LILITH | DEAN WINCHESTER [ ✓ ]

39. fake smile

"And you know this because...?" Lilith tried to calm down, aware of the arrival of the part of the story she couldn't tell. "A demon told you?"

"It's true."

"Now you believe demons when before you were on my side with Ruby?"

"I saw it with my own eyes!"

The hunter didn't believe her, his face had said it all, letting out a snort and looking at her disdainfully, as if everything she had ever said was a lie. Lilith got out of the car; it was impossible to defend herself or engage in a sincere conversation.

"Lilith!" Dean called out, getting out of the car, his face soaked again. "Come back, Lilith, Sam and Bobby are waiting for us. Lilith!"

"No! That's it! Fine, Dean, I don't feel like talking to you right now," she needed drugs urgently. "See you later."

"Lilith! Come on, get in the car," he insisted, following her a few more steps, but she didn't look back and ignored him. "Amazing, Lilith!" was the last thing she heard.

Lilith entered the first public restroom she found to inject heroin and, after feeling the itching under her skin, she instructed a taxi driver to take her to Dorian's mansion.

The reunion ended up being as apocalyptic as her life had become. She laughed, remembering how desperate she had been to get back into the Impala with Dean driving, and ended up finishing the joke with angels saving Dean. Damn angels! Every day she hated them a little more; the idea of their extermination sounded melodious. She dreamed of that day as frequently as she dreamed of Dean's resurrection. What a hypocrite! She understood the atrocities of soul torture; she studied the philosophy of hell and the rules that exceeded the ruler, the originals made by God -and she understood even more- she would have liked to explain to Dean that those souls had bought their place, some asking for deaths, others sinning out of selfishness, power, and money, a place in politics; few asked for an honorable wish, like Dean's or a humanitarian good. They weren't God, and it didn't seem like God cared either. It was the nature of creation, the reflection of God. Dean wouldn't sit down to think about it, and if he did, he wouldn't listen to her.

He blamed her for wanting him to be on Earth, with Sam and her. He blamed her for wishing something good would come out of everything she did. The sound of his broken heart was so real, she thought she had died. Her heart stopped beating, and the absolute silence dragged her into one of hell's cells. Were her choices that bad? Was she walking through the valley of evil? The impression of good was unfair, pathetic, lamentable, they didn't deserve a single word printed in the Bible. There was no path of good and no path of evil. She had once told Sam that he was the one who could decide if his actions were good or bad. The means would be judged by the results; she put her foot there.

Suddenly, Lilith stopped and contemplated the entrance to the mansion and noticed the number of parked cars. She had forgotten about the family dinner! She ran up the steps like the Road Runner, and when she entered the foyer, one of the butlers opened his eyes as wide as plates and indicated for her to go upstairs as quickly as possible to her room before anyone saw her looking like a beggar, with wet hair, dilated pupils, and dirt on her backside.

"Hello, my boy!" she greeted Prayer, stroking his ears and giving him some kisses on the forehead; he slept on the bed like a king. "How much do you want to bet that Dorian is coming up with a vein bulging on his forehead?"

She stripped off her clothes and ran to the bathroom for a five-minute shower, which, upon finishing, found herself confronted with a group of people and Dorian in the room with his arms crossed and the vein on his forehead bulging.

"I asked for just one night! Just one! Where were you? And now you don't answer your phone?" he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," Lilith approached and hugged him, but Dorian refused, still angry from yesterday. Lilith groaned. "Dorian, I'm really sorry; I'll explain later. Look, I'm here now, it's not too late. Just an hour, okay?" It was one of those days when she was shattered, and she hadn't stopped crying since her argument with Dean. "I'll be happy, I promise; we'll have a special and beautiful night, just like you want. Please hug me. I don't want to fight." She hugged him tightly. "Dorian," she pleaded, plucking a hair from him.