Highway to Hell

Chapter 1: Rise of the Dead

Okay hey guys! So here's the second book, sequel to **Carry On, Wayward Child**, so if you haven't read that I highly suggest you do otherwise you'll be more lost than Castiel watching the pizza man and the babysitter (and he was pretty damn lost). I haven't edited so sorry for any mistakes, thanks for reading and tell me what you think!

Enjoy!

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A Year Later

I sat on my bed, stomach down and legs crossed in the air as I concentrated on the cards in my hands. The boy sitting in the chair beside me glanced up and tried to peek. I swatted him away and sat up, flipping my hair behind my shoulders and holding the cards so he couldn't see them.

"Nice try, Michael." I smirked.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He picked up a card from the deck and sighed. His light blue eyes scanned the contents before he slammed the cards on my nightstand. "I'm done."

I groaned. "Not again man, come on. Can't you sit through one game without giving up?"

"It's a stupid game."

"Would you rather be bickering with my dad?" I raised an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth to argue, but clamped it shut and stretched. "We don't bicker."

"Right, you argue about manly things, like the failed apocalypse and your vessel choice," I mocked him, leaning back against the wall. "Why the kid, anyway?"

"My rightful vessel refused," he pouted.

"Dean?" I scoffed. "I keep forgetting about that. He was yours and Sam was Dad's." I tried imagining Lucifer possessing Sam and still being my dad, and a chill went down my spine. "That would've been so weird."

"Why such a girlie room?" He motioned around the small room I had created for myself.

"It's not girlie," I defended myself. There wasn't even much in there; besides the bed, there was my nightstand, an empty dresser, a wall mirror, and a few posters of my favorite bands hanging on the walls. "You're just jealous God never gave you enough freedom to decorate your own place, wherever the hell that is. Or was."

He glared at me. "Why must you jab at me whenever you get the chance?"

"Because I'm Satan's daughter, and I can." I smiled and jumped off the bed. "I'm bored."

"Welcome to the Cage," he sighed, snapping his fingers. My room disappeared. "Come on, let's see what my idiotic brother is up to."

I followed him down a hall that appeared before us, thoughts wandering. To the outside world, it had been a year since I had died, but to us it had been almost a hundred twenty years. Time was different in Hell, I guess. During those years, I had learned a lot about the Winchesters, through Michael's and my father's eyes of course, and had remembered most of my past life. My angel life, actually.

My mother was Naomi, who had pulled me into her office a couple times before my death and tried to protect me. I had lived with my father since my birth in the Cage until Azazel and Ipos started messing with crap. Once my existence was known, they tried to recruit me, and when I refused tried to kill me. The Winchesters killed Azazel and Ipos stayed hidden until he found me living as a human, and once I was old enough tried once again. Fortunately Dean and Sam saved me, but not before Ipos messed with some stuff and my true soul was awakened.

As far as I knew Ipos was still alive somewhere in the depths of Hell, but I couldn't care less. He was where he belonged and so was I. I wasn't meant for upstairs, for a normal human life or even an angel life in Heaven. No one would accept me, me being the daughter of Satan and all. And once Sam and Dean found out...