#riighteouspath

She's been leafing through her spell book in silence for quite some time. Of course, that silence is broken the second Castiel enters the room. He is already on about... something. Bees? Honey? He's likely continuing a conversation he was having with someone else, she presumes, before he elected to subject Eden to his ramblings. The witch attempts to pay him no mind, but the angel has quickly moved to sit beside her.

He's clearly trying to get her attention; Eden can't tell whether it is to chat, or for her to do something for him. What does he want? Fresh honeycomb?

Green eyes finally – begrudgingly – flit away from her book, and towards the angel. Who knows how long those eyes have been locked on her? He's waiting for a response, it seems. So, she'll give one. It likely isn't one he wants to hear. But – to be frank – he should expect it at this point.

"Save me, O God," the huntress whispers, boot-laden feet dragging along damp pavement. She has little energy left; it has been spent in war. Slashes and bruises adorn her body to show for it — it is not long before it finds where she is. "... for the waters have come up to my neck."

Clara grips a set of rosary beads in her hands. It is her last set; the others have been dropped into the large vats of water above her. Blessed — holy — the water will be the beginning to their end. And perhaps to hers too.

"I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me."

Suddenly, she feels it. An unmistakable presence. She is not alone. And she is counting on it.

'Are you praying, you pitiful girl?' A mocking voice coos from behind her.

Clara turns around, her lips turning upwards into a soft smile.

"Why yes, I am." She answers the query calmly, and her eyes meet with the pitch-black stare of the monstrosity behind her.

'It's no use. No one's coming to save you.' Trying to get under her skin; a tried-and-true tactic... but it is in vain. And the sin of vanity is one nearly all demons commit.

Clara tucks the beads into her pocket, her calm expression never wavering.

"You were born lost." Where her beads went into her pocket, her gun now comes out.

The demon laughs. 'That little thing won't work on me.' He steps closer, holding his arms out — enticing her to shoot him. 'Go ahead. Try.'

Wordlessly, Clara points the gun at the demon, who lets out an even louder laugh. She aims... and shoots — directly at the vat above his head.

Holy water rains down, and the demon's body begins to sizzle as he screams and curses at her.

From memory, she begins. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..."

The demon wails... and then... begins to laugh through the pain. 'Stupid girl,' he hisses, revealing a burnt seal on his arm, 'Nice try.'

Suddenly, the huntress is grabbed from behind. Reinforcements. She gasps, but the demon's arm is around her neck. She cannot utter a word. Clara claws at the demon, and somehow — perhaps by God's will — she manages to free her throat enough to speak one single word. A word she thinks of often but hardly dares to utter aloud. A powerful word — one that she now prays, pleads to:

It is at times like these that Eden truly remembers who is fighting by her side. Angel, ancient entity – Castiel is a force to be reckoned with. And he's right. Battle does favor the fearless. And when they are side-by-side, especially then, battle favors them.

With her book in one hand and a pulse of energy hovering above her other, the witch looks over to the angel. To an outsider, the amount of demons surrounding them might say one thing about their fate, but Eden and Castiel hardly listen to fate.

The witch speaks.

She looks to him with a quirked brow. Oh? This is new.

Eden isn't quite sure if she likes it.

It's safe to say her attitude has... put him off a little more than usual. The witch folds her hands, resting her elbows on the table. Her tone is serious, though – she knows her next words are far from the truth. But... she can't help herself.

“Why do you look like you’re up to somethin’?” Dean quirks a brow as Cas makes his way over to him. Sure enough, he is up to something — because he quickly pulls something from behind his back and raises his hand up. The hunter’s features twist in confusion as his gaze follows the length of Cas’ arm — and then they land on the leaves in his hand. It doesn’t take long for Dean to piece together what that is — what month it is.

“Who th’hell taught you that?” He questions — because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Ben was dead. Again. But she's still shaken. For hours, Agnes was in her room in the bunker --- a rare thing indeed. She was always in someone else's room... whether it be Castiel's, Jonah's, or Dean's. Now, she stares at Castiel in the doorway. His presence does make her feel better. But she still can't get his words out of her head.

"Look, I'm a demon, Aggie. A second chance at life. A life that ended with you." "That's where you're wrong, Ben --- you've always been a demon. You were just really good at hiding it."

"Hear the whispers in the dark."