Note: I do not own any of the characters in this fic. I just borrowed them, played around with them, and tossed them back into the heap.

This is not a one shot.

Prelude

The pain was unbearable; her entire insides seemed to be on fire. This surpassed the notion of pain. In fact, in comparison, pain would be a welcome vacation. She was going to die and she knew it; there was no lucky escape this time. It seemed almost anti-climactic; after everything she had been through, all the deals and sacrifices she had made, this was how death would greet her. It was ironic that the very end she was bargaining to avoid was the very end she was facing.

And yet, it was too impossible to be a coincidence that hellhounds would surface on this day, of this year. Despite the apparently very-intact bounty on her life she would rather go to hell on her own terms than be dragged there by Lucifer's most vile gatekeepers.

Unbearable pain fused with anger and betrayal and the sense that the past three years of her life had been thoroughly wasted.

A dark figure watched as hell hounds burst through the doors, and an explosion claimed the lives of two brave women lying defeated on the floor.

In a whisper so silent not even the Gods could hear, the dark figure spoke

"Methinks, by most, 'twill be confess'd

That Death is never quite a welcome guest."

Along with the lives of the two women on the floor, the dark figure vanished into nothingness.

Jo Harvelle was killed on November 19, 2009.

Chapter 1: Right down to hell you'll go

Jo had a secret. One she had been keeping for seven years. But now, finally separated from the hawke-like gaze of her loving yet relentless mother, she had the chance to make amends. Or at the very least fight her way out of it.

It was the seventh anniversary of her deal with the Crossroads Demon which supplied her with the motivation to finally leave. It was not like she didn't love her mother, in fact the complete opposite, it was just she wouldn't understand. If it came down to the wire, and her soul was still in the possession of a demon in two years time, she would confess and beg for her mother to not simply kill her first to save time. But that was an extreme last resort; it was her mess, and up to her alone to clean it up.

If being the protégée of the owner of a bar catering to an ever-changing clientele of skilled hunters had taught her anything, it was the value of a good sleep-in. Well that was her opinion these days, where her noisy Duluth neighbour who for some ridiculous reason never seemed to rest was blasting music at 7am. Still, sleep wasn't preferable at this point; her nightmares, once scarce and spasmodic had become clockwork, and she was not in the mood to revisit them until absolutely necessary. In any case, she had a plan to draw up, and a specific demon to hunt down.

It didn't take long; through the years living at the Roadhouse she picked up tips here and there about this specific kind of demon, and how to deal with it when things get nasty. However long seven years had felt it had definitely not been wasted, and her patience had proven most educational.

17 hours hours later, Jo found herself at the same old gravel covered cross road she was at just over seven years ago. The night was ominously dark; the only source of light came from the high-beam headlights on her car, and she prayed the battery won't die out on her. It was best if this was done as fast as possible.

Everything was set in place, completely out of sight. If ever there was a time to act, this was it. She walked over to what seemed the very centre, and buried the same card tin she had before, albeit with an updated picture. A chill descended on the abandoned stretch of road, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the headlights flicker and knew immediately it had worked. A slight flutter of material sounded behind her, and she spun around to greet the creature.

'Nice night for it,' he said, looking directly at her.

'You've changed,' she stated bluntly. Where there stood a handsome fourteen year old for their last encounter, it appeared he had grown into an even greater looking young man.

'So have you,' he drawled. There was a silence. 'I don't know why you have summoned me. The only change I can make on our deal is coming to collect early.'

'I know,' she replied. He stared at her, and started forward.

'Curious. Alright I'll bite. Then why have you summoned me? Wanting to make a heart-felt plea for your life?' He smirked. He was three metres away, and closing the gap too fast for her taste.

'Your contracts...' she started, stepping backwards over the mound of gravel enclosing her offering.

'Hmmm?'

'I know someone keeps them. I want you to tell me who.' Her voice was steady, affecting a confidence she did not have. He thought for a moment and chuckled.

'See now I just don't think that's going to happen.' He was still walking towards her. As she stepped backwards she eyed the small black stone on the floor to her left.

'See now I think, it is.' She jumped back. His attempt to follow saw him flung back to the centre of what appeared to be nothing but road. Smirking, Jo kicked a heap of gravel, including the black marker stone off the corner of a large piece of cardboard bearing a bright red Devil's Trap. He eyed her horribly, and she brushed it off. He wasn't going anywhere until she got some answers.

'Amateur mistake. Here I am disappointed with your lack of homework. Did you really think I would come here without some form of protection?' She asked with a confidence she no longer needed to affect.

'I'm not telling you anything.' She reached into her pocket and withdrew a hip flask. His screams could not mask the horrible hissing sound emitting from his skin as the holy water splashed over his entire body. Her lip curled.

'Now I don't much like that answer. You see, I have all night, and you'll find I can be quite... imaginative... when it comes to getting answers from demons.'

'You stupid bitch. Do you really think that I would survive if I told you anything?' He spat, his skin still burning.

'Well, let's just see how far we can get.' She emptied the rest of the flask on him, ignoring his nightmarish groaning. A second later she walked into the surrounding scrub, appearing from behind a dying rose bush with a hessian bag filled with salt. He eyed it fearfully. Wasting no time, she untied the opening and threw it upon him. His screams echoed through the dark night. It was interesting how human demons can be when faced with the certainty of death.

'Are you ready to talk yet?' She asked. He spat at her. 'Very well,' she pulled from her back pocked a slip of paper and began to read

'Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica,' she could hear his insides tearing apart 'potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii-'

'WAIT. Stop! Lilith! Her name is Lilith!' He screamed.

'How do I know you're not lying!' She started again with the exorcism.

'NO! I'm not lying. I swear. It's Lilith, she holds the contracts. We all answer to her. She's-' He was cut off. Suddenly his insides glowed white hot.

'No. No, PLEASE. Please, she made me!' A moment later he burst into flame, leaving behind nothing but a scorch mark and a human outline of table salt.

'Well, I guess that's my confirmation.' She concluded apathetically to herself, stepping over the gravel burns pausing only to spit on the floor. Exhilarated by the success of the evening, she clambered back into the car; thanking God the headlights hadn't drained the battery. Her confidence drained quickly, however, and the drive home made her uneasy. She knew things were to change from now on. She couldn't expect to get away scot-free knowing the name to one of what could only be one of the most powerful demons in existence. Well, one step down, about a hundred to go. Maybe she was in over her head.

Just as the thought passed through her mind a series of events passed in quick succession. A flash of white light and a deafening thud made her jam her foot on the brake. Just up ahead a statuesque dark figure stood in the middle of the road, and she realised the car wasn't stopping fast enough; she was going to hit whatever it was. She lunged the wheel to the left in an attempt to avoid the figure, and crashed into telegraph pole. The air-bag spilled out and shielded her head from cracking onto the steering wheel. Thankfully, as far as she could tell, she wasn't injured. Scared out of her mind, she opened the door and spilled out of the car.

Immediately she could see in the distance the thick tree trunk which had been thrown onto her car in an attempt to gain her attention. However the figure was nowhere to be seen. Confused, she reached into the back seat for her sawed-off filled with salt rounds and held it to her front. The night was ice cold, and there was a good chance she had concussion.

'You know you shouldn't be driving alone this late at night, it's incredibly unsafe.' The voice was thick with an English accent. She registered the male voice and concluded it more than likely wasn't Lilith. A mixture of relief and fear washed over her. If this wasn't Lilith, who was it?

'Especially for someone as lovely looking as yourself.' She spun around, he was right behind her. She aimed the gun at his face.

'Who are you?' She asked, finding courage she didn't know she had.

'Name's Crowley. And you're a Harvelle, am I right?' She nodded. He smirked. 'You'll find I'm rather good with names.'

Not interested in the typical human/demon exchange, she continued, 'What the bloody hell do you want?'

'Mind your language my dear. And alas I think it is you who wants something from me. A little birdie told me you want your soul back.' She nodded.

'I was told Lilith held the contracts.'

'Yes, well let's just say I too hold the key to the vault.'

'I want it. Now,' she threatened, cocking the gun.

'Hmmmmm. No. See I don't think that's going to work for me.' He drawled. She registered her immediate dislike of him. The gun fired, hitting him square on the chest. He was thrown backwards, landing with an almighty bang. He rose instantly.

'Watch the suit! You know Armani doesn't come cheap?'

'What do you want then, if you are not here to negotiate?'

'Oh but I have come to negotiate,' she raised her eyebrows inquisitively; 'I've come to negotiate new terms of your deal.' He walked towards her, and near-whispered into her ear, 'you stop searching for retribution from us, and I won't come to collect your soul three years early, Har-velle.' He finished, patronisingly. She blinked and he was gone.

She turned around and faced the car. The headlights were still on, but the car was totalled and so was left with no option but to call a cab. She was scared; scared out of her mind. This was the response she was expecting, but not the one she wanted. She was also curious as to why she hadn't heard of Lilith of Crowley from any of the hunters; if they were big up-and-comers, surely some word would have gotten out? Obviously not; demons do a tendency to be habitually wily.

She got home, exhausted but knowing she would not be able to sleep. Instead she found her bottle of sleeping tablets, fished out three, and chased them with a shot of bourbon. The night had been long, and she wanted to chalk it down to a terrifying nightmare. Checking her apartment was securely warded from all hellish evil, she stripped to her underwear and fell onto her bed, falling asleep immediately.

She did not notice the dark figure watching her from the fire escape.

A/N: Props go out to Faust for the chapter title (along with the rest of the chapters)

Many-a chapters to come people.

R & R!

-thesolitaryone-