Where the Lines Overlap

...

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

It was dark out, little pinpricks of light dotting the night sky and the air was cold. Ashleigh shivered violently, goosebumps prickling her bare arms and cursed the fact that she'd left her jacket back in her apartment. Really, the one day she actually needed it, she left it somewhere. Typical, she snorted, rubbing her cold hands over her arms. It didn't seem to be helping, so she resigned to shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans simply to have something to do with them. A sharp gust of wind blew past her, ruffling her hair and pushing it over her face. Growling under her breath, she spat out a mouthful of blonde hair and began the long walk back to her apartment. In the dark. Just fucking perfect.

Her car had been totalled by some asshole who obviously couldn't drive and was down at the mechanics - after she'd had a good long argument with her insurance provider. So all in all, it was safe to say that she hadn't had a particularly good week. The street lights cast golden pools of light onto the wet sidewalk and when she stepped under one of the bulbs, it almost looked like she had her own halo of light. Ignoring the fact that angels probably didn't look like a soaked, pissy girl in a pair of ratty jeans who was freezing her ass off at eleven o'clock at night, she could almost kid herself into thinking that the golden light made her look… different. Almost beautiful.

She stayed frozen like that, gazing at her reflection in the shop window she was facing until another freezing current of wind snapped her out of her daydream - most likely caused by lack of sleep. Ashleigh was about to continue walking when she noticed two dark, stocky figures standing behind her, reflected in the glass. They were a good fifty metres away and they stood motionless, side by side, dressed in identical suits. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously and she took a deep purposeful inhale, straightening herself up and beginning a quick walk down the pavement. Soon after, her ears picked up two more sets of heavy footsteps and swallowing heavily, she walked faster. Her boots clicked briskly against the concrete and she fought to keep herself from turning around and making eye contact with the two strangers.

But when the footsteps neared her, she gave in to her fight or flight instincts and began an adrenaline fueled sprint down the pavement. The heels of her boots kicked up water from the puddles and soaked the bottoms of her jeans, the heavy, damp fabric rubbing uncomfortably against her bare skin. She dared a quick look over her shoulder, blowing the hair out of her face and stopped short when she saw that nobody was following her.

"What the -" but she never got to finish that last breathless sentence because when she turned around, a fist clipped the side of her jaw. The force sent her sprawling to the pavement, and she tasted coppery blood filling her mouth before the lights faded out.

...

Trapped in darkness and terrified beyond words, Ashleigh jolted awake with a loud gasp, inhaling the warm, stale air deeply and gulping for air as if she had been drowning. But she couldn't breathe properly - a piece of cloth was shoved in her mouth, and she gagged and retched at it, trying to spit it out. She tried moving her arms to pull the cloth out, but rope chafed her wrists and she let out a pathetic sob, flopping back onto the wall. Why hadn't she left earlier? Maybe she would have avoided all this mess, and she might have been curled up at home, watching reruns of Friends, bowl of popcorn in hand.

Which made her wonder, where was she? She blinked purposefully and tried to focus on the blurry shapes scattered in the darkness. The room she was trapped in was dimly lit, and she squinted her eyes to try and make out where she was, but agony twisted her stomach and she lolled forwards like a helpless ragdoll, tears streaming down her cheeks. Everything inside of her ached and she felt weak and lifeless. Her heart was beating too fast to be normal, her pulse throbbing in her ears. She wanted to be sick, her head was spinning and she couldn't form a coherent thought other than oh God, I'm actually going to die, I'm going to DIE, what do I do?

Her breathing hitched again and she coughed, choking on the ball of fabric shoved in her mouth. She wriggled around, jumping when she brushed against something warm, something that felt suspiciously like human skin. She let out a surprised "Mmph!" in shock and scooted away, breathing heavily, until she slammed back into the door. It rattled loudly and echoed around the small space, the sound reverberating.

She froze, eyes wide and tensed up. Curling back into the wall, she tried to remain hidden in the musty, warm darkness. Crates and boxes poked into her back uncomfortably, but she paid the slight twinges of pain no mind. She jerked suddenly, hearing voices near the door and held her breath, closing her eyes tightly. The sound of the door creaking open sent shivers down her spine and light, cold and fluroescent flooded the room. Ashleigh opened her eyes a crack and squinted against the blinding brightness. She bit down hard on the cloth to stifle a gasp of horror. At least five other people were in the room with her, bound and gagged, their heads lolling limply onto their chests, shoulders rising and falling slightly. As far as she could tell, she was the only one who was awake.

The black silhouette of a person was a stark contrast to the blinding white light and she watched with bated breath as one of the suited men stepped into the light.

"Which one should we take?" He turned, craning his neck to speak to someone else behind him, someone she couldn't see but was trying desperately to make out.

"Horus didn't specify," another male voice answered distractedly. "Just choose one."

Who was Horus? She questioned, and what the hell kind of name was that? Eurasian? South American? It didn't matter though, all that mattered was what did he want with her? What was he going to do?

"They don't look so good though," her gaze followed the man as he strode into the small storage room and knelt down, using a finger to tilt up the chin of one of the hostages - a middle aged man, his sallow frame swamped by his filthy black suit. He let out a thoughtful noise, clicking his tongue as he gingerly opened the unconscious man's mouth and peered down his throat - coming back up almost immediately with a disgusted expression on his face.

"None of them look terribly… well," he stated, licking his lips and biting on the inside of his cheek.

"Let me see that," the other voice huffed irritatedly and another man strode into the room, slightly shorter and rounded than the first one. He pried the man's jaw apart, made a slightly ill sound before rolling the hostage's sleeve up and pinching at the loose skin that seemed to be hanging off the man's bones. Ashleigh had to look away at that, biting down once again on the cloth to disguise the gagging noise coming out of her mouth.

He dropped the limb and it fell unceremoniously down by the man's side, dangling limply. She watched as the man stirred, shook his head and straightened up, eyes opening. "Wha - where am I? What d-do you want?" He gasped disorientatedly, though his dazed and confused demeanour soon faded away as he soon began to struggle against the ropes. His eyes wide with panic, he thrashed about on the ground, kicking and lashing out at the two suited men, "Lemme go! Lemme go! Lunatics!"

With a sigh, the round man cracked his knuckles and hit him solidly across the face. Ashleigh shrieked into the fabric, sobbing and scuttling on her hands and feet back into her corner of the room. She curled into a small ball against the wall, trying to make herself unnoticeable. The middle aged man fell to the floor, unconscious, a red handprint forming on the side of his face.

The taller man sighed with an air of frustration, "Did you really have to hit him?"

"What would you suggest? I lay him down to sleep with a blanket and a pillow?" The round man sounded affronted, snorting at the ludicrous idea.

The tall one chose to ignore the remark, standing up from his crouched position and straightening out his suit. He ran his hands over the arms, flattening out any visible creases. He surveyed the room with a disinterested air and when his eyes raked over her huddled up form, she shivered. "What should we do? They're all no good - Horus will not be pleased."

"Hang on," the round man straightened up, his finger on his chin thoughtfully. "A fresh one was brought in today - a human female, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe we could use her?"

More tears streamed down her cheeks, her stomach twisted painfully and she huddled further in on herself, terror pounding through her thoughts. What was she going to do? Could she try fighting them? The thought sounded appealing, her jaw still ached from where the bastards punched her and revenge sounded fun. What did she have to fight with? She was a hopeless puncher - the last time she hit someone, she broke her hand. That was embarrassing. Her hands were also tied behind her back, another negative. She didn't exactly have luck on her side.

"That's not a bad idea - Horus always prefers the fresh ones. Maybe we'd win his favor, move up the ranks." The tall man agreed contemplatively.

"Where is she, though? I can't see -" the short man squinted into the darkness, cursing loudly when the tall man slapped him across the back of the head.

"That's why you turn the light on, dumbass," the tall man replied snarkily, flipping the switch up with a click so white light flooded the room. She immediately became limp, lolling her head weakly onto her chest, her legs splayed awkwardly out in front of her, her body propped unevenly against the wall. Her eyes closed and she relaxed her mouth around the ball of fabric. Maybe if they thought she was dead then they wouldn't use her. They didn't appear to be the sharpest tools in the shed. Maybe they'd actually fall for it, buying her enough time to formulate an escape plan - oh God, they were coming closer, her pulse sped up erratically as if her own body was trying to betray her.

Cold hands slipped under her chin, trailed along her neck in search of her fluttering heartbeat. She struggled to remain still, lungs burning with the need to draw breath. A finger tilted her face up and she had no choice but to comply, letting her body flop like limp rubber and let the man press his hand flat across the side of her neck, searching for her pulse. Get off me getoffgetOFFdontplease. She felt the cloth leave her mouth and resisted the urge to inhale deeply. The cold metal of knife scraped the side of her palm as he clumsily cut the rope - pain smarting through her hand and something warm that felt suspiciously like blood dripped onto her leg.

"Ha!" He exclaimed, his face closer to her neck than she would have liked. His cold breath ghosted across her face, his cheek pressed to hers and she felt him smile widely. "This one's alive." An arm swept under her legs and she was being thrown over someone's shoulder carelessly, all the breath escaping her lungs as his shoulder rammed into her stomach. That was gonna leave a bruise.

The tall man - whose shoulder she was thrown over - followed the short, round man through the door into what appeared to be… a large stainless steel commercial kitchen. Pots and pans gleamed brightly, the stove top was free of grease and food scraps, it looked nothing like the kitchen she worked in back at the diner. Her eyes trailed past the endless rows of cooking utensils, rolling pins, knifes - wait. She could use those! She reached her arm out and grabbed a rolling pin, pulling her arm back and hitting him across the head with it with as much force as she could muster. He dropped her in surprise, she landed painfully on the linoleum and wasted no time in rolling to her feet and standing in a shaky attack stance.

"You little bitch!" the tall man grunted, straightening up and rubbing his head gingerly. She scrambled forwards and rammed the knife she was holding deep into his shoulder, taking advantage of his temporarily weakened state. He sucked in a deep breath, pulled the knife inch by inch out of his shoulder and wiped it clean on a dish rag.

"Stabbing you in the stomach and letting you bleed out on the floor seems like a tempting option, but I'll get much more satisfaction from watching Horus kill you slowly, rip you apart piece by piece and feed you to his guests as a main course!" He snarled, diving forwards to grab her.

She whimpered involuntarily, tried to duck his arms but he was faster and stronger. He tackled her to the floor and pinned her arms above her head with a large hand, holding tight enough to bruise. He pulled her up by her hair and she hissed in pain, swatting at his hands uselessly. He ignored her, dragging her along, his hand tangled in her hair. As they neared the door, she scooped up one of the knives on the floor and stowed it in her jeans pocket, almost stabbing herself in the thigh as she did so. He pushed the door open wide, hissing, "Get up."

Ashleigh glowered at him, but did as he asked, staggering forwards on shaky legs towards another suited man who was facing a large table of fancily dressed, regal looking people. Power and authority rolled off them in waves and the air smelled of ozone, electricity crackling through the atmosphere.

He turned to her, smiled widely. It wasn't a kind smile. It was a predatory, hungry smile which bared all of his sharp, white teeth. "Excellent," he said, his voice rich and gravelly. She shivered under his intense gaze, not meeting his eyes and instead focusing on the fact that she had a knife and she could possibly stab the cannibal freak right in the face. "Dinnertime."

He turned back to the audience of ten to fifteen people who had all pulled out white napkins - except for one. He wasn't as tall as most of them, dressed in an army jacket with pale golden eyes and brown floppy hair, and he regarded her with a sort of detached interest. She stared right back at him then bit her lips hard enough to draw blood as she noticed a faint, flickering shadow behind him. The silhouette of wings, large and wide spanned out across the room and he practically glowed with a righteous sort of powerful fury. She hadn't noticed that her mouth had dropped open slightly and that her head was tilted to the side slightly with confusion. His eyes reflected her confusion but settled into realization as he watched her eyes trace the shape of his wings.

Horus spread his arms wide and smiled again, though this time is it was a welcoming smile. He was talking to his equals, she noticed, by the respectful tone he used when he spoke to the room. "It's amazing to have so many powerful gods - and goddesses, no need to look so offended, Hera," he addressed a slightly affronted dark haired woman dressed in royal purple. It was only then that she noticed the peacocks that stood behind the woman's chair, still as statues, eyes cold and feathers gleaming. She shook her head numbly - first cannibalism, then holy shit gods and goddesses were real. When did her life become this mess? It didn't matter, she needed to run. Now. She licked her dry lips again and chewed on the inside of her cheek, frozen on the spot, her legs and arms not responding to her frantic thoughts.

"As I was saying," he continued. "It's a honor to have you all under my roof. It gives me the opportunity to make connections with you - now I know, we haven't all been the best of friends in the past." Horus cleared his throat sheepishly and straightened his tie.

"Understatement of the century," a regal looking old man whispered not-so-covertly to the golden eyed man who forced a smile, his eyes never leaving her. His intense eyes made her uneasier than she already was so she dropped her gaze to the marble floor. Her reflection showed her, gaunt and pale, blonde hair tangled and knotty, flowing out past her shoulders.

"But I would like to form the beginnings of a truce amongst us. We all know that the angels -" she watched his mouth form the word angels, it twisted as if he was saying something disgusting "-are growing more powerful and that we are - to use a common human expression - hopelessly, hilariously outgunned. If we all stick together, we may be able to reclaim the Earth once more."

She choked back a snort at the Avengers reference and the man standing at her right looked at her sharply before slapping her across the back of her head. Ashleigh gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, locking her jaw.

"Now, for the main course. Fresh human meat," he looked coolly at her, flicked a casual hand and forced her to her knees using some kind of telekinetic power. She clenched her teeth, sliding her hand along her thigh, and looked up at the dark haired god with a mixture of fury and terror.

He reached his hand out again to stroke the side of her face and the softness of the gesture surprised and frightened her. Her breathing hitched again and she trembled, wanting nothing more than him to stop touching her. When his hand trailed across the exposed slope of her neck, she gritted out sharply, "Don't touch me."

He blinked in surprise - obviously not expecting her to speak up, "So it speaks. How… cute. Unfortunately for it, that will not be the case for much longer." Her eyes flitted to the man with the gold eyes again, his expression showed panic and concern. Why, she didn't know. But somehow, looking at the silhouette of wings behind him comforted her and cleared her head.

When his hand closed around her neck, she drew the kitchen knife and plunged it deep into his thigh. Scrambling to her feet unsteadily, she jumped and grabbed one of the low hanging lights, pulling herself up and using her momentum to kick him solidly in the face. He stumbled back a few steps, spat out a mouthful of blood and reset his broken nose, wincing slightly and cursing under his breath. She locked eyes with the man again and he nodded silently, reaching out to shove the man sitting next to him, who looked at him angrily. He shrugged innocently and pointed to a dark skinned man beside him. The older man roared and tackled the dark skinned man to the floor, biting and clawing at any flesh he could reach. Soon after that, the room erupted into chaos.

Horus lunged for her ankle to pull her down, a cry of rage escaping his mouth but she used the last of her adrenaline rush to fling herself up over his head. Wasting no time in climbing to her feet, she ran through the room, dodging bits and pieces of furniture being thrown - it seemed that everybody was fighting now. The air was heavy with raw power and it crackled over her skin, making her tremble and shake. The dark haired god appeared in front of her so suddenly that she ran smack into his chest. He raised his fist to hit her and acting on pure instinct, she ducked behind a large, muscular man whose beard seemed to crackle with flames and embers. Horus' fist soared into the man's throat and he growled, grabbing the smaller god's face, hoisting him up into the air. "V-Vulcan, please," Horus wheezed pleadingly.

Vulcan said nothing, only threw the god to the opposite side of the room with a shocking amount of strength. A slightly sadistic grin split his face as he watched Horus sail through the air and crumple in a heap on the ground. "Fucking prick," he grunted roughly.

Ashleigh darted out of his reach before he could spot her and sprinted to the door, heart throbbing and her feet pounding against the marble. She was nearly at the door, she thought, only a few more steps and she would be free. She crashed into the door, pulling and pushing it in every which way, but it didn't seem to budge. A cross between a cry of despair and a sob burst out of her mouth but a hand on her shoulder made her jump and turn around, fists clenched by her side.

She relaxed when she saw the familiar silhouette of wings. He said nothing to her, only pressed his hand against the doors - which immediately burst open at his touch, glass shattering. She instinctively raised her arms up over her face in a futile attempt to protect her face. Wings - as she'd decided to name the man - was a few long strides in front of her, already beginning to make his way down the fire escape stairs. She made a move to follow him but something stopped her short - the other people trapped in the storage room. She couldn't just leave them there to die. She had to get them out, she had to save them.

After Wings noticed that she hadn't followed him, he spun on his heel, made an irritated face, "Sugar, we gotta go."

"Y-you go," she answered distractedly, craning her neck behind her. She wondered how long it would take her to make it back to the storage room - amidst the brawling, she doubted that anyone would notice her or bother to settle their millennium-long feuds in order to catch a pathetic, lowly human. Probably about a minute or two. "I'll be a few minutes."

"Uh, no. We're leaving, y'know, vacating the premises. Like now," he corrected her, liquid gold eyes flashing with something she couldn't quite identify.

She ignored him, turning sharply and sprinting back into the room, barely missing a piece of furniture that was lobbed over her head - presumably directed at a gorgeous redhead with a dangerous looking smile and mischievous green eyes. She howled with rage, green fire licking up her arms and at the hem of her black dress, held out her palm and directed a bolt of pure green fire at an older, greying woman who - Ashleigh had to look twice to make sure this actually happened and her mind wasn't playing tricks on her - turned into a small tabby cat to duck the blast and hissed, batting a paw tipped with sharp claws.

Horus still hadn't moved from his crumpled heap on the floor, blue eyes glassy and blood trickling from his mouth. Good, she thought with grim, cold satisfaction and pushed the doors to the kitchen open, jogging across the linoleum and bursting through the doors to the storage room. Fuck, it was dark, where was the goddamn light switch - there. There it was. She smacked it hard with her fist and the fluorescent lights flickered back on.

Dashing to the first person she saw - a woman around her age - she gripped the lapels of her jacket and shook the woman, "Wake up, dammit, come on." When she saw that nothing else seemed to be working, she raised her hand and slapped the woman straight across the face. Sorry, she thought, looking regretfully at the new red hand-print on her face. A cheek muscle twitched, then her eyes rolled underneath her eyelids, fingers jerked.

"Wh-what? Where am I? What's going on?" The woman began to hyperventilate, hysteria clouding her features. Panicked sobs escaped her throat and her breathing hitched, she choked and spluttered on her own breath. "Don't hurt me, please, I'll give you my wallet…"

"No time for that now. I'm gonna get you outta here, I promise," she said reassuringly, looking around for another escape hatch or whatever. You couldn't blame her - she'd only seen things like this in the cinema. She was going off all the action movies she'd seen as a kid. Hey, fiction had to have some amount of truth ingrained in it, right?

"Not alone, you're not," another voice came from behind her and Ashleigh jolted up, jerking around to meet the Wings' eyes and his expression was a strange mixture of admiration and irritation. He crouched down beside her and touched the woman's forehead, and she watched, gormless as the woman flickered and… disappeared into thin air. Her mouth dropped open and she whipped around to face him, gaping and stammering.

"W-what the hell did you do to her?" She asked accusingly, stuttering and crawling back on her hands and knees to get away from him. He just touched that woman and did God knows what to her! Where did she go?

"Relax, sweetheart, I sent her back to her home. She won't remember a thing," he promised and something in his expression caused her to obey and relax, swallowing hard and sitting down.

"C-can you do the rest of them?" Her voice was shaky as she pointed in the general direction of the other tied up people.

Wings grinned cheekily, eyes twinkling and snapped his fingers, winking at her as slowly all the people faded out of the room, "Done." He straightened up from his crouch and stuck out his hand to her. Surprising herself, she took it, and hoisted herself up.

"Thanks," she managed, avoiding his intense golden gaze and sanding her hands on her jeans simply to give herself something to do. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she chanced a glance at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek - a habitual gesture she'd developed over the years of suffering social awkwardness. It wasn't her fault - really. Well, okay, maybe it was, but she couldn't help not being as socially developed as the rest of her limited friends.

He grabbed her hand, twining his fingers with her own, his hands slightly calloused and rougher than hers, "Now can we get outta here?"

"S-sure," she replied breathily and then she was gone.

...

They appeared somewhere on a dock near an abandoned shipping warehouse, Wings landing gracefully on his feet as if it were as natural as breathing. She, however, wasn't so lucky. Somewhere along the way, she'd let go of his hand and landed in the water with a loud and completely humiliating splash. Shit shit shit - Ashleigh scrambled around for the ladder, desperate to get out of the water and on to stable land. The cold of the water, shocking her out of her stupor, was enough to kick start her survival instincts and help her find her way to the ladder and haul herself up. he collapsed on the dock, shivering and sopping wet, coughing and retching. Her head was spinning and she felt as if she'd left her stomach back at the - well, she didn't quite know where she'd just been. Hotel? That sounded about right. Nausea wrenched her abdomen and she hunched over, coughing out acidic bile that burned the back of her throat.

She'd always hated ports and docks and all that shit. The smell was enough to drive her insane - hot salt water. It reminded her of her old sailing camp days when she continually got hit in the face with the boom and broke her nose. And then she'd gotten out of the boat, far too scared to even think about sailing that tiny little thing across the massive lake. Even the thought was enough to encourage her to spit out another mouthful of bile. She was shivering, wet jeans sticking to her skin and rubbing enough to cause blisters. Her shirt clung to her torso tightly and her hair was plastered to her forehead and face with sweat and sea water. Too weak to pull herself up, she tried flicking her head back and blowing at the unruly strands plastered against her face.

Footsteps neared her but Ashleigh didn't notice. She was too busy trying not to barf up a lung. A warm hand rubbed her back soothingly, "Hey, kiddo, it's okay, shh." The hand brushed her hair away from her forehead, carding through the damp tangled locks gently. She lifted one of her arms up from the dock and wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist.

Gripping the forearm of the hand that was still stroking her hair - damn, it felt nice to have someone do that to her. It reminded her of home, of care, of tenderness. Tenderness she hadn't felt in a long time - she tried to pull herself up, but her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed into a chest. An arm swept under her knees and settled her in a pair of warm arms. Acting on instinct, she gripped the lapels of the army jacket she was pressed against and pressed herself closer to the source of heat currently seeping into her. Right now, she didn't' care that she hardly knew him. She was cold, wet and tired. Screw boundaries.

When she looked up, she met a pair of warm, molten eyes that reminded her of maple syrup. Concern was etched onto Wings' face, concern that made her smile because he hardly even knew her and he was being this nice. Through her squinted eyes, she made out what appeared to be a halo of yellow-gold light circling his head, shining light onto his floppy brown hair, creating a golden backdrop for him to stand against.

"Next time, could you give me at least thirty seconds to prepare myself when you're gonna teleport me somewhere? I-I think I left my stomach back along the way somewhere," she grumbled almost incoherently. How he even understood what the hell she was saying was a miracle in itself.

Ashleigh felt his chest rumble and vibrate with laughter, "Sure thing, princess. I didn't know you'd react quite so, er, violently to the experience - I mean, most people seem to be okay after it."

"Well, I guess I'm just a special snowflake then."

"So cynical," he chuckled, beginning a leisurely walk along the dock, her body held securely in his arms. She tried to lift herself up, wriggling in his hold and he stopped to look down at her, brow raised. "Something wrong?"

"I don't need to be carried," she huffed. Her pride had been wounded and a blush began to stain her cheeks. The last thing she needed was to be perceived as needy and desperate by a total stranger.

"If you say so, kiddo." Wings set her down gently, making sure that she was planted firmly on her two feet before slipping his arms away from her. Ashleigh swallowed hard, held her head high, wobbling ever so slightly on her shaky legs. She glanced back at him; he was gazing at her expectantly with a brow cocked and his arms crossed over his chest. She scrunched up her nose and pulled a face at him - to which he laughed at.

Fine. She made to step forwards but her legs wobbled and her stomach heaved - her entire body pitching forwards and she grabbed the handrail to balance herself. The only other downside of that was that the handrail was wet and slippery and her hand slid forwards and she collapsed. Again. There were patches of dirt all over her jeans and she groaned - these were her only good pair! The other two pairs had holes on the knees and the bottoms were frayed. Ashleigh had tried to stitch them up, but had ended up poking her fingers with the needle until she'd bleed all over the fabric and had finally admitted defeat.

"Shut up," she muttered, an embarrassed flush burning up her cheeks.

His shoes made loud noises on the deck and he walked over to her, thumbs hooked in his pockets and bent down. When he moved to slide an arm under her shoulder, she noticed how he smelled sweet - like cinnamon and sugar. Wings helped her to her feet, his arm around her waist and her arm slung over his shoulders. Most of her weight rested on his shoulders and she leaned against him, taking cautious steps and trying not to throw up again.

"Come on, I'm gonna take you back to my place. You can have a shower, some food - whatever. Get your strength back," he said, looking back at her to make sure she was okay.

Acutely aware of his arm tight around her waist, she began to chew on her lip nervously and look anywhere but in his eyes, which seemed to be twinkling with mischief. His touch sent shivers down her spine and electric shocks through her veins and what worried her was that she didn't know why. She'd only just met the guy - if he even was a guy. The thought made her stop short in her tracks, eyes wide with fear.

"You're a god, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

He stopped, looking at her curiously, "Well, yeah. Course I am, why else do you think I was there?"

She raised an eyebrow questioningly, "How do I know that when we get back to your house you're not going to, I don't know, eat me or something? Your, uh, friends back there seemed pretty eager to turn me into godly chow."

"Sugar, I just probably made enemies out of everyone in that room. If I wanted to eat you, I wouldn't go to all that trouble. 'sides, I don't even like the idea of eating people. It's gross. " he pulled a face and shuddered, rummaging in his pocket to pull out a lollipop and stick it in his mouth.

She shrugged, "It was a legit question - don't look at me like that." His expression was slightly wounded and his eyes were wide. "Normal, sane people don't run off with people they just met," she added as the thought occurred to her, her tone mild and contemplative.

"I just saved you from a bunch of crazy gods, you're welcome for that, by the way," he pointed out to her around the lollipop in his mouth. His eyebrows drew together and he let out a thoughtful sound, "Huh. These aren't too bad - want one?"

"Sure," she accepted and he handed her a piece of the candy from one of the many pockets in his large army jacket, unwrapping it and shoving the plastic in a pocket. She sucked on the candy and said, muffled, "I see what you mean. These are pretty good, although I normally don't go for artificial fruit flavoring. I kinda like the real thing."

"What?! Fruit flavoring is the best - what planet have you been living on? Strawberry is the best one, though," he pointed out with a mock-serious expression on his face. "Grape is just nasty, ew," he shuddered.

"Are you kidding me?" she argued back, "Normally all fruit flavoring is totally gross - granted, with the exception of this. I've said it before and I'll say it again - chocolate is clearly better."

He sighed loudly, "You're delusional, woman. Delusional, I say."

Making wonderful use of the many years she'd had to develop a good level of maturity, she stuck her tongue out at him childishly and shot back, "Look how much I care!"

There was a slightly awkward beat between the two as Wings helped haul her over to the shipping warehouse door so, in a weak attempt at conversation, she started, "So, who are you?"

"Huh?" He jerked his head back to face her. Warm eyes searched her face.

"Are you, I dunno, Zeus? Ra? Aphrodite?" The last one was a joke - albeit a bit of a pathetic one, but it made him laugh and shake his head fondly. That was when she decided that she really, really liked his laugh. It was just… nice, bubbly, infectious - everything a laugh should be (yeah, she was delirious, but she was enjoying her silly high.) "I'm not that, ah, well versed in mythology."

"Nah, that's cool. Me? I am the fabulous Trickster - yeah, yeah there are others, but those pricks, Eris, Huehuecoyotl -"

"Huehue who?" She could feel her face scrunching up in confusion. She recognised Eris but not Huehu - whatever, she wasn't even going to try.

"Yeah, he's a total douche, don't worry about him," he dismissed the god with a casual flick of his hand. She flinched - the most recent time someone had done that, they'd telekinetically forced her to the floor and prepared to eat her alive. So it was an understatement to say that she wasn't particularly thrilled at someone using it against her again. That would suck. "Kiddo, they've got nothing on me. No class, no style," he tutted disapprovingly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Well, that's great and all but how do I know this isn't a trick?" She asked seriously as they stopped in front of a door, the black paint peeling off and the fading white letters reading something that looked like OFFICE.

"Why would I do that?" he answered her question with a question of his own, honestly confused at her words. Ashleigh barely kept herself from heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes.

"Well, I don't know, maybe because you're the Trickster?"

"Huh," Wings responded thoughtfully. "Well, there is that but I guess you'll have to suck it up and trust me, tiger."

"And why in the name of God should I do that?" Ashleigh snapped back, placing her hands on her hips and stepping away from his arms into the light rain - which wasn't probably the smartest idea considering she was already soaked with salt water and still pretty nauseous, but like hell was she ruining her badass (sort of) moment by indirectly admitting that she'd done something stupid and step back under the roof.

"Uh, because I got you outta there?" He said as if it should be obvious - he was only one 'uh, duh' away from getting a fist in his face. His brows drew together in confusion and his lips twisted in a nervous smile.

"Yeah, maybe because you want to take me to your little Batcave and eat me like your friends back there, I'm not as dumb as I look, you know," she tacked on the end and crossed her arms across her chest tightly.

"I already said I didn't like the idea of eating people! Jesus, woman," he muttered and turned away from her, the yellow cloud of light surrounding his head casting light onto the door. She squinted against the brightness.

"You're the Trickster. It's practically in your job description to be a liar," she commented offhandedly, not expecting him to turn around, eyes cold and angry and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Don't" he nearly growled. "I'm not a -" he seemed to cut himself off, looking at the ground with an immeasurable sadness twisting his expression until it made her heart clench with sorrow for him. "I'm not, " it didn't sound like he was talking to her anymore. His head was bowed and rested against the door, his chin tucked in and his eyes boring a hole in the wet concrete. Then, as if some switch had flipped in his head, the Trickster raised his head and swallowed heavily. She cautiously watched his Adams apple bob in his throat and his expression slowly change to a careful blank façade.

He turned back to her, gold eyes saying nothing of the display he'd shown a few seconds prior and forced a smile. It was obvious in the set of his mouth that it wasn't genuine and it made her uncomfortable, chewing on the insides of her cheeks and refusing to meet his eyes. They waited in under the small shelter the roof over the door gave them awkwardly. He kept shuffling his feet and she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans to try and make herself appear more confident.

Lightning crackled and a bolt of white illuminated the sky, flashing against the walls. She stifled another gasp as a large pair of wings flashed behind his back, only for a second, and he looked regal, righteous and intimidating. Averting her eyes - it didn't seem right to look at them, she didn't know why - to the roiling water, she kept her gaze away from him steadily. Wind tickled her arms and face with freezing fingers and she didn't realize her teeth were chattering until she heard a tap-tap-tapping noise.

Against her more rational thoughts, her eyes flitted to Wings and watched as he licked his lips nervously and said, "C'mon, kiddo. I don't bite," and this was where his expression became playful and she knew that he was back to joking. "Very hard."

Ashleigh poked her tongue out at him, silently accepting the proffered metaphorical olive branch. He twisted the doorknob , wincing as it creaked - "Gonna need to WD-40 this". His arm was outstretched teasingly and a smirk twisted his lips, "After you, mademoiselle."

"French," she said curiously. "Huh."

"You speak it?"

"Eh, I did it all through high school - never really remembered any of it though. I guess I can kind of read it but if you ask me to hold a conversation with someone, er, yeah, how about we don't go there," she grimaced. In her high school, she'd learnt European French - which might sound weird, duh, French comes from France which is in Europe, dumbass, but when she tried having a conversation with someone who spoke Canadian French (hey, she didn't know that! He said he spoke French!) she'd asked him if his shoe was green and he replied saying that her beef was sad. So, to put it simply, she stuck to English. "How 'bout you?" she asked.

"Un petit peu," he responded after a moment of thought.

"A… little bit?" The translation was rough, especially considering the last time she'd opened her French textbook was in senior year when she was frantically studying for her French exams. He started, holding the door open for her and waiting for her to step inside before venturing in. She stopped by the door, gazing warily ahead into the darkness. She wasn't quite sure what she'd find - he'd already insisted that he didn't eat people, although she was still a little skeptical. If worst came to worst, she - huh. She didn't know what she was going to do if that happened. Nice one, Ashleigh, she mentally patted herself on the back. Good going.

"Bingo!" Ha answered, a little late, so for a second she had no idea what he was talking about. The lights turned on slowly, the golden glow brightening enough to reveal the luxuriously decorated interior. Spacious and dripping with what one could think of as the finer things in life, the space took her breath away. Marble floors scattered with expensive looking Persian rugs showed her distorted reflection, wet and bedraggled, looking somewhat like a sewer rat - she really was kind to herself. The thought made her snort humorlessly He watched her drink in the sights and tilt her head up to admire the chandelier, glittering and reflecting beams of light. He clicked his fingers and the doors shut behind them and the empty fireplace stacked itself with kindling and bits of wood, roaring to life within seconds.

She heard him snicker when she jolted at the sudden blaze of the fire. He sauntered past her, boots leaving muddy footprints on the spotless marble and settled himself down in an armchair close to the fire. Ashleigh didn't follow him, instead she traipsed over to the large bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Biting her lip and tucking her hair behind her ears, she traced the tips of her fingers over the spines of the books, entranced. She loved reading, anything and everything. Ashleigh devoured books like a thirsty man would water, but she read weirdly. Sometimes she'd read four books a day or she wouldn't read for four months. Weird.

Selecting a book titled "An Index of Gods and Goddesses in Mythology" she flipped it open to the contents page, fingers spread wide across the back of the book to hold it open. Footsteps stopped behind her, "What're you reading?" He asked nonchalantly, leaning against the bookshelf.

"I just remembered, I don't actually know your name," she muttered distractedly, leafing through the pages carefully. As she lowered herself down to the floor, she didn't expect a beanbag to suddenly pop out from underneath her. A shriek escaped her lips as she sunk into the red fabric, her expression settling into half disgruntled, half playful.

"Beanbags? It's not really fitting with the décor," she noted, ignoring his chuckles decidedly.

"You're right," he mused thoughtfully. A snap of his fingers later and the entire room was changed into what looked like the flashiest games room she'd ever seen, complete with a massive pool table, huge TV screen and beanbags scattered everywhere. Something soft and soothing played in the background, the flashy chandelier changing to a disco ball. "Much better." Wings settled himself down into a beanbag next to her and peered over her shoulder, letting out small sounds of approval or disapproval when she reached certain people.

She traced her finger down the lines of text, humming to herself quietly. "Aha!" she crowed, setting the book down and fist pumping.

He looked over from where he had been idly flipping through a magazine, "Huh? Find something? Do tell,"

"You're Hermes, aren't you?" She blurted out excitedly, it all made sense, the description fitted him okay -

"Nope." he shook his head, smiling mischievously, "Take another shot."

Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully, Ashleigh turned her focus back to the book at hand and studied the text harder. Now she was determined to find out who he was. Growing bored with her slow pace, he reached over, pinched a thick stack of the papers and flipped them over. She looked up at him, irritated and tried to elbow him in the ribs. He ducked before her arm connected with his torso - damn, he was fast, she conceded grudgingly.

"What? What'd you do that for?"

"At the rate you were going, it'd take forever. Consider this my one and only hint," he shrugged, settling back into his beanbag and propping his chin up with his fingers.

She gazed unseeingly at the heading of the page for a few seconds, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. L. That was the heading, one big swirly letter on the top of the page. And then it all clicked.

"L-Loki? Right? Thor's brother?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" He crowed smugly. "Finally!"

"Loser!" She shoved him off his beanbag grumpily. "No thanks to you." Tacked on as an afterthought, the quip made him grin.

Wings - no, Loki (she's gotta remember that) scrambled back up onto his bean bag in a disgruntled fashion, settling himself back down with a rustling noise. His expression was just so, well, ungodly that it made her drop the book on her knees - ouch, that hurt like a bitch - and burst out giggling at his expression. Eyebrows knitted, mouth pursued and nose scrunched up, he was the picture of a grumpy toddler. The mental image made more laughter bubble from her lips. Tears streamed from her eyes as she gasped for breath - kind of like a fish out of water, body jerking violently and air spluttering out of her lips.

She exhaled shakily and tried to calm herself down, soothe her shaking stomach. Loki regarded her warily, exaggeratedly shifted his beanbag away from her and commented from behind his magazine, "Damn, kiddo," his pale gold eyes glittered, "you're hysterical."

"I-I think the shock's f-finally worn in," she spluttered.

"What do you mean?"

"Dude!" Ashleigh threw her arms up in the air exasperatedly. Loki watched on with a raised eyebrow and chose not to say anything, so she continued, "I just found out gods are real. Do you know how fucked up that is? They tried to eat me alive! Does that mean that other shit exists too? Like," she grappled for words and understanding in vain. Finally she threw her hands up in the air and gave in. "Hell if I know. Wait -" she turned to him with wide eyes and parted lips. "Does Hell exist too?"

He licked his lips with an air of nervousness before slowly nodding. Ashleigh groaned and flopped back on her beanbag, exhausted,"Seriously?" Holy crap. Hell was real? Did that mean Heaven was too? Where would she go? She'd never done anything particularly good or bad in her life, she wasn't Gandhi or Mother Teresa. Maybe there was a place for neutral people - like in Greek mythology. The Asphodel Meadows, she recalled. The thought of going there made her shiver - she'd read about the souls that wandered there for all eternity, lost and completely blank. It might actually exist, considering the Greek and Norse gods existed, places like Olympus, Asgard, the Underworld and God forbid, Tartarus might actually be real. The thought made her shiver and swallow heavily.

Loki nodded again.

"Maybe I should reconsider being agnostic," she said, muffled by the beanbag, not feeling like she wanted to move at all. Pulling herself up into a seated position and wriggling around on the beanbag, she rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes until splashes of color flashed across her vision. He patted her back awkwardly - well, more like thumped her on the back, but she wasn't about to make him feel awkward. Then that wouldn't be good.

"So," he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Do you want a shower, or what…?"

She licked her lips, then shrugged. "Sure." What was the worst that could happen? Then she bit her lip and decided that she didn't want to know the answer to that question.

Author's Note: Well, hey everyone! So, this is my first ever SPN fic (exciting!). If you guys think it's any good, I'll continue! It's not going to be a big long epic saga, it's going to be a light, fluffy little fic which explores the relationship between our favorite Trickster and Ashleigh. The title is from one of my favorite Paramore songs, Where the Lines Overlap. So, please tell me what you think! I'm dying to know. :)