POST SEASON 1, EPISODE 17

It took Mara no longer than a minute to realize that she had no idea how to trace a phone number. She knew many things. She could surmise, with nothing more than a glance, whether a soul was destined to heaven, hell, or purgatory. She had the ability to tell a human being from a demon in disguise with astoundingly little effort. She even knew how to travel across the globe in less than a second. And yet, when it came to the technology of the living world, she was as lost as her customers often were in the rudimentary moments that followed their demise.

Despite her lack of knowledge regarding the materialistic aspects of the land of the living, Mara at least knew where to start: access to the internet. Thankfully, in the week she'd been observing the Winchesters, she'd witnessed Dean watching enough chick flicks to know there were plenty of computers in what was called a "internet cafe". Granted, the people in the tacky films would inevitably focus on each other instead of the computers, but she was able to grasp enough of the concept of an internet cafe to assume people went there to use the computers, as well.

The only problem with her muddle of a plan was the fact that computer cafes were much more difficult to locate than she'd originally thought. She searched through town after town, careful to never stray too far away from the Winchesters in case her plan went awry, and still had not found a cafe by the end of the afternoon. Mara had all but given up when she stumbled upon a dilapidated, old-looking corner building with a sign that read 'Ted's Computer Junction'.

She glanced through the grubby windows at the interior of the so-called computer junction. There weren't many people seated in front of the glowing computer screens, and the ones who were didn't seem to actually be using the computers. Instead, most of the cafe's inhabitants seemed to be captivated by a man who was drinking out of a glass bottle as fast as he could.

'Maybe these cafes are like the ones in Dean's movies,' Mara thought, raising an eyebrow at the peculiar lack of computer usage.

Fortunately enough, Mara hadn't seen any supernatural beings seated around the drinking man, or anywhere else in the building, for that matter. If there had been any non-human person, she might have reconsidered her plan. In order to trace John Winchester's number, she would have to take on a physical form, and she would not risk doing so if a demon of any kind was around to see. Reapers were not supposed to reveal themselves, and any demon who knew any better would surely report Mara to Azazel or Meg.

Mara watched her hands shimmer into existence as she took on the appearance she favored the most: a slim, blonde woman that reminded her of an actress she'd seen on a television set once. As soon as she was certain all her body parts had appeared, she pushed the door to the computer cafe open and stepped inside.

"Welcome to Ted's Computer Junction, how can I help...oh."

Mara looked at the man who had spoken, and watched as he straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest ever so slightly. She frowned. Every time she'd appeared to someone as the blonde woman, they seemed to act as oddly as the man behind the desk did, and she could never figure out why.

Mara strode over to the black desk. It shimmered as if it had a layer of grime painted on top, and Mara was careful not to lay her hands on the surface.

"Can you help me trace someone's phone number?" Mara asked, trying to make her voice sound livelier than it naturally was. She remembered seeing something on a commercial about tone of voice and how changing it could make you seem friendlier.

The man behind the desk grew more fidgety, if that was possible. He started wringing his hands together, and began glancing around like he was paranoid that someone was listening in to their conversation. Mara didn't understand why he would be paranoid - no one else in the room was paying attention to them. They were all too busy participating in the obnoxious drinking game that reminded Mara of the ones Sam and Dean liked to play.

"I...uh..." the man - Damien, according to the tag on his shirt - paused to glance at the group of drinkers once more before continuing. "I'm not really supposed to, because it's kind of illegal but, uh..." Damien's eyes lazed across Mara's white dress, his gaze straying toward the lace neckline more than once. "I guess I can make an exception. It is our motto, after all."

With that last statement, he haphazardly gestured toward the sign that was plastered across the wall behind him. Mara craned her neck to read it. The words were faded and the acrylic was beginning to chip at the edges, but she managed to make out the words 'Ted's Computer Junction - We can help you solve any computer problem, guaranteed'. Mara wasn't sure whether tracing someone's phone number could be considered a computer problem or not, but she figured that if the employee was offering to help her, then she should probably accept his offer. There was no way she could trace John's phone on her own.

The slight rosiness in Damien's cheeks seemed to spread as he stepped out from behind the counter. "I'll have to do it in the back. Like I said..." He chuckled, and Mara got the impression that what she was asking him to do made him nervous. "It's not exactly legal."

Damien led Mara to a door on the back wall. When he pulled the peeling door open to reveal what looked like an abandoned janitor's closet, Mara wasn't surprised to see that the room was just as cluttered and dusty as the rest of the internet cafe. She would even go so far as to say it was in worse condition than the other parts of the building.

The smell that emanated from the musty walls of the room was intolerable. Mara's nose squinched up in disgust, and if reapers had the ability to "lose their lunch", as she'd heard mortals call it, she was sure she would have done so. The only computer in the room was he clunkiest computer she had ever seen, and the computer's monitor matched the rest of the area in that it was laden with a thick coat of dust that made Mara's nose itch.

Damien scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile finding its way onto his face. "It used to be where the janitor put his supplies, when we had one. He left a few mops and brooms in here, actually. Now we mostly just use this room when we need to do things that would probably get us in trouble."

"You never thought to get rid of the janitor's old stuff?" Mara wondered aloud. She tried not to sound critical, but it was hard when she was being faced with what was quite possibly the most unsanitary place she'd ever laid her eyes on.

Damien's eyebrows shot up and let out another nervous laugh. "No, I guess we never got around to it."

Mara didn't bother making eye contact with the cafe employee as she neared the dusty computer. She pursed her pale lips and blew on the screen, making dust rise into the air as if her breath had been a bomb and it was the smoke rising in the aftermath of an explosion. She ignored Damien's sneezing as she commented, "It seems to me that cleaning this place up should be your top priority. It's filthier than Azazel's corner of hell."

"Did you just...ah, hell, you say?"

Mara winced at the wary note Damien's voice carried. She hadn't meant to mention hell. The reaper wasn't used to having to censor her references, especially when most of her time was spent around hell and its residents. Though, seeing how uncomfortable the mention of such a place made Damien, she surmised she would have to get used to filtering her speech.

The next time Mara spoke, it was in hopes that she could change the subject and Damien would forget about her uncanny reference. "Is this the computer you're going to use to trace the number?"

"Yeah, that's the one," he answered, running a head through his tangled black hair as he neared the computer and hunched over the screen. There didn't appear to be any chairs in the room, so both Mara and Damien were left to stand beside the small table the computer sat on.

Damien asked for the number Mara wanted to track and, as soon as he took the crumpled piece of paper out of her petite fingers, he typed the digits into a flashing box on the computer screen. Mara watched carefully as his fingers flew across the lettered keys in front of him. It was enough trouble following his swift movements as he typed on the computer's keyboard, but as he began to search deeper for the location of John Winchester's phone, his electronic commands causing strings of numbers to glide across the glowing screen, it became impossible to keep track of Damien's search methods.

"Huh," Damien grunted, his features contorted into an expression of bewilderment. "That's weird. Whoever this number belongs to, they must have taken the battery out of their phone."

Mara leaned closer to the computer screen to attempt to make sense out of the numbers that were being displayed. She quickly realized her attempts were in vain, however, and opted to ask Damien to explain himself instead. "What do you mean? Why does a battery matter?"

Damien rubbed a hand over the obscure scruff on his chin. "Well, if they don't have a battery in their phone, then I can't track it. It's kind of suspicious that he would do that, actually, because that's the only way to stop someone from tracing your phone. Whose phone is this, exactly?"

"I thought you said you could find it," Mara pointed out. She chose to ignore his question. He didn't need to know who she was looking for, and John Winchester moved around so often that Mara doubted the man would know who John was, anyway.

"I thought I could, but-"

"I don't think you understand how important it is that I locate this phone," Mara interrupted. She could feel her heartbeat quicken and her blood start to get hot. "I need the coordinates of this phone."

Damien's posture straightened and he rose to his full height, placing a hand on Mara's shoulder. "Listen, sweetheart, I just can't do it. I tried. There's no way the owner of that phone is gonna be found unless he wants to be."

Mara jerked out of the man's grip. He was lying. He had to be. There was no way John simply couldn't be found. Her freedom depended on his discovery and, eventually, his capture and demise. Mara didn't like the idea of the destruction of John Winchester, of course. But it had to be done, or else she would never be free to fulfill her duty as a reaper again.

"You're a liar. You...the motto...said you could help with any computer problem," she blurted out, her words becoming shorter and snippier as time passed.

Damien shrugged. "And I did help. My help just didn't work the way it was supposed to, and there's nothing I can do about that." The scrawny technician took a step toward the dainty figure of the woman that stood in front of him. His eyes slowly passed over the outline of her body, and he lifted his figure to graze the border her neckline created between the visible and the intimate. "I can help you with something else, though, if you'd like."

Apparently, not much could deter the cafe employee, because despite Mara shoving his hand off her shoulder before, he reached up to grasp one of her shoulders once more. He leaned closer to the inconspicuous reaper and took a few steps forward, consequently forcing Mara closer to the doorway of the backroom. He gently closed the door with his free hand as he added, "No one has to see us."

Mara froze. She felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten where Damien was touching her, and for the first time since she'd taken on the form of the blonde-haired woman, she felt insecure about the flimsy dress she was wearing. Watching over the Winchesters had exposed her to just enough cinema that he knew where situations like this led and Mara, for one, wasn't going to allow herself to be degraded by a man who had never once been capable of charm and respect in his lifetime.

"Sorry to disappoint," she started as she placed a hand on Damien's chest, hoping that action provided enough implicit meaning to let him know she wasn't interested. "But if you can't help me find the man I'm looking for, then I'm afraid you're of no use to me."

Mara didn't feel the need to refrain from rolling her eyes as Damien wrapped his hand around her waist. "You know, I don't think you're understanding me," he mumbled in her ear. "I think I am the man you're looking for. For the next half hour, at least."

Mara tore her ear away from Damien's lips. "That might be what you think, but I think you've been watching too many Ryan Gosling movies. Your awful pick-up line gave it away."

Suddenly, Mara seemed to remember why she didn't want to communicate with humans as much as she used to. Their behavior was repulsive.

"Get off of me!" she snapped.

She'd finally had enough. She'd tried being polite, she'd tried shoving him off, and she'd even tried using a sarcastic reference she'd heard Dean say one time. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it - Mara was going to have to use more forceful methods to get away from Damien.

It only took her two seconds to wrestle out of his grip. The look on his face when she used nothing but brute force to tear his arms off of her body told Mara that he'd underestimated her strength, and when dealing with a reaper, underestimation was one of the worst mistakes a person could make.

Mara took hold of his wrist in one hand and grabbed the back of his shoulder with another, pushing his shoulder in and yanking his arm to the side so he would fall face first into the cement flooring. She twisted his arm behind his back and held it there as she pressed one knee between his shoulder blades, a snarl flashing across her face.

"I said get off," she uttered.

With that, she retrieved the paper with John's number written on it and walked toward the door, stepping over Damien's groaning body as she did so. She didn't bother looking anywhere but straight ahead when she marched out the exit of the internet cafe, but she couldn't help but notice the group of drinking men seemed a great deal quieter than they had been when she'd first arrived. She wondered if they'd heard the smack of Damien's face slamming into the ground from all the way out here.

Mara thought she would feel upset as she left the revolting computer junction. At the very least, she expected to feel angry at the cafe employee who'd felt the need to force himself onto her. She'd failed her self-assigned mission, after all, and hadn't received anything but disrespect from a creep in place of John's location. Despite all that, Mara only felt defeated.

She'd already searched John WInchester's journal before she even bothered with the number, and it hadn't taken long to ascertain that the leather-bound notebook was a dead end. Now, it appeared John's number was a dead end, too.

She debated taking the number to Meg and Azazel for a short time. She quickly realized they wouldn't know how to trace it, either, seeing as how they'd spent a majority of the last century in the deepest parts of hell.

Mara only had one option left. It was an option she wasn't fond of, but unfortunately, she had no other choice if she wanted her freedom back. She would have to follow the Winchester children again, for as long as it took until they led her to their enigmatic father. Sam, Dean,and Kat were her last hope. It didn't matter that Kat's innocence and Sam's kindness made her feel guilty for trying to find and kill their father, or that Dean's very presence made her skin crawl in odd ways she'd never felt before. She would have to rely on the Winchester children. And, if all went well, the intrepid trio would be her saving grace.