Okay so a lot happens in this chapter and it jumps around a lot, so don't say you haven't been warned. I mean it is 7,453 words

"So-" Sam chuckled. "What's with this job?" he asked. Libby sat in the backseat of the Impala, Sam's phone in her grasp as she scrolled through a list of different games.

"Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I'd say that's worth checking out," Dean replied.

"Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?" Libby looked up, eyeing Sam. He was definitely talking about her and Lucifer bringing the Apocalypse.

"I'm sure the apocalypse'll still be there when we get back," Dean told him. Libby sighed. She didn't want the Apocalypse to be there when they got back from the case. She wanted it gone with Lucifer thrown back into his Cage. The only problem with that thought was that Libby didn't know if she'd be thrown back in Hell with her father, or left on Earth with Sam and Dean. And after the Apocalypse, would they keep her around or abandon her?

"Right, yeah, but I mean, if—if the Colt is really out there somewhere--"

"Hey, we've been looking for three weeks, we got bupkis," Dean interrupted, clearly wanting to drop the subject. Sam nodded slowly.

"Okay. But Dean...I mean, if we're gonna—ice the Devil—"

"This is what we're doing!" Dean yelled. "Okay? End of discussion." Sam looked out the window and sighed, Libby staring at the men through the rearview mirror. There was a long pause before Dean started to speak again. Libby knew not to say anything that could cause another fight. After Sam had run off for a bit, it left her and Dean alone. It was a hard time for both of them, the two being complete opposites. "It's just that this is our first real case, back at it together. You know, I, I think we oughta ease into it, put the training wheels back on." Sam raised his eyebrows, nodding, offended.

"So you think I need training wheels."

"No, 'we'. 'We' need training wheels, you and me. As a team." Libby cleared her throat, signaling that she was still the car. "And Libby," Dean added. Libby felt a smile sneak its way onto her lips, happy about being included. "Okay?" Sam nodded.

"Okay." Dean glanced over at Sam, realizing how hard it was for Sam to talk about it. Libby didn't know what went on in the past few years with Sam. Every time she tried to pry it out of Dean he'd change the subject. Libby ended up just dropping the subject, but she knew it couldn't be good if it led him to killing Lilith and freeing Lucifer.

"Man, I really want this to be a fresh start, you know? For the both of us." They exchanged glances, Sam nodding again before his gaze traveled to Libby in the rearview mirror. "How you doing back there, Clifford?" Dean asked, glancing at the redhead in the rearview mirror. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What's a Clifford?" Libby questioned. Sam nudged his brother, shaking his head. Dean cleared his throat.

"It's a cartoon dog. He's big and red." Libby raised an eyebrow.

"Are you calling me fat?" Dean's eyes widened. In the past he's learned what implying a girl to be big will do. They get angry and then it doesn't end well from there. He guessed that it was worse with a mix between an angel, archangel, and demon. Dean shook his head.

"No. Of course not. In fact, you could put on a few pounds if you want to fight." Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was just digging himself a deeper hole.

"And I'm not fine the way I am? Last I checked, God made me this body and He doesn't make mistakes." She leaned back in her seat, sighing. "At least He didn't before," she muttered. Dean nodded his head to the side.

"And I'm sure He's a great guy, but things change, you know? How about Sam and I teach you to fight?" Dean suggested. Libby grinned, her mood instantly lifting. "If you're gonna be hanging with us then you'll definitely need some skills."

"I like the sound of that," she told Dean. Dean looked over to Sam, smirking.

"See? I can get a demon to like me, too." Libby reached forward and smacked Dean on the back of the head. "Ow! What the fuck, Libby?" Dean yelled.

"I'm not a demon," she growled. Dean rubbed his head, catching Sam staring at him with an amused smile.

"You were saying?" Sam taunted.

"Shut up," the older Winchester grumbled, focusing back on the road. Libby handed Sam his phone.

"It's boring," she said simply. Sam raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know for a couple thousand year old angel, I figured a phone would've kept you busy for more than ten minutes," Sam commented. Libby shrugged, watching as Sam started to play a game on his phone.

"I like books." Dean cringed.

"You two are meant for each other," he teased, shaking his head. Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, but Libby never noticed. She was too focused on watching Sam win the game to even hear Dean's comment.

Dean walked out of the Walmart, tossing a bag at Libby who was leaning against the Impala next to Sam. "What is this?" Libby asked as she caught the bag effortlessly, opening it and looking inside.

"Clothes. More specifically, your new FBI clothes." She looked up at Dean, raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations, Libby Wilson, you are now an FBI agent," Dean said as he handed her a fake badge. Libby took the badge warily before reading it.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation. Agent Elizabeth Wilson," she read. She glanced back up at Dean. "Why do I need this?"

"Because you're working this case with us," Sam chimed in. Libby's eyes widened.

"Wait. I'm what?"

Sam sat a table across from Jim, the man suspected of his best friend's murder, with Libby and Dean standing behind the hunter. Libby played with the buttons on her blazer, only to have Dean slap her hand away. She frowned at him, but got the message; act professional. "I was in the house when it happened, I didn't even see it," Jim told the fake FBI agents.

"For argument's sake, say we believe you," Dean said.

"Why would you? The cops didn't."

"Well we're not your typical cops," Dean replied. Libby nodded.

"Please, just tell us what you saw," she begged.

"It's not what I saw, it's what I heard." Dean and Libby exchanged curious glances. "Tires squealing, glass breaking." Jim sighed. "It was the car that did it." Both Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows and Libby just stared at Jim.

"Come again?" she asked.

"The car?" Sam inquired as if it were the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"I mean, I heard about the curse, but, I just thought it was a load of crap."

"Curse, what do you—what do you mean, curse?" Libby asked, slowly advancing towards the table. Her high heels echoed throughout the small interrogation room, sending shivers down the boys' spines.

"The car. Little Bastard," Jim clarified. Libby just stared at him in confusion. She could barely grasp the concept of cars, let alone what a Little Bastard was.

"Li—Little Bastard? As in the Little Bastard?" Dean asked excitedly. Sam held his hand out, stopping Dean for a moment.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, uh, what's Little Bastard?" Libby nodded in agreement with Sam, not knowing what the hell it was. She was glad that she wasn't the only one in the room who was clueless about the automobile.

"It's James Dean's car. It's the one he was killed in," Dean replied as if it were obvious. Libby shook her head.

"Who is James Dean?" she asked, but her question went ignored. "Alright then," she grumbled, starting to pace around the room. She grew bored of the interrogation, tuning out most of it. It was obvious the boys wouldn't let her do much but play Fake FBI Trainee.

The boys finished up their interrogation quickly, Libby excited to finally leave the dreaded police station. It was all so depressing to her. People being locked up, framed, or actually being murderers or thieves. All of this evil, she thought, is because of my father. All of it. Every last bit. No wonder why people don't accept me for who I really am.

Libby stood in the corner of the impound garage, watching the brothers inspect the car. At that moment she wished she had gone with Castiel. Maybe it wouldn't have been as boring as watching Dean fangirl over a car dozens people were killed in. "So, what, this is, like, Christine?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head, still in awe by the car. Libby just rolled her eyes. It was a car, not a slice of pizza.

"Christine is fiction. This--This is real," he replied.

"Okay," Sam said. "Enlighten me." Libby decided to listen, wondering if knowing any of this information would help her adapt to the human world better.

"Well after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up." Dean continued to circle the car. "And it repaid him by-" Dean made a single clicking sound with his tongue. "Falling on him. And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack. I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece." Sam studied the car with furrowed eyebrows and curiosity. "Then, in nineteen-seventy, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since. I'm telling you, man, if this—if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy." Sam nodded.

"So how do we find out?" Sam asked.

"Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number," Dean said, gesturing to the car. Everything that had come out of Dean's mouth was like another language to Libby. Sam nodded.

"I'm guessing the engine number—"

"On the engine. Yeah." Libby bit her bottom lip as she studied the car. Please don't kill the only two people who are willing to protect me, she thought. Libby opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything to Dean there was a whispering voice echoing throughout her mind. She looked around the garage for the source, but there was nothing.

"I'm gonna step outside for some air," she announced, the two hunters not paying her any attention. She headed outside anyways, pulling off her blazer as she did so. "Hello?" she called out, walking around the Impala. "Is anyone there?"

"Libby," the voice whispered from behind. She spun around, eyes wide and gasping, only to see that nothing was there. "Libby, it's me." She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, trying to recognize the voice. "Libby, listen to me."

"Who are you?" she asked, "And why are you in my head? More importantly, how?" She walked around the outside of the building, the gravel crunching beneath her high heels.

"It's me, Libby. It's your father." She stopped, a bit of dust kicking up from her abrupt pause in walking. "We need to talk." She shook her head.

"No. Never. I'm never helping you. I'd rather die," she spat, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She heard his voice chuckle. It echoed all around her. She spun around in circles, hoping that he was near and that there was a source it was coming from. Not just her mind.

"Hell wasn't enough for you, was it? Admit it, Libby. You loved it," Lucifer said. She gulped, shaking her head. Her green eyes were wide and her red hair was wild from the wind. Leaves started to swirl around her, encasing her in a funnel of death. It was a constant reminder of her time in Hell. All of the souls begging for mercy.

"Where are you?" she yelled out. "Show yourself, father!" Suddenly the leaves stopped and the wind died down. Everything was calm and at bay for just a few moments before she heard the voice behind her.

"Boo." She turned around slowly, coming face to face with her father in a blond vessel. The man looked to be in his thirties and distressed. Nick was still in the vessel as a backseat driver, forced to watch everything Lucifer did.

Before Libby could say anything she was knocked out, falling to the ground unconscious.

"Good morning." Libby groaned, her eyes fluttering open only for her to shut them immediately due to the bright light. Her hand covered her eyes as she slowly opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the change in light. "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Libby pushed herself to her feet faster than she's ever done before, backing away from her father.

"Where am I?" she asked, frantically looking around the room. Lucifer shrugged.

"A place." Libby scowled. "Oh, lighten up, honey. We're together again. The father-daughter duo back at it again with the torture and vengeance," Lucifer exclaimed, a sick grin plastered on his vessel's face. Libby searched for an exit, but decided that the only way out was the locked steel door behind her father.

"What do you want?"

"Only asking questions, I see. The Winchesters taught you well, my daughter." Lucifer sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose I should thank them. I mean they did let us out, after all. Maybe a fruit basket; a box of chocolates, perhaps. What do you think? Are they fruit or chocolate people?" Libby stayed quiet. "You've been running around with them for a few weeks now. I'm sure you know quite a bit about them." Libby shook her head.

"I don't ask them questions, Father, I just accept what they've graciously given me." He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "A family. People I can protect who would do the same for me." Lucifer stared at her with a flat face for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. He walked over to his daughter, cupping her cheek.

"Oh, Libby. Sweet, sweet, innocent, Libby. You think they actually care about you." His expression changed from taunting to anger in a split second. "You're just a pawn in their game, honey. You're their weapon for winning this war which, by the way, they stand no chance of winning."

"You don't know the Winchesters like I do. I have faith in them." Lucifer nodded, pacing around the room.

"You always did have too much faith in people. I suppose you got that from me. I mean, I did get kicked out of Heaven and banished to Hell for loving my own father too much. Maybe that's why you don't show your love for me; because you're scared I'll leave you on your ass to fend for yourself like God did to me." Libby scoffed, shaking her head and chuckling.

"You think I love you?" she asked. "You're nothing but the Devil to me," she spat, disgust coating her tone of voice. "The only reason I didn't put up a fight when sent to Hell was because I knew it was for the greater good." Libby slowly advanced towards her father, watching as he eyed her carefully. "I'm a weapon, right? I mean every angel, every demon, every hunter, they want me. It's how they'll win this war. I may be just an asset to winning the war and stopping the Apocalypse, but at least they actually care enough to protect me and teach me the ways of the humans." The volume of Libby's voice rose with every word, this being the first time she ever rose her voice at anybody.

"I see they've taught you how to have an attitude. So much for being pure, right?" Lucifer hissed. Libby grabbed his vessel's outer shirt before ramming him into the wall. The wall cracked and Libby looked up, smirking when she realized that they were just in an abandoned building somewhere on Earth.

"My purity was lost when I killed one of your demons to save the Winchesters' lives. So tell me, Father, what makes you think I wouldn't kill more? What makes you think I won't be the one to slaughter you when the time comes?" She let go of Lucifer roughly, stepping back. "Maybe it's time I embrace who I really am. I'm not some weak human." Libby's eyes glowed bright blue, the color of an angel's, and the shadow of her wings appeared on the wall behind her. They were full, not broken like a fallen angel's. "You want a demon? I'll show you a demon." Lucifer's eyes widened as she pulled the demon-killing knife from the waistband of her slacks, running her finger along the edge. She reached out, plunging the blade into her father's gut. She knew that it wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like a bitch.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, breathing heavily, as Libby yanked out the blade. "They'll just kill you when they're done with you, Elizabeth. Don't say I didn't warn you," Lucifer said through clenched teeth.

"Watch your back, Dad," Libby sneered. She disappeared suddenly, the only thing left of her in the room was the echo of the fluttering of her wings.

"Sam. Dean." The Winchesters jumped, spinning around to see Libby holding a knife dripping blood. Their eyes widened. Libby slowly looked up from staring at the knife, tears welling in her eyes. The knife slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor of the motel room.

"Libby, what happened?" Sam asked, rushing over to her side. Dean watched my a distance, wary of the girl and her actions. "Are you okay?" Libby nodded, but paused and shook her head. "Here. Sit down," Sam told her, leading her over to the bed. She seemed to be in shock.

"Where were you?" Dean questioned. "We walked out and you were gone. Your jacket was on the ground, but you were nowhere to be found." Libby's gaze landed on the dusty blazer draped over the back of a wooden chair before she looked up at Sam. "Libby," Dean said, his tone warning her of something.

"My father. He found me," she choked out. Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, eyes wide with worry. "H-he told me that you would just use me and then kill me when you won, but I didn't believe him. You wouldn't do that, right?" The men were silent. "Right?"

"We're, uh, we're not sure what to expect of you," Sam said cautiously. "We know that you're doing everything in your power to be good, but we're afraid you might snap. Dean and I talked it over, Libby, and we think it's best if you go with Cas." Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

"N-No. No! I'm not going anywhere! Sam, he's gonna come after you. Both of you. You need me there to protect you guys," Libby argued. Dean cleared his throat.

"No offense, Libs, but you can barely manage to kill a demon without going into shock. What makes you think you can protect us from Lucifer?" Dean asked. Libby's face fell into a frown and she looked between the two brothers.

"Guys, I just stabbed my father and probably killed his vessel to come back to you two and make sure you were okay." Sam and Dean exchanged shocked glances. Stabbing someone was one of the last things they ever expected Libby to do, especially when it was her father and an innocent man. "I can't just leave."

"Sorry, Libby, but you gotta-"

"Okay," Sam said, interrupting his brother. Dean raised an eyebrow. "You can stay."

"I'm sorry, what? Dude, she's-"

"Staying," Sam replied. He nodded his head towards the door of the motel room. "Dean, can I talk to you outside for a minute? Alone?" Dean glanced at Libby before nodding, following his brother outside. Libby walked around the motel room, bored and scared. Sam and Dean were talking in hushed tones, making Libby sigh when she realized that she couldn't hear them. Her gaze landed on Dean's phone, left unlocked, sitting on the table. She bit her lip, wrapping her arms around herself to keep her from reading Dean's texts. They were his privacy. Libby knew better, but curiosity got the best of her. She dropped her arms and glanced at the door, concluding that the boys wouldn't be in anytime soon, and picked up Dean's phone. She started to scroll through the texts.

Dean

She's dangerous. We need to find a way to stop her.

Dean

She's playing us

Dean

This girl is a threat

Dean

I think she's working with Lucifer

Libby reread the texts over and over, hoping that they weren't real. But they were on the phone screen in her hands. She knew it was one hundred percent real. There hadn't been any replies from the receiving number as far as Libby could tell. She set the phone down, turning it off, just as the door to the motel room opened. Dean was mad, it was clear on his face. He obviously hadn't won the argument. Dean sent Libby a sharp glare, making the girl take a few steps back. "Good news. You're staying," Sam told Libby with a grin and a clap of his hands. Libby nodded mutely, still staring at Dean.

"Hey, wasn't my phone on that side of the table?" Dean asked, pointing to the other end of the table. Sam shrugged and Dean averted his gaze to Libby. "Did you touch my phone?"

"No. I didn't even know it was there," Libby whispered, unable to find her voice. Sam stared at her with a frown.

"Libs, you alright?" She just nodded. "Who's hungry? Why don't we go out to the diner down the road?" Sam suggested. Dean perked up at the mention of food, and Sam expected Libby to at least nod. But she didn't. She shook her head.

"Uh, no thanks. I'm not that hungry," she replied. Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean just stared at the girl.

"You ate like half the things on the menu last time. How are you not hungry? You're never not hungry," Dean told her. She shrugged.

"I'm just not hungry, Dean. Is it that bad that I don't want any food right now?" Libby snapped. Sam raised an eyebrow at her and Dean just stared at her in shock. They had never seen the girl snap at them and she had been with them for a month or two now. Sam and Dean exchanged glances before looking back to the redhead.

"Libby, are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked cautiously. Libby's fists clenched at her sides, gritting her teeth.

"I'm fine!" she shouted. She let out a loud frustrated groan before storming out of the the motel room, letting the door slam behind her. She heard someone following her as she walked out of the parking lot.

"Libby!" Dean shouted. Libby ignored the hunter and just sped up, trying to escape him. "Libby, wait!"

"Just leave me alone, Dean," she replied. She felt her heart being to race, but she wasn't scared. It was adrenaline. Rage driven adrenaline, something she had only experienced when she killed the demon the day she met the Winchesters.

"Can't exactly do that, Sweet Pea. What's going on with you? First you stab Lucifer, then you refuse food, and now you're trying to leave when all you've done is cling to us. Is there something going on we should know about?" Dean asked, jogging to the girl. She stopped abruptly, turning around and facing Dean as he slowed to a halt in front of her.

"I don't know what's going on. I was once so scared to even mutter a curse word and now I'm not hesitating to stab my own father. Dean, I-I'm scared," she whispered. Dean stared into her eyes, searching for something. He didn't know what, but he was trying to find something in her eyes that showed she wasn't Libby Wilson.

"Libby, we'll figure this out. Why don't we all just go out to eat, okay?" Dean suggested. Libby tilted her head to the side in confusion, studying Dean. "What?"

"Just a few minutes ago you wanted me gone. Why the change of heart?" Dean rolled his eyes. "No, Dean, I'm serious. I've never met anyone as bipolar as you." Dean looked truly offended by her statement.

"I'm not bipol-" He let out an aggravated sigh. "I'm learning to tolerate you for Sam's sake. He wants you around for some odd, unknown reason so I'm gonna keep you around. I still don't trust you."

"I don't trust me either," Libby admitted. Dean nodded slowly, suddenly feeling unsafe and uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Glad we're on the same page then," he told her warily before nodding his head towards the Impala. "Come on. Sam's waiting on us." Libby eyed Sam leaning against the Impala, looking around, before shaking her head.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna take a walk to cool down. I just need some time to myself after what happened today." Dean nodded, totally fine having dinner without Satan's Spawn.

"Y-yeah. Sounds good. Call us if you need us," he told her before turning on his heel and walking away. Libby let out a sigh and ran a hand threw her hair, glancing around the parking lot before taking off down the sidewalk.

After an hour of walking Libby found herself at a dead end in a dark alley. She turned around, letting out a huff of air. Libby had no idea where she was and her phone had died a few miles back. She walked out of the alley only for a man to step in front of her, blocking her way out. She went to step around him when he moved in front of her. "Excuse me," Libby said politely.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" he questioned, eyeing her head to toe. Libby stook a step back, their bodies now inches apart.

"Sir, I really need to-"

"Why don't we have some fun?" The angel tilted her head to the side, confused. "What's your name?"

"I don't think it's smart to tell you. Now if you excuse me-" He grabbed her shoulders and shoved Libby against the alley of the wall. Her head smacked the brick roughly and she clutched the back of her head in pain.

"I asked what your name is, girl," he growled. The small redhead's eyes widened and fear rushed through her veins. Dean had warned Libby about people like him when Sam had taken off. He told her that they wouldn't let her go unless they got what they wanted, and it was something Libby wouldn't give. His hand started to dig through her pockets, searching for something. A wallet, perhaps.

"I-I don't have any money. Please just let me go," Libby begged. She went to push him away when he shoved her into the wall again.

"No money, huh?" Libby shook my head. "I guess there's something else you can give me then." Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers fumbled on the buttons of Libby's shirt. The petite woman ducked under his arms, starting to run, when he grabbed her hair and yanked her back. She let out a yelp as he threw her to the ground.

"I think the lady told you to let her go," a familiar female voice said. The man turned around and Libby glanced around him to see Meg. What was she doing here? The man just smirked, chuckling.

"And what are you gonna do about it, honey?" Meg laughed, pulling a blade out of her pocket and twirling it in her hands. "You're not gonna do anything to me." Meg raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure of that, big boy?" she asked, slowly walking towards him. Libby was frozen in fear, wondering if Meg was there to take her back to her father. Before the man could even get out a word, Libby watched as Meg plunged the blade in the side of his neck before yanking it out. Libby let out a choked scream, her hand flying up to her mouth to silence herself. His body fell to the ground, the blood seeping out of his neck and pooling around him. Meg's gaze averted from the dead man over to Libby, helpless and scared, on the ground. She held her hand out. "I'm helping you up, not killing you," Meg told her. Libby sat there for a second before reluctantly taking her hand, letting the demon pull her up. "Thought you were the big bad Angel of Hell," Meg said, pocketing the knife and walking towards the pub next to the pair of supernatural girls. Libby caught up with her, struggling to stay in step with her.

"Why are you here?" Elizabeth hissed as Meg pushed open the door to the building.

"Why are you questioning it? I just saved your ass from getting raped," she replied, heading straight for the bar.

"I had it handled." She just scoffed, shaking her head with an amused smile.

"Yeah, if an angel getting tossed around like a rag doll by a human is 'having it handled'," she told Libby, flagging down the bartender. Libby frowned, knowing that she was right. I wasn't strong enough to defend myself against some human. "Besides, where are the other two musketeers?"

"Dinner." Meg raised an eyebrow.

"And they didn't take you along?"

"I didn't want to go." The bartender placed a tray of shots in front of Meg and Libby, Libby watching as Meg downed a few of the alcoholic drinks.

"I'm not gonna drink these by myself," Meg told her as if it were obvious as to why she requested a whole tray. Libby bit her lip, eyeing the alcohol before deciding against it. She simply shook her head. "Oh, come on, Libby Lu. Don't tell me you don't drink alcohol either." Libby's gaze lowered to the bartop. "Libby, even Jesus drank alcohol. A few shots won't hurt anybody." Meg threw her head back as she downed another shot, slamming the glass down on the bartop.

"I already tried a shot when I was with Dean that first night. It's absolutely disgusting. And besides, I was meant to be better than Jesus," Libby explained. Meg just chuckled, shaking her head.

"Honey, you've already broken your promise to God by killing that demon and stabbing Lucifer. You might as well make it worth it," Meg replied, raising another glass and chugging it. A pastor slid onto the bar stool next to Libby, confusing her. "Look who else is breaking his promise to God," Meg said as she leaned over to Libby. Libby just rolled her eyes.

"Humans make mistakes. I don't."

"You shouldn't judge until you've heard people's stories," the pastor told the girls, spinning the barstool to look at them. Meg just raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? And what's your story, Father?" Meg asked, resting her chin in her hand in curiosity. Libby just took a sip of her water.

"My wife was cheating on me and we're getting a divorce. I think God would forgive me for having a few drinks," the pastor told the girls. Libby frowned and Meg just chuckled.

"Sorry to disappoint, but God's not here. He left us." Libby nudged the demon's side.

"Meg," she muttered, "shut up." The pastor just shrugged, sending Libby a grateful smile.

"It's your right to believe whatever you want, but I do hope you find your way to God." Meg just scoffed and rolled her eyes. The pastor's gaze landed on Libby. "And you. You seem devoted to God." Libby sighed, shrugging.

"Not as much as I used to be. I have my complications with Him," she admitted, taking another sip of her water. "But I can only hope that He'll give me an explanation for doing what He did, and I can only pray that He'll forgive me." The pastor raised an eyebrow at the redhead.

"Forgive you for what? Drifting away from Him?" Libby shook her head, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. For giving into evil. For sitting at a bar and having drinks with a demon. For talking shit about Him. "I think God can find a way to forgive you. I mean it's not like you killed someone...right?" Libby cleared her throat rather awkwardly.

"What if...what if it were out of self defense? Do you think He'd forgive me?" The pastor nodded his head to the side, somehow not phased by Libby practically admitting she killed a man. But it wasn't a man. It was a servant of Hell. He deserved to die, right?

"Do you forgive yourself?" Libby shook her head. "Forgive yourself then see where that takes you." Without another word the pastor turned his seat back around, thanking the bartender for the glass of beer that slid in front of him. Meg sighed, sliding a shot in front of Libby.

"Meg, I told you-"

"Listen, Libby Lu. Your daddy sure does love spittin' out orders and I happily follow them, but I do know this; you're nothing like him. How anyone could be in Hell that long without giving in is unheard of, but maybe, just maybe, you can defeat him. Now, don't think I'm encouraging you to do shit, because I really don't want you and those hunters to win. But I do want you to help us. He's your family, Libby Lu, and you stick with family. Besides, we need you. You're powerful." Libby rolled her eyes, sliding the shot back over to Meg. Meg just glared at the angel, pissed.

"Meg, I've told you before; I made my mistakes and I'm not making them again. I'll find my way to win this war and you find yours." Libby spun around in her seat, looking around the pub for any sign of where she was. "Where am I, anyways?"

"About ten miles from your motel," Meg replied with a smirk. Libby sighed, earning a nudge in the gut from Meg. "Have some fun before you go out killing some more demons...or angels." Libby shot Meg a sharp glare. "You're no ordinary angel. Use that to your advantage." Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at the demon.

"And how do I do that?"

"Are you going to join our side?"

"No."

"Then I won't tell you."

"Rude."

"It's called being smart. I see it's a trait you don't have. Must be from spending so much time with these pesky humans," Meg replied. Libby raised her eyebrows, not believing what Meg had just said.

"You were human once."

"'Once' being the key word. I'm not anymore, and neither are you. Actually, you were never human. The big man upstairs just created a body for you. It looks quite cozy. Ever think of getting another one?" Libby shook her head. "Might need to after tonight." Fed up with Meg and her comments, Libby pushed herself off of the barstool. "Where are you going?"

"To find Sam and Dean. You're boring me," Libby replied simply before walking out of the bar. The breeze sent chills down Libby's spine, causing her to wrap her leather jacket around her tighter before walking. The man's body was still in the alley, no one taking notice to it yet. Libby frowned down at it but kept going, trying to retrace her steps back to the motel. Hoping the the phone would magically recharge, Libby pulled it out of the inside pocket of her leather jacket and held down the power button. The screen never lit up. Libby sighed and looked around in search of a phone. There were no payphones around and no people. For a Sunday night the town was awfully empty, setting off warning bells in Libby's mind.

"Lost?" Libby gasped and spun around only to see a teenage boy staring at her. She let out a silent breath of relief, letting her hand fall from her chest.

"Um, yes. Do you have a phone I can borrow?" Libby held hers up. "Mine died." The boy nodded and pulled out his Blackberry, handing it to the hunted angel. She sent him a grateful smile before dialing Dean's number.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice deep and gruff.

"Dean?"

"Libby? Where the hell are you?" Libby looked up at the pub, reading the sign.

"Mel's Pub," she said simply. Dean nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright. I'll come pick you up. We're not far. Just stay there," Dean ordered. He hung up before Libby could even get in another reply. She frowned down at the phone before handing it back to the boy, thanking him. Libby started to pace, a habit she had started in place of biting her nails a few centuries ago. The cold nipped at her nose, turning it a slight shade of pink. Just then Meg walked out of the bar, heading straight for Libby.

"Go away," Libby grunted, not looking over to the demon. Meg just sighed, stuffing her hands in the front pockets of her jeans.

"You're on the wrong side of this war."

"I'm sure my father told you to tell me that," Libby replied, looking around the streets for the Impala. Meg shook her head. "He'd say anything to have me fight with him."

"Nope. He doesn't even know I'm here. If we had you then we'd win without a doubt. Ice Michael, take over Heaven, and bring Hell on Earth. You could be a ruler, Libby Lu." Libby just scoffed, shaking her head.

"I don't want to be a ruler and I definitely don't want Hell on Earth. Hell is...well, Hell. I believe that I was created for a reason, Meg. You may not, but I do. I'm a soldier of Heaven, not Hell." Meg let out a frustrated groan, desperately trying to reach out to Libby and get her to accept.

"That's just it, Elizabeth! With us you're not a soldier, but a leader. Call it whatever you want, but everyone wants you on our side. Heaven doesn't believe in you anymore. Not since you were let out of Hell. They believe that you gave in to Lucifer's ways. I mean, who wouldn't after being trapped down there for millenniums?" Libby turned, staring at Meg with a flat look.

"I can convince Heaven that I'm no threat. Meg, did my father ever tell you the real story as to why I was sent to Hell, or was it just that they just thought I'd end up like him?" Meg stared at the angel in confusion. The latter was the only logical reason they'd send an innocent girl to Hell. "I'm a weapon. One that's dangerous enough to take out the whole world, and maybe even the universe. I was sent there so that I couldn't destroy anything. You shouldn't want my help. No one should." Libby heard a honk as the Impala rolled up to the sidewalk. "I need to get going."

"Just consider my offer, Libby. You know how to find me." Libby shook her head.

"Don't count on it," she told Meg before climbing in the back of the Impala. Sam stared out the window before turning around in his seat to face Libby.

"Was that-"

"Yes."

"What did she-"

"Doesn't matter." Sam reached out and ran his thumb across Libby's cheek, frowning when he saw that it was a bruise and blood and not just mud. Libby smacked his hand away.

"The hell happened to you?" Dean asked as he drove away, eyeing Libby in the rearview mirror. "You look like complete shit." Libby shrugged.

"I fell," she lied. She didn't want to admit that she had to have a demon save her ass. She was claimed to be the most powerful being to ever walk after God, yet she needed a demon to save her from some human. "I just want to sleep." The brothers nodded, Sam turning back around in his seat.

Sam climbed in the bed next to Libby, turning off the lamp. Dean was already asleep, knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. But Libby knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, the events of that night playing on a constant loop in her head. "Libby," Sam whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Just go to sleep," Libby replied, turning on her left side and facing the door to the motel room. Sam frowned but nodded, closing his eyes and letting sleep take him. A silent tear ran down Libby's cheek when she realized how useless she was to the Winchesters. She was just playing them by now, risking their lives when she could be out hunting down her father. Her fits of rage were the only things keeping her safe, but they could also cause someone to get hurt. Someone like Sam, Dean, or Bobby. Libby wasn't willing to risk their lives.

"You rang?" Libby spun around to see Michael in a vessel, hands shoved in his front pockets. "It's not everyday Lucifer's daughter wants to meet up with you. Are you suicidal or something?" Michael asked. Libby nodded her head to the side.

"Or something," she replied. "We need to make this fast. The boys are waiting for me." Michael chuckled, shaking his head.

"Working with the Winchesters. Dumb move on your part. They're gonna kill you." I just shrugged.

"So I've been told. Anyways, I got a problem that you might be able to help with." Michael raised an eyebrow. "Heaven sees me as a threat because of my time downstairs. I never broke."

"You killed a demon your first day back," he deadpanned.  I nodded.

"Exactly. A demon. Not a human, not an angel. A demon. I want to help. Frankly, I don't want Hell on Earth because it really sucked. You need me, I want to help."

"On one condition."

"Anything."

"Dean and Sam say yes to my brother and I." Libby laughed. It was a genuine laugh, actually thinking it was a joke. But then she saw Michael's face.

"Wait. You're not kidding, are you?" Michael shook his head. "No. No way in hell am I letting you use those men as a vessel."

"Elizabeth-"

"Use me." Michael furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Think about it, Michael. You'd have all the power in the world with me as a vessel. You would defeat Lucifer like-" She snapped her fingers. "That."

"He's your father. We can't trust you with that." Libby scowled at the Archangel, pissed at what he was telling her. "We want to use you, Elizabeth, we do. But we just can't trust you. I'm sorry, Liz, I truly am."

"Don't call me that," she growled. An amused smirk appeared on Michael's lips. It was the nickname that all of the Angels had used back when she walked among the humans. It was the nickname God used.

"So that's why you go by a different nickname. You don't want to be reminded of your past," Michael said in realization. 

"I don't want to be reminded of the betrayal. God's just full of empty promises, Michael." Michael cupped Libby's cheek, smiling thoughtfully at her.

"Oh, Elizabeth. I remember when you would happily oblige to any order given. When you were so polite."

"This is the twenty-first century. Things change," Libby spat, smacking his hand away. "I said I want to help, not be your bitch." Michael raised an eyebrow at her choice of words.

"My niece, I appreciate your concern but maybe it's best you stay out of this war. Maybe you should pick, what's the term, Team Switzerland?" Michael suggested. Libby chuckled, shaking her head.

"I see who you really are now. You made yourself an enemy, Michael. Consider me Team Winchester," Libby told her uncle before walking out of the gas station. She opened the back door to the Impala, sliding in.

"Where's the pie?" Dean asked, noticing that Libby got in with empty hands.

"They were out," Libby lied smoothly. Her fists clenched at her sides as she tried to control her anger. "Let's just get as far away from here as possible." Michael watched as the car containing the three hunters sped off, a scowl resting on his vessel's face.

That girl is going to ruin everything, Michael thought.