Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

10. Born Under a Bad Sign

Eliza|| Men of Letters Bunker

I made sure to wake up extra early the next morning.

Sam and Dean were bound to be exhausted and sleep in from waking up so early yesterday so I figured this would be my chance to feel up the library without anyone breathing down my neck.

Although I felt like I was waiting for a nine hundred foot tall demon child to bust down the library walls and grab me by the foot, I was in a pretty happy merry mood.

I was never going to say it out loud, but I developed a knack for reading fat books for hours at a time. I guess that happens when you obsess over the same question for four years and spend eight out of seven days of the week holed up at a different library. And now I found the holy grail of all libraries, ever.

I needed a 'this girl is satisfied' t-shirt.

I excitedly grabbed my journal, my pencil case, and iPod, already humming like it was my wedding day and closed the door to my room behind me. But when I rounded the corner of the hallway, a huge, black bottomless pit formed in my stomach and my grin faltered into a foul scowl.

Kevin had already set up camp on one of the tables. He was surrounded by at least ten books and a hundred pages, no doubt translating that stupid demon rock. I huffed out a childish groan and even kicked an invisible punching bag a little before sighing and walking into the library anyway.

"Morning," I spat. I am aware that I am a child.

But he didn't realize I was there even though I made an effort to loudly scrape the chair from the table opposite to him. He finally looked up only when I slammed my book down accidentally.

"Hi." I gave him a cheesy grin. He spared me a quick smile.

I was going to quietly mind my beez wax after that and pick out a book about hell lore but I knew we were going to have a first conversation sooner or later. Might as well get over the awkwardness now. I sighed inwardly as I gathered my stuff again and set them down on Kevin's table instead. His eyes dragged from his writing to the seat I was about to take but he didn't protest.

"So...how'd you sleep?" He didn't, it was obvious. His hair was disheveled, he was unshaven, and his entire face looked darker because of the circles under his eyes.

He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "I don't sleep." He made circles next to his ear with his pencil. "Crowley won't let me. He's in my head, all day long."

"I'm so sorry," I expressed sincerely. "But, I mean, you at least slept a little, right?"

"I avoid it as much as possible but I am human," he looked at the table when he was talking. "It's fine. The sooner I translate the quicker Sam and Dean could kill Crowley."

I nodded and he got back to writing.

"Why don't you try taking sleeping pills? They'll knock you right out."

"I can sleep. I just don't want to. The nightmares begin when I close my eyes." He shook his head like he was remembering something horrible. "Hellhounds, mostly. I could hear them growling and gnashing their teeth. And it's always so vivid I always think he'd somehow found me. I'm sorry." He apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to go off like that. Haven't talked to anyone in weeks. Anyways. You probably don't want to hear it."

"Ah no, no. It's no problem." I smiled warmly even though I felt like regret was nipping away at my insides. How was I so stupid? I called Crowley yesterday, I went to the King of Hell voluntarily, expecting good to come out of it when this is what he did to people. This is what he actually was.