Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With a bloodcurdling gasp, her lungs filled with air from one second to the next. She tore her eyes open as her racing heart began pumping oxygen through her body hastily. Instead of being blinded by daylight, however, the only thing her eyes met was the deepest darkness.

Her heart pounded in her chest, beating painfully against her ribs. The next time she tried to breathe, she realized there was hardly any air left. The amount of oxygen entering her body was woefully inadequate.

Panic flared up inside her.

She stretched her arms upward but had barely lifted them when she hit something hard. Above her head, to her left and right. As if she was lying in a box. Wherever she was, she couldn't move. Her body was completely enclosed. Her mind went blank. As empty as if it had just been swept through by a huge avalanche, and everything inside had been completely swept away. Her mind was clouded, unable to formulate a coherent thought. However, the rising absence of oxygen ignited an innate impulse deep within her, gradually taking charge of her body.

She lifted her hands once more, placing her palms on the surface just centimeters from her face. It was icy cold, rough, and fibrous. Using the strength she could muster through shallow breathing and the little oxygen available, she braced herself against the surface. The exertion required was immense, causing a rush of blood to her ears and making her elbows tremble. But then the surface gave way, tilting to the side under the pressure of her hands. Yet again, she was met by darkness instead of daylight. Instead, a huge amount of dry, smelly earth rained down on her, almost completely cutting off air from reaching her lungs.

A wet cough, escaped her throat as the dirt closed in around her. The earlier flare-up of panic began to manifest itself, pushing the adrenaline into her veins that her brain needed to continue controlling her body instinctively. She squeezed her eyes shut, held her breath, and thrust her hands upward once again to make her way through the masses of earth. It felt like an endless, agonizing eternity, as she tried to reach the surface in the dark, her lungs screaming desperately for oxygen. Then, finally, her hands broke through the earth and stretched out into the daylight.

Her hands searched the loose ground for support, trying to pull the rest of her body to the surface, while her legs pushed her up from below. When her upper body finally came out of the ground, her mouth immediately opened wide, and her lungs loudly sucked in as much air as they could, as if they would burst at any moment. Gasping, she clawed at the ground, laboriously dragging the rest of her body upwards. As soon as she was completely free, she collapsed onto the dry ground. With her eyes closed and her arms and legs shaking uncontrollably, she lay still in the dirt, struggling to catch her breath.

It was only when she was able to breathe at a normal pace again and the trembling had subsided that she slowly opened her eyes. Bright daylight shone into her eyes, blinding her so much that she had to blink several times to adjust. She carefully placed her hand on the floor in front of her and slowly sat up.

A wooden object loomed close to her face, obscuring her view. It wasn't until she sat up that she could even see what it was. It was a cross, fashioned from a pale-toned wood, quite improvised and temporary. In the center, something had been written in curved and slightly slanted handwriting.

Leah Felton.

As she looked at the cross and her body finally got enough oxygen again, her brain went back to working. The name on the cross was not unfamiliar to her. On the contrary. It was her name. This was a grave. Her grave. She was dead. But how was it possible that she was now sitting there, looking at her own grave from which she had just freed herself?

She had been in a different place just a moment ago. She remembered hell. She remembered how she had ended up there immediately after her heart stopped beating. What had occurred there. How she had been held accountable for everything she had done. Had paid for it. She remembered looking into the eyes of the human-like being whose job it was to punish her.

Leah, like she was being controlled by some remote, put her hand on her chest. She was immediately greeted by the monotonous and slightly frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. There was no doubt about it. She was alive. However, upon gazing into the frigid eyes of her tormentor in hell, she found herself unable to recall any memories. Barely a blink later, she woke up. Here. Under the earth. In her own grave. "How is that possible?"

At last, she looked away from the cross that marked her grave, deciding to survey her surroundings and locate her current position. But no sooner had she turned her gaze to the area behind the cross than she was left breathless once more, her next breath caught in her throat.

She was in a forest. Well, at least what surrounded her had once been a forest. The trees within a twenty-meter radius had all been torn from their roots and lay overturned and parched on the ground. The earth was churned up and discolored as if the hot summer sun had scorched it. This destruction surrounded her like a perfect circle. It looked as if the spot had been hit by a bomb. And right in the center of it all was Leah. As if her grave was the epicenter of this devastation.

Her breath became shallow again, and she felt a tightness growing in her chest. "What the hell happened?"

With shaking hands, the young woman reached for the right sleeve of her flannel shirt and pushed the fabric up. There was a bandage on her wrist. It was brown, stained from the fight with the earth. Held in place with brown tape.

She peeled off the tape with her fingernails and slowly unwound the bandage. She was aware of the sight that awaited her underneath. But when her wrist emerged from under the white gauze, her smooth, pale skin flashed before her eyes. Completely unharmed.

Leah stared at her wrist in shock. Then, as if moving by remote control, she pulled up her other sleeve and hastily tugged down the bandage that adorned her other arm, too. Her left wrist was also completely unharmed.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at her hands, paralyzed. "This can't be happening," she thought. "It's not possible." She had held the knife in her hand and cut her wrists with it. First the right, then the left. She had bled to death on the living room floor. Her heart had stopped. She had died. She had gone down to hell. She couldn't be alive. It was impossible.

She frantically ruffled her hair, pulling it so hard that her scalp began to burn, while her breath, speeding up, escaped through her trembling lips. However, just as she was on the verge of being completely overwhelmed by the mounting panic, she bit her lip, reclined her head back, and took a deep breath. Her pulse slowed, her mind cleared.

There had to be an explanation for this. She knew it was possible to bring souls back from the realm of the dead by making a deal with a demon. She'd seen it happen a few years back. A hunter had made a deal with a demon to bring his wife back. One year was left after her return, then he was taken by a hellhound. His wife had died again while she was trying to save him. At that time, Leah herself was a child, still learning to hunt. However, this incident taught her that making a deal with a demon was a play with fire that was impossible to win.

But who would have agreed to such a deal for her? Especially since her death was not the fault of someone else. It was her own decision. It was her own wish.

Leah couldn't think of an answer to this question that made sense. She had no relatives. She had no partner with whom she had hunted together. She had no one who could even begin to come into question. But she could only explain her sudden resurgence by invoking a deal. The only question that remained was who was responsible.

One thing was clear: Leah wasn't going to find the answer out here. She had to figure out where she was and how she got there. Who had found her body after her death and buried it. That was the only way she would find answers. She left the remains of the bandages next to the wooden cross in the dried meadow, then got up and set off to find a way out of the remote wooded area.

The young woman wandered through the forest for quite a while, changing directions several times. She was still all mixed up, couldn't even think straight. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't think anything. Her mind was completely blank. It was like she was in a trance, walking and walking, then she finally came to a road. By now, the sun had risen above her, beating down on her mercilessly. She had no idea how long she had been lying in the coffin underground before waking up in it. But the longer she walked in the midday sun, the more she felt like she hadn't eaten or drank in days.

Under these circumstances, the relief she felt upon finding a road vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The longer she trudged along the burning hot asphalt, the more disillusioned she became. No matter how far she walked, the country road seemed to have no end or any place to go. At times, her steps became more of a stagger as her strength began to leave her. But then, as the road started to split in front of her eyes and move back and forth, it finally seemed like the universe was having mercy on her. Out of nowhere, the roof of a building popped up on the horizon.

Leah narrowed her eyes and lifted her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and to be able to see into the distance. Sure enough, a few hundred meters away, she saw a small house by the road. It wasn't anything special, but it was more than she had seen in the last few hours, so she took another step forward and kept going.

As she approached the building, she finally identified it as a gas station. In front of the building were two gas pumps and an old sign, presumably for the purpose of alerting passers-by to the presence of a gas station. An old Chevrolet had been parked to the left of the building. Its bumpers had already started to rust, and its dark blue paint was slightly chipped on the wheel arches.

The young huntress stepped out of the midday sun and into the narrow shadow cast by the house's extended roof. At the entrance to the gas station, at about chest height, a sign was hung on the upper pane of the glass door. Closed. When she put her hand on the metal doorframe and tried to push it open, the sign's message was confirmed: the door was locked.

With her eyes narrowed, Leah looked through the window into the tank house. There was no movement or light inside, nor any other sign that anyone was there. She sighed in resignation and dropped her hand from the door. But when she took a step back, she discovered something else. One of the windows on the right-hand side of the building was ajar. Someone forgot to close it.

The young woman walked around the building to take a closer look at the window. It was a two-part window that opened from the middle to either side. The left half was open. The gap wasn't too wide, but it might be wide enough to reach the handle of the window next to it.

She looked both ways and pulled the small garbage can under the window from the corner of the house. It wasn't big, but it was big enough for her to reach her arm through the open window from above. Her arm wasn't long enough to reach the window handle on her first attempt. After a few tries and some stretching, however, she finally got close enough to push the handle aside. Since she had been leaning against the pane, the window swung open easily when she released the latch. She almost fell headfirst through the window, but she was able to hold onto the window frame in time.

After regaining her balance, she climbed from the garbage can onto the window frame and into the gas station. Since it was a small, out-of-the-way gas station, it wasn't too big. Across from the front door was a long wooden counter with an old cash register, a small television, and a radio with a slightly bent antenna. A couple of racks were arranged side-by-side between the entrance and the counter, stocked with a modest assortment of groceries and personal hygiene products. On the right-hand wall was a washbasin with a small square mirror. On the left wall was a narrow refrigerator with drinks.

The sight of the plastic bottles in the refrigerator caused Leah's body to react as if of its own accord. She quickly crossed the room and opened the small glass door. Cool air rushed toward her from inside the fridge, cooling her skin pleasantly after spending hours in the heat. She reached for a clear plastic bottle, unscrewed the lid, and let the chilled water flow down her throat in greedy gulps without taking a breath in between, giving her body what it so desperately needed.

The bottle was nearly empty when she put it down again for the first time. She wiped the fine trickle of water from her face with the back of her hand; it had been left at the corner of her mouth by her greed. She felt a rough scratching sensation on her skin, followed immediately by the bitter taste of earth wetting her lips.

The huntress screwed the lid back on the bottle, set it on the counter, and walked past it to the sink. When she reached the small sink, she saw her reflection in the smudged glass nailed to the wall above it. Her blue eyes flashed out from under the blonde curls that had come loose from the braid on the right side of her head. Her hair was all over the place, partly tangled in the brown plaid flannel shirt she had on.

A brown layer of dirt covered her entire body, and remnants of the earth she had struggled through were stuck to her face, arms, and clothes. But other than all the dirt, her reflection in the mirror looked just like it did before she had taken the knife. She looked herself in the eye, just as she had in the final moments of her life.

Upon catching herself in this thought, Leah swiftly averted her gaze from the mirror, directing her attention to the white ceramic instead. She slipped her shirt off her shoulders and draped it over the edge of the sink. Then, she turned on the faucet and held her hands under the cool water as it began to flow. She scrubbed the dirt off her hands and forearms, turning the water in the basin brown. She formed a bowl with her hands, filled it with water, and washed her face. The water cleansed her skin, cooled her head, and cleared her thoughts.

When the water stopped turning brown, she turned the tap off again. She took her shirt from the sink and dried her face with the clean side. A few strands of her blonde hair had gotten wet and were sticking to her face, so she brushed them back. Then, she wiped the water beading on her arms with her shirt. As it couldn't be worn while it was wet, and it was too warm for that anyway, she tied her shirt around her waist. As she gazed down at herself and fastened the knot in front of her abdomen, the blonde paused.

A reddish spot appeared on her pale skin at the top of her right upper arm. Irritated, she lifted her gaze and peered at herself in the mirror once more, turning slightly to the side. Before she could turn around completely, she froze mid-motion as her heart skipped a beat. The red mark on her skin looked like a burn. But it was far more than just a small spot on her arm.

The fiery red marks stretched from the edge of her upper arm to over her right shoulder, ending just at the edge of the fabric of her gray top. Together, the burnt areas looked like the imprint of a hand. It was similar to the imprints children make with finger paints in preschool. However, what she saw on her skin was not a child's hand, nor had it been made with paint. A full-grown human hand was burned into her right shoulder as if by a branding iron.

Leah stared in shock at her reflection in the mirror. "What the hell?" she thought. Where had she gotten that brand? How long had it been there? Who or what was capable of leaving something like that? It looked as if she had been burned just by touching it. Was it a remnant of her time in hell? Or was it related to what she had taken out of there? Question after question brewed in her mind, so many that her head began to ache.

Little by little, the emptiness she felt inside started to disappear, and a mix of new feelings began to grow. Confusion. Despair. Fear. She tore her gaze away from the mirror once more and took a few steps back. What did it all mean? "What the hell has happened to me? Why am I here?" she asked herself. She should have been dead. She had wanted to be dead.

As the blonde moved back towards the counter, her eyes fell on the rickety metal rack standing next to it, which was filled with a stack of newspapers. She reached for the top newspaper, scanning the front page for the date. She finally found it under the first headline, which was written in bold letters at the top of the first page. October 18, 2008.

So it was October. Leah's eyes rested on the date, and she did the math in her head. She had died in June. If the date on the paper was right and it really was October, she'd been dead for four months. She'd been lying underground in that nasty coffin for four months. A painful knot began to form in her stomach. She dropped the newspaper on the counter, walked around it, and leaned against the wall behind it. Overwhelmed by the tornado that raged within her.

The more her emotions intensified, the more she had to battle to maintain her composure. She ran her hands over her face, brushing aside her blonde strands. As she did so, her eyes caught sight of something on the counter that she hadn't noticed before from the other side. There was a shelf behind the counter, beneath the sturdy wooden top. It contained various items, including beer mats, bottle openers, and small plastic ashtrays. And next to that was a knife. Not one that would be used to spread butter on bread. It was a hunting knife.

Slowly, Leah straightened up from the wall and stepped closer to the counter again. Heaven knows why someone would keep a knife under the counter in a gas station. Presumably for protection against robberies. But the young woman didn't care why it was there. The knife almost hypnotized her. As if by magic, the remaining distance between her and the counter was bridged. Her hand rose as if in slow motion, reaching for the knife. But before she could touch it, a sudden click sounded next to her, followed by a faltering hiss.

Startled, the blonde flinched, snapped out of her trance. She pulled her hand back to her body, and turned her head in the direction from which the noise was coming. The television, which was on the counter to her right, had activated itself. There was no picture, only black-and-white noise coming from the loudspeaker.

Leah looked at the device with irritation. She hadn't touched it at all. So how'd it just turn on like that? Reaching out for the metal box, she pressed the power button to turn it off again. As soon as she pressed it, the screen went black and the noise stopped. For a second, her eyes stayed on the dark screen. Then, as if of its own accord, her gaze slid back down to the knife on the shelf.

Leah hadn't quite turned her back on the TV when the silence was broken again by a wry howl, followed by shrill, rushing beeps. Once more, Leah's attention was torn away from the knife. This time, the noise came from her left, not her right. The radio on the counter had switched on, the red knob flitting across the station bar, causing the beeps to crawl out of the speakers.

Just as she had done before with the television, the huntress reached for the button to turn it off. It fell silent again. In doing so, she almost knocked the newspaper off the counter where she had placed it. For a second, she thought maybe she was dealing with a ghost. But there were no other signs of one. There was no noticeable smell, no change in temperature, and no noise. Nothing. A couple of old electrical appliances that seemed to have their own mind weren't enough to make a case.

Leah pulled her arm back and pushed the newspaper back onto the counter before it could be spread on the floor. Her eyes caught on a photo printed next to the article under the main headline. It was a picture of an elderly woman.

Leah pulled the newspaper closer to take a closer look at the photo. Her suspicions were confirmed; she recognized the woman in the photo. The woman in the photo was Rachel Barnes, as written in small letters underneath. The widow had lived in the house next to the one where Leah had spent the last few weeks of her life. She had always tried to strike up a short conversation whenever they had met in the driveway.

The blonde's gaze drifted from the photo of her old neighbor to the caption that accompanied it.

Rachel Barnes found dead in her home.

On Thursday morning, a mail carrier found the elderly woman lifeless in her living room. Police discovered a murder weapon and a note left by the alleged murderer in her home. The note accused Barnes of going against the will of God and the church, thus defiling her faith. According to a friend of Barnes', she allegedly buried a young woman out of town a few months ago after the local church refused to allow a funeral because of suicide. There have not yet been any witnesses or a body found to confirm this assumption. Nevertheless, the police assume a connection. The investigation is ongoing.

There were only a few sentences on the paper, but with each word she read, it felt as if a rope were tightening around Leah's neck.

She dropped the paper from her rigid hands onto the counter and slowly took a step back from it. "This can't be true..."

She had hoped that when she found out who had buried her, she would find answers, clues about who buried her there and brought her back to life. But that little article had shattered any hope in a matter of seconds. More than that. Instead of the information she had hoped for, she learned that a woman—a completely ordinary citizen—had found her after her suicide and buried her out of the kindness of her heart. This woman had to pay the price for her actions, as she was brutally murdered.

Leah had barely known the woman. Almost not at all. Yet, she was dead because of her. She hadn't done anything to the woman herself, but if it hadn't been for her, she would still be alive.

The tornado raging inside her seemed to explode in an instant. She had managed to break free from it before, but now, in mere seconds, it had completely overtaken her. Just as it had done four months ago.

Her throat tightened and her mind went blank as she saw the old woman's deep red blood run down her hands. Reflexively, she pushed the newspaper off the counter, scattering its pages across the gas station floor. She rushed her hands to her head, digging her fingers into the blonde strands, tugging them until her scalp felt like it was on fire. Her breathing was shallow and intermittent, and her legs shook as if she were electrified.

She had never wanted that. Not again. Not another person. That was exactly why she had wanted to die, and why she had died. She wanted to stop hurting people, to prevent anyone else from being hurt because of her, and to ensure that no one else would lose their life because for her. She had to pay for what she had done. She had to be held responsible for her actions. Face the consequences. So that all those she had harmed could finally get justice. A hint of compensation for what she had done to them.

She wasn't supposed to be there; she wasn't supposed to live. She didn't want to live. She couldn't. Not with all that blood on her hands. No one had brought her back to this world with goodwill; it wasn't a deal. That was impossible. She would hurt people again, spill blood again. She couldn't bear another drop—not a single one of those that had already been spilled, in which she had threatened to drown for so many years.

Driven by the avalanche of overwhelming emotions that crashed down on her, Leah let go of her hair, reached into the storage compartment, and pulled out the knife. Her fingers had barely wrapped around the handle when she heard another click to her right, followed by the TV coming to life with static. Before, this sound had woken her up, but this time it didn't. She ignored it, blocking it out completely.

She walked around the counter toward the sink. As she turned her back to the counter, the radio joined the television in roaring to life. But even the combined noise of the two electrical appliances couldn't distract the huntress; it simply bounced off her.

She raised her left arm over the sink and clenched her fist. Her gaze drifted one final time to her reflection, which reflected back at her a pallid and empty stare.

She closed her right hand tightly around the knife's handle, then took her eyes off the mirror and looked down at her wrist, placing the knife's blade there.

The blade had barely touched her skin when a shrill, high-pitched beep suddenly filled the air. It struck her ears with such rapidity and loudness that she jumped back, took the knife away, and grimaced. The sound was similar to tinnitus or a loud bang. Right after it started, it got louder and louder.

With a narrowed gaze, Leah clutched the knife in her fist even more firmly and brought it closer to her skin once more. As if she were pressing a button, the beeping sound shot into her ear canal, so loud that it felt like her eardrums would burst.

The sudden pain caused her to scream and automatically let go of the knife. It fell clattering into the sink as she pressed her hands over her ears.

Her hands only muffled the sound for a fraction of a second before it penetrated with full force. The sound grew louder and louder, burning painfully throughout her head.

She staggered back from the sink and over to the counter. Just as she reached it, however, there was a sudden bang, and the TV screen shattered. Immediately afterward, there was another bang, and the radio display shattered too. At the same time the electrical appliances exploded, a powerful presence was felt inside the gas station. The presence was so immense that it appeared to threaten the very walls of the gas station.

With a moan, Leah tried to drag herself over to one of the shelves, her hands pressed over her aching ears. She was wrong; something was in this house. She didn't know if it was a ghost or a demon, but she knew something was here. Since she wasn't armed, her only chance was the salt on the middle shelf.

She staggered toward it, but before she could reach it, the shrill sound in her ears increased in volume so much that it felt like her skull would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Once again, the woman's cry of pain filled the air. The pain spreading from her ears to her head became so overwhelming that it brought her to her knees. She fell to her knees, pulling her chin to her chest, covering her ears, screaming. The noise and pain were unbearable.

Out of nowhere, in addition to the agonizing noise, there was another loud bang. This time, it was much louder, followed by the sound of shattering glass. It wasn't just a single bang; a series of them ensued. At the same time, a powerful shock wave passed through the filling station. It was so strong that the cupboards and shelves shook. Overwhelmed by pain and driven by panic, Leah's body slumped to the floor. She curled up, pressing her hands so tightly over her ears that her fingernails dug into her skin. Just as she crouched down, there was another bang, the shattering of glass, followed immediately by a rain of thousands of shards of glass.

Leah pulled her arms up to shield her face from the shards and squeezed her eyes shut. When the shower of shards ended, the beeping stopped and the presence vanished as quickly as it had come.

Motionless, Leah lay on the floor with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands pressed to her ears. Her body was covered in small shards of glass. Her shallow breathing was accompanied by a silent whimper. From a distance, the sound of single shards falling to the ground could still be heard. Then, everything went silent.

Chapter Text

Despite the silence, Leah spent about thirty minutes on the floor of the tank house until the shock gradually subsided and she dared to move slowly again.

A headache had already plagued her when she had freed herself from her grave. But now it felt like someone had put a vise around her head and was forcibly squeezing it until her skull would burst like a balloon.

Leaning on her right forearm, she slowly straightened her upper body to sit up. Every movement she made was accompanied by the sound of broken glass trickling and tinkling as it fell from her body onto the floor.

As she sat upright, her eyes gradually drifted through the interior of the tank house. All glass panes, including the windows and door, had burst out of their frames. The shattered pieces were strewn across the wooden floorboards like a blanket of fine artificial snow. The TV screen and radio display were cracked, as was the mirror above the sink. But whatever caused all that destruction - it was gone. The noise, that overwhelming presence. It had disappeared.

Carefully, the huntress struggled to her feet. Gradually, to avoid the headache from overwhelming her if she stood up too abruptly.

She placed her hand on the cool wood of the counter, leaned against it, and reviewed what had just happened. This presence—this thing it belonged to—had appeared out of nowhere. And this presence, it's been overwhelming. But it hadn't hurt her, not a bit. Well, except for how her head felt now.

Her eyes moved to the sink on the wall. It had appeared when she had reached for the knife. When she had wanted to transport herself back to where she had come from. Whatever it was, it had stopped her. Almost like it didn't want her to die. Like it wanted her to stay alive. At least for the moment.

Maybe she had just been lucky. Or maybe it was just waiting for the right time to kill her. The latter seemed more likely to her. Luck wasn't exactly something that came her way a lot.

Instead of an explanation for her sudden resurrection, another mystery had occurred—one that she could neither explain nor understand. Nevertheless, in light of the recent events, Leah was certain of one matter. She didn't know what it was, but something was after her. It seemed to be keeping her alive for now, but it was only a matter of time before that changed. And since she couldn't tell how much time she had, there was only one thing she could do. She had to be faster.

The blonde woman walked around the counter and grabbed a thin, white plastic bag from a rack. She walked over to the fridge, opened the door, and took out the remaining four bottles of water inside, putting them in the bag. Then, she packed a few packets of salt and opened the register to take the money.

She wasn't a thief, but since she'd been dead until just a few hours ago, she had nothing. No food or drink, no clothes, no weapons, no cash. This gas station and the things inside it were all she had for now, until she could regain her belongings. And now that the gas station looked like a bomb had gone off inside anyway, it didn't matter what she took with her.

After gathering everything, she made her way to the sink. The knife she had dropped in it was still there. It hadn't been the escape she had hoped for, but it might still be useful. For now, it was the only weapon within reach. Leah could count on one hand the number of days she had not carried a weapon. She had never gone out without a weapon before, and she wasn't about to start now. So she grabbed the knife and took it out of the sink. Suddenly, a bang sounded as if she had pressed an invisible button.

Still shocked and rattled by what had happened, she spun around, feeling her heart crash painfully against her rib cage. There was a lamp hanging from the ceiling, pretty much in the middle of the room. The dusty shade moved gently back and forth, as if a breeze had made it shake; the light bulb that had been in the socket underneath had burst. A narrow tail of gray smoke curled out of the remains and spread around the lampshade.

With her eyes darting around the room, Leah froze for a moment, mentally assessing her chances in case she was attacked. But she couldn't detect anything. There was nothing to hear or see. It was like before when the television and radio turned on. She felt nothing. However, she wouldn't make the mistake of ignoring such a sign again.

Gradually, she moved away from the sink and lifted her hands to about the height of her head in a calming gesture.

She wasn't sure if the presence was responsible for it again, as it had been before. Maybe it hadn't left after all, or it was about to return. If that was the case, though, she wouldn't be able to defend herself. She didn't have any weapons on her. So, she tried to appease it by making it understand that she didn't want to hurt herself with the knife. If keeping her alive was really the issue, she might be able to avoid a repeat of what had happened before. She was pretty sure neither her eardrums nor her skull would survive something like that again.

Nothing happened, so it looked like her plan was working. There were no further noises or other conspicuous signs. Nothing. Leah couldn't help but sigh as she lowered her hands again. "You've got to be kidding me!" she cursed inwardly. If this game was going to continue, she wouldn't be able to get her hands on any weapons quickly enough to get rid of whatever was breathing down her neck.

She grabbed the plastic bag with her supplies from the counter and shoved the knife into it.

She was just about to turn her back on the counter and leave when she noticed a small flash out of the corner of her eye. It came from behind the counter. As she followed it, she spotted something metal sticking out from under a small box that had been put there. When she reached in and pulled it out, she almost couldn't believe her eyes: Car keys. Judging by the tiny engraving, they belonged to the car parked outside the gas station.

The blonde turned the key ring in her hand, thinking for a moment. Stealing the car was out of question; the license plate would betray her the moment the owner noticed it was missing. But she could borrow it until she would reach the next town. If she parked it somewhere there, it would probably be found sooner or later, and if she was smart about it, no one would ever know who had stolen it.

So she grabbed the keys, took her bag, and got a chocolate bar from one of the shelves as she walked past, just to keep her body happy for as long as she needed to. Nothing had changed; she was still not happy to be alive again. She was as unhappy as she had been six months ago. Unhappy and angry. She was angry that she had been brought back. And angry that she hadn't been allowed to die again. Someone had taken away her freedom of choice. Now she had to regain her freedom. To do so, however, she first had to figure out how all of this was possible. So she left the gas station and set off.

The Chevrolet performed better than its outward appearance suggested. It had been a while since her last time behind the wheel, but she quickly got used to it again after driving up the country road for a while.

As before, when she was on foot, the road seemed to have no end. For a long time, she felt like she was driving into the unknown, with bushes on both sides of the road that were all pretty much the same. After a few miles, the bushes thinned out until she finally passed a sign announcing the town, which was visible in the distance.

Welcome to Cicero.

Leah's foot almost slipped off the gas pedal. Cicero. That was the town where she had died. She had been there for about a month before she couldn't take it anymore. Apparently, the gas station and the wooded area where she’d woken up at had only been a few miles away. The article she'd read in the newspaper appeared to contain some truth. Old Barnes might have actually taken her to the forest and buried her there. Even if Leah couldn't explain how she had managed it on her own.

Being in Cicero had its advantages; it allowed her to regain her bearings and find her way. She could get her weapons and find a place to stay. Then, she could think about what to do next.

So, she followed the road further into town. Initially, she had considered parking the car on the outskirts of town. However, as she passed the first buildings and a diner, she recognized the area and realized she was on the wrong side of town.

The house where she had died was located in a small housing estate on the western edge of the city. If she parked the car there, she would have to walk the rest of the way and would probably not arrive before nightfall. So she decided to keep the car for a while longer and make her way to the housing estate.

By the time she arrived at the settlement, it was already late afternoon. Leah parked the Chevy between a few other cars on the side of the main road, just before the junction with the street where she was gonna find the house she was heading for. She did this on purpose, to avoid anyone noticing her. To be cautious, she took a quick look around the area, making sure no one was watching her. It's not like anyone would have had cause to do so, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

When she was certain that nobody was around, she took the white plastic bag from the passenger seat and exited the vehicle. She left the key in the ignition. The car's owner could just pick it up whenever he wanted. As soon as he could find it.

As she moved away from the vehicle, she undid the knot in her shirt that she had tied around her waist to put it back on. Not because she was cold, but to cover the handprint on her shoulder. Otherwise, if she met anyone, it'd probably be hard to find a believable explanation.

The house where the huntress had taken her life a few months ago was in the middle of the street she had turned into. When she arrived, she paused on the other side of the road, her blue eyes roaming up and down the weathered white exterior. A silver Mercedes was parked in front of the house. New curtains hung in the windows, and a few potted plants sat on the windowsills. The house now had new residents.

This made Leah's plan slightly more challenging. She hadn't left her things lying around. But she still considered that they might have been found. This depended on how extensively the house had been renovated. However, it was difficult to find out when someone was there. However, she couldn't do anything about it, so she had to come up with a solution.

She hid the plastic bag between two garbage cans next to a driveway across from the house. She took out the knife she had stolen from the gas station and tucked it under the waistband of her jeans on her back, where her shirt covered it. Then, she crossed the street and walked up the driveway to the house.

As she pressed the doorbell, she ground her teeth in nervousness. However, this only seemed to add fuel to her nagging headache, so she rather quickly stopped. She urgently needed to get some ibuprofen.

Leah almost thought that no one was home, but then she saw movement inside the house. The door opened, revealing a young brunette woman. She didn't seem much older than Leah herself. If she was older at all. When she saw the young woman standing in front of her door, she blinked in surprise. "Hello."

Leah pulled the corners of her mouth up a little. "Hi, sorry if I'm disturbing you."

The brunette shook her head. "No worries. Can I help you?"

The young huntress gathered her acting skills and gave a slight shrug. "I hope so," she replied, trying to maintain a sniveling tone. "You know, my sister lived in this house some time ago."

The woman tilted her head. "Oh, have you been looking for her here?"

Leah shook her head. "No, she...she killed herself. Around...four months ago."

Now, horror settled on the brunette's face, and her dark eyes revealed her distress. It seemed to be working.

"I'm really sorry about that," she said.

The blonde woman gave her another sad smile. "I just found out a little while ago, and I was wondering if any of her things are still here."

The dark-haired woman nodded and smiled encouragingly and kindly. Leah wasn't quite sure how to interpret it. "Of course. I get it. Would you like to come in?"

The huntress breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked. However, she didn't let on, just nodding. "Thank you very much."

The woman stepped aside and fully opened the door, inviting her guest in. "I'm Lisa, by the way."

Leah smiled kindly and nodded. "Amy."

As it turned out, Lisa had only recently moved into the house and was still in the process of moving in. There were moving boxes in some rooms, and some furniture was not yet in place. However, you could already tell what each room would become. Lisa told Leah that she had moved there with her son, Ben. She was alone with him and had to do a lot to take care of him, which is why the move took longer than she would have liked.

Lisa was a friendly woman. She seemed a little naïve to Leah, though, because she had just let a strange woman into her house and shown her every room. However, her actions might have been influenced by her peculiar guest's gender and the narrative she had been exposed to. Leah didn't care whether it was naivety or compassion; she just hoped her plan would work.

As Lisa showed her around the house, she told her a little about herself and her son, occasionally asking her a question. She asked about her fictional deceased sister or herself. Leah answered her questions, continued weaving her tale as she followed her through the rooms. She knew they wouldn't find anything in any of the rooms. But she realized that the house hadn't been renovated. So she got the information she needed. There was a good chance that her things were still where she had left them, untouched.

Because of her conversation with Lisa, the blonde ended up staying in the house longer than she had planned. By the time they returned to the living room, the sun had moved considerably lower in the sky. The clock on the wall above the television read past six o'clock.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't help you," Lisa said.

Leah shook her head. "That's all right. Thanks for letting me look around," she replied.

The brunette smiled. "You're welcome."

The huntress smiled politely in return before pointing behind her. May I use your bathroom real quick? I have a long walk home."

Her hostess nodded immediately. "Sure thing."

The bathroom was located to the right of the living room. It had a window next to the sink from which you could see the small patch of lawn leading to the back of the garden. This lawn was separated from the neighboring property by a hedge.

Leah locked the door behind her and took a quick look around. Apart from a few small pieces of furniture and the new shower curtain, nothing had changed here either. “That's a good sign.”

She walked over to the toilet, flipped down the lid, and climbed on. She wasn't the tallest, but the bathroom ceiling was low enough that she could reach it with her hands. The ceiling on the first floor of the house was suspended, and in the bathroom, it was lined with square tiles similar to those found in public buildings like schools or supermarkets. The reason for this choice of ceiling covering was a mystery to Leah. She had always disliked it, even if it still looked quite respectable thanks to its immaculate white paint. Nevertheless, it also had its advantages, enabling her to do exactly what she was doing now.

With a determined push, she dislodged the tile from its frame, sending it sliding up into the ceiling and to the side. Carefully, so as not to make any noise that might make Lisa suspect something. A shower of fine dust and crumbling plaster fell on her face, causing the blonde to squint and shake her head to get rid of it. Then, she stretched upward again and ran her hands along the edge of the opening she had created in the ceiling.

Standing on tiptoe, she managed to reach further into the opening and finally bumped into something on the left side that felt like rough fabric and made a tinkling sound when she brushed against it.

The hunter's eyes widened. She grabbed the cloth she had felt and pulled it until it was in the hole above her head. Sure enough, she was right. It was the dark blue fabric of a bag. Her bag.

She breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed the bag with both hands, and lifted it out of the hole and down toward her. She put it on the toilet tank and unzipped it to look inside.

A pair of jeans, a sweater, and a t-shirt were on top. When she pushed those aside, she discovered a toiletry bag, a cell phone, a black leather briefcase, and a wallet. Beneath those items were silver knives, a bottle of holy water, a machete, two pistols, various types of ammunition, a wooden stake, a small can of gasoline, a lighter, and two boxes of salt. The bag was filled to the brim with everything she had put in it—everything she owned. Perhaps the universe was a little kind to her after all.

With a swift motion, Leah secured the bag once more, then lifted her head, reaching for the ceiling tile and guiding it back into place. Then, she climbed down from the toilet and took her bag from the cistern. She had found it; now, she had to figure out how to get it out of the house without Lisa noticing.

Leah bit her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before glancing at the window on her right. "That could work."

She set her bag on the toilet and opened the window. The hedge outside was tall enough to block the view of the neighboring property. Two garbage cans sat diagonally below the window. It wasn't perfect, but it was the only option. It only had to work for a few minutes. She grabbed the bag and lifted it over the window sill, letting it hang down as far as possible by her outstretched arm. Finally, she dropped it down onto the lawn behind the garbage cans. No one would see her. She just had to collect it outside.

After closing the window and flushing the toilet, Leah left the bathroom. Lisa was waiting for her in the living room and got up from the sofa when she saw her coming. She walked Leah to the door.

"Thank you," Leah repeated as they stood at the door.

Lisa smiled at her. "You're welcome. Get home safe."

The blonde nodded and left the house, walking down the three steps in front. She could hear the door being pushed back into the lock behind her.

Halfway down the driveway, she looked over her shoulder. Lisa had already disappeared inside. She turned and quickly walked over to the right-hand wall of the house. She pulled her bag out from behind the garbage cans, then ran back to the sidewalk and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

She crossed the street, collected her plastic bag, and put it back in her larger bag. Now, she had her things together again. Next, she had to find a place to stay.

Leah was way slower on foot than in the car. To find a place to stay, she had to go farther into the city center. By the time she arrived, it was almost dark, and hardly any sunlight remained on the horizon.

As she wandered through the dark, deserted streets, her thoughts kept circling around everything that had happened during the day. The feelings that were boiling up inside her were becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. Four months earlier, she had given in to them and freed herself. Now, she couldn't. Instead, they clung to her like a lead backpack stapled to her back.

She passed a railroad crossing that separated her from the buildings in the city center, which were identified by their glowing signs. Her feet felt as heavy as her head. She stepped onto the tracks to cross them when, suddenly, the loud ringing of a bell sounded.

The huntress paused and looked around, raising her eyes from the tracks at her feet.

On the right in front of her, on a lamppost that lit up the train tracks a little, hung a bell that rang wildly. On the other side, there was a traffic light. It had a red light that flashed like a small heartbeat. The light was almost in sync with the ringing of the bell.

The blonde woman knew the bell and traffic lights announced an oncoming train and warned vehicles and pedestrians to clear the tracks. Instead of moving, however, she stood on the tracks like a statue, her blue eyes hypnotized by the flashing red light. She wasn't thinking; her mind was switched off and her body was acting on its own.

She could stay still. Right there. She could wait for the train to come. She could stop there and let it run over her. Why should she have gone any further? What purpose would it serve? What would she have achieved? She never wanted to live; she never willingly chose to live again. She had been dead because she had wanted to be. And she still wanted to be. And her body seemed to obey this wish without her having to think about it.

As the tracks beneath her feet began to hum, she caught a glimpse of the pale light of the approaching train's headlights in the distance out of the corner of her right eye. Just a second longer and...

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on her left and right, followed by the sound of shattered glass hitting the asphalt. At the same time, a bright beeping sound filled her ears. She was no stranger to this sound; it was the same one that had caused the headache plaguing her all day. Hearing it again felt like someone plunging a dagger into the middle of her skull.

In an effort to block out the noise, Leah squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her hands over her ears, and groaned in pain. As painful as it was, it snapped her out of her trance and reminded her of what she had momentarily forgotten.

She clutched at her blonde curls, took a step forward, and left the tracks, dropping to her knees a little in pain.

She had barely reached the other side of the road when the train whizzed past her.

The wind from the passing train whipped her blonde curls around her face. When the wind died down and the train disappeared, the beeping in her ears stopped. It echoed in her head for a moment, then fell silent.

Slowly, the blonde opened her eyes, stood up straight again, and took her hands off her ears.

The bell had stopped ringing and the red traffic light had stopped flashing. The lanterns around the level crossing were no longer functioning, and the pieces of their shattered bulbs were strewn across the ground. It was the same picture as at the gas station.

The huntress tightened her grip on the bag hanging from her shoulder. Whatever she had come across at the gas station had tracked her down. It was still there. And it had stopped her from dying again.

She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, the pounding under her skull making it hard to think. The headache had plagued her all day, but now it was almost unbearable. She had to think of something. First, though, she needed somewhere to stay. Accommodation and ibuprofen.

She found a small store not far down the street. It didn't have much to offer, but she found what she needed. Since it was late, she was the only customer. She almost seemed to disturb the woman behind the counter when she placed the tin of ibuprofen on the table.

The dark-haired woman looked up from her gossip magazine and scrutinized the young woman in front of her. "Long day, huh?"

Leah exhaled deeply through her nose. "You could say that."

She handed the cashier some of the crumpled dollar bills she had taken from the gas station. Then she grabbed the can and took off.

She had to walk a few more meters up the street before the light of a neon sign shone towards her.

Too Tired Motel.

The huntress pressed her lips together as she looked up at it. Yes. "Tired" was pretty accurate.

There were a few parking spaces in front of the motel. Only a few of them were occupied, leading her to conclude that the motel wasn't too busy. This was confirmed when she saw the almost-asleep owner behind the reception desk. When he noticed her, he hastily straightened up and adjusted his glasses on his crooked nose.

"Good evening," he greeted her.

Leah nodded. "Good evening. I'd like a room. For one person.”

The blonde man nodded and opened a book, then fished for a pen. He looked to be at least sixty years old. There were wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, and his hair was thinning on top of his head. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Naomi Wesper," the huntress replied, whereupon he entered the name into the book in crooked handwriting.

"What brought you here at such a late hour, Miss Wesper?" he wanted to know. She understood that this sort of casual chatter was meant to be a display of courtesy, so she returned the gesture, even though her pounding head made her wish he'd just shut up. "As your sign says, I'm too tired to keep going."

A smile etched itself on his face. "I see."

He slid a key across the counter to her. "How long are you planning to stay in Cicero?"

She took the key and shrugged with a small sigh. "We'll see."

The room was small. There was a bed on the left wall with a nightstand next to it. Opposite the bed was a chest of drawers and a TV on a wobbly side table. On the other side of the chest of drawers was a table with two chairs, right next to the door. It wasn't much, nor was it particularly attractive. But it wasn't the worst she'd ever lived in. For now, she was just glad to have a place to stay at all.

She threw her bag on the bed, took out the white plastic bag, and put it on the table. She got out some ibuprofen and a bottle of water. Then, she pulled out the knife that had been tucked in her waistband the whole time and set it down next to the bag. Her head still felt like there was a blade lodged in it. Any longer, and she would lose her mind.

Leah took the small plastic box of painkillers from the table and nibbled off the plastic wrap sealing it shut. One pill alone probably wouldn't be enough to fight her headache. Even if it could, the headache was the smallest of her problems. None of the others would be solved with ibuprofen. Well, unless, of course, she downed the entire can like a packet of Smarties.

She hadn't finished her thought when she heard a click, followed by a stuttering noise. At the same time, the light from the dim bulb in the dusty ceiling lamp flickered.

Leah's blue eyes twitched upward toward the lamp. Then she looked in the direction of the noise, where she spotted the small television with black-and-white static flickering on its screen. "Not again," she thought immediately. This couldn't be true!

These incidents had been worrying her the last two times. Almost frightened her. They still did. But what came to the fore now was anger. She was angry. She was angry that this creature followed her wherever she went and angry about what it was doing to her. And she was fed up with it.

Leah violently slammed the pillbox back onto the table. "That's enough!"

She reached for her bag, which was on the bed to her left, and took out one of her pistols. She removed the safety pin and held the weapon in front of her. "Show yourself, you bastard!" she snarled.

Nothing happened for a moment. The TV kept blaring, the lamp kept flickering. But nothing else.

The huntress tightened her grip on the pistol. "Come on!" she shouted into the room, though she wasn't sure its exact location. "Stop the games. I'm sick of it! So show yourself already!"

Again, nothing happened. She clenched her teeth in rage and prepared to speak again when a soft hiss emanated from above her, followed by the abrupt blackout of the room's lighting. Right away, she heard a click, and the hissing stopped.

Leah flinched and turned her head toward the television. The screen was black. It was off.

She swallowed hard, keeping her finger close to the trigger of her gun. The silence lasted only a few seconds before being cut by another sound. A noise like a curtain had been moved aside, similar to the flapping of a bird's wings. Her gaze jerked from the black screen back into the room, and her heart skipped a beat in shock at the same moment. The pale light from the neon sign outside entered the room through the window. And in this light, a man appeared out of nowhere. A man in a beige trench coat.

Leah's hands clenched around the gun so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She had never seen the stranger standing in front of her before. His hair was dark and slightly tousled. He wore a dark suit, a white shirt, and a beige trench coat. The top button of his shirt was open, and a blue tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked like one of those office workers who either took money out of people's pockets at a bank or lied to them at a tax consultancy, telling them they would help them get some of it back.

He stared at her without blinking and took a step toward her.

The blonde immediately pointed her gun at him. "Stop!" she shouted. "One more step, and I swear I'll kill you!"

He ignored her first warning. He only blinked once at the second, but took another step forward, as if to provoke her. Then he stopped. The distance between them was no more than two meters, and Leah could see his eyes glance briefly at the gun in her hands before returning to hers. "You can't kill me."

His voice sounded dark and monotonous. Overall, he appeared quite rigid.

The blonde returned his gaze, watching his every move. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," she replied coolly. "Who are you? Why are you following me?"

As if in slow motion, the stranger tilted his head slightly to the side. "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

The huntress felt the blood freeze in her veins. Him? He had brought her back?

For a brief instant, they stood, staring at each other, neither of them moving. Then, a switch flipped in Leah's head. She wrapped her finger around the trigger of her gun and pulled it.

A loud bang echoed through the room as the gun's barrel was discharged, propelling the bullet in the direction of the dark-haired man, striking him directly in the chest. But nothing happened. There was a black mark on his shirt where the bullet had hit him. But there was no blood, he didn't move at all, didn't even flinch.

The blonde stared at him in disbelief. "No way!"

She had hit him; it should have worked!

His eyes drifted momentarily to the site where the bullet had struck his shirt, and then he exhaled slowly through his nose, his gaze returning to her. "I already told you, you can't kill me."

Now the huntress was gripped by fear. He had been following her the whole time. He had brought her back. She had no idea what kind of creature he was. Whatever he was, he was more powerful than any other creature she had ever encountered. She could only imagine what he would do to her. She couldn't defend herself against him. She couldn't kill him. There was only one way to escape whatever he had in store for her.

Leah pulled the gun back, spun it in her hand, and aimed the barrel at her temple.

She wanted to put her finger on the trigger and pull it. But she didn't get that far. Footsteps thundered across the parquet floor, and within a fraction of a second, she was pushed back against the door. Her body hit the wood with such force that it knocked the wind out of her lungs.

The stranger was now standing directly in front of her. His right forearm was across her chest, pressing her against the door. His left hand gripped her right wrist and pressed her hand, which was holding the gun, above her head against the door.

The huntress was frozen with fear. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that it felt like it would burst at any moment. Her ribs felt like they would crack under the pressure of the arm pressing her against the door. This man's strength was beyond human; he took away her ability to move seemingly without any effort.

She grimaced in pain as it spread across her back. His eyes bored into hers. Now that he was so close, she could see that they were blue.

"Drop the weapon," he ordered in a firm voice.

Leah tried to pull her hand away, but it was no use. "Let me go!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"First, drop the weapon," he replied.

With no other choice, she obeyed. She loosened her grip on the gun, and it fell to the floor with a dull thud. As promised, her opponent released his hold on her. He let her go, bent down, and picked up the gun before placing it on the table.

Leah slumped slightly as her body moved away from the door and she rubbed her aching temples. Good lord, what had she gotten herself into?

"You look pale," the man observed. "Sit down."

The blonde followed his instructions. On the one hand, she was afraid he would attack her again if she didn't. On the other hand, it was actually difficult for her to stand upright. Her head hurt so much.

She sat down in one of the two chairs at the table and reached for the ibuprofen. The dark-haired man immediately spun around and put his hand on the bottle to stop her. When she glanced up at him, she caught his warning look.

A sigh escaped the young woman's lips. "Just one," she explained grumpily. "It won't kill me. But without it, the headache soon will.”

He looked at her in a way that seemed to question her, but then he appeared to accept her explanation and released the box. Nevertheless, he watched her closely as she took a pill and washed it down with water. Almost as if he was waiting for her to pass out in her chair. Like he had never seen headache pills before.

She put the water bottle back on the table and rubbed her forehead with her palm. She really hoped this painkiller would finally relieve her pain.

"We should talk, Leah," the stranger's monotonous voice caught her attention again, barely after she had swallowed.

When he said her name, the blonde lifted her head to look at him. He knew her name, had brought her back from the dead, and had been following her ever since. And she had no clue who he was, what he was, or what the hell he wanted from her. So yes, they needed to talk. "Who are you?" she repeated.

"Castiel," the stranger replied immediately, much to her surprise, as he examined the pistol lying on the table.

Castiel. Now she had a name. But a name alone did not get her any further. It also did not answer her question.

"What are you?" she asked.

Castiel looked up, his blue eyes quickly scanning her face. "I'm an angel of the lord."

He said it as if it was one of the most normal things in the world. Then he simply turned his attention back to the gun, picked it up from the table, and brought it over to her bag, where the other weapons were.

Leah stared at him in disbelief. Was he trying to fool her?

"Nice try," she replied. "But there's no such thing."

She had spent her entire life hunting every imaginable supernatural creature, everything that had crawled out of hell. But she had never encountered this nonsense from heaven before. Neither had anyone else she knew. Not on hunts, not in books, nowhere.

Castiel dropped the gun into her bag and turned to her. His face remained expressionless. "That is your problem, Leah," he said. "You have no faith."

Leah was on the verge of responding when he suddenly took a step back, inhaled deeply, and raised his hands slightly away from his body. Suddenly, the room lit up as if a spotlight had been turned on, and a black shadow appeared on the walls across the room. The shadow was in the shape of enormous wings that slowly unfolded to their full size.

For a moment, the huntress held her breath, her voice stuck in her throat. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it. Even now that she had seen it, she still didn't believe it. "That's impossible..." floated through her mind like an endless loop.

She felt like she was stuck in a bad dream.

When Castiel lowered his arms again, the bright light faded, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, managing to regain her composure. Trying not to show anything, she looked him up and down.

"So angels look like ordinary people?" she remarked dryly.

The supposed angel looked down at himself and grabbed the collar of his trench coat, looking almost like he had no idea what he was actually wearing. "No, it's just a vessel," he explained. He raised his head again, tilting it slightly to the side. "My true form can be overwhelming for humans," he continued. "So can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"His voice?"

Leah frowned in confusion. She couldn't remember hearing a voice. All she had heard was...

She looked at him incredulously. “You mean the gas station? And the railroad tracks?" she asked. "That was you talking?"

Castiel nodded once, his eyes fixed on her face again.

The blonde raised her eyebrows, shook her head, and gave him a reproachful look. "Next time, please lower the volume. You almost blew my head off."

He briefly pressed his lips together. He rarely showed any emotion, so the huntress could only tell when he did by watching him closely. "That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them," he said. "I was wrong."

His monotone tone made it hard to tell if he was sorry about this fact or if it was meant to be a kind of reproach. It sounded like he didn't care at all.

So he wanted her to believe that he was an angel and had done everything she had experienced with just his voice. The more he talked, the more bizarre the story became. The less she wanted to believe him.

"And now?" she asked. "Are you inhabiting the body of some poor guy you've taken possession of?"

If he answered yes, then surely he must be some kind of demonic entity.

Castiel tilted his head slightly to the side and raised his eyebrows a little. "He's a devout man," he replied casually. "He actually prayed for this."

Now the huntress was certain. He was trying to fool her. No one would ever voluntarily agree to be possessed by something. To voluntarily surrender to the obsession of a demon.

Exasperated, she sighed. "Okay, listen. I'm not buying that story," she said. “So who are you, really?”

Castiel scowled and drew his eyebrows together. This reaction was a bit more intense than the previous one. "I told you."

Now, anger rose in Leah's throat again. She had realized he was playing a dirty game, yet he was still trying to fool her.

"Oh, really? And why would an angel rescue me from hell?" she asked dismissively.

Castiel's gaze was still fixed on her, his expression of incomprehension unchanged. "Good things do happen, Leah," he replied, his voice rising slightly so that one might think he was upset or actually reprimanding her.

The blonde kept looking him in the eyes, unfazed. "Not to me," she replied coolly.

The supposed angel continued to stare at her intently. It almost seemed as if he was staring through her eyes and into her soul.

Still wearing an expression of incomprehension, he stepped toward her. Leah automatically sat up straighter, pressing herself closer to the back of the chair, ready to jump up at any moment. "What's the matter?" he asked. His voice was frighteningly calm again. When he stopped, he was so close to her that their knees would have touched if they had been any closer. His gaze hadn't left her eyes for a second. It made her feel uncomfortable.

He tilted his head to the side again, and his expression brightened slightly. It was as if he had gotten the answer to his question without her saying anything. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Leah stared back at him as he stared at her. It was challenging for her, as this amount of eye contact was more than uncomfortable, but she was absolutely not going to give in to him.

She didn't just think she didn't deserve it. She knew she didn't. And she hadn't wanted it, either.

With a deep breath, she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat again. "Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice wavering more than she intended. Castiel either didn't notice or didn't care because he didn't flinch. "Because God commanded it."

That was the last straw. Leah put her hands on the table and stood up. He was a good head taller than her, so she still had to look up at him. But that didn't stop her from giving him a withering look. "Give me one reason, just one, why I should believe this crap!" she growled.

"Because I told you," the supposed angel replied simply.

He couldn't be serious!

The huntress snorted contemptuously. "Oh, really? Just because you say so, I'm supposed to believe that God and angels exist?" she hissed. "If a God really exists, he doesn't seem to care much about what's happening here on Earth. So why the hell would he suddenly start showing interest in me, of all people?"

Castiel took another deep breath. Maybe he was slowly losing patience because things weren't going the way he wanted. Since his face still showed no real emotion, it was difficult to tell. Nevertheless, his eyes never left her face. "We have work for you."

Leah couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Work? For me?" she repeated. "Why?"

"Because you're a good hunter," he replied.

The blonde looked at him incredulously. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was dead," she remarked. "There are plenty of other hunters. Hunters who are still alive. So why me?"

"Because God wanted it that way," he replied.

The fact that this guy justified everything he did and said, as well as what had happened, by claiming it was God's will made the huntress want to strangle him. The longer the conversation went on, the angrier she got. First, he had the audacity to bring her back after she had taken her own life. Now, he was claiming that it was God's will?

"God is always said to be so merciful. And that angels are supposed to be guardians. So why did you bring back someone who had killed herself instead of taking care of the people who are still alive?" she asked scornfully.

"Read the Bible, Leah," Castiel replied. Now he seemed to be the one who was angry. His expression darkened slightly and his gaze hardened. "Angels are warriors of God," he clarified. "I'm a soldier. I'm not here to perch on your shoulder."

The blonde pursed her lips mockingly. "Yet you've been following my every move since I left my grave."

"Not every move," he objected. "Just enough to ensure everything goes as planned."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "What if I don't play along with your stupid game?" she asked. "You can't force me to. I don't know how yet, but I'll find a way. I'd just die again and return to hell."

"I would bring you back," the supposed angel answered roughly, not waiting for her to finish her sentence. "I did it once, and I'll do it again if necessary."

The huntress looked at him searchingly. "If you truly had the ability to do that, why are you trying to stop me from dying the whole time?

"Because we have larger concerns than your egotism," he retorted.

The sound of his voice and the content of his speech caused her to cringe inwardly. "Egotism?" she thought. Did he just call her desire to die, her longing for redemption from everything that had happened and that she could no longer bear, selfish? What gave him the right? He didn't know her at all; he had no idea!

His statement, made with such coldness, left her speechless for a moment. Much of her anger faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Big things afoot," Castiel continued, his voice taking on a tone that was both cold and slightly threatening. "The issue is far more problematic than you think."

He took a step toward her, his cool gaze looking down on her. Reflexively, her heartbeat quickened, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over the chair behind her.

"You should show me some respect," he whispered firmly. "I dragged you out of hell. Maybe God wants you to live. But I can still throw you back in. Even if it's just for a few days. So ponder your actions."

The tone of his voice made it clear that he did not intend to grant her wish to die. To deliver her as she had wanted. It was all about what had happened in Hell. That was exactly what he threatened her with.

Leah felt her heartbeat quicken again, and she felt something tighten painfully inside her. She surrendered to his piercing gaze, lowering her head as she swallowed hard. She would usually have snapped at him. She would have asked him who he thought he was, what big event or problem he was talking about, and what she had to do with any of it. Yet the manner in which he stood in front of her, the way he towered over her, the words he had spoken, and the way he had threatened her, all pointed to only one thing she wanted.

"Leave me alone," she whispered after a moment of silence.

He didn't respond immediately, either because he hadn't understood her or because he simply didn't want to. So despite her racing heartbeat, she raised her head and looked at him as coldly as she could. "Get lost!" she almost shouted at him. "Get out! Leave me alone!"

She expected him to react angrily, maybe even throw her against the wall for raising her voice. But she had only blinked once, and he was gone. She stood alone in her motel room. He was gone. Like he had never been there.

For a brief instant, the young woman stood still, paralyzed, unable to budge. Her breath came in gasps as she stared at the spot where the strange man had been standing just seconds earlier. He had appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye, and his presence was palpable with a strength she had never encountered before. Yet, despite everything he had said, despite everything that had happened, and despite everything she had seen, she couldn't believe that he was actually an angel. She didn't want to believe it.

Regardless of what Castiel was—a demon, some other creature, or an angel—he had threatened her. Leah had found the answers she had been searching for. She knew who had brought her back from hell and back to life. She knew what had been haunting her all along.

However, she still didn't know what he was or why he had done everything he had done. But the assumption she had made at the gas station had been confirmed. No matter how much she wanted to die, or what she tried to do to make that happen, they wouldn't let her. Castiel had made that crystal clear to her. Even though she didn't believe him when he said he was an angel, after what he said and did, she believed him when he threatened her.

The longer she stood there, the more a heavy feeling spread inside her. She couldn't identify it, but it felt like a tangled mass of all the feelings that had overwhelmed her four months ago. They returned, constricting her chest and taking her breath away. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Despair. Who knew what else.

Whenever she recalled these emotions or they surfaced in her thoughts, it was as if she was being struck by a huge avalanche that ruthlessly knocked her over. The thought of being denied the chance to free herself from these feelings and being forced to endure them made the situation even worse.

Before the confusion in her head could take over, Leah took a deep breath, pushed it aside, and tried to swallow it down. It only worked a little bit, but it was enough to prevent her from losing her mind.

Breaking out of her stupor, she went over to the bed and reached into her bag. She pulled out the clothes on top and grabbed the cardboard box of salt. Armed with it, she went to the windows and sprinkled salt on the narrow sills. Then, she drew another line on the floor in front of the door. That would at least keep her safe from any more unwanted visitors at night. Hopefully.

The huntress placed the box on the table and ran her hands through her blonde curls. Her fingers got stuck in the remains of her braid, so she pulled out the hairband and threw it onto the bed next to her bag. She had no idea what to do next. She couldn't kill Castiel. She had seen that with her own eyes. She couldn't risk another attempt to end her own life. The risk was too high that this bastard would reappear or carry out his threat. But what should she do instead?

She couldn't think of an answer to that question. Either way, she wouldn't accomplish anything today. Not in the middle of the night, not without a plan. For now, she had no choice but to wait out the night and make the most of her motel room, no matter how much she disliked it.

With a sigh, Leah reached into her bag, pulling out the gun that Castiel had put in there. She grabbed her T-shirt and the shorts she had wrapped up in it from the bed and made her way into the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and locked it with the rusty key in it. Then she placed the key on the edge of the sink, right next to the gun. She paused for a second, glancing around the small square where she was standing.

The bathroom had no windows. The only way in was through the door. Lines of salt covered the windows and door of the motel room. Nothing could come through this door.

The blonde took a deep breath, shook off her paranoid thoughts, and reached for the towel hanging on a hook on the wall. She placed the towel on the toilet tank next to the shower. Then, she began to peel off her dirty clothes.

The warm water felt wonderful. The substance that came out of the wall dispenser, which was supposed to be both shampoo and shower gel, was not. It smelled more sterile than pleasant, but it got the job done, freeing her from the grave dirt and everything else still stuck to her.

After lathering herself from head to toe and rinsing the soap out of her hair, she wrapped her arms around her upper body and looked down at the ceramic tiles at her feet, which had probably been white a long time ago.

The hot water pelted her shoulders and neck, running down her body and mixing with dirt and foam. Thin rivulets of water flowed down her legs to the floor.

A small lake had formed at her feet, its water more brownish than truly transparent. Tiny bubbles, left over from the foam before they were swallowed up by the water, dotted the surface.

Despite the water's heat and the steam-like fog spreading through the bathroom, Leah felt an uncomfortable chill. She stared at the ceramic tiles at her feet, watching the water seep into the drain and gradually become clear as the dirt and shower gel washed away from her body.

"What should I do?" she asked herself, desperately. When she had ended her life four months ago, she never thought it would backfire like this. She had nowhere to go and nowhere to turn. She had no clue what the hell she was doing here. She was supposed to be dead. She was supposed to be in hell. Not here. Everything was supposed to be over, not start all over again after four months. But it did. She was back. She was breathing again. Her heart was beating in her chest again. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Leah closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. What was done wrong by her to deserve such punishment from the universe? What justified everything that had happened? Why was she denied the chance to escape? Why was she forced to endure it? Why was she forced to endure even more?

The young huntress stood motionless under the hot water jets for quite a while, searching for answers to these questions and some kind of explanation. But no matter how long she thought about it, she couldn't come up with an answer. Not a single one.

She finally turned off the water when the steam in the room became so thick that it became difficult to breathe. She stepped out of the shower, dried her softened skin with a towel, and put on her shirt and shorts.The mirror above the sink was fogged up, so she wiped it with the towel to see her reflection.

After hanging the towel on the rod where the shower curtain had been, she turned back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her from the slightly damp glass. Her cheeks were slightly reddened from the hot water and her eyes looked slightly glassy.

A reddened area of her skin peeked out from the edge of her T-shirt sleeve on her right shoulder.

As if magically drawn, her gaze darted to her shoulder. She pushed the fabric of her shirt aside and studied the fiery red handprint on her skin. There had to be an explanation for it. A logical one. There had to be. Just as there had to be some way out. Some way to undo it and get out of this mess. At least, she fervently hoped so. She just had to find it.

With tender touch, her fingertips grazed the inflamed areas, delicately following the raised lines etched into her skin. It didn't hurt. The marks looked like burns, but touching them caused no pain. If Castiel's story was true and he was the one who had left this handprint on her shoulder, then he had left a mark, but he hadn't hurt her. Nor had he hurt her while trying to prevent her from dying, except for the headache, which had now disappeared thanks to ibuprofen. Nevertheless, during the time she had faced him, he had clearly proven that he was more than capable of doing so. Given how he had behaved and what he had said, it was only a matter of time before he did. So she had to get rid of him before he could.

Leah adjusted her T-shirt, grabbed her clothes, and took the gun. Then, she unlocked the bathroom door and returned to the bedroom. It was found exactly as it had been left. For once, that was a good sign.

She draped her clothes over the back of one of the two chairs. A yawn crept up her throat immediately, and she covered her mouth with her hand. It was the middle of the night. After everything that had happened today, it wasn't really surprising that she was tired.

She rubbed her face and looked around the room. The windows were securely closed, the door was firmly locked, and all the salt lines were intact. For now, this room was probably the safest place for her to be. Her clear mind knew that she needed sleep. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

The huntress sat down on the bed and pulled her bag closer to her. She put the gun she had taken with her to the bathroom on the table next to the bed. Then, she took one of the silver knives out of the bag, zipped it shut, and slid it under the bed.

Her eyes looked closely at the shiny blade as she held it between her fingers. Everything, absolutely everything in her, rebelled against it. Nevertheless, she pulled her legs up onto the bed and tucked them under the thin blanket.

Propping herself up on the mattress with her elbow, she pushed the pillow aside with her free hand. Then she placed the knife on the sheet, putting the pillow on top of it.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to lie down. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and slid her right hand under the cool fabric of the pillow. For a moment, she glanced at the window, her gaze fixed on the faint light emanating from the lantern across the street, illuminating the windowsill. Then she closed her eyes. Her hand firmly wrapped around the knife's handle.