LILITH | DEAN WINCHESTER [ ✓ ]

55. pestilence

◖𓈈﹗﹙chapter fifty-five﹚
❛ ▬▬ the one where they open their hearts . . . ❜

Lilith began to think that the task assigned to her by the queen was immense and beyond her intelligence and capability. She felt tired and useless. The witch set fire to the spreadsheet with her last attempt to figure out how the hell to bring an angel to life.

If resurrecting a human was extremely difficult, bringing an angel to life was the next level, damn it, level three. It seemed easier to her to make a demon regain its humanity and body. There were several places created by God and governed by peculiar creatures. The most well-known were Heaven, Earth, and Hell: angels, humans, and demons. But there were other interesting places like Purgatory, where monsters went after they died and which had been the primitive prison for untamable creatures. The Void was another mysterious place in the supreme work, where angels and demons rested after they died. Lilith had to knock on the door and politely ask the entity that governed it to bring the angel Abdiel back to life. She couldn't even understand in her mind what she was doing lately —and drug use had nothing to do with it— sometimes her mind simply became saturated and disconnected.

The witch was alone in the classroom with only her cat Prayer licking his balls, and watching him was more entertaining than thinking up another calculation to make the spell work.

"I'm tired," she said, throwing the sheets to the floor and startling Prayer, who fell off the table. Lilith took out her MP3 and flopped onto the sofa to listen to Madonna. "I'm so stupid cause I use to live in a fuzzy dream and I use to believe in the pretty pictures. That were all around me but now I know for sure that I was stupid..."

*American Life* was an album she had enjoyed since it came out; she remembered the media backlash Madonna had faced for expressing her political views and exposing the hypocrisy of American society, which was so intense that Madonna had to flee to England. But she spoke for herself, and that was something Lilith adored about Madonna; it reminded her of her mother. How many times had she seen her mom get angry with her superiors? Oh, countless times! She had a distinctive pattern: she would lock herself in her office and walk around, tapping her heel on the floor. She would shout and slam the table, there would be a huge silence, she would argue again, and then say goodbye. Another silence that motivated her to get off her ass from the chair and do the household chores her mom had assigned her but hadn't done because painting her nails was much more fun.

Her mother and Madonna were very similar women, and the queen also shared the same traits of freedom, respect, and power. All the things she wanted and wasn't, or was and lost.

"Prayer," she called her cat, who was drinking water. "We're going to see Mom, come on, put on your leash."

Unlike the first few months, the frequency of her visits to her mother's grave had decreased to two or three times a week and for one or two hours. She still went every week and took her cat with her. At the grave, she replaced the wilted flowers with the usual lilies she bought from the nearest florist, Mrs. Pots. Lilith was happy that her white flowers weren't the only ones there; sometimes Dean's yellow flowers and some beautiful roses mistakenly sent to Bobby over time were also there. She had tried to find out who was leaving flowers (quite often) for her mother. She asked Monday's security guard, Mr. González, and he said he would ask his colleagues, and today they would give her an answer.