Tapping her fingers on her steering wheel to the beat of the music, Roze glanced at her watch. If Hayden didn't hurry her butt up, they were going to be late.

Currently parked in a motel parking lot, Roze was not-so-patiently waiting for her friend to hurry up whatever she was doing and to get back in the damn car. Admittedly, when the morning had arrived, Roze did not want to leave her bed. Now, this wasn't any luxury motel - so the room was less than substandard, with a lumpy mattress, cigarette smoke lingering on the walls, and a very likely chance that at least three murders had occurred in the very bed she had slept in.

But she wasn't picky. Sleeping on anything was heaven after her recent stint in Hell.
Shit. Being alive was heaven.

Sighing heavily and pressing her horn, Roze stared through the rearview mirror.

"What in the heck is she doing?" Roze muttered, turning her music up ever so slightly. Looking back at the mirror, she moved it till she was looking back at herself. She certainly looked different.

For one thing, her scars were all gone. Including those awful vampire bites on her neck, the ones she'd been so damn self-conscious about - gone. On the other hand, as was her tattoo. That was a real bitch to have to get done again - it also meant she was $40 dollars down. But shit, it was better than being possessed.

In addition to her changed look, there was some weird ass handprint on her shoulder. Presumably from the thing that had dragged her out of hell... which led to the reason she was itching to get on the road.

The cryptic invitation had been shoved under their motel room door in the dead of night, and, as naturally comes with mysterious letters, the messenger was nowhere to be seen. If that wasn't weird enough, the writer of the letter gave a time, a place, and a good-ass reason to get her butt there: Information on who had plucked her from Hell. On any other occasion, Roze would avoid something like this like the plague, because it just screamed 'TRAP' at her. But this stuff was something she needed to know.

And if she was just finding herself in debt to some other sadistic creature.
"This had better be worth my time." Roze murmured.

Early in the morning, around 5', there was one light on in a rather musty looking motel off the side of the street in an area where trees could go on for miles without seeing another car.

Through the window with the one light, shrouded by curtains, there was a room, containing unremarkable furniture - a table , a couch, a TV with horrible connection, and a set of doors leading into a bedroom, bathroom and small kitchen. Lounged across the couch was a man in extremely casual clothes, looking at a letter he had found tucked under the door when he woke up in the morning.

Things are a little weirder beyond this.

The "man" was a shapeshifter. Specifically, Jackson Marlow, a unique hunter-shifter hybrid who focused on demons. The letter was a mysterious invitation to go to a warehouse that a quick search revealed to be in no public location. Inside the bedroom were three suitcases, with the handles inscribed with devils traps and containing a variety of demon-slaying equipment, with only one containing basics such as clothes and the like. Outside in the gravel parking lot was his trusty 70's big red Ford with a canopy; each side of the door had a devils trap on it, and one inscribed on the floor, hidden under mats.

Jackson went over the letter again, for the third time that morning.

Every piece spelled trap, from the lack of any real introduction, to the unremarkable location he was to go to, and the vague pair of sentences promising him an "experience" he could "never forget". That said, the last paragraph did stick. He might have been... getting a little on in years, but despite the shell of safety and to an extent paranoia he built around him, he usually managed to slam it into good bits of trouble often. He did find himself a little bored as of late, without jobs in his particular area that he was interested in. Getting in a little trouble once in a while wasn't the worst idea he came up with. At least, he thought not.

He read it a fourth time. Breakfast wasn't much of a consideration to him. He could skip eating until a "dinner" snack so long as he had some sort of coffee.

He got up, folded the letter, and came to his decision.

Realm of Heaven

The realm of Heaven, which some may call Valhalla. A realm of pure light. Time flowed so slowly here compared to the rest of the universe that mere mortals last only a fraction of a second. What was this realm really? A series of string theory universes stacked against one another or simply an unknown force in this cosmos? No human would ever really know. And they were not meant to know. For they were graced with ignorant bliss. While those who knew the truth were all the more susceptible to corruption. And that's where demons and vampires comes into it. Those who were not strong enough to handle the truth, found comfort in darkness.

A lone Angel sits atop a high spire. Her long wavy locks furrowing in the wind against a blood red sky. There was no sun yet there was a sunset like feel to this sky. Day and night should not exist here and yet somehow the concept of “time” flowing made it easier to hope for a new and brighter tomorrow. Or so Variel thought. She was often seen alone with her own thoughts. She would sing out to the world, hoping that her songs of light would reach the ears of those who need it most.

And today was no different. But she felt the encroaching darkness closing in all around her. Tensions were high. Especially between Michael and Raphael. Variel sighed and gazed the orange skyline. “Oh Gabriel...Heaven is such a mess without your presence.”

Then she heard her voice being called to. She recognised the voice and stood to her feet, delicately balancing herself on a very narrow perch. Her brilliant wings sprout forth and she stepped off the ledge, letting herself glide down toward the voice she heard.

She landed with graceful elegance and stood in front of a male Angel with long black slick hair to his waist, partially tied back. Her friend Azrael. Azrael was Michael's right hand. So it must have been important for him to speak with the Left Hand of Raphael.

“Azrael. Does Michael know you are here...?” She could see concern written on his face and the two were apparently ordered to stay away from each other. Azrael spoke with a low pitched voice. “Variel. We need you to go to the realm of mortals. You are our fastest messenger.”

Variel blinked at him with widened eyes. “But I have never even been to the Earth.” She felt scared to do this but she knew she had to. Heaven had ordered it.

“I have faith in you.” The taller male smiled warmly down at her. Her blue eyes sparkled brightly up at him. She trusted in his judgement and she relented, eventually nodding in acceptance of this task. “I am sending you to learn more about a particular mortal - Roze Singer. Somehow she was resurrected with Dean Winchester, this event was not supposed to happen and it may be the key to this chaos. I need you to investigate this timeline alteration. Good luck Variel.”

And with that, she placed her hand to her chest and bowed. Azrael wavered his hand in front of her and she vanished from Heaven.

------

On Earth. Present Day.

A certain car was parked in a motel car park, Roze's car more specifically. As Roze murmoured "This had better be worth my time." a flash of light appears in the back seat of her car. And there Variel sat. A bright blue-eyed Angel with a distinct aura of tranquility about her, with her wings suppressed inside of her physical body, but still wearing her long elegant dress of white. As if she were a Medieval Princess from time of old. She certainly looked out of place.

Variel looked around the back of the car. She regarded the young mortal with a kind expression. “Are you Roze?” She simply asked with a pleasant tone as if it were completely normal to just randomly pop into people's cars.

Anthony turned on the sink and began washing off his dagger, wiping the huge amount of blood off of it. The last job he did had ended quite violently. While Anthony himself wasn't dead the job had been messy and made Anthony wish that he was in a group again. There were two vampires that were making quite the stir in this city and after tracking them for about a week the hunter finally made a move and ended them.

A sound from the front door made Anthony perk up. He quickly grabbed his dagger that was on the counter and faced the door. There was no one there. Anthony calmed down slightly but then noticed the letter that had been slid underneath. Not taking chances Anthony grabbed his pistol and carefully checked outside the door. Again, no one. Whoever the messenger was had already left. Breathing slowly, the hunter closed the door and set his weapons back on the counter, then grabbed the letter on the ground.

After reading the letter, Anthony wasn't exactly sure of what to do. Burning it and never thinking about it again would probably be the best idea, but he reconsidered. Whoever sent this letter had a purpose behind sending it. If they knew Anthony as well as they claimed then they would probably think that he figured it was a trap. Of course, it probably was a trap, Anthony figured he had made that many enemies in his short four years of service.

After about a day of thinking, Anthony decided to check out the meeting place from afar and wait for others to arrive. It would most likely be the best decision to deduce whether this was a trap or not. Anthony packed up all of his things from his motel room and headed outside. Like usual, Anthony didn't have many things in the first place and his backpack and rifle case could contain all of it. Arriving at his Suzuki V-Strom Motorcycle he put on his backpack and attached the rifle case on the side. The hunter then put on his helmet and got on his motorcycle, started it up and began driving towards the meeting area.

Mia had just arrived home after killing her 3rd demon, and had gotten herself a broken hand in the process. The little bitch had possessed the wife of a business associate of hers; unfortunately she wasn’t able to save either her associate or his wife in time. She was sure this would do wonders for her already less than spotless reputation. As soon as she got in the door she slid back against the adjacent wall and began to cry. Though she never showed her emotions in public, Mia definitely had a soft side. The past few months had really begun to wear on her. She wiped her face after a few minutes and was determined to get back at these bastards and learn as much as she possibly could about exterminating them before they literally unleashed hell on this planet. She grabbed her mail from the table, walked over to her white leather couch and sighed loudly.

At least she had managed to steal a Hand of Glory and a few other things from the house in the process, she could only assume her associate’s extensive collection was part of the reason his family was targeted. That should fetch a pretty penny, or at least come in handy sometime in the future. She figured with an impending apocalypse at their heels she could use all the protection she could get.

“Fucking demons,” she said as she casually flipped through the envelopes until she came across one that was sealed with wax and had only her first name written on it. “Curiouser and curiouser,” she mumbled to herself. She read the message quickly and then jumped to her feet. The message had referred to some information she desperately wanted to know for much of her life; the story behind her adoption and the name of her birth parents. She was very suspicious of the whole situation and the fact that someone even knew enough about her to send her this letter. She grabbed her pistol and looked around apprehensively, heart pounding and breath coming much faster now. She quickly decided she would carefully investigate this location offered, and see if there was any merit to this claim or if she could find some way to get a one up on the sender before going in blind.

She grabbed one of her many pre-packed cases and quickly put on a short blonde wig and a casual outfit before she tossed on her black leather jacket and hid knives around her waistband then reloaded her pistols. She also refilled her water bottle from the stash of holy water in her ammunitions room, supposing that most likely she was going to be trying to skirt a trap. She had no choice but to follow this lead, however, if there was even a small chance she could find out the truth about herself.

Taking less than half an hour to prepare, she left her house again, a feeling of sadness as she locked the door. She rarely had any down time in the past few months. With a glance back at the archway of her beautiful home she let out another sigh as she hopped in the favorite of her small fleet of vehicles, a 1964 ½ powder blue Mustang. “Fuck it,” she said as she cranked up Joan Jett and took off toward a possible discovery, or a perhaps a cluster-fuck.

"Jesus Christ on a Corndog-" Whirling around in her seat, Roze had swiftly pulled out her gun from her holster and was aiming it at the stranger in the backseat - and man, was she strange. Dressed like she'd just come from a LotR convention in Elf Cosplay, only minus the pointy ears. But the old-fashioned dress, the envy-invoking locks atop her head, and a strange ethereal beauty hanging about her.

Seriously, was this chick from Rivendell or something? Was Earth being invaded by Orcs? She'd take them over demons any day. At the very least Orcs stayed dead when you lopped their head off. Demons just got shot back to Hell, and soon crawled out again in no time.

"Listen up sweetcheeks - you materialize in the backseat of my car without an invite, so I'll be the one asking the questions. First being - Who are you, and how in the Hell do you know my name?" Roze asked the lady in a smooth tone, eyes narrowing and gun pointing straight at the heart. Shooting a supernatural being in the heart will rarely kill it, but it sure as hell hurt them and slowed 'em down. Especially when using iron rounds.

However, Roze's mind was racing as she tried to work out what eaxctly this chick was. She knew for damn sure that this wasn't any human. Like some kind of "Spider-Sense" tingling away in the back of her mind, she could quite easily tell the different between a regular ol' mortal, a not-so regular mortal (like herself and her sister), and an immortal.

Like this chick here.

"Alrighty... can't be a Vampire, the sun's still up. Too out of place to be a Werewolf... a Shifter? Possible, that'll make putting it down much more easy... and definitely not a Demon, not with the traps and warding spells I've put up......Shit, is this one of those Pagan Gods? Christ, if this is about that thing in Atlanta, I'm gonna kill Bobby myself- FOR FUCK'S SAKE'S Hayden WHERE THE SHIT ARE YOU"

And so on went the turmoil in her mind as she awaited her answer.

Variel's eyes widen in shock, startled by Roze. She didn't know what a gun was but it seemed like some sort of weapon and she put her hands up right away, jumping backward a bit in the back seat.

"I'm terribly sorry to startle you!" Her voice was genuinely worried and higher pitched. She blinks at the gun and back up at Roze. "My name is Variel. I was sent by Heaven to help you."

Variel reassured her, her soul aura had a calming affect, hard to make anyone angry at her. It was one of the perks of being a healing angel. She finally dropped her arms down and placed them neatly in the centre of her lap.

"..I'm an Angel.." She revealed at last. "But I would appreciate it if you kept that between just you and I for the time being...?" Her tone was primp and proper, a British accent to it. "You never know WHO or WHAT could be listening." Her voice turned more concerned now and regarded Roze with a look of slight worry glinting in those big blue eyes. She had natural enemies - demons and vampires who would love to feed on Angel's blood. Humans who would seek to use her. There were also gods and fallen angel lurking in the shadows who would love any chance to tear out an Angel's heart just for show of power. And Variel was a pure and innocent Angel. It was considered the most sinful of atrocities to kill such a creature of light. A challenge worth accepting to the creatures of darkness.

All of these things worried her about Earth. But in the back of her mind, she knew Gabriel was out here and wouldn't let such a thing happen. She wanted the fighting to stop just as much as he did.

And she finally gave Roze a warm and kind smile, one of reassurance that she was telling the truth. If she was to hide her true identity here, it might be best to get a more modern attire?

(Collab with @MsMellow)

The ride to the meeting place was quite long, as Anthony had to travel two states over. He didn't mind the ride and took his time getting there, seeing that the time of the meeting allowed him to do so. Everytime he stopped Anthony had looked over the letter, making sure he wasn't missing any hidden details but found none.

Once Anthony had arrived in the city that the meeting place was located he looked over the individual buildings near the place. The meeting place was a factory, and nearby were other abandon buildings. No people nearby and in the dead of the night too, perfect for a trap or a secret meeting. It was annoying that he still couldn't tell which one it was.

Continuing on his motorcycle Anthony drove a bit slower than normal and analyzed everything when he came closer to the factory. He couldn't see anything that was out of the ordinary other than himself on a motorcycle with a rifle strapped to it. He wasn't as incognito as he wanted to be but he figured they would know he was coming anyway. Anthony drove up to a parking lot several blocks away from the factory and stopped, figuring he should scope the area out from a distance.

Mia had parked her car behind a large dumpster, not as much cover as she'd like, but she was getting tired of playing games. She'd had a long few months. She quickly ducked down as she saw a motorcycle pull in the same lot. She was a bit far away, but it looked like the guy was strapped. "Fuck me," she mumbled. She felt sick at her stomach for a minute..this guy was probably a hunter and her past reputation with them hadn't been perfect so far. She only used her connections when she needed some relic or information, though she did her best to keep up with debts to them. A girl had to have SOME sort of code, anyway.

She packed up her gear in a backpack, and slung it over her shoulder, bottle of holy water in hand disguised as Aquafina. She watched as the mystery guy parked. "At least he has good taste in bikes," she said to herself. She waited, crouched in the dark for him to lead her to the meeting. She figured he probably knew more about what was going on than she possibly could, hell he might have even wrote the mystery letter. She considering charging and surprising him with a violent interrogation, but quickly decided against it.

The mystery man got off the bike and took a cautious glance around, before unstrapping a rifle and heading into the woods toward the cluster of buildings. Mia let him have about thirty seconds before she followed as well. They were about a half mile or so away from the derelict factory, she kept as close as she could without being right on his ass. He took off up a hill, looking back as he did so...Mia barely got out of his line of sight in time. She leaned back against the trunk and took a deep breath before heading up in the same direction. THWAK. She smacked right into the guy she had been tailing. "Dammit," was all she could manage to say as she looked up at his face to gauge his reaction...her hand reflexively going for her holster.

Anthony was completely shocked by the sudden "attack" that just started. Quickly turning with his rifle pointed, he saw that the attacker wasn't really an attacker at all, more like someone who happened to bump into him. The girl wasn't pausing for long either, reaching for her holster. Anthony quickly aimed his rifle. "Pull the weapon out and I blow your brains out. These are silver bullets too, don't think they won't kill you!" He yelled, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"So, you are a hunter," Mia half sighed. She took her hand off the weapon and lifted them palms up in a show of surrender. She didn't trust this guy, but she knew if he was any type of hunter worth a damn she'd be dead before she got a shot off without the element of surprise on her side. She glanced in the direction of the factory before looking back up at him, now able to make out it's shape. There was a light flickering in one of the main windows. "What are you here for?" she demanded.

Anthony was a bit surprised by the response the girl gave. She probably had no idea what was going on either. "Yes, I'm a hunter," he replied, not setting the rifle down. "And I'm here because of a letter, did you happen to be the writer?"

"No. I got one, too. I honestly thought you were the secret admirer; I guess we're both here blind. Let's hope this escapade doesn't end with us on a platter." Mia glanced back at the building just as she saw a shadow pass by. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Wonder if that's our mysterious host for the night?"

The trip was rather long; a good day and a night, broken only by two crappy starbucks stops. The first time obviously wasn't much of a lesson for him the next time, and he suffered the 'quality' of the most base taste in the world both times. But at least he was still going and awake. Even if he was spitting out the window to get some of the over taste out.

He arrived at the backside of the meeting place, parking a good block down the road from where he didn't know the other two were located in a decent sized alley. The noise of the ford, even with Jackson's attempts at quiet, would likely draw attention; given the lack of any other noise. He saw various buildings, warehouses, a factory... the site he was going to was right in that area.

Not suspicious at all.

He turned off the truck, but opted out of the alarm he had on - there would be no better way to create noise than to turn on his car alarm. He was glad the canopy doors were quiet at least.

He went into the canopy and soon surrounded himself with open suitcases and changed into a trench coat over his casual clothes. The coat was for what came next: two pistols loaded with bullets that had devils crosses on them, an iron crowbar, a nice small jug of holy water, and a nice wooden stake, just in case. He also put on his black work gloves and considered bringing the silver knife, but doubted he would be up against someone of that nature. Demons, or less likely, hunters would be the opposition.

He swiftly packed up and left the canopy, closing the door as quietly as possible, and left to go along into the next parking lot (where the others were), staying along corners and sides while his hand was on one pistol. He could see better at night than most humans, thankfully, but he didn't know what he was dealing with.

So he might as well just go in expecting the worst.

Four months ago...

A man with a shotgun bit off a little more than he could chew. The man, Rufus Turner, had been trailing what he thought was some sort of sub-species of vampire. He had never tried to leave the 'States but he had contacts around the world. Those contacts mentioned three or four variations of vampires 'possibly a sub-species with it's own alphas.' It was late, clouds were rolling in and Rufus wasn't around his truck. The truck, a beat up looking black Chevrolet, was within eyeshot of the hunter. However, his leg looked broken and he was desperately out of ammunition for his shotgun.

"DAMN. Only three shells left..." he said to himself.

Six vampires came walking through the woods, all looking like regular humans save for the fangs coming out of their gums and over their other human sets of teeth. Two more, bare-chested vampires came leaping from the trees like monkies. The two bare-chested vamps grinned, and displayed only one set of teeth in their mouths with larger canine fangs similar to what vampires had in movies. Their skin was pale, their ears were a bit longer and pointed and they also seemed to have exceptionally long fingers complete with claws. The eight vampires surrounded the old black Jewish man and he thought his days were up. There was no way he was making it to the truck. And out in the middle of the woods on the Kentucky/Virginia state line there probably wasn't a soul to hear Rufus scream. He pulled out a flask from his jacket, removed the cap and took a swig, and stuck it back in his pocket.

"COME ON THEN!" he screamed and as the vamps moved closer, somebody else screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed a younger man with long-ish hair making three of the vampires explode, including one of the pale ones.

The others turned to look at what happened in shock. Their friend's remains on the ground and all over them.

"Don't turn your back on me , fangs!" Rufus yelled and with his last three shots took down three of the other more human looking vamps.

The last two vampires, one more human looking and the other bare chested and pale, looked at each other. The pale creature leaped back into the trees to escape and the other's eyes grew wide. In a matter of seconds, Sweeney grabbed the last vamp and threw it against a tree. The skinny vamp didn't know what to do now that he was alone. He didn't get to feed as much as the others so he was weak, and surprisingly the last one alive.

"What are you man?!?" the hipster vamp questioned.

"Your worst nightmare." the young man replied before screaming again and blowing the vamps head off.

Sweeney let the body drop and walked over to Rufus.

"Nice truck up there, that yours?" the funny accented young man asked.

"You know I JUST learned about those other vampires last week. And I thought your kind was just some European myth..." Rufus stated trying to pick himself up when Sweeney came up to give him a hand.

"My... kind? You mean there are others out there like...?" Sweeney was shocked for a few seconds, while breaking off a tree limb to give Rufus a walking stick.

"You mean t'tell me you don't even know what you are, boy? Going around, killing vampires, being all European... and you think God just gave you superpowers?" Rufus questioned fictitiously.

----------------------------------------------------

Present day...

On the Welcome sign it said 'Welcome to Virginia' just down from the hotel the European young man was staying in. He was on a crappy looking cell phone looking down at a letter on the table near the window of the room.

"After I see what's up with this letter I'll get us a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, Rufus. I'll catch up with ya soon..."

~KL~

"I'm an Angel..."
Now, out of all the shit she expected from this stranger in the back seat; it was not this. Threats? Yeah, she could deal with that. An attempted ass-whupping? Shit, all in a day's work.
But...
An angel?
From Heaven?
As the woman gave her a very reassuring smile and lowered her arms, a bubble of laughter burst from Roze's lips. And then she couldn't stop laughing... although that gun never wavered from it's spot.
"An Angel? Gotta say, that's... hah... that's a new one." Roze said through her laughs, looking over the woman once again. That dress hardly seemed conspicuous - not the usual attire for a monster wanting to blend in, as most of them do. There also wasn't a lot of room for weapons and the like in it. But still... was she really supposed to fall for that excuse?

"Now, don't blame me for not believing you. How could I? After all the shit that's happened in this world, it would be insulting to find out there is a Heaven. Now, unless you want me to empty my clip into your face, I'd recommend you step out of my car, and prove to me that you're not some asshole looking to make a necklace outta my intestines, okay?" She added in a slightly calmer tone, wondering silently what the better outcome would be; some monster making the biggest mistake of it's life; or a real, actual Angel.

"Shiii-it. At least I know which one would be less mind-shattering." She thought to herself grimly, tightening her grip on the the gun.

Variel blinked at the mortal woman, such hostility. Still, she could not exactly blame her...

"Okay." She forced a nervous smile. Of course the gun wouldn't necessarily kill her, but it would still be painful. And she did not wish to experience much pain at the hands of Roze.

With a flash of light Variel was gone from the back seat of the car and now stood outside of it. Roze asked her to depart the car but did not state how she should get out of it. Variel stood in the car park just staring at Roze's car. She blinked once.

But her voice now filtered in through Roze's head. "I know it may be hard to believe – but there IS a Heaven. And we are on your side. I was sent by an angel called Azrael. You are Rozalia Singer. You died, and went to Hell with Dean Winchester. You were resurrected along with him. And now you bare a handprint on your shoulder.”

Variel simply waiting in the car lot, not doing anything but blink softly and showed no ill-will or hostility toward the mortal. She used the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth to convince her of her plight. The only thing she displayed was a look of sadness and loneliness. Variel had much to be melancholy about these days. And it seemed that being here on Earth was going to be a tough experience. But she would gladly sacrifice her life for any one of these humans, against the dark forces.

Once the supposed Angel had zapped out of her car, Roze's nerves became slightly less frazzled. However, any notion of amusement disappeared as the voice of Variel popped into her head. For a brief second, she felt fear - a real fear, that she hadn't felt since Hell. She'd met everything from ghouls to Gods... so why were Angels freaking her out? It made sense that a Heaven existed, if there was a Hell. Oddly enough, during her little vacation down there, she hadn't stopped one of her demonic torturers about their faith in Lucifer or whatever.

Stumbling out of the front of her car, Roze stared down the woman in front of her - gun finally lowering, yet still in her hand. It would have been pretty damn easy to simply pretend to be an angel - she recalled the Winchester brothers telling her of a Ghost pretending to be an Angel,m and even Sam had been convinced - but that didn't explain how this chick knew about... well, everything. It was no secret that Dean Winchester and herself had been dragged to Hell four months ago; but they'd only been out for about a week or two. If anything, news of their escape would be naught but rumours - she knew for damn sure the Demons wouldn't want anyone knowing about this, quite frankly, embarrassing fiasco that had been pulled off.

Pulled off, apparently, by these angels.

Pulling her phone from her jacket, Roze speed-dialled the number one contact on her list - her Uncle Bobby. He'd been happy to see her alive, considering he'd only just found out she'd died in the same manner as Dean only two weeks before her resurrection. Happy, but pissed off. As was the majority of Bobby's personality when it came to his weird-ass nieces.

"Bobby - hey. Quick question; you found out what brought Dean back yet?" Roze asked, silently thanking he'd picked up on the first ring, and hardly wasting time on her question. In any other family, it would have come across as rude. But Hunters did not like to wait around on niceties. As Bobby replied, Roze was still staring at Variel somewhat suspiciously. However, her eyes widened in shock at Bobby's answer.

"A... what now? Castiel? Right..." Roze trailed off as Bobby continued speaking.
"Nope, no Castiel's here. I got a Variel instead. Yeah - listen, I'll call you back. Stay outta trouble, old man." Roze said her swift goodbyes - again, they were brief - and looked at Variel. Well, from Bobby's answer, Variel seemed to be telling the truth about the whole angelic thing going on.

"So, apparently some guy named Castiel yanked Dean outta Hell. Who pulled me out? And why?" She asked, her gaze now one of confusion. She was just a regular ol' Hunter. Well... not entirely regular, with the whole magic thing she had going on, but shit, was she really important enough to warrant being pulled from Hell?

Sneaking around her motel room as quietly as she could, Hayden grabbed hold of her few possessions and stuffed them, unfolded, into the black duffel bag hanging from her shoulder, doing her best not to wake the sleeping man in her bed. She could imagine Roze sat outside in her car, drumming her fingernails impatiently on the steering wheel and muttering to herself about Hayden's punctuality ... or lack there of. Hayden laughed at the thought but quickly clamped her mouth shut when the stranger among the sheets shuffled in his sleep. Goodbye's were not her forte, bailing before he opened his eyes seemed like a much better option, especially when considering she couldn't remember his name from last night. She'd gone to a bar right after the note had appeared under the door of Roze's room, promising information on who had pulled her from the pit. Hayden had received a note too, yet hers simply had a time and place, there wasn't any special reason since there was nothing they could offer her.Naturally both Roze and Hayden immediately assumed the notes were a trap but the promise of information on who pulled Roze from the pit was simply an opportunity too grand to give up. They'd argued about it for a while, Hayden thinking it was a dumb-ass idea and they should instead focus on the job they were doing - trying to track down a demon. Not that Hayden would admit it but Roze was right, the possible pro's outshined the inevitable cons on this one.

Once all her stuff had been unceremoniously crammed into the bag, she took her gun from under her pillow, put it in the waistband of her jeans and headed out the door, closing it as quietly as the creaking hinges would allow. She paused a second once outside, drawing a cigarette to her lips and igniting it. Her army green eyes were pulled immediately to Roze's car in the parking lot, with her own Bonneville bike on the hitch rack at the rear. Yet even more distracting than the two beautiful pieces of machinery was the girl dressed like she belonged in Pride and Prejudice. Roze was on the phone, seemingly un-phased by the creature in front of her, yet her gun hung limp in her hand by her side. Something about the girl, even when ignoring the attire, screamed supernatural. One look at her and it was clear she wasn't human, stood too straight, moved too little. CODE RED flashed like a beacon behind Hayden's eyes.

"Hey Rozie-" Hayden called, the annoying nickname immediately grabbing her friends attention, as she strode across the lot to where the two were stood. "-do I need to be shooting at Lizzie Bennett over here or we good?"
In all honesty, the girl in the white dress didn't scream danger, in fact she seemed to infect Hayden with a sense of calm as she walked closer but until she got the green light from Roze, Hayden wouldn't relax. She held her cigarette between her lips, one hand holding onto the strap of her duffel and the other gripping the handle of the gun pressed against her spine.

Variel blinked at Roze with some curiosity as she ensued her telephone conversation. What a strange contraption it was to be able to speak to someone else who was not in your present location. But Angels simply did this telepathically to one another. And to any human they shared a bond with, no doubt.

“Well that is what I am here to determine..” Variel responded to Roze's question. “Even the Angels do not know why you were pulled out of Hell with Dean Winchester, and that could spell trouble in the events of the timeline. Castiel is...my kin yet I have never met him. Perhaps he may be the person from whom we seek the answers?”

Her train of thought was interrupted by the oncoming of another mortal stranger.

"Hey Rozie-" "-do I need to be shooting at Lizzie Bennett over here or we good?"

“Lizzie Bennett??” Variel asked with a light, airy tone that befit an innocent and curious sheltered Disney princess that walked straight out of a fairytale.

“I really mean you no harm, Miss.” The Angelic looking woman simply expressed with a kindness in her eyes and an aura of tranquility that was hard to feel angry or upset around. “Or to your friend 'Rozie' here. I was also sent to protect you from the evils of this world. And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain your trust.” With that Variel finally knelt to the two young women, her long brown wavy locks cascaded over her shoulders and dropped nearly to the floor and majestically swayed in the breeze. Hopefully this showed her fealty toward the mortals. However, she felt it was a long journey ahead to find these answers all of them sorely needed. If she were in Knights Armour she could almost be a Knight of the Round Table pledging their servitude and unwavering loyalty unto King Arthur himself.

And when she rose once more she addressed them both politely holding her hands together in front of her skirt. "I believe you were both venturing somewhere mysterious, ne?" She asked with a slight mischievous tone. One that could almost be mistaken for a Gabriel trait. A regular human wouldn't know of that either. Not that she was trying to read their minds. The information just flowed into her head from out of the Aether. "Something to do with a letter? Maybe it contains a clue on why Roze was saved from Hell?" She suggested insight-fully with a kind smile. And if it were indeed a dangerous situation they were walking into, it was better to have an Angel's protection than relying on mortal weapons that would do no good against a horde of demons.

Within the warehouse, the lights suddenly snapped on, flooding the inside in light. Within stood a lone figure; snappily dressed, and awaiting his visitors. He didn't particularly want to be here in this dingy warehouse - but a job was a job, and he was getting a lovely pay packet for it.
After all, he was but passing on information to the hunters that lay wait outside, obviously attempting to scope out the place, try and see if it were a trap. Frankly, he was surprised that any of them were stupid enough to show up in the first place - it did scream trap.
Except, in this case, it wasn't.
How the tables have turned.
Waving his hands, the heavy metal doors opened, and he approached the small fire in the center of the room; waiting.

Jackson continued to walk along buildings, steadily regretting his decision to come at all. He pretty much did away with checking the place out beyond looking at the various ledges and stopping the moment he heard a noise. He almost shot a mouse in that mannor. I can shoot mice? He had problems shooting at a demon blob trying to pass itself as a human a couple months ago.

Why the hell did he come in the first place?

Why the hell not?

Hunters were paranoid bastards. Jackson noted the irony of being a hunter - "demon hunter", but nobody really knew the difference - that survived decades at the job with such a low key view on things. Perhaps hunters would not be such miserable asses if they just lived a little...

Although that still wasn't a good excuse to come at a letter that ultimately just said "bait bait bait bait bait" for a couple paragraphs.

He stopped as lights went on in a building two warehouse doors down. He continued to stand there as the doors opened, holding his pistol out and waiting for the noises of the hunks of metal to end.

He sighed and put his pistol in a coat pocket, his hand still tightly holding the butt of the pistol. He put in his hand on the other side to hold... a flask. Holy water, right? I did take out the regular water?

He considered shifting into a less conspicuous form; something that would catch demons at least off guard for an odd two seconds. Ah, to hell with it. He didn't feel like going through that level of effort at the moment when whatever was in there would do its thing no matter what. I could always turn around.

Ok.

Steeling himself, he walked along at a very casual pace with his hands appearing to rest in his pockets, and turned the corner to walk into the warehouse and see... a man by a small fire in the middle of the rather big warehouse.

That's not all bad.

He stood there in the middle of the opening, aware of his exposed position inviting eyes and ambush, and tried to give a smile ended up coming out halfway and far from convincing. "I heard there was a meeting here tonight?"

He kept his fingers on the pistol and on the flask of something and hoped his attempts at shooting barrels the past few months as practice wouldn't need to be tested.