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The Road So Far… Forty years ago one grief filled night led to a deal being made that would change a family’s destiny in ways no one could have foreseen. A decade later the yellow-eyed man came for a midnight visit to the nursery of a six month old Sam Winchester whose mother would breathe her last agonized breath pinned to the ceiling above his crib. The loss of whom transformed a once doting father into a drill sergeant obsessed with finding the ‘thing’ that killed the love of his life. From that night on his two sons were raised like warriors without ever having a place to call home as they were dragged from one town to the next as he relentlessly searched for what killed their mother. While the eldest of his two sons embraced the life of a hunter, the younger brother craved a normal life something which led to his running off to Stanford University where for a short time he had that with a young woman named Jessica Moore who he planned to propose to. But someone had other plans for Sam, ones that involved him returning to the life of a hunter, and so, her life came to a tragic end one that mirrored the death of his mother more than twenty years ago. However, the Winchesters weren’t the only ones with ‘the family business’ as she had come from a similar background (one that would provide a grief-stricken mother with the means of bringing an end to the heartache). Within days of the funeral, Amelia Moore paid a midnight visit to the crossroads…this decision quickly became a source of some conflict among family and friends though not quite as much as uncovering the truth about her daughter’s death had. It took some time for the Moore family to return to life as it once was though obviously it took serious convincing to persuade Jessica that reuniting with her former love would be a bad idea under the circumstances. Meanwhile out of a desperation for revenge her ex-boyfriend went back to life on the road with his older brother on a quest to find their missing father who both believed held the key to finding the one responsible for the deaths of two loved ones. However, the hunt for ‘old yellow eyes’ took a tragic turn once they finally managed to catch up with him as the confrontation ended with one life hanging in the balance. It was this precarious situation that pushed a desperate father to give up the only weapon which could be used against the very one whose actions sent him down this path. Without a word to his youngest son, John Winchester went down into the basement of the hospital where he summoned ‘the yellow eyed son of a bitch’ with whom he struck a deal to save the life of his eldest son. His sacrifice one that allowed his boys to continue the ‘family business’ finishing what he started, though no one could have predicted the twists and turns their journey would take. Just when things were starting to seem even more hopeless when it came to finding and killing ‘old yellow eyes’ the brothers began receiving help from a mysterious woman whose weapon of choice was a strange knife capable of killing demons. But until the night when Azazel sent one of his ‘special children’ into an old cemetery, the Winchesters hadn’t known about her being a demon to them she had simply been another hunter whom they added to their short list of allies. She was forced into revealing that part of her identity when she couldn’t accompany the small band of hunters thanks to a rather large devil’s trap formed by the iron railroad tracks which crossed property, but that would hardly be their biggest problem as they soon discovered why the dual nature of The Colt as it also served as a key which opened the devil’s gate found at the heart of the old cemetery. A couple hundred demons escaped from hell during the brief amount of time it took to close the gate and during the commotion ‘old yellow eyes’ managed to give them the slip. The events of that night set things in motion, starting with who was among those given a ‘get out of jail free’ card, Eve, the *very* first demon in existence. For the next five years finding a way of keeping hi

(Location: Cemetery --- Sleepy Hollow, New York) Cordelia was granted one last day with those she cared about, time she used to get ‘her guy’ back on track and say her goodbyes. Something that had proven more difficult than the Seer was prepared for as the exit planned involved a phone call from the hospital that night informing her friends she’d passed away without ever having woken up. It was difficult hearing the shrill ring of the phone, knowing it signaled the end of the time she had left with her ‘family’ and loss of the ‘happy ending’ they all thought had come at last. Alas, the Powers That Be had a somewhat cruel sense of humor considering that instead of simply reuniting her with her friends on a more permanent basis…the course of action they chose was to kill her off only to bring her back to life in another world altogether. But she couldn’t afford to dwell on the unfairness of their decision, not with being forced to find her footing once again. She was all too familiar with ‘fighting the good fight’ having spent the first three years of her life in Los Angeles working at Angel Investigations. However, the evils of this world seemed far more dangerous, back home demons had tragic skin complexions with the occasional case of horns, while the demons of this world started out as human souls being tortured in hell. Vampires, well, honestly those were also much more menacing here. It took most of the last ten years to adapt to life as a hunter, fortunately a few people came into her life who were willing and patient enough to take the time needed to teach her the ropes. To them, she would be eternally grateful because without those individuals she might not have survived the last decade here. Most days were spent either working jobs or doing things such as hustling pool, though on occasion fate afforded her some downtime (which she took full advantage of). Every so often someone would come into her life, offering her a fleeting distraction from all the ‘what could have been’ thoughts which had hounded her since the moment she and Angel said their goodbyes. But sadly, nothing lasting ever came of those chance encounters. But those things were neither here nor there as the day had been spent exploring Sleepy Hollow as a vision of what appeared to be a civil war soldier (minus a head) sitting atop a white horse with seemingly glowing red eyes coming up out of the river to terrorize this town had drawn her here. She had hoped that maybe her little sightseeing expedition would trigger something else… something super helpful like how in the hell one was supposed to stop a headless horseman. Though there was no such luck on that front. Not even the cliff notes version. Just once she would like to have had a vision that wasn’t so damned cryptic or vague that it raised more questions than answered. Was that too much to ask? Seriously just one. Her brown eyes looked about the small cemetery briefly settling on the grave of a woman named ‘Katrina Crane’ as she walked towards the exit.

(Location: Exiting a diner --- Sleepy Hollow, New York) Jenica couldn’t even begin to explain what had possessed her to do something like writing a letter to someone who more than likely was a complete stranger. But it had been one of those things she was simply unable to get off her mind until it was done so two pages about the history of and fate met by one ‘Jenica Dracul’ was sealed up inside in an envelope with a picture of her included. There was no signature aside from a small star drawn in the bottom corner of the last page and with there being no return address the only clue as to where it had come from was a postmark from Sleepy Hollow. She, of course, knew there was a much greater chance the man calling himself Vlad Aculea would have no clue who the story told inside those pages was about. But there was just something about him that reminded her so much of her brother when she’d been watching his press conference just a few short days ago. If it was him, was it reincarnation? Or could there be another explanation? The history books all said that he had died on the battlefield, beheaded by enemy soldiers. What had she hoped to accomplish in sending a letter that quite possibly its recipient would believe the ramblings of someone who was mentally unstable? With a heavy sigh, the former princess reached into pocket fishing out a few bills to cover both her meal and the tip before getting to her feet and exiting the small diner.

Crowley hummed Clapton's old Crossroads song under his breath as he leafed through reports from his eager and mostly worthless little minions. Everyone wanted to rise in the ranks. That was understandable. Really it was. He'd started at the bottom himself though in truth, those days were a bit pleasantly difficult to recall. Only he'd deserved to get where he was, and so few others did because they simply.couldn't.cut it! He would reward a few of his spies, though, for at least 2 had actually brought him back something to chew on. That or at least to toss into the pot of possibilities and stir around...see which ended up returning to the surface to float. The Winchester brothers were being oddly unexciting, at least by Crowley's own standards,and he didn't trust it one bit. That particular spy would be told to continue watching and not to allow the brothers to bore him to death. If said spy managed to remain vigilant in spite of vast amounts of boredom, perhaps Crowley would reward him. Stranger things had happened after all... Take the latest goings on in Sleepy Hollow for example. "And here I thought that little berg had had its 3 minutes of fame back in the seventeen hundreds," Crowley murmured to himself with a smirk followed up by a slight chuckle. Now wouldn't it be a complete larque if he got one of his own agents to ride as one of the four horseman in the end? What a coop that would be! A demon could dream, as dreams often turned into realities when one had the ambition that Crowley always had. That thought inspired him to flip back to the Winchester's report, expression a mix of listless, peeved and considering. When he at last made it to the final report of interest, it left him looking a bit surprised...for him looking a bit surprised meant he was actually dazed with shock if only for a moment. It seemed that the oh so good and pure and obnoxiously annoying Castiel himself had been seen with a demoness...and in this case (seen with) meant basic pornography. The particular spy, an enterprising young demon who Crowley was beginning to like after reading this report, had actually included drawings! Not bad ones either. It seemed hell had an artist in its midst, Crowley thought as he studied the expression of ecstasy on the demoness's face as her claws raked over Castiel's back. The angel's eyes were glazed with passion and his attention was entirely fixed on her as his lips devoured her own. But who was this demoness anyway? It suddenly occurred to Crowley that he'd never seen her in hell. Furthermore how had she managed to put a sex enslavement spell on an angel as powerful as Castiel? That's what it had to be as otherwise why would either of them be...doing...well one another? If she had enslaved Castiel she must have some plan either to use him or to simply cause him to fall...which ever it was, Crowley didn't like the fact that she didn't seem to be reporting to hell. With a shout he summoned back the spy who'd provided him with such charming artwork and demanded he interview some of the older demons in hell to discover who this red haired bat winged would-be succubus was. The minion bowed and hurried out. "Nice artwork, by the by," Crowley called after him. I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed. I get along with the voices inside of my head.

(Location: Edge of Town --- Sleepy Hollow) Eve spent much of the evening in a roadside bar on the edge of town setting up her prey who was either far too simpleminded to pick up on the fact she hadn’t touched even the first drop from the bottle of whiskey purchased for the purpose of ‘liquoring her up’. But she went along with the charade, stumbling along and laughing drunkenly at the random nonsense he was spewing. She knew exactly to what end his suggestion of their going someplace where they could be alone though the demon had something far different in mind. Climbing into the cab of his old Ford pickup truck giggling like some drunken co-ed, sliding up next to him further building his confidence that evening would turn out as he’d hoped it would. Softly whispering in his ear the directions to a small cabin located in the woods a few roads down, one hand slipping inside his old worn denim jacket to run along his chest. During the ride to their chosen destination she continued touching and teasing the man. Fumbling around in her pocket as though searching for something as the two stumbled their way from the truck to the cabin’s door. This little charade one she was growing increasingly bored with as time went on. Once inside she found a folded piece of paper on the table beside an antique dagger she had placed there earlier. For a moment she forgot about the man who was now pressed up against her back with his hands beginning to wander along her body. She reached down picking up the small piece of paper which she unfolded its contents causing her eyes to darken. Having lost patience with the drunken imbecile she had brought back here the demon sent him flying backwards slamming against the wall with the single wave of a hand. All the pieces had been falling into place then some damned cloud hopper comes strolling into hell and takes one of the souls that were rightfully hers. Did no one honor their deals anymore? Well, someone was damn sure going to answer for this. The brunette snatched the antique dagger from its spot on the table quickly closing the distance between herself and the babbling idiot then in a single fluid motion brought the blade up slitting his throat. A much quicker end than originally planned but the news that someone had sprung Dean Winchester from hell left her leaning far more towards furious than being inclined to ‘play’. With another wave of the hand she let the gurgling man fall to the floor then stepped over him practically seething.

Location, Crowley's little niche of hell The demon who'd drawn such disturbingly life like drawings of Castiel, as in Castiel the angel, shagging the hell out of some unknown demoness, returned with...in this case no news was bad news for The King of the Crossroads. The intriguingly artistic minion admitted that he'd not dared to approach Eve herself on the matter, but he'd been bold enough to speak to some other old demons, some even old enough to have gone quite reclusive. Yet the enterprising young artist had dared to seek them out, sniffing them out and asking them about the red haired black winged demoness. "Did you point out that she dresses like Xina the warrior whore in case that happens to matter,"Crowley asked, disgruntled with the complete bloody lack of info. The minion bowed low and explained that he'd done one better and brought along a rough draft of the drawing Crowley himself had been given with his report. The crossroads demon heaved a sigh and slumped over the table at which he sat not looking at the reports spread out there. He had a demoness being quite uniquely involved with an angel, surely for an interesting reason, but he had no access to that reason nor even her bloody name. He couldn't even risk setting the spy back on them for more than a few snatched glimpses. Castiel may be a raving idiot, but he wasn't weak. His power was enough that he'd eventually notice a demon spying on him. Not to mention the demoness he was with. She'd notice. How could no one know who she was, he thought, kicking out at the table leg in frustration. Had she stayed out of hell for so very long? And if so why? IT was the only thing he could come up with. I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed. I get along with the voices inside of my head.

Abby looked around the office with a heavy sigh after having spent the past several hours poring over the various files her ‘mentor and friend’ had kept hidden away from prying eyes. These were things that up until about a year ago were among the many things that Sheriff Corbin kept secret. But it was around that time that he had begun telling her things about a whole other world that most knew nothing about, each afternoon he brought her here to discuss all that he had learned of it. Naturally this had all been met with a heavy dose of skepticism as monsters weren’t real. It was one of those truths that every frightened child desperately clung to when every shadow and noise led them to believe the ‘boogeyman’ was lurking just out of sight waiting to get them. What was she supposed to do with all of this? Becoming an FBI agent and getting out of this town were two main goals though his death changed all that. Now she felt compelled to do something with knowledge passed along by the man who had helped change the course of her life. She leaned back a bit somewhat belatedly noticing the email notification on the glowing screen of her cellphone. Slowly extending her right hand to pick the small device up off the desk then swiping right to unlock it. Combing through her emails she deleted ones that were nothing more than ‘junk mail’ before her gaze settled on the one from her sister. Lightly tapping the subject to open the message, eyes widening a bit when she discovered it was about an artifact supernatural in nature. Pausing slightly she then began to rummage through the secret compartment in his desk where a list of old contacts was kept. Quickly skimming the pages of the little black book until she found a name with a couple stars beside it…’Ruby’ with a note written in the margin about that being an alias used by someone called ‘Jenica Dracul’. Her brow furrowed somewhat but her attention returned to the small glowing screen as she quickly typed out a message about looking into it and how that might involve tracking someone named ‘Jenica Dracul’ down. Hitting send she carefully tucked the device back inside her pocket before setting about putting all the files away for another time.

Jenica supposed the woman’s reaction to the summarized version of her life story was to be expected considering most people couldn’t quite wrap their heads around the existence of the supernatural world. But at least it hadn’t been accompanied with a shouted claim of her being mentally unstable before a rapid departure was made. So she guessed that was a start. “How much did he tell you…about the supernatural?” Naturally the hunter wondered whether the information passed along to the young woman was more of a ‘need to know’basis about certain artifacts and self-defense or more of an ‘all in’ scenario. It was something that definitely needed to be taken into consideration when sharing little tidbits about things that went bump in the night. “Getting smaller all the time, I suppose.” Something about quite literally having someone who knew Corbin bumping into her did seem strange though not entirely beyond the realm of coincidence. “It’s not all that surprising to learn that he kept a file on me. August seemed rather interested in my history. And for the record, just in case you’re thinking it based on my last name…I’m not a vampire. Just a woman brought back from the dead a few months ago who makes it her business to hunt monsters.” She had a feeling that thought might have crossed her mind and felt clearing the air a bit was called for. “He mentioned something about the two of you having stumbled across a man with yellow eyes out in the woods near some kind of white tree if memory serves.” Though the fact that as girls she and her sister had encountered Azazel for any reason was cause for concern given his habits. But as neither one was six month old baby she doubted his blood was involved.

No human ever understood that Crossroads gained prominence in their lives long before they ever reached the actual point of making a deal. In his human existence Rudolph missed that point as well, and learned it only later at the capable hands of his first instructor. Becoming himself the pearl maniacally thrust by The Fates under the watchful glare of the proverbial swine that was Belial, he revealed an unexpected plethora of choices in his mortal existence, even if such revelations were accompanied by an unbearable pain and ensuing emptiness. But now at least he could use his mortal experience to subtly introduce the realm of Crossroads to the seeker who was not even aware of their search and of what path it would force upon their heads. Watching from the shadows a darkly lit room where an older woman was wearing a kerchief and feigning the manners of the Romani, without ever seeing one in her life, Rudolph's handsome features opened into a sad smile when the first Tarot card in the deck to fall on the table in the three fold spread landed on its reversed side and connoted the meaning he had anticipated. He didn't even cause it to fall reversed with his minor telekinetic powers, nor tried the trick of persuasion on the fake psychic reader but he didn't need to employ such strategies. After all, he had designed this deck himself and was attuned to its energy. It held true gates inside, as was required by the letter of the mystical law, but Rudolph cleverly disguised them behind false leads and of all the querents who ever found his masterpiece, only one managed to escape the clutches of Hell. That was how Crossroads approached, two choices presented themselves, and the wrong one was being made at every turn. And now, the person who was asking for a reading, a heavy set woman with a Mid Eastern appearance, trod her first step onto Crossroads, because the card she received reflected her mental state and attuned her to the dark lure of a Hell gate. The edges of the cards were purposefully golden and the client focused on those with some hope but the reader who may have been fake still was experienced enough to know better, looking at the dark images at the center where an equally heavy set woman was regally reclining on her throne and peremptorily regarding the youthful applicant facing her on his knees. "Well...that hasn't happened in ten years," the psychic interpreted almost resentfully, anticipating the ninety five dollars previously obtained being instantly withdrawn. "It seems like all of your hopes are currently denied..." she started, but Rudolph did not need to see the face of the client to know she was about to be broken in the area of family matters and proceed ever faster onto the path he had delineated until she arrived at a certain dark crossing where he would be waiting for her to bargain her soul. With satisfaction at the imminent conclusion, Rudolph Yerbler finally acceded to the wishes of his liege lord and began his own quest for information. Plunging downward into the never ending dust filled dessert terrain that was the Hellish domain of Abbadon the Ancient, after whom a famous demon knight was once inappropriately named, Rudolph envisioned a great stone place the walls of which were leaning conspicuously down yet never fell. Finding himself at once within the walls of the palace as if it was there at the dessert all along, Rudolph cheerfully smiled in greeting to the semi retired demoness, Lady Messalina, who smiled back with marked contentment. Carefully explaining his need, Rudolph accepted a cup of refreshing tea, giving the old demoness who agreeably supplied him with information the chance to recover her wits and remember all the generations of the demoness involved with the angel. Lady Messalina took her time looking at the drawing and just when he expected to receive an answer, the Lady regretfully shook her head. "Hold on a minute though," she suddenly got up and brought out a sad looking demon girl with piercing blue eyes and a surprising pair of antlers. Rudolph did not think such things wer

OOC, Skimming over stuff we talked about OOC with Ishamael's permission. IC As they walked back to their hotel Halbrek gave Castiel a serious look. She was worried he'd be difficult about the idea she found as only necessary...that he would resist and strongly, but when she opened her mouth, and spoke her plan, concerning who they needed to call upon and why, the angel, looking as grim as she, only nodded. She gaped at that. Gaping wasn't generally her thing but she did it...for a moment. "Well good then, she said, giving a sigh of relief and a satisfied smile to the angel. Back at the hotel a bowl of scrying water from the bathroom's tap and candles surrounding it was all they needed. Halbrek hastily sketched a pentagram around the bowl, then began to sing softly. the energy of the calling struck the crystal of the bowl nearly like chimes, adding a sort of music to the sing song words of her calling... "Father Lucifer... you never looked so sane. You always did prefer the drizzle to the rain." She'd felt his energy if vaguely at the cemetery today. He'd also come to look. He'd also felt it. Which meant...he wasn't bound. Someone was, but not him. The father of lies had once more tricked them all, even his own...even the angels. But she noticed things, and if he had answers to any of this, she wanted them, or at least as many as he'd be willing to give. Power snaked around the bowl as the pentagram glowed red yet somehow darkened with shadow at the same time. The bowl appeared to tremble without moving, and Halbrek hoped it didn't crack. I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed. I get along with the voices inside of my head.

Cordelia pocketed the napkin with a phone number scribbled on it, while a little eager to leave the diner as well she waited long enough to ensure the other hunter had more than enough time to finish his meal before leading him from the establishment. Passing the time by taking him to a local bar so that both of them could get their hands on some cash via hustling a few games of pool and playing a little poker. After which she’d gone about helping him get some supplies (clothes, weapons, etc.) then taking him back to the hotel where she was staying so that he could get a room and some rest. Once he was settled in she returned to her own room which was two doors down from his own and went about her own nightly ritual which basically consisted of getting a shower followed by curling up in her pajamas while doing some research on her laptop and watching a little television. Trying desperately to find something that might shed some light on her ‘headless friend’ and finding a few Revolutionary War tales about someone matching his description though this one was not so headless. (ooc: Always sucks when you have to do a complete rewrite like that. Part of why I got to where I write my posts in Word and save them. Couldn’t think of anything else to write for Cordelia yet but wanted to move things along a little bit. Not sure if the Dean player is still around but this puts him alone in his own hotel room for now.)

"You poor thing," Rudolph Yerbler dryly commented, in a pale imitation of his master, as he watched the middle age man attempting to fend off an African lion with the magic of an Elder he no longer possessed. "All that magical knowledge of your so utterly wasted in Hell. The funny thing is you could not have taken the lion down even with all of your magic intact, he is but a form of illusion crafted by the demon Lord Valefar for your benefit. So maybe you would be ready to talk now, eh Gideon?" The yellow haired demon banished the illusion with a wave of his hand and the curly haired man slowly relaxed, recognizing his occasional patron and greeting him with a smile. He was quite intelligent truly when allowed to use his intellect but then being an Elder of the White Lighters classified him as a sorcerer and in this Circle of Hell it meant never ending hallucinatory visions that threatened to break the strongest mind control. Gideon would have ended up similarly to his colleagues and adversaries alike, but Rudolph knew how to nurture helpful minds with an occasional intrusion into their torment and the former Elder certainly proved his value on several occasions. "Do you know how things are outside, the girls, Leo, has Wyatt grown..." Rudolph mournfully shook his head at Gideon's hopefully optimistic questions. "Trust me, my friend, nobody among the big guns truly cares about this silly New Age trio or their progeny. We have had in this Sorcerers Circle several Triads, Sources of Evil broken, not to mention that we made both Tempus, Balthazor and even Zankou cry like abandoned little babes. You must get it into your head that all the major players you have known as a conniving little Elder don't pose any threats, and are no concern of yours. The faster you get over your silly notions, the faster you could move on through the higher Circles and be more useful to me. Speaking of which, it is time for you to answer my questions," Yerbler spoke soothingly and saw Gideon losing the nervous edge that came from a virtual eternity of fighting against illusions. Looking almost wistfully at this dimension of Hell he found most comforting because of his long time self identification as a warlock. Rudolph cast a protective circle and began voicing all the information he possessed. He did not know how to connect it, what questions to ask, but talking to an intelligent trustworthy man he almost felt relieved, even without gaining any extra insight. The strange tune he remembered Crowley humming even started playing back in his head, especially that part about centuries. Slowly, so very slowly, the Mark of Sorrow began retreating for his forehead and Rudolph allowed himself a small smile as an idea began to bloom in his mind. He would draw the angel and the demonness into the likeness of Paris and Helen, with love altogether present, being supernaturally strong, and yet just as evidently disastrous for any involved including their very selves. If he did it right, he could still imprison the two, without even resorting to the ominous powers of treachery that we conspicuously pouring down from the Ninth Circle. "I am afraid their relationship, while witnessed, is not widely understood," Gideon sadly admitted, understanding that his ignorance would put an end to the interlude and let his torment return, that was the condition of his temporary freedom after all. "So truly, Zankou crying out loud," the former Elder decided to end the conversation with a graceful joke. "Yes, begging for the first Oracle that was his nanny to come and comfort him. You should have seen the proud demon reduced to so much whining," Rudolph returned the favor of an amusing conclusion and then, with a wave of his hand let the African lion illusion return. "If you ask the animal for a good familiar, that could help," the yellow haired demon advised on an impulse and was rewarded with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Master," Gideon formally bowed and proceeded with the required ritual. Rudolph was not sure why he consented to let him progress unlawfully, but then

Rudolph Yerbler had to admit that the Circle of Lust has never been his favorite place. He should not have been affected by it at all, being immune to Hell's mechanisms after completing his training, but in this layer of Hell he often felt rather uncomfortable. The winds forcing his long blond hair in different directions seemed to have a bite to them that was intimidating and infuriating at the same time. He had no doubt that the witch Mary Sibley felt even worse when the image of John Olden that would occasionally manifest in the win would make her shriek as if she were in agony. Rudolph himself had many false images acquiring substance and striking at him with brute force in the past, but at this time to his considerable surprise, the elegant youthful face of Salome presented itself and instead of flying towards him with all the due fury and needing to be dispelled, it lost its grim expression that every face wore in this place, began looking startled and then utterly vanished from sight. In fact, the winds began in themselves outlining a shape familiar to him, that of Aguares. That was something bizarre, the demon lord with the crocodilian tale may have been the softer of the Circle overseers, but he never showed himself so openly to Rudolph. Something very unusual was taking place here, and stranger still, the lines of the song Crowley had mentioned began floating back into his mind, vaguely recognized from his sojourn on Earth. "Made my way to past a man's hollow Even though it was too soon," Rudolph slowly repeated the lines to himself and realized that for him, the comfort of the subsiding winds was not too soon in the least. There was more, he began to understand briefly, what his mentor had meant, without the Mark of Sorrow pressing on him so harshly, his ability to think was beginning to work once more. But all that could wait for another time, he knew, as he made the wind targeting the witch soften into a slow breeze. He did not need to talk to her, Mary's knowledge, artless little spells and even play for power were all insignificant here. The one important part here was her conflicted feelings, incredible passion coupled with fear, sadness, rejection, hurt, and a certain possessive love Rudolph could never have understood himself. It helped being so close to a woman whose willing bargain to be a witch made her easier to read. Her feelings may have been complex enough for any sane person experience, but Rudolph did not need to live through them, only to reproduce them as he drew his Lovers card. A woman dressed in Victorian cloths reclining in an arm chair, with white wings sprouting somewhere upwards, half converging onto each other in an eager embrace. And next to her, a gentleman wearing an utterly alien looking, Roman toga, with black wings pointing downward. Although that was only the first draft, the yellow haired demon found it pleasing for its contrast and the darkly diverging energies it invoked. Returning Mary Sibley to suffer the scourge of the winds, once he no longer needed her, Rudolph proceeded with his second, draft, slightly tilting the eyes of prospective Lovers askance. Then, completing the image with a carefully constructed semblance of Crowley himself over the pair and symbolizing his presiding capacity over the couple with unnaturally long wings given to his master, Rudolph smiled in satisfaction. Drawing on the torturous energies of the Circle of Lust, he invested them in his Lovers image, and fed the feelings experienced by Mary Sibley to the angel figure he had depicted, hoping that would be enough to ensnare him in a tangle even angelic powers would find hard to unravel. Rudolph wanted to experiment with a few more angles but whichever final draft he chose, at least he would now have something useful to take back to his boss.

Cordelia woke sometime later looking to the nightstand where her laptop was placed earlier then somewhat reluctantly crawling out of bed. Yawning as she approached the duffel bag containing her clothes, digging around until she found a suitable outfit and other necessities then went into the bathroom. Going through her normal routine she took a shower then got dressed tucking her dirty clothes into the plastic bag beside her duffel bag. She turned grabbing both her blow dryer and brush then set about drying her hair before brushing it. Maybe after grabbing a bite to eat she could make sense of the vision. Who was the redhead? And more importantly...who was Ichabod? Why did it seem so important that he be found? Finishing up in her room she grabbed what she needed before exiting and locking the door back behind her. Moving away from the door to her room she stopped outside of Dean's, lifting a hand she lightly knocked only leaving when she didn't hear anything on the other side. Pulling the cellphone from her pocket as she walked towards the diner sending a quick text to Halbrek 'had another vision. saw a woman...a redhead who said the name Ichabod. think it has to do with our headless friend.' Hitting send just as she reached her destination, smiling in thanks to an elderly man who held the door for her before entering and taking a seat in a booth near the window.

Rudolph Yerbler was not precisely sure how low any senior demon would stoop so as to undermine his peers. Then again, Crowley being the most devious of them, Yerbler supposed he would be the one to gauge their responses correctly. There was something near by instead that bothered him, and when he bid his mentor farewell with "thank you sir," Rudolph realized what he has been doing. While working on his spell, weaving together the now and the later, placing the correct glyphs and gathering some power behind them, he instinctively began tapping his finger on Crowley's desk. It was still barely noticeable when the Lord of the Crossroads graced him with his presence, but began to really irritate him now, that Crowley was gone. It was him doing the tapping, presumably of his own volition, without any spells cast around him. And yet, the disturbing thing about such an innocuous seeming habit was its origins. The last time Rudolph remembered observing it, was when Belial was occupied, deciding how to best break his disciples. Rudolph found it unnerving then, as well as now, and began considering the lyrics of the song cautiously. Who the preacher man was alluded to in this instance, he was not sure, possibly Belial himself, but going back home was instinctive enough. Images of the lovely and innocent looking Salome, with the piercing blue eyes, filled his heart. He did not know the girl truly, but she served to focus his attention away from his own tapping, which he mysteriously could not stop. Concentrating on the image of the youthful demon girl, Rudolph finally drew the glyph of exclusion all around him and noticed how the tapping stopped, almost of its own accord. "No more distractions," Rudolph muttered towards no one in particular and his voice sounded pleasantly determined to his own ears. It was a good time too, because the magical spell visibly began to brew, something was happening and Crowley would soon need to be summoned back, the blonde demon decided without much enthusiasm, worried that he would be interrupting something important his superior could be doing.

Eve strolled through the cemetery with a look of contentment after having seen to the removal of a potential thorn in her side. Now there was only the responsible parties for his 'get out of jail free' card to be dealt with. But in the meantime she would work toward getting things back on track as hopefully nothing was hindering Azazel in his search to find suitable candidates for the mantles of War...Pestilence...and Famine. Of course, there was also the matter of finding the Witnesses BEFORE they uncovered their destiny as the pair would likely prove a far greater pain in the ass than the Winchesters had. It was unfortunate that Dean was unwilling or perhaps unable to answer any questions about them or Washington's bible as the latter might contain a few answers. Oh well. She looked almost angelic dressed in a sleeveless white dress that reached down to her ankles. It had been easy enough to lure him away from the others given how restless and even frustrated the elder Winchester was. Perhaps if he shared a room with the young brunette it wouldn't have been nearly as easy to take Dean out of play. (Tag: Whoever)

The long black Lincoln town car slammed to a stop as Damon casually stood in the road, blocking its way with spread arms, an expression of jubilant invitation on his face. He was inviting them to die, and it pleased him that they didn't know it. They as in whoever was in the car. A short man got out, scowling angrily at him. The jerk wore a Victorian style suit as if on the way to some sort of costume party. That or his taste in clothing was truly ridiculous! An equally Goth looking chick followed suit, sliding across the long leather bench seat to join her man. She was taller, willowy with long straight black hair past her hips and a long flowing black dress with tapered sleeves. Her Gothic make up was an odd choice, causing her skin to be an odd yellow white...Like the color a mummy would be if the mummy had very soft smooth nice skin. Skin that would feel very good under his hands when the drove his fangs into her neck and wiped that annoyed look off her face. She was regarding him through white blue eyes, stupid contacts, likely due to some zombie fetish, aristocratically tapered features set in a haughty expression that he instantly hated. Oh yes! This was going to be fun! "What in bloody hell were you thinking," the man demanded, crisp British accent and light tenor voice scraping Damon's ears like nails on a chalkboard. Mainly because the guy was still alive, he reasoned detatchedly. "Really. We could've hit you! Whatever you're on you need to be home and not out here making yourself a problem," the girl muttered darkly, scowling at Damon as though he were a bug on the bottom of her flat ballet style shoe. That did it. Passive playtime was over. Active playtime had just begun. With a low growl he lunged for her, hands wrapping around her throat. She kicked him hard din the knee, one fist coming up to slam him in the chin. "Pretty good," he said with a laugh. She was stronger than a human, he noted, but not strong enough. And she was warm, pulse beating under his hands like a little angry bird, so she was just...human enough. "We're here on a mission from Vlad Tepes himself!" The words had come from the man as he moved behind Damon and attempted...actually attempted to snap his neck! Damon had turned it all off but still somehow the rage burned hotter than ever. Hell if it didn't beat pain and loss and defeat, though, enough to drive him into ending it for good had he not switched off his humanity. For the first time in a long time he was shocked enough to hesitate with his hands around someone's neck, though...hm...interesting. He gave a short laugh. "As in Dracula?" He'd loosened his grip on the girl's throat mainly out of sheer distraction. I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed. I get along with the voices inside of my head.

Renfield began to drive as Franceska dialed the man's phone number with shaking hands who had sent them here. Punching speaker she had to struggle not to throw the phone down onto the seat. "Yes?" She practically snarled at the screen and shouted,"YOU.ARE.AN.ASSHOLE!" A slight pause then..."Ah...Good evening to you as well, Princess of the gargoyles." It was a testament to her state of upset that she didn't take the familiar bate. "Dude I nearly got strangled by a vampire. Renfield and I had to fend him off and drop your name!" "You just got into town and already likely ruined things by dropping my name? How bumbling of you. Though considering how far Renfield has deteriorated in your presence I likely should not have expected better." "Screw you," she shot back hotly. "You didn't tell us there were vampires here!" "Perhaps I was unaware?" "Were you?" "Of course." She relaxed slightly, at least placated that he hadn't known he was sending them into the clutches of at least one hungry asshole vampire. "Now look who is bumbling,"Renfield drawled, taking full advantage of the speaker phone option. "He never used to speak out," Vlad noted idly. "I don't like it." "No one is asking, especially not him," Franceska shot back. "So what do you want,"Vlad asked tiredly. "I send someone to kill him? I send your brother with weapons for you? Those injection darts of yours, yes?" "Yes," Franceska said. "The later for now." "You should have brought such items of protection with you," Vlad pointed out, annoyed. "Again, screw you! We didn't know we'd need them." "Mina is occupied at present but I shall certainly attend to that as soon as possible, thank you for the suggestion," Vlad said, causing Franceska's scowl to deepen at the quiver of amusement in his voice. "I will contact your brother now. Is there anything else?" "No." Franceska disconnected angrily, mind returning to the true reason they were here. Rasputin, now a rather close friend to her and Renfield if unexpectedly so, had let it drop that he'd heard from a witch connection in...somewhere out in the middle of no where, she'd forgotten where, that people were returning from the dead...in this particular dumpy little town. With a name like Mystic Falls perhaps it should be considered something, though. The mystic bit had to mean...something considering. Vlad had considered people returning from the dead to be alarming and something he wanted to know more about. She cursed letting the info drop to him. He so rarely paid full attention, but of course he had been when she'd spoken with Rasputin so openly in front of him. Damn it! She sighed. Vlad didn't certain people returning from the dead, his jerk fag brother for one...but when she explained the unlikelyhood of such and how she didn't care he had to go and pull strings as he was so good at doing. And even knowing she was being manipulated, she'd fallen for it, a thing that pissed her off even more. He'd mentioned someone her family wouldn't want to see alive either...Victor Frankenstein. She'd said she'd merely tear the man in half as her own father had Victor's bride so long ago way before she was born. Vlad pointed out that perhaps Victor could return wiser with scores to settle...Then she'd begun to think of other people who needed to stay the hell dead...Renfield's uncle...Uncle Freddy and her mom's mom. Shit! Even their adopted asshat abusive dad Mr. Underwood. If anyone tried to hurt or threaten her family...the idea infuriated her. Uncle Freddy could take care of himself but he did get over confident as her mom never failed to remind everyone when necessary. "He left bruises on you before I could get him off. I'll kill him for that," Renffield said tone quiet and cold, words drawing her from her thoughts and causing her to peer around the town. "We need to find out how many there are too," she said, tone distracted. "I'll almost be glad do see Felix." Renfield nodded, giving a slight smile. "He'll be glad of the attention." I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed. I get along with the voices inside of my hea

Elena sat on the couch staring into the fireplace while lightly tapping a pen on the journal laying open in her lap. Her mind seemingly going in a million directions at once there were just so many things she wanted to put onto paper. Writing about what was going on in her life had always been therapeutic. It had gotten her through the deaths of her adoptive parents, all the 'ups and downs' of her relationship with Stefan and even the struggle of life as a vampire. But all of that was behind her now. Last thing she remembered happening before having fallen under what someone had decided to call the 'sleeping beauty' curse was being at Alaric's wedding and being so incredibly happy due to a talk had with Damon about their future before it. Beyond that it was all about saying goodbye to the people she cared about which also involved a few promises being made. Bringing her pen to the blank page as she began to write. 'It's difficult to put into words what it feels like to wake up and find five years have gone by. How does one explain being gone for so long? Would anyone else have even noticed? Guess not. But if they did...I could always say something along the lines of needing time away to re-evaluate my life. Then again that sounds a little bit 'midlife crisis' which might come across as overly dramatic.' She sighed looking to the fireplace in a moment of quiet contemplation then lowering her gaze starting to move the pen across the page once more. 'Maybe it's better just to say that I've been busy...if anyone asks. Most people aren't likely to ask that I elaborate. Keep it simple. Nothing to complicated. But enough about that already. Bonnie kept her promise. She made every moment count. Found love and happiness with Enzo. At least until their dreams for a future together were crushed when he was killed right in front of her. I can only imagine how painful that must have been. I just wish I could have been there for her. During the year following her loss she traveled the world and even found a way of waking me up without anyone having to die. She saved the day. I woke up to find out that Damon had killed Tyler while under the control of a Siren and Stefan sacrificed himself to save Mystic Falls. I can only hope those things haven't seen Damon into another self destructive tailspin. Caroline says that after the memorial he packed up and left town. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she and Alaric have children. Two little girls to be precise. When I asked them about it they said the Gemini coven cast a spell moving the unborn girls from Jo's womb to hers. While I don't fully understand how something like that is possible I'm glad he didn't lose them too. They tell me that since the final showdown with Katherine things have been quiet...almost normal even up until they found another Petrova doppelg?nger walking down the street dressed like she stepped out of another century into ours. It turns out she died about a thousand years ago...her name is Tatia Petrova. When Caroline first told me about her I remembered hearing that name before. Elijah had mentioned her when he was telling me about his family's past. He and Klaus had both loved Tatia. I have talked to her a few times and her story differed from his. She said it wasn't Esther who killed her...it was Elijah. One dead person coming back to life isn't entirely unusual for Mystic Falls. But yesterday Bonnie and I found a young woman who was about our age wandering around the square looking lost and confused. So, we went over to see if there was anything we could do. We talked for a while. Turns out she's a witch named Davina Claire from New Orleans. Someone else who died at the hands of Mikaelson. Even though in her case she says the 'Ancestors' did something to Kol...that he couldn't help it. I was beyond shocked to hear his name since I distinctly remembered his dying but apparently he's been resurrected. Why are the dead coming back to life? Are these two women the only ones? What does it mean?' She closed the journal and placed the cap back on her

Rebecca sighed as she stood in middle or town square of mystic falls. He bloody brother Kol leaving her by herself. They had gotten so far when kol had gotten the call about davina. She knew that he go after her. they had merely parked the bloody car when he was already gone leaving her behind. She swear her brothers could be insufferable. Though deep down she couldn’t blame him. She wanted to see her brother happy. Almost all of them were getting their happy endings even Klaus. Where was her happy ending. Would she ever find love and have the family she so much wanted. she began to wondered if she was cursed or something. she rubbed her wrist where the once curse mark once laid. She had heard about Caroline having children. knowing that did give her some hope. She shook her head to clear all the thoughts she was having. She had to focus. She wondered if she should go back to Hailey to check on Hope but surely Klaus and Hailey had a handle of it right now. She walked causally around the square in deep thought.