The girl had such a small frame, her limp body fit right into Jacks arms. He could feel her faint heart beat as they continued walking into the camp, where large wooden gates were opened for their arrival. 
                          
    As Mali's head lay against the nephilims boys chest, she seemed at peace and she had every right to be. Jack had seen what the girl endured and it was the only reason he persuaded Mary to let her come with them. Mali deserved rest, and after the years of fighting Michael's battles for him Jack was going to make sure she got it.
                          
    He was going to teach her how to be good, just like Sam and Dean had taught him.
                          
   Mary watched how careful Jack was with the girl as he carried her into the camp, how he seemed to watch her every move. The older hunter didn't trust the girl at all for she was just another puppet of Micheal. 
                          
   But if the son of the devil could be the most innocent being Mary had ever met, then maybe the daughter of Micheal was possible of changing for the better. Mary could see how much Jack truly hoped so, and for the sake of both worlds she hoped he was right. 
                          
*****
                          
    She was close this time, close enough to see the unbrushed hair of the boy. He was human, and he was trapped within the bars of solitude. He whimpers as he reaches out for her with his arms, "save me," he pleads, looking the girl in the eyes with his dark, broken ones.
                          
"Please don't leave me with him."
                          
    Mali takes a step closer to the cage and behind the boy is where she sees the weakened glow of the eyes. They stare out from the darkness of the cage a light white, the eyes of an archangel glare back at her. The young nephilim wasn't looking into the cage of her world, she was looking into the cage of Jacks. 
                          
    The shadow of his wings spread behind him, his figure still hidden. Free me, he taunts, a grin over his expression, Mali recodnised it anywhere, for she was staring at the eyes that brought her into creation, the eyes of the magnificent archangel Micheal.
                          
  Sweat drips off of the girl as she wakes, her hair sticking to her body. Her headscarf had been removed and if anyone recognised her then Micheal would find her, and if he found her then she'd die. He had the blade, Jack would likely watch her die, she knew her father saw the broken as the most loyal.
                          
   Yet the girl couldn't help but feel useless as she hid with the humans, she always had an order, something to follow or do for her father, and the girl tried to hide it from herself that she missed him. She missed being in his presence she owed her entire being to him. If she could've gone back to before it all started she would.
                          
    Mary Campbell walked into what resembled a hut and got the fright of her life when she saw that the girl was conscious. The hunter still heavily feared the girl and had every right too, she was the destroyer of worlds. But Mary knew none of this would've happened had it not been for her decision. 
                          
 She was stuck between two evils, one in which the world bears her pain and another where it's her own sons. She still couldn't decide which world was worse. 
                          
   "You're awake," Mary mutters as she makes her way over to the bed the girl was lying in. "How are you feeling?" Mary found herself asking, she couldn't help her own natural instincts as she sat on the bed.
                          
    The girl coughed as she perched herself up in the rags of the bed. "I believe i'm okay," she answered as she removed the cloth from across her face.  She was confused and disoriented, she couldn't remember anything except the longing of the warding on her body.