thanks to having their name written in Infernal Enochian. So yes, it overrides the pentagram, thankfully with no damage.” I explained, going back to brushing my teeth like my life depended on it.
“So, basically, that’s a demonic VIP ticket to possess your ass.”
“Come on, no one possesses my ass. Or owns it.” I humored, knowing exactly what kind of thing Dean was gonna reply.
“Not even me?” He smirked. Bingo.
“Not even you~”
As I abandoned my infliction task, I blew him a quick kiss and stepped out of the bathroom, not having totally removed the bitter aftertaste of sulfur in my mouth. There was no way I’d let Dean actually kiss me, even if he pretended he didn’t mind. Each time I’d let Barb take hold of my body, it would take one to two days for the taste to go, and even if I had been smoking for a while now, it was nothing remotely comparable.
Waiting for Dean while he was finishing cleaning up, I grabbed the iPod I got from Sammy a few weeks before, back at Bobby’s when we were fixing up the place for the old man. He wasn’t using it very much, so he had lended it to me, seeing how serious I was in my recent Green Day hyperfixation. After he ripped my CDs on his computer and got them all in the portable player for me, he made me promise I wouldn’t let Dean see what was already in it. He told me that he had once installed it in the Impala, to his older brother’s horror when he was rescued out of Hell, and hoped very much Dean had forgotten the thing even existed. Wrapped in my towel, I vibed on GD‘ s ‘Peacemaker’ while I was spreading healing cream the best I could on my tattoo.
“Need any help?” I startled, as I didn’t hear my dear hunter coming out of the bathroom. I accepted, discreetly putting back Sammy’s iPod in my bag. “To be completely honest, I don’t like that possession trick.” He confessed. “I mean… You were pretty scary.”
“Yeah, I know it must be- unsettling. Cause, I don’t black out, you know, Barbatos keeps me conscious in there, for me to keep an eye on what’s happening. It’s a weird sensation, like a very vivid dream. But we settled ground rules: first the consent one, same as for angels, even if technically Barb doesn’t need it. And second, it’s only for emergency situations.”
“I see, I guess an angel threatening to drag you to Heaven applies then. I’m kinda jealous, by the way. Your demon got you an angel blade before I could get my hands on one. I gotta admit, I get it, what you meant. Barbatos is indeed… pretty uncommon for a demon.”
“See, I told ya. I know he’s a bit weird, but, you saw how he expelled that angel from her vessel, he knows plenty. I’m safe hunting with him.” I turned and took the tube of cream back now that Dean was finished with my tattoo. “You got an angel on your shoulder, and I got a demon.”
For the first time in a long time, Dean and I shared a quiet night, a real quiet night, with no fighting, no drama of any sort. Even sex was a little more tender and romantic than usual, which I wasn’t unhappy about. But still, I couldn’t get rid of a little bothering feeling.
Barbatos had alluded to me how difficult my temper was to handle sometimes, and I was aware that I had again proven his point that afternoon. I just couldn’t help it, to be like that, so difficult. What surprised me was how Dean seemed strangely okay with it. He was pretty much a control-freak, and I was having fun doing quite the contrary, easing off on the pressure, letting go of control. That brew shouldn’t mix, and yet, it did with us. I didn’t say anything, thinking it was pointless to pick up a fight for no clear reason. It was the freaking Apocalypse, what was the point of doing so? I still hated the fact that I gave it away, but surely, the missing amulet around my neck had relieved me of some weight. I had Dean, and I had fun and it was enough.

“Hey, have you noticed what day it is?” My sweet igniting snack asked, as we were finally cuddling in bed after I went torturing my mouth with toothpaste and chewing gums for the fourth time of the night.
“It’s June the 30th, well July now, since it’s past midnight.”
“Hm, hm, exactly.”
I had guessed what he meant. I was pleased he had noticed too. “So you know what day it is as well.”
“Absolutely.” He smirked, kissing my forehead. “Too bad I got a fresh start on scars, I don’t have the one from your pitiful throw of that silver knife of yours from that night anymore.”
“Was it your left or your right arm? I can’t recall.”
“Left. Where I got that creepy thing now.” He said, referring to Cas’ handprint.
“Hey, that creepy thing is proof you got saved and brought back.”
“Yes, but I liked that little cut scar better. It was a nice reminder of a very nice night.”
I exhaled and bit my lower lip. It was a nice memory indeed. “Damn, has it been three years already? Time flies.”
“Well, time hasn't exactly stretched the same for you and I.”
True that. It slipped my mind that I had been knocked out six months in a coma when he spiritually spent 40 years in Hell. I felt stupid for an instant. ”Sorry… You know what I mean. It’s just- I can’t believe we met three years ago.” I snuggled a little tighter, with an awkward smile. “And I can’t believe I got you thinking I was a hunter.”
He snickered in that stupid laugh I loved so much. “Hehehe, you were convincing enough, I’d have believed you to be anything.”
I chuckled as some sort of sweet melancholy waved on me. “What about now? Do you still believe in me, now that we’re older?”
“Of course I do. The only thing I can’t believe is that I don’t get to have you everynight with me. Can’t you ask your demon to zap you anywhere I am?”
“You kiddin’? For you, I’m not using cheap tricks like that. And you’re worth the wait and the long drives anyway.”
He exhaled out of his nose and stayed quiet an instant, playing with my hair. “Do you think that maybe one day, I’ll manage to keep you here with me, for more than a couple nights?” He finally said and it sounded like a plea.
“Someday, maybe”.
I really wished so. Even beyond my very wild behavior and nihilistic set of mind, I couldn’t argue that, deep down, I still had hope we’d get there eventually. A peaceful night of July, for the whole year.

Actually, ‘someday’ didn't wait. I negociated with Barb to let me off the demon hook for a few days before we’d fly right back to work. Dean had a point. Working our ass off to save the world is one thing, but why shouldn’t we enjoy some more moments together? The sand and the dirt of Arizona gave away a foretaste of the end of times, so my driver and I decided to borrow a pinch of some time, with no intention of giving any back. We didn’t even go anywhere fancy. It was too hot during daytime anyway, so the first two days, we barricaded ourselves from the gaze of the Sun and stayed indoors, wearing nothing but our sins. On the third afternoon, I asked him if he could help me disassemble my Ruger, show me again how each part is supposed to be put back together. He observed first how I was doing so, and said I did it right. So the reason why my bullets did nothing to Esper was either my spell not being as good as Samuel Colt’s, or angels being on the short list of things this type of ammo can’t kill. That same evening, we found a dumpster for a little shooting practice, which reminded me of my days as a rookie hunter. Dean hit his ten bottles, bullseye, so fast it was barely exciting to watch - but a little arousing, for sure. As for myself, I only missed two. Chief-Beretta of the night attempted to make a remark, but I stopped him by exploding the remaining glass survivors. Yes, just exploding them, in a sudden burst, without setting them on fire first. As I grabbed a smoke, my righteous man told me he thought I was the most badass girl he’d ever met, which I understood from Dean’s language, is almost like getting a diamond on your ring finger.
The next day, we checked off the list something we had mentionned by text, three years before. We went to see a 4th of July fireworks, our first together. I hadn’t seen many in my life, but the few I caught were those of Boston, so the show in the small town we attended to with Dean wasn’t near as impressive. Still, he loved it, barely blinking during the whole thing to make sure he wouldn’t miss any of the colored exploding flares. I think I spent more time watching his face than the fireworks itself. The sparkles in the air suited pretty well his shining wonderstruck eyes. Sensing the last rocket was about to be launched, I stared at the pyrotechnic display for a few seconds, to make sure I’d get the timing right. When it finally did, I discreetly snapped my fingers, to transfigure the grande finale burst into what I imagined a comet and a star collading together would look like. Red and blue and purple particules, slicing the night sky. In stolen moments like these, Dean and I were happier than ever. But, after another night filled with spasms of love, reality came back and knocked at the door. Like, literally, right after dawn, my demon companion knocked and waited until my hunter and I were all packed and ready to go. I knew Dean wished I’d stayed but the reason why Castiel had his ribs scarred with enochian scribbling was for him not to be monitored by Heaven, that we knew now had its Intelligence team was tagged on me like Barad-Dûr would. It wasn’t careful for us to stay together for too long, and I didn’t want to have a new fight with Cas about I’d potentially put Dean at risk, ironically when I was the one that asked him to be watched over.

That fact alone was frustrating enough, I didn’t need another blow to swing off my mood. Yet, Barbatos didn’t seem to care much about that. Right after he zapped me back to sunny Los Angeles, that fancy f*cker disappeared for almost three weeks. We had everything we needed to go and track both angels and demons, and he left me hanging in what really wasn’t such a nice city, to be honest. Let’s say that it’s hard to dissect what’s a hunt and what’s just another unfortunate but usual non-supernatural murder in the crappy hole that can be LA past 6pm. One day, late in the afternoon, I happened to stumble into what turned to be some kind of ‘wrong place wrong time’ brawl, as I was taking a detour through south LA. Before that, some weirdo in a suit kept following me while I was in Home Depot, restocking on ropes, chains, padlocks and a fair share of rock salt. I got scared for a minute it was another angel, but it happened to be just a regular weirdo. But it got me on edge, so when three dickhe*ds tried their street harassment routine bullsh*t on me, I didn’t spray them on holy water or latin chants, I just swang my damn heavy bag right to the largest guy’s stomach, knocking him off on his ass. One of his buddy pulled a gun from the back of his pants but hesitated just a second - maybe he wouldn’t have if I didn’t happen to be a girl. By the time he started insulting and threatening me, the bullets in his charger were melted and deformed enough never to make it to the barrel. I started laughing at his face, so he pulled the trigger, which did nothing, since I also didn’t let his handgun fire. Didn’t want the bloody thing to explode and severe a couple of his fingers. I had been practicing and I didn’t need to touch an object anymore to use thermokynesis. It wasn’t much useful against monsters, but it was nice to see that this ability would help against the worst spawn of this world: thoughtless violent dumbasses. Shaking his gun to see why it didn’t work, the idiot got me the window to have his nose meet my elbow. Yes, in this story, those guys were at the wrong place, wrong time, not me. The third dude ran out fast when some 5-0 patrolmen appeared on the corner of the street and lucky me, I only had my silver knife on me - I didn’t bring my whole hunter pack for running errands, the khandjar is a little too semi-precious decorated for LA and the shiny angel blade too hard to hide. The cops searched my bag, and were a little unsettled by my purchase - I pretended I was planning for a survivalist trek through the Sequoia National Parks and invoked self-defense for the guy’s bleeding nose. Assurely, they had seen worst assaults in this town, so they let me go - one even recommended me a good spot for the views on the canyon in the parks. Good old’ double standards, I could set the town on fire and get away with it with a flick of my lashes. What a f*cked up world we were living in, and I could see it sweetly coming down.

Getting these supplies was for important purpose. I knew how precious it was but I wanted to have that angel blade tested. When he had regained his meatsuit after the Esper episode, Barbatos confirmed it would slice a demon in addition to be the only known weapon to be able to kill angels. But I needed to have a better picture of all it could, so I went hunting on my own. I found out that it was efficient against ghouls, as I found one nesting in Pasadena; skinwalkers, as I tracked one that left its pack to go munching on human hearts on its own; and it didn’t kill but still vaped out a poltergeist that attacked me while I was conjuring the purification ritual to cleanse the house it was haunting. Then, during a grey-weathered day I felt like staying in-doors, I put down on paper all I learned about that wondrous chrome dagger. I drew up sort of a tier-scale list, with demon and angels naturally pretty high already, it was easy to suspect it could work on many, many other things. I had proof it could work the same as iron and silver combined, therefore, many monsters were now potential victims, as far as shapeshifters, jinns, werewolves and most of the different scavengers. My theory extended that it could work as other types of metal like brass against rakshasas or gold against banshees. The problem with these celtic critter is that some of them are more ghost-like, and the angel blade proved to only weaken incorporeal entities. Yet, the stab on the ghoul led me to think it could do the same on other creatures that requires their head separated from their bodies, as vampires and the much rarer but nasty arachnes. Nonetheless, my observations were enough for me to consider that shiny blade surely was like a hunter Swiss-army knife, and without a doubt, the most powerful weapon I had in my possession.
A couple cells were still bugging me. I only put the Nephilims as a probability they might exist, since angels and archangels did. But I wasn’t sure where they’d stand in the highest tier of the list. And finally, the very first box, the peak of the Olympus, the creator’s workshop. I left a potential spot for anything that would be more powerful than the four Beatles of Heaven, but I still doubted gods or any kind of primordial deities existed. It reminded me of Castiel’s absurd quest. That was desperate of him. Desperate, but not hopeless. Damn, I wasn’t even sure I was still bitter at the angel. I disagreed with him, but his will was inspiring.

When Barbatos reappeared, he refused to explain where he had been and why he had left. I didn’t insist too much, since I also hate to discuss my own whereabouts but I figured it must have something to do with his secret boss and understood his loyalty must be just as strong as Castiel’s faith. Before we head back on the search of the Prince Ramiel, Barb insisted to have me trained on finer combat skills. The angel blade being a weird 18 inches-long, it wasn’t quite as easy to wield as a normal size knife like my khandjar, so I got some schooling sessions in addition to my Winchester Hunting High degree. My demon buddy turned out to be a master in fencing and I got the occasion to have a closer look to his sword cane, which was engraved with the same sigils as on my demon-killing knife and the one the boys acquired from Ruby.
“Do you know what kind of ritual can turn a weapon into one of these? Cause making Colt bullets requires an incantation, so I figure it could be the same for these blade.” I asked him.
“Unfortunately I don’t. I’m an old demon, but this sword was given to me as it is by Lilith, when she promoted me as Duke of Hell.”
“Promoted you? Hope you also got a big office with a view on Hell, haha.”
The demon didn’t comment any further.

I grew bored again. I barely saw my man all month. Just once actually, when I took a couple days off to visit Bobby for his birthday, and the boys were there too. Sam didn’t seem to feel much better. It was like he and I took two very different trains from Guilt-town. I was on the delusional careless ride with loopings and he got on the slow boat that gives you plenty of time to contemplate your mistakes. I tried to talk to Dean about that, he said ‘Sammy’s good, we’re handling just fine’. Hard to debate with such strong arguments.
The demon hunting Barb and I kept on doing was just as productive. Dead end after dead end to track down Ramiel’s location. How could I even grow bored of hunting? It was like the dream job my 14-year old self would have never confessed she’d love to pursue. Surely, we had reached the end of times if even that got me weary. Over three months had passed since Lilith opened Lucifer’s Cage and we still had no sign of the Fallen Archangel. Wherever he was, his perfect vessel surely wasn’t easy to find. On Barbatos’ advice, I also kept my distance with witches, getting my usual everyday supplies in common stores rather than in shops I knew were kept from practitioners, but even the Grounds seemed to have taken a long summer vacation. Piers couldn’t have forgotten about me. Whatever he was preparing, I anticipated it couldn’t be good. But overthinking is never a healthy way to keep busy. Enjoying some Californian Sun is. Too bad I didn’t like going to the beach, so I got myself another kind of recreative break.
If I thought Los Angeles spent the summer under the choke of some hot weather, it was nothing compared with what Sacramento had to offer oh that day of august. It was 90°F, but the sultry asphalt circling around the ARCO Arena surely had taken a trip and back from the Sun itself. What the hell was I thinking, coming down here all day, doing nothing but waiting? Well, that’s the thing. There hadn’t been a lot of thinking. I just saw an ad online saying ‘last round of tickets!’ and I grabbed my credit card faster than I ever did in my whole life. If this was my ‘last-year-on-Earth’ jolly ride, then I could enjoy it by going to a f*cking concert. I had never attended one. Well, a proper big one. I had seen young amateurs playing in crowdy streets in Boston, hopeful to be noticed by a producer passing by. Once, after a long day of training, the boys and I watched a small band led by a dumbass singer that played in a small bar we went to unwind. That was back during the days Dean and I were just flirting and I remember we kept checking one another out, thinking the dim light would conceal the mutual crush we each already had going on. The fact there had been days we were both shy once seemed absolutely crazy to me now.

Anyway, all of that to say I had never gone to a proper, real full-size concert. And the experience started immediately when I saw on the screen of my computer ‘your purchase is validated’ and when I received an e-mail, containing the file to print as the most precious golden ticket. There, in solid white letters on a black background, I read “GREEN DAY - MONDAY 24 AUGUST - ARCO ARENA SACRAMENTO - GATES OPEN 4:30pm”, with Billie, Tré and Mike’s faces printed on the side. ‘f*ck yeah, I’m going to see Green Day’. My second favourite band in the world, live on stage, right in front of me. Just picturing it got me excited. Until my last breath, Nirvana would remain my top one favorite band. They had gotten me into music in the first place, I owed them that outlet I needed as a teen and that I didn’t except I would need as well now, at 25, as the end of days was on its way. But I discovered Nirvana after Kurt’s death, when his name and angelic face were all over the news, so of course it was too late to ever dream of seeing them live. But I had a chance to do so with my second favorite artists, and there was no way I’d be missing that.

So I arrived super early. 10am, to be precise, with only a sandwich, a bottle of water and two packs of cigarettes in my backpack. I wasn’t first, as some people actually had spent the night camping to be sure they’d get the front row. But I wasn’t that far from them in the line, I was guaranteed to have a pretty f*cking great view of the stage. So there I was, sitting on the floor for hours, with nothing to do but smoking and thinking until I’d get into the venue, surely way ahead most people that had bought their tickets months ago. ‘First-come, first-served’ I thought, definitely not feeling guilty for a bit. On the other hand, I felt stupid for not bringing more water, and also a cap and sunscreen to fight off the Sun rays. I had a good resistance to heat, but still, I was already drooling in my own sweat as the security personnel asked us to stand to slowly have us enter the venue. And the craziness didn’t stop with the weather. I discovered new sensations. The cold tension through your bones when the person in front of you can’t get their bag open properly to be searched. The abysmal angst to see the people in front of you running to get their place in the pit before you even have had your own ticket scanned to get in. The absolute frantic rush of blood that just spread from your gut to the last portion of your toes, as the lower half of your body takes over to get you a good spot into that pit. It’s madness. Pure madness. I had been on long and harsh hunts that didn’t give me an equivalent roller coaster of emotions, between the spikes of excitement and the long plain trepidation of waiting. I had faced deadly demons that did not make me feel as alive as I did that day. After the support band, the last minutes before 7pm felt like torture. But when the intro of 21st Century Breakdown was launched into the speakers, and the almost 18K people in the Arena started shouting, it was a relief from outer space.

The whole show was out of this world. I had been hyperfixating on their latest album for the past two and half months - also diving back into their previous work of course - and damn, did Green Day give the best they had that day. After a good selection of tracks from 21st and American Idiot, their most famous record, they went on to serve some songs from Kerplunk and Dookie, f*ck they also did not forget about freaking Nimrod. I couldn’t have handpicked a more perfect setlist myself. It just went on and on and on. Never I had ever gone through so many sensations in a matter of minutes. Time actually had ceased to have any hold on reality. It couldn’t be real. How could my broken body, drained from months of depression and years of fighting against every forces that I had encountered, could even be standing, nonetheless stomping, dancing, jumping, wrestling into the mosh pit I managed to run to? I had drank not a lot more than one liter of water that whole day, barely eaten more than the poor sandwich I had brought. I knew the short taste of adrenaline that takes over your bones to get you going when you need to. It wasn’t like that. No physical laws of nature could explain how I was still in one piece, feeling more alive than ever. The explanation was elsewhere. It laid in the abhorrent smell of sweat and beer and weed that seeped between every single person on the unhinged mass the audience formed. It laid somewhere in between the breath of fresh air I was desperate to grasp, having many taller broad guys around me. It laid in the movement of all of our bodies slowly swayin’, moving side to side with the rhythm of the music. I knew no witchcraft capable of doing that. Unless…
Unless it was a little witchcraft in itself. As the show kept going, it became clearer and clearer. A concert isn’t that different from a mass. The crowd shouting the same lyrics all together at once had something of incantantional chanting in it. Our High Priests and Supremes were merely making their guitars and drum sticks twirling in place of a fuming censor. I was experiencing it all for the first time, but I had noticed how most of the strangers around me knew all the codes to gather for such an occasion, how to dress, how to salute to one another. It was all one big ass ritual.

At some point, the show took another, more personal turn for me. The band offered a medley of classic rock covers, with Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’, Foreigner’s ‘Hot Blooded’, Van Halen’s ‘Eruption’. Many songs I would have recognized, but not identified in an matter of seconds if I hadn’t heard them from the old speakers of a black Chevy Impala. Damnit. As the thousands of people were all shouting the chorus from Scorpions’ ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’, I craved for Dean like I had rarely ever did. How could my mind, in the middle of such an amazing live show, wander away to drown my attention into the memories of some of the most heated nights my damn flame and I had shared together. The skin has its own way to remember things, and the forced proximity of a concert pit has the power to reignite some burning sensations. I settled down with the satisfying flashes of Dean’s green eyes and that stupid tattoo on his chest, and had to force my mind back into the moment. Green Day had started playing ‘21 Guns’, and it was one of the hit songs from the album. They kept on giving with no one nor two, but three encores. The mass of fans wouldn’t be content until they heard ‘American Idiot’ anyway. I reached to a point where my muscles were begging for the show to stop, eager to rest. But my body would have to fight and win against my over-stimulated brain that didn’t even realize this whole circus of saturated sound had lasted for three hours. Three f*cking hours. On the moment, I didn’t know that a concert generally doesn’t last that long. But these three punks of California surely wanted to give their local fans the time of their life, and oh damn, they succeeded.

After waves and waves of applause, the lights went back on and the arena slowly started to empty. Being close to the stage had me waiting in the back of the pit to get outside, until everyone in front of me calmly walked out of the place. Certainly a little more than the rest of the audience, I was floating in the hazy sensation of awe that doesn’t leave your brain after such a great show. This was the endline of a long and crazy day. Until, it wasn’t. That long and crazy day hadn’t said its last word.
Right there, the madness of the night took another unreal twist. The lights suddenly turned off again. Spotlights from the scene illuminated the venue in bright red flashes. And out of nowhere, the three musicians were back on stage. Tré made his drums bark again, Mike’s bass quickly followed and Billie Joe started singing in a freaking megaphone.
>> I got under the grip, between this modern Hell-
I looked around me. The sixty something yard that separated me from the golden front row was almost all cleared out. If I ran fast enough, I could get the barrier. For once in my life, I just wanted to f*cking get what I wanted.
>> I got the rejection letter in the mail and it was already ripped to shreds-
My brain didn’t do a lot of braining nor did those of the people around me. I rushed to get there as swift as I could. Damn, I had been chased by creatures like wendigos during hunts, and these f*ckers are fast. I could do it.
>> Seasons in a ruin and this bitter pill is chased with blood-
The irony of using what I had learned for hunting under these circ*mstances. ‘Saving people’? Not in that moment. I’m quite certain I didn’t push anyone, but I sure as hell slid between some guys, using to my advantage my smaller build.
>> There’s fire in my veins and it’s pouring out LIKE A FLOOoOOOoOD-
I had to shoulder my way in, but I made it. One hand firmly gripped to the guardrail, the other in a fist pointed to the sky. I f*cking made it!
As ‘Christian’s Inferno’ chorus was roaring, the mosh pit got messy. With no surprise, the unexpected fourth encore provoked a fight among the tired, and for some drunken, fans who had charged back to the front row. And trust me, I had seen werewolves more disciplined compared with the beasts that hurled their way in. Something was actually off. Still holding the rail, I leaned on some dude’s knee to elevate myself above the pack. It wasn’t a fight like in a typical mosh, it wasn’t even like in a bar. Earlier during the concert, some guy tried to pick up a fight, Armstrong himself stopped singing, and asked him to quit his dumb brawling. The guy refused and the security had to usher him out. Here, there was a solid couple dozens of people throwing punches, and themselves at one another. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- That was straight up assaults. The man next to me started coughing blood, until he spit out one of his mollars. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- In between two blinding red flashes, I clearly saw a woman planting her nails into some guy’s eyes. The scene got horrifying, and I had witnessed my fair share of gory imagery. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- I had the hardest time trying to figure out what was happening. Could I trust my burned out consciousness? Was any of all of this even real? >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- The band kept on going like nothing was happening. It was all in front of them. I tried to yell to warn them, somebody, anybody but there wasn’t any security personnel left. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- And I realized the song wasn’t ending. It was going on and on and on, but for much longer than it should have. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- The final guitar bridge that should end the song never came. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- Please, make it stop. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- What was happening? Why? >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- The smell of blood replaced the one of sweat and weed. >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- Why were people doing that? >> Woah, Christian’s Inferno- And why was this DAMN song going on a loop?!

I heard a snap, and I was out. Sitting on same asphalt around the Arena, unless it was dark now and the ground had cooled off for long. Someone had sprayed some water on my face, and a girl was fanning her poor torned ticket to get me some air the best she could.
“Did- Did I faint?” My throat was dry and I’m quite sure I saw stars.
“Let me through, let me through.” I heard, as a first-aid worker arrived and pulled me back up on my feet. “Alright, miss, here we go.”
My vision was a little blurry and he had a helmet on, so I couldn’t see his face at first. ‘Why would he have a helmet? He’s paramedic at best, not a firefighter’. He kept asking for people to move along, give us some space, and I swore I had heard that voice before. We arrived by an ambulance and he opened the back doors, getting medical stuff ready inside. ‘No way I’m getting in’ my inner survival voice urged at me. I quickly replayed the sequence in my head and it’s the sound of the snap that got me back into my senses. Same strong snap that got me my silver knife back, a few months before.
“You- Gabriel?!”
“Aaaah didn’t take you too long, after all!” He turned to face me, doing a victory pose in the middle of the white blinding lights of the ambulance. “Enjoyed the show?”
“The show? What was that?! Did- These people-”
“Calm down, calm down, here, pick your poison.” He said with a stupid smile, offering me either an oxygen mask or a joint.
“What- f*ck YOU, you f*cking damn angel!” I muttered, smacking my arms in protest.
“Archangel.”
“Shut up!”
“Relax, it’s fine~! It wasn’t real!” He announced like it were for a surprise party, taking off his helmet.
I was appalled by the way he looked satisfied with himself. “What do you mean it wasn’t real?! What- How much?!”
“Not the whole show, don’t worry, these guys did real good!” He gave two thumbs up and sat on the edge of the ambulance. “I only stepped in and got creative once the lights went off again.”
I was shocked. I needed a smoke to handle the craziness of that celestial brainf*cker, but I realized I had lost my bag somewhere in that damn mosh pit. “Why? What was that thing? A vision?”
“No. It was a trick.” Gabriel said with a darker grin.
“A trick? What kind of a hobby is this, putting people into a traumatizing experience?”
“Well, first, it can be pretty fun-”
“Fun? You call seeing some dude having his eyes poked out fun?!”
“Can be, if you’re the one doing the pokin’!”
“You’re mad. Straight up kooky mad.” I was so out of here. I turned back, until I realized that having lost my bag, I had also lost the keys to my bike.
“Looking for something?” The archangel smirked, jigglin’ them. I guessed I was stuck listening to him until he’d agree to give it back. “I’ll admit, a little mass hysteria isn’t fun to witness, but it can be an important life lesson.”
“A life lesson? And what were you psycho trying to teach me?”
“It’s funnier if you try and guess.”
I sighed in a grunt, feeling I just needed to lay down in a bed and sleep for the next 36 hours. “What, was that ‘You never knew your favorite band’s a bunch of psychopaths’?!”
He sneered. “Oh no, I wouldn’t dare make any lecture on your little rock stars. Plus, I know many celebrities myself that wear leather chokers and yell a lot, just not from the music industry.” Damnit, that angel really wasn’t like any other. I glared at him but was too tired to follow him in his lunacy. “No, actually, you were supposed to understand something more like: ‘Do you want to join the fight or not?’”
“Join the fight?”
“Yes. What kind of life do you wanna have? One where you’re stuck to see other people doing the big fighting? Or wouldn’t you rather try and do something by yourself?”
“Hey, screw you, I went to face Lilith!”
“Yeah? Well, I heard it didn’t go well. You’re gonna need to beef up your game, this is the Apocalypse, chérie!”
I sat on the ground again, astonished by what he just said. “Beef up my game? What- What the hell does Heaven wants from me?!”
“Heaven? Dear Lord, no, do as I do and stay away from them. See how well it’s working out for me!”
“What is that suppose to mean?”
“Well, means you don’t have to do what anyone expects you too. Even your little demon. See, I’ve seen you unleashed a little weight in that pit tonight. I believe you can be an incredible asset. And not for Heaven. Neither for Hell.”
“What for? What’s in it for an archangel to back me up?”
“Come on, fire girl, I just want to put my money on the best horse! What, you still haven’t figured out I don’t work for the dull bureaucratic guys upstairs? I like it down here! Even being immortal, there still isn’t enough time to enjoy every fine ass that lay around on this damn planet! I wanna live, and live big! But! If my brothers go on with their plan and unleash their stupid war, it’s all over. Dead. Kaput. Au revoir!”
“So what do you suggest? You want me to stop the Apocalypse, on my own? You’re mad as a hatter, my friend.”
“Friend? Ooouh, I’m honored!” He clapped his hands like a 5 year old. “Wouldn’t you like that? To push away the end of times? Finally getting a little retreat to Honolulu with your Winchester snack, having margaritas and sex-aritas til you’re both delulu? Just, think about it.”
He gave me a wink and snapped his way out with a swift whip of his wings, letting my keys fall on the ground.

I won’t lie and say that Gabriel’s trick didn’t mull things over. Summer had come and passed, and it felt like the sad reminder that serious business was about to get set in motion. That the alert has sounded, right when the lights turned red in that trickery mindf*ck hallucination the archangel threw on me. ‘The redcoats are coming!’ as they say. I could feel the bitter taste of the return to reality at the end of the firework, or of the concert, when your ears are still muffled and your chest still pounds with the loud bangs, except it all tasted worst than sulfur. That’s a weird sensation to go through, to take up arms when you know it’s the devil knocking at your door. It was also my last night in LA. I had cleaned and tidied the small flat I had squatted all summer, and took a room in a crappy hotel for the night. But I didn’t feel like staying in. I convinced Barbatos to accompany me out - or, should I say, told him I would go either way, so he didn’t have a choice but to follow - and we found a very loud bar that had very expensive drinks, and a pool table.
“Can I ask you a question?” I bluntly said, as he was focused on his shot.
“You may, but remember I won’t necessarily give you an answer.”
“Very funny. Tell me: was it also like that, when you worked with my Mother?”
He straightened up, as rigid as his pool stick. “What do you mean?”
“You, going on and off, randomly disappearing for a moment and coming back.”
“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t stay that much with your mother as I do with you. Because she wasn’t as keen on working with a demon as you are.” I gave him a side-eye, and scoffed. “Do you know how many times I had to present myself to her before she deigned to listen to me?”
“Shoot.”
He did, and scored the orange ball in. “Five. Well, four, and on the fifth, she was more inclined to hear what I had to offer. You see, she had already been approached by Azazel’s minions, so she was particularly careful.”
“And what did you offer exactly?” I retorted sharply, taking a long sip to finish my drink. Even if he kept his sunglasses inside (which I knew Dean would call him a douchebag for doing so), I could see his bothered glance behind it. “Oh come on, we’ve been working together for months, did you really think I would never ask about that? That’s kinda the reason I went on your trail in the first place.”
“I know, young lady. It’s your turn to shoot.” I took an instant to stare at the table but I wasn’t very focused on the game. “I simply offered her my protection for her lineage. At some point, she also needed rare ingredients for a spell, that I provided.”
“What spell?” I asked, freezing my pose before I took my shot on the 12 ball.
“I don’t know, I’m a demon, not a witch.”
“It was for my Ritual, right?” I barked.
“No. That was long before, you weren’t even born yet.”
I tried to dive into what I remembered of her journals. She did mention about ‘B’ helping for a craft, but I couldn’t remember the exact date. I shot the white ball but missed the purple one I was aiming.
“So that’s it? You helped with one spell and now you’re on bodyguard duty for me?”
“Exactly.”
“Then what about my sisters?!” I was holding my stick in a tight grip, so much I felt my fingernails sinking in my palm. I was breathing sharply, and felt my eyes tickling. “You said you’d protect ‘her lineage’, so what about them?”
“You are more important than your sisters. It saddens me to tell you, but your mother knew that as well.” He quickly took another shot and scored the red 11 ball.
“Were you there?”
He took a few steps around the table and took a short sip of his gin and tonic. “Where?”
“That night. The Ritual, when I lost my sisters?”
“Do you recall me being there?”
“No, cause I don’t remember much, actually. Do you know anything abou- I went to a psychic, a nice and good psychic. She told me there’s a wall in my head, that’s keeping stuff concealed in my subconscious. Does that ring a bell to you?”
“I am humbled to admit that such magic lies above my paygrade, as you’d say.”
“See, the thing is, I don’t believe you!” I slammed the edge of the table with my fist, causing a few people to turn their head in our direction. So I discreetly hissed the rest I had to spit out to my companion. “Cause Pamela told me only a powerful being could have done that, and demons are pretty high in that list. And since Heaven don’t know sh*t about me, I don’t think it was an angel.”
“Again, that wall is a mystery to me, and I regret not to be able to be of help with it. I am not lying to you, Liv.” He affirmed very seriously.
“Well maybe you’re not not about that thing. But you are, I know you are. And I see you’re full of sh*t.” I dropped my stick on the pool table, that went banging against some balls. The black one fell in one of the corners.
“Where are you going?”
I turned on my heels. “The bar. I’m done with our game, so for the rest of the night, I’m planning on gettin’ hammered.”
I sat on the last high chair available at the end of the counter and asked for three shots that had ‘anything with rum in it’. Barbatos abandoned the pool table, and joined me, leaning on his elbows and twirling the lemon slice in his gin. He just stood there, as I was emptying my tiny glasses. It wasn’t really my style to do such a thing. When I was nervous, I’d usually cope with a smoke, but that night I wanted to numb my mind rather that cooling it down. I looked around me and saw nothing in that place but back door bitches and drooling dickhe*ds, blowing all their cash and platinum cards like money could buy them a soul. What a moronic pleb, jamming dicks down their throat on Saturdays and Jesus on Sundays. If only they knew we all got one foot in the cradle and one in the grave.
I noticed that Barbatos had finished his drink and just stayed there next to me, doing nothing. “So what, we’re gonna sit there and drink in silence?” I grumbled.
“We can, even if I happen to not have a chair to sit on.” The bartender came to our corner and I simply waved him to get me the same I had already dropped. “Another gin and tonic, please sir, you will be very kind.” Barb said politely with his posh accent.
“Do you need to be that civil all the time? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear, or be angry or something.”
“I have to, young lady.”
“But we’re humans. Stupid, vulgar, ignorant humans.” Needless to say, the rum was starting to kick in. “You’re a demon, you’re supposed to look down on us. Like angels do.”
“Well, Heaven’s recruits and the cursed mob of the Pit may do so, but I refuse to.”
I sighed, swallowing another shot. “You’re a freaking weirdo for a demon.”
“I know.” He replied, twirling the ice and lemon in his full drink. “Everywhere I go, I’m always the queer one.”

An hour later, I found myself out. I wasn’t feeling sick, but I needed some fresh air, away from the bars and the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants. So I wandered, my top-hat guardian never too far behind me, until I could feel the ocean spray of the Pacific on my face. It felt different from the wet fog of Boston I was used to. That air had a taste of the world’s end, like the abrupt edges the flat-earthers must imagine. Los Angeles was already so far from the world I knew, but I wanted to go even further and crossed the empty square that led to the Hermosa Beach pontoon. I slowly walked it up, following the lights of the lampposts, until I felt like I should stop and lean on the guardrail. I looked at the city of angels and it was full of stars, so bright they were blinding me. There was so much I couldn’t see yet, so much I couldn’t anticipate. And I was supposed to fight, to stop the Apocalypse, like Gabriel said? What kind of pressure is it to have on your shoulders? I was so tired already. That night felt like the start of the end of something wonderful I couldn’t name. So I made a call. I needed a voice that would say ‘I’ll be here and we’ll be alright’. What a crazy feeling, to long for a harder beat in my heart.