Lilith/Cain

Arthur knocked on the office door. "Come in," a male voice called. He opened the door and stepped inside. "I've been expecting you."

Albert Weaver had worked with Arthur once, not that long ago. He'd been a hunter himself, quite a long time ago. Till his back was broken, that is. He wore a brace at all times now and was confined to desk work.

He'd been saved from a grim fate at Mechanex entirely by the fact that he was only allowed to work part time hours in order to collect disability payments. He'd gone home before Gabriel attacked the other hunters.

"Have you found the Angel of Death?" Arthur asked.

"I tracked the owner of the fingerprints that you gave me, at least." Albert shrugged. "I had some help from Canadian law enforcement."

He sat at a small desk, in a small room that contained two other desks, both unoccupied. He'd grown a bit fat since his hunting days, and his hair was thinning. His skin perpetually glistened with sweat.

"He went up North, then?"

Albert frowned at his monitor. "According to this he's been up North, for the past few decades at least. This guy wasn't the one that attacked us, not unless he can be in two places at once."

"The fingerprints I gave you were pulled off of Blue's gun," Arthur said softly. "The same gun he shot her with."

Albert rubbed his eyes under his glasses with both hands. "I dunno what to tell you, man. Angels just get weirder by the day…" He looked at Arthur. "The last time he was spotted was about a year and a half ago in Alaska. That syncs up with your daughter's timeline. When they first met and up until the attack."

"Except for the fact that Gabriel was locked in a stone tomb a year and a half ago," Arthur pointed out patiently.

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Do you have proof of that? I mean other than what they both said?"

He looked away and frowned. "No, the house he was trapped in was burned to the ground back in July."

Albert lifted up both hands in exasperation. "Angels lie, Arthur. They're good at it, thanks to influence. Obviously he had the poor girl glamoured up the wazoo. She probably didn't know left from right once he was done with her."

Arthur's frown deepened. "She doesn't look like someone who's been glamoured. She didn't back then, either." He remembered her standing over him, shotgun pointed at his chest. Her eyes had been filled with hurt, but clear. "And she's not a ghoul."

"Then she's the one lying to you. Humans are just as capable of lying as Angels are. She probably has a thing for him." It was his turn to frown. "It's been known to happen."

"Just give me an address, or whatever you have," Arthur said with a scowl.

"I'll print out a copy of the latest police report." He shook his head sadly. "Poor old married couple... They were found in a ditch with their throats ripped out." The printer under the desk chugged out several pages. He handed them to Arthur when it was done. "Happy hunting."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur grumbled as he showed himself out.

xxxXXXxxx

When Arthur returned home he found Chris and Angie sitting on the couch, leaning over Angie's laptop, their heads together. "There's a flight leaving LaGuardia in about ten hours," Chris observed.

"The only seats left are First Class." Angie bit her lip doubtfully. "Most of my funds are tied up right now."

"We'll use my military discount. I can get us past TSA screening, too." He gestured toward the silver pistol sitting on the coffee table.

"Good, I have more than that to bring."

Arthur cleared his throat loudly. Chris looked up, Angie kept her eyes on the screen as she scrolled through their options. "So, where are you two headed?"

"Anchorage," Chris answered. His eyes were narrowed, as if expecting Arthur to stop them.

Arthur looked at the papers in his hand. "Of course," he said under his breath. "I'll start packing."

Angie looked up then, giving him a strange look. "You're not coming with us, Arthur," she said firmly.

"The hell I'm not," was his response. He headed for the door to his and Vivian's bedroom.

She placed both hands on the coffee table and stood up quickly. "You're not. You have to stay here and look after Mom." She looked at the broken window over her shoulder. A piece of cardboard was covering it. "Mechanex might be finished, but someone is still after her."

"Do you really think I'm going to let you walk into the Lion's Den by yourself?" he asked incredulously.

Chris stood up to his full, and quite impressive, height. "She won't be by herself." His voice was cool.

Arthur gave him a quick, nervous glance. Chris Eklund was one of the few people he had to look up at to meet their eyes. He was broader and more muscular as well, even more so than Arthur had been in his youth.

He was also the son of the man that had married Vivian ten years ago. He was fiercely protective of his step-mother and had liked Arthur's intrusion even less than Angie had.

He decided to take his chances with Angie. "Considering what might be waiting up there, the more the better, right?"

"Stay here," Angie said firmly. "Protect Mom." Chris crossed his arms over his chest, his upper arms bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Fine," Arthur relented. "But I want you to keep us posted. Every hour." He looked at the bedroom door again. "Viv's gonna hate this as much as I do."

"Break it to her gently when she gets home," Angie told him.

His mouth was dry. "You're not going to say goodbye to her?"

"I can't, I have too many things to do before I leave." She checked the time on her phone. "We're going to be cutting it close as it is..."

"Rusty's place is open," Chris told her. "He'll have what we need."

"We have to see Butcher, too."

"If you insist."

She pocketed her phone. "I do."

"Better start packing, then." He looked at his bag sitting on the floor by the couch. "I haven't even unpacked..."

Angie went to her room. Arthur approached Chris, holding out the papers in his hand. "Some reading for the plane." His expression was dark.

He glanced at the papers. "I'm not going to let anything happen to her," Chris vowed, though not for Arthur's benefit.

The older man's frown etched deep lines into his face. "I don't understand her at all."

"What's there to understand? When Evie has a goal, the world is made of wet cardboard."

"She's already lost so much because of that monster, and she's just going to bring him right back into her life?" He closed his eyes, as if in pain. "What else does she have to lose in order for her to see sense?"

"You're right," Chris said softly. "You don't understand a single thing about her."

Arthur opened his eyes. "Tell me."

"I think we have a few minutes for a cup of coffee. Come on and I'll tell you a story."

xxxXXXxxx

Chris stared out at the lake, breathing in the warm summer air. He just had to be out of the house right now.

It wasn't that he didn't like Vivian, but at the same time too much was changing far too quickly.

He'd never known his real Mom, she'd died shortly after childbirth. Blood clot, they'd said. Sometimes things like that happen, they'd said.

He'd gone fifteen years without her, with just him and Dad. Why bother rocking the boat now? He guessed Dad loved her, maybe? Was that a good enough reason?

"Hey, are you Chris?" a voice above him called out.

He turned and looked up, spotting the young girl sitting on the tree branch above him. She wore a T-shirt and denim shorts. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail.

"Yes?" he answered, shading the sun out of his eyes with his hand.

"Mom said you and your Dad come to this lake every summer. Is that true?"

"Yeah, that's right."

She looked out at the water wistfully. "Lucky..."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Why, what do you do during the summer?"

"I visit my grandparents in Puerto Rico."

"That sounds pretty cool."

"It's not. The water bugs there are bigger than your fist."

He looked away, dropping his hand. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"This might seem like an odd question, but who are you?"

"I'm Evangeline," she answered. "Vivian's my mom."

"Really? I thought you'd be... Smaller."

"I'm almost eleven." Her voice was a defensive huff.

He laughed. "Exactly." He took a step closer to the lake and his sneaker hit something hidden in the tall grass. It rolled a foot away, glass gleaming in the sun. He stooped down and peered at it.

"What's that?" Evangeline asked curiously.

"A jar. Something's in it." He squinted at the thick, coiled shape inside. Then his eyes widened and he scrambled backwards on his hands and rear.

"What? What is it?"

"A snake. Someone put a snake inside a big jar." His quick breathing calmed. "It's okay though, it's closed."

She jumped out of the tree then, landing next to him with a loud thump. He looked at her, startled. Her attention was focused on the jar. Before he could stop her, she reached out and picked it up with both hands.

It was large and made of heavy glass. The cover was metal. "Who seals up a dead snake in a mason jar?" Chris asked weakly.

She was frowning in disapproval. "They didn't even put holes in the lid. How could someone be so cruel?"

"We probably shouldn't be touching it." As he watched she put one hand on the lid. "H-hey!"

"It might still be alive," she said as she attempted to open the lid. It was stuck fast.

"Then we'd definitely better leave it alone," he protested. "What if it's poisonous?"

"Does it matter? It's trapped." She held the jar against her chest to keep it steady while she worked. The lid stubbornly refused to budge.

Chris reached out both hands towards her but she turned away from him. "Look, it's not moving. It's probably dead. Maybe it's diseased or something."

She turned her head and glared at him. Her pale brown eyes were fierce. "It's probably passed out from lack of oxygen. Or maybe it's just playing dead. It's probably more scared of us than you are of it."

"You don't have to open it like that, though. Get a stick or something and smash it from a distance."

"That's terrible. It'll get cut on the broken glass."

He got to his feet. "Let's bring it back to Dad, he knows about the wildlife in this area. He can probably help."

"Too late," she grunted. The lid finally became unstuck. She unscrewed it quickly.

She looked down into the jar, at the rust-colored coils. She shook the jar gently and tapped on the glass. It didn't appear to move, but maybe there was just the tiniest twitch? She lifted up her hand.

"Hey, WAIT!" Chris moved towards her quickly.

xXx

Vivian and Ben sat on the wide porch, looking out at the miles of forest stretching to the horizon. "It's not bad here," she judged.

Ben sat in his wheelchair, his hands on the armrests. One sleeve was rolled up and clear tube ran from his arm to the medical bag hanging from the pole attached to the back of his chair. He smiled cheerfully. "Good, I'm glad."

She glanced at him. "When do you want to set the date?"

"Before winter. I don't have a lot of time to waste." His happy smile stayed in place, but she felt it weigh down her heart a little.

"You still have a few years left in you," she said. "You'll get to see Chris graduate."

His eyes grew soft. "That will be nice." There was movement in the trees and he squinted at it.

"DAD!" Chris shouted as he burst through the foliage. "HELP!" He carried an unconscious Evangeline in his arms. Vivian stood up at once.

xXx

"I told her not to touch it." Chris frowned worriedly. Evangeline lay on the couch, her eyes closed.

"She'll be fine. The antivenin is working and Vivian's calling an ambulance." Ben held the girl's hand in both of his, looking at the angry bite mark on the back of it.

"It's common sense, though. If you don't recognize a snake, you should always assume it's poisonous and stay away."

"Where is the snake now?"

"I don't know. It escaped after it bit her."

Ben placed Evangeline's hand next to her gently. "Well, you've learned something about your new sister today."

"Yeah. She's an idiot."

"I mean that's she's a bit too kind for her own good. Luckily you were there to keep her from getting seriously hurt."

Chris looked at his father. "So, you proposed to Vivian, then?"

Ben laughed. "Actually, I was the proposee."

The young man's expression turned aloof. "I guess it's all right. Someone should stick around this girl before she gets herself killed at least."

"Well, there you go, then."

xxxXXXxxx

"Evie isn't the type to dwell on her own hurts," Chris said. "She'd much rather shove it aside and do anything else. Like, for instance, agree to inherit an old house from an insane dead relative. If she sits and dwells on things for too long, then she stagnates. She hates that." He looked over at Arthur. "She can ignore her own pain, but not someone else's. It doesn't matter who it is."

He set his empty mug on the table and stared at it. "Sometimes I wonder if she just can't handle someone else's hurt. Like, it's a mirror she doesn't want to look into. She'll do anything to make it go away."

"She's been through so much, right from the beginning." Arthur sighed heavily. "It's my fault for not being there for her."

"Don't pity her," Chris said sternly. "Don't you ever pity her. She doesn't need or want it. Yours or anyone else's."

"Then what does she need?"

"People that support her, especially when she tries to jump too high." His expression grew sad. "Most of all she needs someone who needs her. If she can fix the cracks in the mirror, then maybe one day she'll be able to look into it fully."