A Light in the Dark
Chapter 1 - Twisted and Decayed
⊹summary⊹ After Lucifer escaped from his cage in Hell, Sam and Dean Winchester follow a lead to put the devil away for good with the help of angel Castiel. They end up in a small dive bar in Lebanon, Kansas, where they meet 26 year old Mia Cross. Mia grew up in foster care after the strange disappearance of her family when she was four, and has been chasing answers ever since. After authorities closed the case and dismissed Mia’s concerns about details not adding up, she took things into her own hands and started digging into other explanations for the disappearance of her family.
⊹warnings/tags⊹ slow burn, angst, pre-relationship, neglect, trauma, original character POV
⊹word count⊹ 1,628 words
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My whole life I’ve been labelled as a “freak”.
They might not have used that exact word but their faces said it all. Their looks would linger quietly in the hallways and classrooms. Foster families would eventually, and inevitably, decide I was “too complicated”. Teachers were always telling me I “have issues fitting in”, and “maybe if you act a bit more normal you would have more friends”.
But I realised at an early age that I didn’t care about “fitting in”, or “being normal”. All I ever wanted was answers.
Answers about my family’s disappearance. Where did they go? Why did they leave me alone in a world that treats me like I’m some kind of parasite, something that would infect and rot everything it can sink its teeth into?
I was four when it happened. Old enough to exist in the story, but not old enough to remember it. No one ever had any real answers for me, just sympathetic smiles and soft voices that said “I’m sorry for your loss.” Fifteen years ago the case went cold and the cops shut the file for good. It was a cold day, in the middle of fall - the kind of day that makes everything feel slower, heavier. “Most likely nothing suspicious.” They said, contradictory to all the dead-end leads that made no sense. A part of me always knew that day would come, the day it would be officially labelled unsolved. I just didn’t want to admit it.
On the day the cops delivered the news, I was already in my third foster care home. A home that was “safe”, “stable”, and occupied by “a loving couple and their two children.” Well, that’s what the paperwork said. It was a lie. It was just another place I learned how to make myself smaller and less noticeable. They had two kids - Miles, a twelve year old boy, and a little girl, four years old, who looked at me like I was her whole world. They called her Penny, and for a moment I got to experience the feeling of being an older sister. And then it was gone.
These days, I work in a dive bar in Lebanon, Kansas. It smells like cheap beer and old leather. The kind of place people come to when they want to disappear, but still be seen.
“Hey, Roy,” I greet as I pass, heading towards the bar to start my shift.
“Evenin’,” Roy takes a sip of his whiskey, still sitting in the same stool as he was on my first day.
He had noticed my rigid body, the nerves in my voice, my shaky hands when passing him his glass of whiskey.
“You’re new,” He said then, more statement than question. I nodded. “You’ll figure it out, but don’t let any of these sons of bitches walk all over you in the process,” He lifted his glass like a toast and took a mouthful. I smiled, I knew then that Roy would become someone I could trust.
“Closing shift tonight?” He asks as I step behind the bar.
I nod, with a warm smile. “Yep, I’ll take good care of ya tonight,” Roy chuckles as he sets down his glass.
“You’re a good girl,” He says quietly.
“Mia, I gotta run, but can you make sure Bill over there gets his beer?” Tish calls as she passes behind me, already half out the door. “Thanks, you’re a doll.” She blows a kiss and then disappears into the night. I sigh, grabbing a beer from the slightly-colder-than-room-temperature fridge and sliding it over to Bill, who catches it in one hand and tilts his hat with the other as a “thank you”.
The bell above the door chimes. I look up with a warm smile, ready to greet whoever walks in. It's three men I haven't seen before. One of them is tall, with shoulder-length brown hair and a deep crease between his brows, like he’s been holding onto a problem for too long. The second wears a long beige trench coat, his expression hard to place. The third is in a brown leather jacket and has tired eyes, looking like he’s barely keeping it together for the sake of the other two.
“Three beers please, sweetheart,” the man in the leather jacket says as they take a seat at the far end of the bar.
“Any specific beer?” I ask.
“Cheapest you’ve got,” he replies, offering a small, tired smile.
“Coming right up,” I say before turning to the fridge to grab three bottles. “They don’t exactly taste great, but they do the job if you’re trying to forget something.”
A weak laugh slips out of him. He looks down for a moment before shaking it off.
“Yeah… well, we could probably use a few more of those,” he mutters, toasting his bottle towards me in acknowledgment.
I give a small nod and I slide the other two beers across the counter. He takes them back to the table and sits between his two friends.
"Don't think I've seen them around before," Roy mutters from his stool, not looking up from his drink.
"No," I say quietly. "Me neither,"
He takes a slow sip. "They give you any trouble, you send them my way,"
I glance over my shoulder at the three men. "They don't seem like trouble."
“Well, that's what trouble usually looks like," he replies with a smirk. "That's how they get ya."
“Oh yeah? Are you speaking from experience, Roy?" I tease, placing a playful hand on my hip.
“I was worth all the trouble I caused,” he laughs. “If Dee were still here she’d tell you herself.” I couldn’t help but smile. Roy still talked about his wife as if she were here, sitting on that empty stool next to him.
“I wish I could have met her,” I say softly as I start to wipe down the wet counter next to him.
“Yeah, me too kid,” Roy sighs, drinking the last of his whiskey. “Madder than a wet hen she was,” he chuckles.
“Can I get you another?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, s’getting late. I better get home and feed the dogs,” he stands, grabbing his coat. “And don’t forget, keep an eye on them.” He motions his head towards the three men.
I laugh, “I got it, Roy. Get yourself home now.” And with that, he leaves. I watch him walk through the door, the bell chiming behind him.
I look back over my shoulder towards the three strangers. They’re speaking low, almost whispering, hunched over some pieces of paper splayed in front of them. Maps, maybe. Notes. I can’t tell from here. Something about it feels weird, but my eyes linger over them for a moment. I move down the bar closer to them, wiping the already clean surface as I go.
“Lucifer is no longer contained.” The one wearing the trench coat states, very matter of factly.
Lucifer?
I pause for half a second before I continue wiping the bar, slower this time.
“We can’t let any more demons out of Hell,” the tall one whispers sharply.
Demons? Hell?
They continue to mutter quietly under their breaths.
“Alright so how do we summon one of those things?” the one in the leather jacket spits.
The tall one sighs. “I- I don’t know. There has to be something in the lore-“
“It depends on the kind of demon,” I say quietly, before I can stop myself. I don’t look up from the single spot I’m polishing on the bar.
“What?” the man in the leather jacket asks, confused. I sigh, putting down the cloth. I look to them, they’re already looking at me.
“Most methods,” I say more carefully, “involve a circle. Blood. Something to… bind it long enough to talk,” I swallow hard.
Silence.
“Or so I’ve read.”
The man in the leather jacket lets out a short, humourless laugh.
“How the hell do you know that?” He asks.
“I’ve done a lot of reading-“
“About demons?” he cuts in before I can finish.
I freeze.
“I… yeah,” I admit quietly. “And… other things.” I immediately regret saying too much.
“What other things?” the tall one asks carefully.
“You know… like vampires, werewolves,” I bite my lip to stop myself from saying too much. “Things like that.”
“And why would you be reading about things like that?” the one in the leather jacket steps in again.
“I- It’s a long story,” I say nervously.
“We got time,” he retorts, flatly.
“My parents, when I was 4, they disappeared,” I look at him. “The cops never found any bodies, never gave me any answers. So I started looking into other explanations.”
“She’s telling the truth,” the one in the trench coat leans over to him. I stay quiet.
“Alright,” he says. “So you said we need a circle of blood? And then what?”
“And then you recite something in Latin,” I oblige. “I don’t remember it word for word exactly. And paint some kind of sigil, and-“
I cut myself off. “Wait, why are you trying to summon a demon anyway?”
“Lucifer escaped his cage in Hell, and-“ the man in the trench coat starts.
“Cas,” the one in the leather jacket holds his hand up to cut him off.
“Do you have any books on this?” the tall one asks.
“Yeah, I could bring some tomorrow?” I ask.
“We’ll be here,” the one in the leather jacket replies.
“Okay,” I nod.
“I’m Sam, by the way,” the tall one says. “And this is Cas,” he points at the man in the trench coat. “And that’s Dean,” he points to the man in the leather jacket.
“Mia,” I reply with a smile. “So, I guess I’ll see you all again tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Dean says finally, not really looking at me. “See ya tomorrow.”
Sam gives a small, polite nod. “Thanks for your help.”
“Thank you for the information exchange.” Cas says.
“No problem,” I smile.
They head for the door, the bell chimes and I watch them leave.
Demons. Hell. Lucifer. I shouldn’t still be thinking about it.
But I am.
