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I Hope You’re Happy Now

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He never really gets it - dad, target, human - but he does seem to try, or something like it. Watches you, watches over you, like this time he’ll stop his brother from putting a bullet in you.

Says, “I’m getting you out.” The vamp makes some kind of noise but the majority of his focus seems to be on talking the angel into leaving, and the angel barely pays you any mind. This works fine for you, because you’ve seen his light show and don’t want to be at the tail end of it.

You were on Earth three days before the Winchester hunters killed you. You kind of know what your face looks like, more from reflections in the rivers snaking through Purgatory than mirrors, and you think you have his lips. Maybe your mom’s eyes, but it’s hard to remember her clearly. Maybe it was her hair.

You’re sixteen when you die, which means you failed your mission, and the few Amazons still running around want nothing to do with you. Failure is not tolerated. Means you lost your courage, and what would warriors want with a coward?

They’re as much your sisters as he was your uncle.

There are more things after you since you hooked up with them; more things - and you almost piss yourself at Leviathans, the baddest of the bad, the first - ready to kill you, but at least you get some kind of back-up, now. You remind yourself about the first one you killed, here in Purgatory, when it matters less than if you completed your first assignment. It was a vampire, and sometimes when he stands too close, fake smiles just a bit too much, you feel for your blade. He is too caring to be real, and sometimes being around three men - all bigger than you, all with a lot more experience than you - is too much, the only thing keeping you alive a matter of human guilt, maybe pity. The only time the angel really looks at you is when you call him Dad, and he must know why you do but he doesn’t say anything, and the guy gets this half-hopeful/half-crushed look to it. That look is keeping you alive, maybe even out of here.

(And you want out. It’s not really cold but it’s all you can do not to shake.)

‘Course, you don’t get out. Maybe he was sad about that, on the other side, or maybe relieved. Not like you’ll ever find out. One minute you’re something, pressure and light and compacted into his arm, and the next your being sucked out and thrown into the dirt; Purgatory dirt, you recognize the smell immediately. You curl up and breath, one, two, you breath and you do not cry, and finally you manage to roll yourself over and get up. There are things that want to kill you, here, maybe now more than ever, you’re weaker prey now, and you panic trying to find your knife.

It’s held out to you by the angel, and you start badly, unaware he was still here. You glance around at the portal, but it’s closed now, and there’s no vampire, and there’s definitely no human still around.

You grab the knife and back away fast. He’s just looking at you, and your hands may be shaking again. “Guess it didn’t work,” you say, throat dry.

"Benny was once human. You never were. It was unlikely to."

"Right." You wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. "I’ll just, uh, go, and you can too."

He looks away at where the portal was, back to you. “You’ll die alone,” he says. “There will be more things hunting you.”

"No shit," you snap, and lift your knife, wait to be smote, want one last crack even though you’ll never win, but then he says a funny thing.

"I’ll watch over you."

(And you, you just want to live, don’t you?)


                           ———- ooo ———-

It works for twenty days, which is possibly twenty more than you were expecting, and a lot less than you were hoping. Maybe you were waiting for rescue, for him to come back and figure out a way to get you out. You feel stupid as soon as the thought crosses your mind, but the way your stomach aches means it was true.

They do come after you, more than you can handle on your own. You keep expecting him to fly off, leave you to them (you’re all monsters to an angel, right?), think you remember the vampire saying something about him doing it before. But he doesn’t. Just wades in, small bursts of light taking out all the ones you don’t get to first.

Twenty days, it works. You’re by the river, trying to wash off some of the things that bleed all over you, scrubbing hard enough to make your skin raw. He’s standing by the rushing water, keeping an eye out, not talking because he doesn’t talk to you. You’re turning to go back up the bank just as a light flashes, and you see an outline, white light so bright it makes you blind, and by the time your eyes clear enough to see around the spots he’s gone.

You cry out, stuff your fist in your mouth to silence yourself. You didn’t actually like him. You didn’t - it’s not like he ever talked to you, or even really looked at you, or did anything but watch your back.

Twenty days and now you’re all alone. You feel eyes watching you, maybe werewolves, maybe…you don’t know, he had the radar for it. You fumble to grab your knife, crouch by the river. You need to get away from here. You need…

You move fast through Purgatory. Amazon speed, Amazon strength, Amazon smell. Sometimes a creature recognizes you - she was with the human, she was with the angel - and then it’s a fight, and sometimes a creature recognizes you - prey, female - and then it’s a fight, but it’s less bad than before. Less creatures after you, than before.

You need to sleep, is the problem. Not too many things can climb trees silently, and so you do that, sometimes, grab hold of branches and try to sleep like a bird. You find a cave, once, but there’s no exit and you aren’t that stupid.

You stop keeping track of days, like before. Stop worrying about being clean, like before. Acting human does no one any good, here in Purgatory. You let your fangs stay out.

You come across a nest of vampires. You hide and hope they don’t spot you; you aren’t sure you can take out that many by yourself. You think you smell enough like Purgatory to be mistaken for a piece of it, hope they can’t hear the way your heart thumps.

"There’s a human looking for something," one of them says, and you keep the snort to yourself, manage to stay silent until they are far away and you can escape in the other direction. They must be far behind on gossip, here in this corner of Purgatory.

You don’t really need to eat, in Purgatory, or drink, and for all you thought it was an Amazon thing none of the others did either. Still, sometimes instincts take over, and your mouth is filled with flesh and blood before you realize it. He’s not around any more, so you spend less time trying to suppress it, tend to be half way through before you even notice you’re doing it.

You called them pixies, before, the first time the group of you ran across one, but the angel told you that was wrong, that pixies go to…well, you didn’t understand the word, but basically elf afterlife. It made you laugh, him too, and maybe that’s when you started to relax, to believe, just a little.

The not-pixies taste good though, so you set about capturing one. It’s not hard exactly; they’re the size of your leg, sharp claws and blunt teeth, but all you have to do is lay out a trap and they walk right into it, and as long as you stab them before they cut whatever you have holding them up you’re fine.

This one is a little bigger than most, and it curses in human, which is surprising. You wonder if it speaks English, and you’re saying, “Hey,” before you realize it.

There’s a pause as it stops struggling, and then, “Let me the fuck go.”

You have to take a long swallow of air, words being directed to you after so long. You feel dizzy from it.

"Um," you start to say, because talking to what you were planning for dinner is strange, maybe cruel, but you need it to keep talking. "I don’t-"

"Hey now," the not-pixie says. It sounds cajoling. "How long you been in Purgatory, kid?"

You object to the kid, but when you realize you can’t remember any more the sound that comes out of you is pitiful.

"That long, huh? So you’ve probably seen a lot."

"Yeah," you manage to say.

"Yeah, yeah, me too. Lot of stuff. You ever hear the story about the banshee who couldn’t scream?"

"Yeah," you say, because the vampire told you, one of the early nights with them. He liked hearing the stories about creatures, and the vampire indulged him. You went to sleep more than once, listening to them talk about the things found in Purgatory.

"Oh," the not-pixie says. You wonder if it’s trying to buy time, and you shouldn’t let it, but it feels so good to have something talking to you again. You thought the angel was silent, after the portal closed, but he was nothing compared to now.

"Well what about the human?"

You swallow. “Yeah, yeah he got out.”

The not-pixie makes a noise. “No, no, that’s old news. He came back.”

There’s a roaring in your ears. “What?”

"Yeah, apparently he left something behind. He’s looking for someone."

"The angel?" you ask, voice halfway to gone. You heard rumors, about the human chasing an angel, long before you saw them.

"No, someone else. Something about a Wonder Woman."

You don’t get what that means, but there is something beating in your chest, and it feels a lot like it did before. “Where was he?”

"The human? How should I know?" A pause, and then, "But he’s looking. Slicing his way through Purgatory."

And you know, you know what that means, and suddenly the not-pixie is flying out of your trap and running, and you can’t get it together enough to chase after it but it doesn’t matter. You know what that means.  

The next creature you come across is another vampire, and you have him against the tree, knife in hand, and you need to control your heartbeat but you can’t, you can’t, he came back for you.

"Where’s the human?"