Chapter Text
Sam was reading your book spines. This place, it reminded him of a certain scribe’s hovel, you were perhaps obsessed with stories too? Was that why they had been brought here in the first place? You were another scribe?
You eased back into your favourite, worn armchair by the fire, using all you had left you flicked it alight with a snap of your fingers. “-didn't steal them if that what you're wondering.” You stated without the confidence to even look at the younger brother. You had used all your confidence up before standing for Crowley who was now floating about the room with a book of his own.
He might as well fill in the time reading. He would be here a while. The old hard cover of Peter Pan was interesting enough.
“Where is here anyway?” Came a rumbling voice from close beside you. Dean become the one to sew you up, naturally, the once-archangel of the room had originally scoffed and attempted to heal you. And when Lucifer, just like you; ‘couldn't get it up’- as Dean had portrayed, he, himself took one for the team to sew your grace back in.
You oddly enjoyed the feeling of being patched up by Dean Winchester’s callus hands and dental floss. You avoided eyes and had only glimpsed him once- he was even more attractive up close, you could spy a couple of smattered freckles across his nose that might go unseen so far away. This was all too strange. It was as if you had fallen into one of your many books. “- near the peak of Norway,” you stumbled out. “Too many Norse gods for angels to bother coming here, except for, maybe, Gabriel-” you grimaced remembering Gabriel’s end. Rambling was a habit made of nerves, so you were either silent or stuck in a train of words without end. All or nothing. “Most ancient religions have their own ways of Angel proofing,” and most were found on your walls. The new gods didn't want to share their people. “-still haven't figured out what the Mayan calendar is trying to predict.” Where do you stop? Oh, with a question, yes, someone else can talk and save you from filling the silence. “Why are you here?”
To Sam Winchester, your entire paragraph of words came without pause, you had all but lost him, Mayans? You were- odd, could you really help them? Honestly, the brothers had Lucifer show up out of the blue, he stated your name, that you could help and booped them here. Help with what?; the fallen angel failed to specify.
“I am sure you have heard, a little something called the darkness.” Came the animated smile of Jimmy Novak that looked perfectly out of place on him since Castiel.
Of course you had heard whispers, you had a pair of demons who kept you well informed. They were also the ones to hook you into getting murdered in London. Still- you didn't understand, “what does that have to do with me?”
Yeah, how could someone like you save the whole of existence? Crowley was only vaguely paying attention to Wendy sewing Peter’s shadow back on. Did you have some extra mojo up your sleeve? Another archangel perhaps?
“You know where all the hands of God are.” It wasn't a question either. Lucifer knew it for a fact.
You studied the fallen angel wearing Castiel. He was the first person you didn't trust with a hand of god. Not only that, but you had thought, you were the only one searching for a hand. How much did they know about its power?
“Hold on, how would you know that?” Came Dean whose stitches suddenly became neater finding out that you could have the knowledge to save him a heap of guilt. He couldn't so much as lift a finger to this fight, but perhaps you could?
How to put this? Guess the Winchesters almost expect that the angels are watching them right? You came to clear your throat-
“She’s a librarian,” Lucifer shrugged.
Explains the books, Crowley looked up from his pages at you.
You glowered at the fork-tongued ass for his remark. It felt like a complete downgrade of what you were. You replied as snidely as you had seen Sherlock do so when being called a psychopath. “I was the leader of the garrison in charge of history, we divided the population between the team, watched and wrote. I have been writing since the beginning of time.” You suddenly realized the gusto you gained speaking of your job. Rather, your old job. The others in your garrison had fought over kings and world leaders you tried for the everyday hero. You all but watched your television from your couch and you documented the history of existence, you would be lying if you said you didn't have some you watched more than others, namely, a set of brothers and a detective and companion in London.
Sam finally understood, you would have watch each of the objects and wrote of their journey’s around the world. “-and was Metatron one of these- angel-historians?” The younger Winchester just had to probe.
Your face made a horrid grimace, you felt more shame in the fact than your nudity. He was supposed to be under your guise. The things he did. You could only nod, he was the first to leave, soon most else followed.
“Yes, well, everyone said you enjoyed your job too much,” Lucifer’s usual impish demeanor faded to something very cold and accusing. “You were the first fan-girl of the human race.” He tried to joke but couldn't muster the humour.
The image of Becky Rosen walking down the aisle to meet with Sam; hit Dean in the head at the mention of a ‘fan-girl’. He froze mid-stitch, repulsed. He would never look at you in the same light. Then again- he had seen a lot of you, perhaps he could be swayed? Wait- would that mean you've seen a lot of him too? You were watching them. Was that the reason Lucifer had silently ransomed them?
“I loved father’s creation and you tried to murder it.” You said with a hiss. Feeling a sting behind your eyes and it wasn't from the older Winchester's handy work. Before the mark of Cain, Lucifer had been so much -more.
It was awkward to get stuck in between another set of sibling’s tiff, there was a great period of silence before Sam could think of anything to say, without pushing the hand of God thing too far. His eyes setting on the mess that was your neck. “______, what happened to you before we arrived here?”
Your voice remembered to be small once again, “I don't know.”
“How could you not remember something that does that to you?” Crowley was almost outraged, having eyed off your new scars for a while now but not able to find his voice to ask for himself.
You jumped at to volume and came to look at Crowley. “I remember, I just don't know what it was. I was in London, an angel has gone rogue down there.” You pause your rambling and chewed your lip, noticing Lucifer once more who had taken to leaning lazily on one of your many bookshelves. Should you say? You didn't want to keep anything but from the Winchesters but you could never trust Lucifer. You have a sigh, it would come out one way or another. “Rumour has it the angel running a muck around there has something of value- a hand of god perhaps,” you eased, your voice going up a pitch or two at the end.
Lucifer caught on quick. “What would you have need of a hand of god?” He rose a brow.
“and why are you only going off rumours?” Sam pressed further, you had just said you knew where they all were.
You went rather rigid. You felt like you were getting questions fired at you left, right and center. You bit your lip again and avoided eyes again. “When we were all kicked from heaven, I couldn't exactly keep track of them anymore, could I? And as for the need- I want to collect the dangerous objects and hide them away from the humans.” The lying words felt wrong in your mouth.
Lucifer looked very unconvinced. Liars were his children. You weren't about to cough up the truth either. You knew something more, you always knew more. The information you had was easily two years old, but was better than no information, he had figured that may have been the case from the beginning. A hand of God was on the line- “We will work beside you to retrieve the hand of God.” Lucifer spoke seriously. “-it will be like a slumber party~” his voice lightened. And in the end if he had to kill you for it, so be it.
The Winchesters didn't know how the devil had the right to speak for them, but it was understandable. You were already hot on the trail of the object they need, teaming up only makes sense, in end times you might have to team up with the devil, himself.
You felt as if the room was falling away. “I'm sure I can find you another lead-” you started.
“But you're already part way there!” Lucifer gave a grand smile. “And since you don't really need it-” he gave an elaborate shrug.
He knew you better than that, there were hidden threats in his voice, he had a grin like a crocodile. When you found this one, he wanted it. But you would have it- even if it meant taking on the devil himself.
Crowley was very bothered by now. “But what happened to you?! You looked like a bloody pancake!” And if there was a weapon that could create wounds even Lucifer couldn't heal- he wanted it.
“-ah, in pursuit of the angel and hand, I bumped into this- this- thing.” You were investigating a murdered angel, it lead you to an office building and in that building- chills spread up your spine just thinking.
“What was it?” Dean eyed the slice in your arm, curved shaped, definitely not an angel blade.
“It was human once maybe, then it formed into a hound- if I hadn't jumped off the skyscraper when I did, well, it would be more than my grace hanging out.” You really did shiver then. You should have never left home.
Lucifer flinched but played it off as a scratch of an itch.
“I thought you had been ‘writing since the beginning of time’” Dean almost scoffed using your own words. “how could you not know a werewolf?”
You found yourself scowling at the man beside you. Belittling your job again, why did everyone not see its importance? Heaven didn’t either after father left. “I didn't write the world’s story, I wrote the story of the whole universe- I watched Mother create the alpha’s before you were even a mere thought.” You knew of species he couldn't even comprehend.
Impact of this being something you haven't seen before only then set in for the Winchesters, meanwhile, Crowley’s eyes were perfectly glittering. You would make a great ally. The things you would know, namely, how to end Lucifer’s reign so he could be top dog once more.
It happened suddenly. It was a soft ping. It resounded all around you and rattled in your head. “Dean, it's there much left you have to sew?”
Sam couldn't tell where you were looking, you suddenly came to stare in the void between everyone.
“Two more should do it.” Came the older’s voice unaware of anything strange.
“______, what’s wrong?” Lucifer let a little more concern slip than he would have liked to.
“There’s been another death in London.” You said somberly. “I have to get there before Scotland Yard does.” They could lose evidence. No one else was going to do it for you.
“What does that mean for us?” What did that mean for Crowley, himself, rather? Because there was no telling what Lucy would do if you weren't here.
“I have books don't I?” You stood, taking your coroner’s sheet and Dean's needle with you. “Look for information on the thing that attack me.” You didn't trust them to come to London with a hand of god on the line. You needed it more than them. Needed it far more than Lucifer.
Books? That was your job. Lucifer scrunched up his face in protest. You would probably work better alone, you never did play nice with others, not to mention he didn't solve murders- he was often the one to create them.
You stumbled towards your bedroom and shut them on the other side. You didn't want to go back where there was a monster lurking to eat you. You hand reached to touch the scabby bite marks on your neck. But you didn't want to stay here just as much, your sacred place of stories felt disturbed having that other monster here. You looked to your shoulder and pulled at the loose thread of floss. This was as good as it was going to get wasn't it? At least finally- you could put some clothes on.
