Save the Girl, Kill the Creature, Tag: Rescuers

[Thread starts at Demon's Run, soon moves to a Hell Dimension]

This was it.

Tonight was the night.

It wasn’t often that Zahir closed Demon’s Run, especially when there were new fighters due to debut, but tonight was important. After two years of dedicated research and experimentation, he had finally done it. He’d figured out how to get back to the dimension his sister was trapped in. Ayda had been trapped during what was supposed to be a routine trip into a supposedly safe dimension. Only Mathias, Ayda’s idiot fiancée, had returned alive from that trip... and now Zahir was going to make things right. After selling information on Illyria to the mysterious Broker and receiving information on portal keys and other hell dimensions, he’d been able to pin point the ritual needed to get Ayda back. He hadn’t told his parents or siblings about figuring out the ritual. There was a possibility the crossing could end in disaster, he only wanted to tell the rest of the family know once he had Ayda back, safe and sound.

The ritual itself was a little different to the one he remembered performing two years ago, but he was sure this one was going to work. It had to work. The ritual was going to require a lot of energy, and if he was going to go into a dimension that killed his little brother, there was no way in hell he was going there alone. He’d contacted Dakota and Nick, both young and promising witches who he was mentoring, knowing that at least one of them would help out of the goodness of his heart. The other... well he had the incentive on hand to help matters along. He’d also managed to get help from an unexpected quarter; an employee from the magic shop where he got the ingredients for ritual from. Then there were the extra bodies needed to go through the portal. Charlie was, naturally, coming with him, but one spider demon did not make a rescue party. As far as he was concerned, Dean still owed him several favours, so it was entirely fair that he call him in on this trip. He hadn’t really intended to rope the hunter into the active recruitment side of his business, but this wasn’t a standard trip to kidnap a demon. This was his sister. He was also bringing the new psychic on his payroll. It would be the perfect opportunity to test her abilities out in the field.

Crouching awkwardly on the floor in Demon’s Run, Zahir but the finishing touches to the chalk circle he had been drawing on the floor. He began to inscribe a series of runes around the circle, consulting the book laying open next to him. Behind him, Charlie observed the proceedings with barely contained worry. He was in his human form at present, holding a curved sword in his hand. Zahir examined the finished circle, reaching out to pick up the book as he stood up.

“That should do it. Everyone should be here soon,” Zahir commented, re-reading the incantation to make sure he had everything right.

Dakota was buzzed – and not in the way that one might mostly expect in reference to her, but in this particular instance, there wasn’t any need for alcohol or V, or any synthesized high. She was high as could be, and then some, on nothing more than magic. Magic absorbed, drawn out of an artifact that dated back, as far as she had been able to gather, to the time when men had worn mammoth skins and been in the habit of clubbing their women heavily about the head and shoulders. The rush had been amazing – even the small remnant of energy that had lingered had been so condensed, so powerful in and of itself that it had sent her soaring almost instantly. The three days since had been only increasingly more intense, as the energy ‘cooked’ inside of her, settled into her natural energy flow and coursing through her, picking up speed and power as it passed through the core of power at her center. She didn’t know exactly how to explain how it worked, and she couldn’t put into words exactly what happened, but the end result was the important part, for her, and in this case, Zahir.

In those last months, the relationship between herself and the older wizard had spiraled, upward peaks and crashes, while she struggled with her own issues and tried to adjust to the idea that someone might actually give a damn. Not that she expected his interests to be purely platonic, or without a cost, but as far as men went, he seemed… all right. And, as far as lessons went, he’d had some interesting ones, and as far as the whole mentor situation had gone, well, it didn’t have the perks that Aidan had, but he definitely had more knowledge to share. Dimensional magic had been a topic only barely touched on, glossed over by her previous mentor and lover, but it seemed not only to be a fascination of the Egyptian wizard, but something he was particularly skilled at. Still, when he’d approached her with the request for aide in an extra-dimensional rescue, she had been leery. She wasn’t a particular fan of risking her neck when she didn’t have to, or when it didn’t promise to work out in her favor, but after he’d dangled a vial of the elusive Calynthia powder as the proverbial carrot, she had reluctantly given in and agreed to help him.

Of course, now, with the magic buzzing about in her veins and making her seem as if she was, in fact, flying, she was fairly certain she might have done it for nothing. Then again, trying to concentrate on what it was she was supposed to be doing was a struggle, but she was fairly convinced that all it would be, at this point, was a matter of point and shoot – all that she had to succeed at this junction was to release the energy into the spell components that Zahir had spent the last several hours putting into place and double and triple checking. He had said very little, but she could sense enough to know that he was on edge, tense beneath his calm façade. He had kept her close, as the power continued to replicate inside of her, all too aware that if she lost control she could potentially expend the energy too soon, or end up doing something not dissimilar to a confetti popper, but so far, all had gone well. She sat, currently, or more like laid, half on one of the overstuffed chairs to the side of the club, and half sprawled over the arm of it, her head tilted back onto the arm of the settee, staring up at the sky and the spiraling glamour of streaks of miniaturized fireworks that she was trailing off of the end of her fingertips like living sparklers.

Her head rolled, her dark, glittering eyes watching Zahir as he spoke, watching the man push himself awkwardly up to his feet, and then tilting her head, to peer at the door. ”Any chance of getting a drink before this party gets started?” She questioned, forcing herself up to her feet, dragging her cloves out of her jacket pocket and plucking one out of the cigarette case and settling it between her lips as she wandered her way towards Zahir.

When Dean first killed the spider demon, he didn’t expect to have any form of connection with anyone because of it. He didn’t expect to fight a goddamn monster because what he killed was a member of an underground fighting ring and he didn’t expect to owe Zahir anything. Though, apparently, he didn’t have the power to have what he expected—not that Dean Winchester ever had that. If he had a quarter for every time that something happened that went beyond his expectations, he would have been an incredibly rich man. Understatement, really. He would have been able to retire on a beach with hot women and a mansion to his name. Of course, payment didn’t come for the unexpected, nor did it come to him at all, except for in the form of credit card fraud, gambling and pool hustling. That was how a hunter made an honest living. Screw respectability and nine to five. Dean had a nine to five once; it was miserable and not a job that he ever wanted to consider again. Whatever possessed him to keep his promise to his brother and to live a normal life would never return. It was strange, however, to think that it was coming close on a year since he finally tore himself out of normalcy for the sake of saving people and also to keep safe the people he shoved himself onto. And frankly it was like he had never left the life. What happened in between was a bad dream; nothing more. But, to think that he owed anyone favours for killing a monster still felt foreign to him. Yet, he wasn’t going to cross him, not to mention, this wasn’t a job that Dean could see himself turning down regardless of what was owed.

It involved a woman and a Hell dimension and Dean, not surprisingly, was against Hell dimensions. He could give a hand in this, even if he would like to say he owed no one nothing. But, he was sure there would be disagreements on that level. If it meant saving someone, then he was in. It was what he did, after all. And this wasn’t sacrificing any of his morals. In fact, he would have felt guilty had he tried to say no. Of course he had put up a bit of an attitude, but it was never anything that was more than half-hearted. He was more willing this time around, that much wasn’t untrue. Dean slipped into Demon’s Run alone and headed to where he saw Zahir and another familiar figure. His eyes skimmed over the lounging figure. Dakota. Too familiar, yet again. He thought that he had been over that when he was at Crowley’s, because he couldn’t be paranoid that he might have seen her before in the pit all of the time. But, there was still that familiarity in the back of his mind, that memory that didn’t get erased and that he was sure wasn’t falsified but didn’t want to admit to it either. No matter what Dean would ever tell people, he still remembered all of Hell. Now, he had long since stopped denying that he remembered it at all. But, the detail in remembering almost every detail, every scream, every scent and all of the blood coated action he took against other souls was still imprinted in his memory. He wasn’t transplanting faces onto blurry memories, because nothing was vague. He was able to push Hell out of mind, but it was never completely gone. And he doubted it would ever solely be. “Do you have a type or what?” Dean’s first words were, addressing Dakota, given where she was. Come on, he couldn’t be blamed for that thought. And she always looked too damn comfortable wherever she was, didn’t she? Then, his eyes skimmed over to Zahir and he approached easily. “When’s this gonna get started?” He asked and he assumed that there would be more people arriving, or so that was what he was under the impression of. It was nice to know that he didn’t seem to be late. It wasn’t that he worried about it, but Dean didn’t always arrive precisely on time, nor did he always arrive early. But, he showed, committed to the cause for what it was worth.

- - - - - M Y - - - - - - H O P E - - - - - - I S - - - - - - G O N E - - - - -

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a l r e a d y . w a i t e d . t o o . l o n g . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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This was exactly the sort of thing her Grams had been warning her about, getting in the affairs of others. Bonnie's commitment to her magic meant she was committed to maintaining the balance, but Grams and Emily continuously tried to remind her that nowhere in that job description was she entitled to getting involved in the business of people she was unfamiliar with, or whose lives did not immediately concern of disrupt her own. She was constantly told not to put her nose where it didn't belong, yet for this young Bennett witch, she just couldn't help herself this time.

It had to be different here. This wasn't the business of supernaturals, of vampires or werewolves, but this was the business of human beings with wiccan connections. This had to do with helping her fellow witches save another witch from a Hell dimension in which she'd been trapped. Bonnie was adamant about making sure innocents were not harmed, and if they were, she did everything she could to try and right the wrongs if it was in her power.

This was why, when Dakota Stark had presented this situation to her, she had leaned more toward helping her friend save his sister than she probably should have. Being trapped in a Hell dimension by your fiancé had to sting, most especially when done for his personal gain. She knew how it felt to love, as she loved Jeremy, and couldn't imagine having her love be used against her in such a capacity. She'd help tonight. She'd help Dakota's friend save his sister from a fate unfair.

She made her way to the building, green eyes examining the exterior of it curiously. She had a bad feeling in her stomach that she couldn't shake, something she wasn't exactly sure what the root was. Apart from being nervous to pull the door open and step inside at that moment, she felt like things might not end the way she had envisioned them. From her perspective, it'd be just a few witches opening a gateway, hopefully ending in this warlock's sister being returned to him. Easy squeezy lemon peezy. But when, since that moment she'd touched Stefan's hand over a year ago in Mystic Falls when she'd first gotten a feeling of the trials to come, had anything ever been easy?

The long-haired mocha-skinned beauty pushed her way into the closed fight club as Dakota had instructed her to do so, stepping in those heeled boots toward the four individuals already gathered. Bonnie wore only a pair of blue jeans of a skinny fit tucked beneath the rise of her boots, a vintage-like top inspired by the 1970s, and a light jacket over that. She was comfortably dressed, casually presented, but secretively nervous.

Once her eyes found Dakota, she made a beeline in her direction, "Hey," she greeted her, trying to fake a smile but giving up on it before it ever really got started. She glanced at the other two, unfamiliar with the both of them, wondering which one was the warlock that had supposed mentored Dakota in the past. If she had to guess, it was the ethnic one. Judging from the name she'd been given, mostly, but also because the other guy looked a little more rough around the edges to be the chanting-in-the-candlelight type.

"Hi," she spoke to both men with a general, bashful wave, "I'm Bonnie. Dakota asked me to come and help." She briefly looked at Dakota as if for confirmation.

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s h u t y o u r m o u t h . . .

dakota stark, dean winchester, zahir al-suyuti, et. all, CLOSED ! who;
how soon is now? by love spit love ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

IF I SAY WHO I KNOW, IT JUST GOES TO SHOW
you need me less than i need you

take it from me, we don't give sympathy
------------------------------------------ TRUST ME, TRUST NOBODY

---

Damn, was she really just falling right down the shitter or what? There weren't
many positive thoughts going through Woodrow's head right now, at least even
less than there usually was, but tonight just seemed to have this fantastic
exception of really bringing her down. Of all the things she had done while she
was in New York. She had lovely reunions with the Brothers Winchester, she
met an angel (or so he, very convincingly, claimed), she saved a vampire
sheriff from getting his ass staked, even managed to jack some magical jewelry
from a wizard family museum home! But get roped into someone else's shenanigans,
like a pawn no less? Hell no! Woodrow was the one that pulled the shenanigans
and she was the one that did the roping people into random shit that they
didn't truly know they were involved in. To have it pulled on her? It sucked, it
sucked massive lobster eyes.

Her mood was all the worse not only because she had become some ego maniac's
(or so she thought of him) flunkie, but more so because he happened to be
a Wiccan. Witch, warlock, wiccan whatever, they were all magic wielding creeps
to her and given her situation she didn't like them - at all. Even though she had
bad past dealings with vampires, werewolves, and a few demons here and there,
none of them had cursed her brother. She could get past with a few good
exceptions, but all wicca she just didn't like or trust by default. Well, the only
people she trusted were herself and Lance, but she had a serious distrust
towards the magic folk.

So, to put it bluntly, the past little while for her had been shitty and she made
a point of showing it off whenever she got the chance. Now, hearing of this
mission that they were supposed to go on, she did her best not to feel any
empathy towards her 'employer'. Just a man trying to get his sister back, and
she was just a woman trying to get her brother back - different means and
different situations, but nonetheless something of the same goal. Still, she
blocked herself from feeling bad for any of them. With the time she had been
having and the glimmers of hope she had been losing the stress was pushing
down on her gymnastically trained body. She was worse for wear and, man,
did she look it.

Stepping into Demon's Run with a small huff she rubbed the toe of her shoe
against her ankle, immediately sensing three of the very things she distrusted
most in her presence. Fracking great; and she displayed her discomfort with a
grimace of the right of her lip. One presence in the room, however, she was
drawn to immediately. Oh dear lord...what the hell was she supposed to do
in this kind of meeting?! As she walked towards the group, arms crossed
and frown in place, she reminded herself Dean was hunter, hunters had
secrets of their own, and expected that, hopefully, she wouldn't be getting
too much heat on her end. "Everyone hold their pants
...I am here." Her eyes skimmed over the many symbols drawn
on the floor by Zahir, and a pressure building up behind her eyes made her
raise a hand to her forehead, trying to force the discomfort away.

Lowering her hand a moment she looked to Dean with a tiny, playful smirk.
"If shit starts to get real, you're my meat shield..."
She was going to do her best to keep a stiff upper lip in this whole situation...

her bottom lip, however, seemed to have missed the memo.

---

template made by Valerie of CAUTION 2.0. lyrics are credited to the fray because they are amazing. please do not remove the credit. this post has plenty of words and is for lots of people!. Oh yeah, and Woody is wearing this.

Charooklahaj
"Charlie Poole-Hall"

Charlie glared irritably as preparations for the ritual were carried out. Something about this whole thing made Charlie nervous, it seemed so... wrong. While he had been on numerous trips to other dimensions since crossing to Earth with Zahir, the spider-demon had never seen preparations quite like this. In fact, if he recalled correctly, the ritual to open the portal last time hadn't involved this much prep. He scowled, trying and failing to mask the worry that was eating away at him.

Not that he'd openly admit it, but Charlie was worried that this trip/ritual might kill Zahir or even worse... that it might not work. He remembered the way his friend got when Matthias returned with Jafar's corpse and no Ayda. Apart from nearly killing the idiot, Charlie remembered his friend working himself ragged to try and get back into the dimension to rescue his sister. He'd nearly killed himself at least once during those first few months. Charlie didn't even want to think about what might happen if it didn't work this time.

He shifted where he stood, wishing he could be in his true form and not this restricting human shell. Charlie understood why his friend had requested the 'friendlier' face to show those who did not know the spider demon, but he still felt much more comfortable in his true-skin. Thankfully, Zahir hadn't said anything about not carrying his sword in public, which eased his mind a little. When Zahir awkwardly got to his feet, he resisted the urge to go over and help the warlock to his feet. He didn't want the warlock to know how much this whole thing bothered him. Admittedly, even Bobby could probably tell the demon's state of mind, but Charlie didn't care.

“That should do it. Everyone should be here soon,”

The demon nodded, distractedly running his thumb over the edge of the blade of his sword. That was another thing Charlie disliked about the plan: there were too many damn people going. He could understand some of the choices, but Charlie suspected Zahir was putting way too much stock on the fact that the dimension they were entering had killed Jafar. Were the extra supposed to be collatoral damage? Sometimes, he wondered if his father hadn't been completely right about the fact that humans were too stupid to live. He watched Dakota, or as he liked to call her: Miss Battery, approach Zahir.

”Any chance of getting a drink before this party gets started?”

"What do you want? I can get it," Charlie offered bursquely. Once he knew what to get her, the demon quickly crossed the floor to the bar, watching as the rest of the party showed up. He was pouring himself a scotch when he spotted Dean, ignoring what the hunter said to the two humans.

"Oh look, the live bait has arrived..." Charlie growled, slamming the bottle of scotch on the bar with a little too much force than was necessary. He remained behind the bar as a dark-skinned kid and the new psychic arrived. His scowl deepened when his eyes locked on Bonnie. A fucking kid? Seriously?

This post has been written by RABBIT

On any other occasion, Willow Rosenberg, wouldn't be seen dead in a place like Demon's run, although that wasn't to say the young red haired Wicca had been protected, and shield from rather seedy things. Willow had seen her fair share of seedy things, even had the misfortune of getting involved in certain seedy under takings, takings that had left their mark both physically and mentally. The physical ones had healed over time. But the mental ones were still there, festering away like some cut or scab gone bad, Willow will never forget the warlock that supplied her with 'Magic'. Not only was in rather charming, and even alluring on some twisted dark level, Willow was the one that killed him, she sucked the all mighty power he had within side of himself, as if she was some kind of vampire feeding on blood. The red haired Wicca still has nightmares over seeing his lifeless corpse hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and she even remembered how it felt to have all that magic running through her system. It felt great, never before or since has Willow ever felt that great; it must be how a demon feels like or how a Goddess must feel like every day.

That was what scared Willow more than anything else, was the fact that it felt so great, it was unlike anything any normal human can understand or even fathom, hell no other witch could even imagine such power at their finger tips, not even the ones who were on the same level as Willow. The best way Willow could describe it to anyone, if she ever decided to describe it to someone, it was like she had reached out and touch the very essence of god, as if she had connected to everything within the world, both supernatural and normal. Willow could feel the heart beat of the world, and it only made her feel more powerful and indestructible, it was as if Willow had turned into a Goddess, a goddess that was dark in every sense of the word.

It was why Willow had done everything in her power since then to keep that dark side of herself locked away deep within her very core. It could never be let out again, the last, and only time Willow indulged that dark side, she caused so much pain, so much hurt, not only that but she almost destroyed the world in a fire beyond the pits of hell itself. Willow never knew up until then that she was capable of such things, capable of so much hatred, and darkness, it was like meeting the worse side of yourself, and taking it out for a drink because you wanted to get to know it. Well Willow got to know that very dark side of herself, and she didn't wish to even meet or know it ever again.

That was why Willow managed and watched her use of magic, if that dark side ever got too much magic, then it would be freed from its cage, and who knows what it might do this time around. So when a Middle Eastern man came into the shop, looking for some rather powerful and dangerous ingredients, Willow was hesitant at first to help him out with what he wanted. But after he had explained the situation to Willow, she began to warm toward his cause, it was hard not to the way Zahir came across all charming and mysterious. If Willow wasn't a lesbian then she would have been drooling all over Zahir within a matter of moments, so much so her tongue would have been tied up in so many knots.

As it was however Willow just found Zahir very intriguing, and even alluring on some kind of non-intimate level. When Zahir left the shop with everything that he came in for, he offered Willow an invitation to join him and help with the ritual he had planned tonight. If he hadn't explained the back story behind it all, and if he wasn't so charming, then Willow would have politely said no and carried on about her day. But it turned out to be too hard to say the no word toward Zahir, and before Willow even had a chance to even think about it, she found herself saying yes. So after a few long hours of calm mediation, and re-enforced control over her much more dark feelings and emotions, which led to that caged dark side, Willow got ready and made her way to Demon's run. Once she stood just outside the door, Willow took one last breath, and then made her way into the main bar area of the place. When she was inside, Willow took a moment to look to the people that had been gathered to see if any of them looked familiar.

The only one Willow recognized was Dean, he had come into the shop a few weeks ago looking for information on all things old and supernatural. Everyone else within the room, other than Zahir, was unfamiliar and unknown to Willow, so for now until she got to know them a bit better, she made her way over to Zahir, and gave him a smile and a bow of her head. "Willow Rosenberg, present and eager to help in any way I can!". Okay so Willow sounded a little too eager to get things started. But that was only because she was extremely nervous over what might happen tonight, especially now with all this power within one room.

how can I love when I'm afraid to fall
- - - - - - - BUT WATCHING YOU STAND ALONE
ALL OF MY DOUBT SUDDENLY GOES AWAY SOMEHOW.
ONE STEP CLOSER.

When Elena got the call from Zahir about Ayda, a part of her couldn’t believe her ears.

He found her?! How?! Elena had thought that it’d be impossible! Hadn’t she been taken into hell or something like that? Elena had never asked for many details on what had happened to Ayda. A part of her figured the less she knew the better… but just because the knowledge that hell existed, and apparently it was possible to be taken there, dead or alive, Elena knew she had to help. She had known Zahir for years. Since high school. She had met him when she had briefly dated his younger brother, Faras. Although things didn’t work out between her and Faras, Elena did get the chance to befriend Zahir, and had kept in contact with him ever since. Now that they were older, and lived on opposite ends of the law, both kept a silent promise to the other. To always be honest with one another, to always help another… and to stay out of each other’s way in the mean time. She agreed to never but her nose into his business… if he agreed to never warrant her kind of attention.

And for years the arrangement worked.

When she got the call, the first thing Elena did was call Hadrian. Having an angel on speed dial sure did help! And thanks to him, Elena now had a better idea of what to expect. Pulling up in front of Demon’s Run, Elena climbed off her bike, and gave the area a quick glance before making her way to the door, pushing her way into the gloom.

It didn’t take her long to reach the group, Elena pushing the door open with a shove, booted feet heavy against the ground. Amber eyes gleamed in the dark, and she let her hard gaze go from face to face, only blinking when she saw Dean. Dean? Why was he here? She had to talk to him about their upcoming skinwalker hunt. But not now. later. Not saying anything to the Hunter, Elena gave the rest a glance, and then chuckled. Oh god, why do she suddenly feel like she was at some kind of screwed up, supernatural, AA meeting? Suddenly Elena wanted to stand there and say ‘Hi, my name is Elena, and I’m a werewolf?’ Just seemed appropriate. Instead however Elena made her way to Zahir, and silently reached out to give him a quick hug, her amber eyes meeting his. “I came as soon as I could.” she murmured.

And with that she stepped back, crossed her arms over her chest, and glanced at the others. Might as well introduce herself. Just to be civil. “Hi. I’m Elena.” She said, then after thinking for a moment. “Um. Cop. Aries. Single. Uh. Hates blue cheese, and tight spaces. Happy to make your acquaintance.” Then, feeling she said everything that needed to be said, Elena fell silent.

KICKING IT WITH Varies
WEARING Elena is wearing THIS.
MUSIC Christina Perri - A Thousand Years
NOTES Whooo! Lets get this party started!!!
CODING CREDIT lovelikethis

Re-reading the incantation, Zahir focused on remembering the words and getting the pronunciation just right. One word spoken with the wrong intonation could cause the spell to go spectacularly wrong, and Zahir could not afford to make any mistakes. Aside from the fact he did not want to risk the lives of those who agreed to help, this was possibly the only time he'd be able to get back to the hell dimension and rescue his sister. Ever since Ayda had gone missing, Zahir had done everything in his power to get her back. If he lost this opportunity, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get another one like it... and that would probably kill him. His parents had already lost one son because of his mistake all those years ago, he was not about the make them mourn their daughter all over again. He glanced up from the book in his hand, watching her get to her feet.

”Any chance of getting a drink before this party gets started?”

"What do you want? I can get it,"

He glanced over at Charlie, a small smile curling his lips. He was glad that his best friend had agreed to come with him on this trip. Yes, the spider demon wasn't exactly pleased with his insistance that he keep his human face on until they crossed into the new dimension, but he at least seemed to understand why Zahir had insisted on it. The warlock looked over at Dakota as Charlie walked to the bar, trying to hide just how nervous he was. As she approached, he noticed her pulling a packet of cloves out of her jacket.

"Mind if I steal one of those?" he asked, closing the book momentarily. He'd sworn this morning that he wasn't going to smoke before the trip, but right now... he really needed a smoke. He glanced over towards the entrance when he heard someone enter, resisting the urge to chuckle when Charlie commented that the live bait had arrived. He had hoped that the spider demon would have gotten over his Dean-hatred when the hunter entered the ring to replace Gage. He shook his head slightly in Charlie's direction before turning his attention back to Dean.

“Do you have a type or what? When’s this gonna get started?”

Ignoring the comment directed towards Dakota, Zahir kept his attention on Dean. He had long accepted that his apprentices had interesting social networks that he could not control. He would not have been surprised if he found out Dakota had been friends with Dean prior to today.

"Once everyone gets here, then we can get the ritual started," Zahir replied, opening the book again and continuing to commit the spell to memory. As he read, he muttered the words of the spell under his breath, sounding out each individual word before committing it to memory. For a moment it seemed as though he had forgotten the others were there and he let his fear and nervousness show. The calm mask was back when two more people arrived. He looked up, spotting a young black woman and his newest employee... Miss Woodrow Smith. Well... she wasn't so much an employee, more like she was the newest psychic he had on staff. Just because he'd recruited her in a less than usual manner had nothing to do with the proceedings. He offered the younger of the two women a small smile, wondering how she'd got involved. Maybe she was one Nick's friends...

"Hi, I'm Bonnie. Dakota asked me to come and help."

"Everyone hold their pants ...I am here. If shit starts to get real, you're my meat shield..."

Ah, Dakota. That explained it. Zahir offered his apprentice a grateful smile before turning his attention to Woody, rolling his eyes slightly at her words. He saw the discomfort on her face, glancing over at Charlie who was still behind the bar.

"Miss Smith, if it would help in any way, I'm sure Charlie would be more than happy to pour you a drink... or two," he drawled, ignoring the snarled curse from Charlie and the banging of bottles coming from the bar. If anything, the demon's annoyance indicated just how nervous Charlie actually was. He turned his attention back to Bonnie.

"Thank you for coming to help Bonnie. Hopefully, it we will be a relatively simple rescue," he said, incredibly thankful that no one from his family was present to realise he had basically just lied to the teenager. This was not a safe dimension they were going to. It was not going to be a simple rescue. Thankfully, he was distracted by the arrival of the witch from the magic store. He hadn't even intended to ask for her help, but he was glad to have at least one more witch present to help with the ritual.

"Willow Rosenberg, present and eager to help in any way I can!"

Zahir grinned in response to the red-head's enthusiasm. He had sensed great amounts of power coming from the younger woman... Her presence made him feel a little more sure of his ability to complete the ritual. He barely noticed Elena entering until she hugged him. He'd known the werewolf since high-school, when she'd dated his brother. It hadn't worked out, Zahir always suspected his brother wasn't programmed for monogamy, but they'd remained friends. Yes, he may have fed her the same story he'd given his parents to explain Ayda's disappearance... but now she was going to help him get her back.

“I came as soon as I could. Hi. I’m Elena. Um. Cop. Aries. Single. Uh. Hates blue cheese, and tight spaces. Happy to make your acquaintance.”

He nodded, smiling gratefully. At least now there would be someone else Ayda knew coming to rescue her. He turned his attention to the rest of the group.

"We're going to be starting the ritual soon. Bonnie, Willow, Dakota... if you have any special preparations you need to do before we begin, do it now. The rest of you... have a glass of liquid courage at the bar," Zahir said, his voice calm despite the butterflies that were speeding around his stomach. He looked back down at the book in his hands, double checking the incantation one final time.

"Oh man, it's like you're trying to be a bad influence, Zahir." He said, grinning, as he made his way in. He had had a difficult time convincing his dad that this was for 'work', and then getting his brother to drive him to a bar, of all places, but he'd finally made it. Zahir had asked him for help, and there was no way in hell the fairy-boy wasn't going to try, at least, to do what he could. He owed Zahir that much. Since his recent healing, he was in a much better position to lend a hand - magical, not just a literal one. He tugged his backpack over his shoulder, and paused, looking for a place to put it. He finally settled on the floor, because he figured Zahir would have everything, and he'd left most of his personal stuff at home.

No, he was bringing his "A" game, and little else.

Still, he was surprised, when he realized that it wasn't just going to be a small affair - there was already a bunch of people here, not including himself and Zahir. He paused, after he saw Willow and Dean - two people who'd helped him, at least with information and supplies, before. He hadn't expected to see those two - or at least Dean - again. Small world.

All in all, things were going to be quite interesting. It also confirmed the suspicion he'd had about Willow, that she was a little more than meets the eye. He focused, trying to shift his attention to the more 'magical' frame - something he was just now starting to figure out how to do. After a few seconds, he decided he'd probably be better off saving his energy for whatever ritual this was - if it had so many people with that much magic together, every scrap of energy would undoubtedly count.

Zahir'd given him the basics, but he still wasn't sure what the plan for the night was. Open a portal, save his sister. Something along those lines. It was important, no doubt, and he realized his overly flippant attitude might just not be setting the right tone. After a minute, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and tried not to look eager.

"Sorry I'm late. My brother wouldn't let me borrow his car." He said, simply, by way of explanation. He was just glad that Zahir had asked for his help, considering he was still more or less wet behind the ears, or however that saying went. He was dressed in faded, semi-holey jeans and one of his Washington High shirts - one of the ones they'd given away for spirit-whatever. He glanced at Willow, and smiled.

"Nice to see you again." He added. Part of him remembered the grump he'd felt towards her and her anti-not-human sentiments, but since she was here to help, he wasn't going to let that interfere with anything. For now, he was just going to focus on being quiet and doing what he needed to do. He offered smiles and nods to people he hadn't met. Rule of the night? Don't be a tool to the other volunteers.

Dakota had to offer a smile towards Charlie as he meandered his way towards the bar to fill her request, and with a smile of his own no less. She had grown surprisingly fond of the demon over their last months of random encounters as she’d gotten to know Zahir and his entourage during the… did she actually almost think of them as tutoring sessions, she mused, as she cast a wry glance towards the older gentleman who was serving as host and … tactical advisor, of sorts, for this particular task. She supposed ‘tutoring’ might be going a little old school, but whether she really wanted to admit it or not she had a lot that she could learn from him and his old school ways. Zahir was big on tradition and schedules, regimens and lessons, a difference in opinion that they had clashed over from time to time, but in this particular circumstance, she’d been willing to follow his lead. It was his family after all, and while she wasn’t overly keen on the idea of marching into a hell dimension with the specific intent of causing trouble… well, that wasn’t exactly true either, she just really wasn’t used to doing it out of the sense of some misguided altruism. ”Thanks, Charlie,” she murmured, as she drifted towards the bar after the demon, her head tilting towards the side as the door opened, the first of the reinforcements had arrived. She felt her stomach tighten and lurch as her eyes focused on the face. The all too familiar face. Dean. She felt a rush of anger, a rush of fury and heat and spiked, and flared sharp and hot within her, and for a moment she felt the fire itch, begging to manifest, her hand curled into a fist at her side, the air around it rippling for a moment, surging with a flare of heat – but her gaze snapped away, turning down, forcing her fingers away from her palm, trying to ignore the pounding rage in her heartbeat that echoed in her head.

Her lips pursed thinly, she focused on the space between them. Between her, and the self-righteous self-proclaimed hunter of evil things. Between her, and the one that had tortured her, ripped her apart, flayed her to pieces, shredded her…. She could feel the remnants of it, the echoes of the all too vivid memories that she had recalled, felt, when the wall put in place to protect her from her recollections of hell had been cracked. His face. His hands, with daggers and fire, tearing and shredding. She could not bring herself to look at him directly, or even trust herself to reply to his retort, his barbed comment. She dropped onto the stool she was closest to, nodding slightly towards Zahir, offering out the cigarette case to him at his request. ”Sure thing, boss,” She offered with a meager smile, well aware that the title was hardly an official one. She waited for him to light their respective cloves, letting out a languid cloud of smoke as she turned her gaze back to the room at large, though avoiding any direct eye contact with the aggravation in the room. ”Hey, love,” she murmured, her voice low and languid, as she offered a wave towards the dark-skinned witch that she’d made acquaintance with in the weeks past, taking a drag from her clove followed by a half swallow of the drink Charlie offered. A few others filtered in, but for the moment, Dakota was content to let Zahir handle the greet and meet – for the most part, she was more focused on staying focused, and staying together. She had to keep herself in check and stay powered up until the moment of the portal release.

The red-headed witch was the only one, for the most part, that got a glance that lasted longer than a moment, the power that she emanated was a magnet, for a moment, the reservoir of power inside of her drawn towards Willow, but she resisted the urge to actually connect to the witches power, lest she risk actually draining the walking talking and conscious battery. The cop – that one got a faint questioning glance towards Zahir, with the mild curiosity of what he was thinking with that one but she wasn’t feeling the desire to argue. Breathing and thinking, that was a more important task at this moment. At Zahir’s last words, she merely offered a faint nod, drifting to her feet. Finishing the shot, she crushed the clove out into the glass and moved then, towards the circle that she and Zahir had crafted in the center of the room. ”Ladies?” She questioned, glancing towards the other two witches. ”Shall we?” As the others gathered, she dared one last sideways glance towards Dean, a flush of hostility creeping through her stomach once again but she turned her gaze away quickly, staring back at the circle as she settled herself, cross legged at the head of the circle. Her lashes drifted closed, as she focused inwards, allowing herself to fall into the darkness, and into the pulsing chaotic flurry of energy and power that rested inside of her. Only once she was certain she had the proper siphon, able to release the energy in a steady pulse rather than a burst that would take down the building, if not the block, did she open her eyes once again. Where the pupils had been pitch black, now there was a dark red glimmer, the usual chocolate hued iris ringed black, and the aura of power that began to slip from her to the runes and circle in the room took on a low tangible radiance. ”At your word,” She murmured, her gaze turning to focus for the moment only on Zahir, waiting for the final command to finish the casting.

- - - - - M Y - - - - - - H O P E - - - - - - I S - - - - - - G O N E - - - - -

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a l r e a d y . w a i t e d . t o o . l o n g . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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She offered her smile to Dakota more genuinely when she had responded. It was the acknowledgment that at least made her feel a little more comfortable. At least she wasn't alone in this. Then, one of the men she had introduced herself to finally greeted her. She looked at him with those dark, yet captivating, brown eyes of hers before nodding her head.

She spoke to him again, "We'll do our best to keep it simple. Whatever it takes." Eyes shifted to the other man, behind the bar, who was talking of 'live bait' and looking directly at her. Bonnie felt a little frightened by the comment, hoping he wasn't some sort of vampire. But she wouldn't show it. She looked back at him, those eyes of hers strong and fierce in their own way. She didn't relent on that eye contact. She didn't want to be viewed as weak, even if she was among the youngest compared to all of those who stepped in. She wouldn't even blink. She'd continue to stare at him until he looked away first.

Others walked in amidst the staring match, including another witch. Bonnie couldn't help but look away from the man behind the bar when Willow walked in, for the feeling of her power was almost overwhelming. She felt it in every inch of her body, every fiber of her being, and knew in that instant that she was one of the most powerful individuals in the room. She was almost in awe.

It wasn't until Zahir spoke that she finally looked away and back his way. He called her by name, recommending she, Dakota and Willow -- was the witch's name Willow? -- get their preliminary magicks started. She gave a nod, and with one more passing glance of hostility tossed toward the man behind the bar, she headed over toward the circle in the room. She walked with Dakota to it, finding herself a comfortable spot where she could focus her magic through her fellow wiccans present. She sat, like Dakota, cross legged with a deep breath to focus her inner energies.

But when Willow stepped over, she had to introduce herself, "Hi, I'm Bonnie," she said confidently, yet curiously. There was so much she wanted to ask her, like she had Dakota when she'd first met her. But later, after this was all taken care of. For now, they needed to focus on getting the job done.

So, she glanced over at Dakota, whose eyes were closed as she channeled herself as well. And just when Bonnie had been about to look away, she caught the horror: Dakota, her eyes. What was that? Why did they look so sinister, so evil? Bonnie was almost shocked into saying something, but the moment she felt the energy she knew it was best not to disrupt it. Instead, she focused on her own. She breathed again, eyes closing, letting herself find her magical core. Then, when she had it, when she found her center, she released an aura of her own. A bit of a breeze picked up inside the bar as she came to it, her long dark-brown hair fluttering against it. The breeze died as soon as it began. She cracked a half-grin as she felt soothed into bliss by the mixture of magicks around her, from Dakota to Willow, both of whom were extremely powerful and experienced. There was so much she could learn from them.

Finally, her eyes opened as well, glancing at Dakota who was waiting for the go-ahead. Though frightened by what could happen here, she was ecstatic to have the opportunity to practice with witches of such strength. She couldn't wait to see what they'd be able to do together.

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s h u t y o u r m o u t h . . .

dakota stark, willow rosenberg, zahir al-suyuti, et. all, CLOSED ! who;
how soon is now? by love spit love ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

There were more familiar faces than Dean first imagined when he arrived. It was new to him, mostly because he wasn’t used to seeing people that he knew on a day to day basis, much less multiple people that he had met all gathered in the same place. When he worked with other hunters, that was often the case, but this wasn’t like that. This wasn’t a meeting amongst hunters. This was completely different and yet still, there were quite a few different faces that he familiarized with. Of course, there were also those he didn’t recognize; case in point being the girl that he’d yet to come across; a friend of Dakota’s apparently. He gave a little nod in greeting, even as far as to offer a quick, faint smile in silent hello before he caught onto a familiar voice. And look at that, yet another person he’d met already. And had met a long time ago, at that. When he saw Woody, he flashed a smirk in response. Obviously she was there for the same reason they all were, but it didn’t make it any more expected. It looked like all of them had some kind of connection to Zahir and this place. He wouldn’t have guessed, really. But, it wasn’t his place to sit down and survey everyone either. Just as he wouldn’t want them to do the same to him. No questions need be asked, and he couldn’t help but vocalize a chuckle at Woody. “That’s what I’m here for, just for you,” he teased, trying to keep somewhat light. Although, he was sure that light wasn’t the mood of the hour. Joking around probably wasn’t on everyone’s mind, but he tried to stay in good humor, even if there were nervous feelings from anyone else.

A glance to Charlie was given, however and Dean rolled his eyes, “Keep talking, man, dead bait works just as well.” He remarked off-handedly, not a true threat, because he wasn’t going to do anything, but it was his way of countering the comment at him. Frankly, it didn’t bother Dean what he still thought of him. He wasn’t out to make friendly. Instead, he stood there, waiting for the show to get started. Was there anyone he wasn’t going to recognize today? A glance was given to Willow and he offered a nod, remembering her from the shop. She seemed like a nice girl and it was nice to see familiar faces that he had liked, rather than ones that made him uncomfortable or offset. Because, in reality, there were probably more of those out there than people that got along with him. But, that was the way it worked for a lot of hunters. He wound up making a lot of enemies and on a trip like this, with someone like Zahir, he had no idea what he might run into. But, it didn’t take away from the intent and he was grateful for some of the people that he’d already known. A look was given to Elena, however; the two of them had a hunt together. But, he said nothing about it and didn’t so much as vocally acknowledge her. He listened to Zahir, hoping that soon started to come into being quickly. He wasn’t sure how many people that he had roped onto the job, but given what it was, he assumed he probably needed a hell of a lot of help. So, with some patience, he waited to see what else was planning on coming through that door. And it came with some surprise that he saw that kid again; the one from the magic shop with the demon problem. That wasn’t expected, but he figured not to be too surprised here.

Frowning a moment, Dean watched Dakota’s reaction to him. It was different from the first time they met, however subtle it was. He tried to push under his memories of her, because it seemed that she hadn’t remembered. If she had, her reaction would have been world’s different when they first met. It had let him to think maybe it was his own mind placing her face into his memories of Hell. Except that it didn’t happen and he could distinctly remember her. And the way that she reacted to him now, he couldn’t help but wonder what might be going through her head. His brow furrowed, but he pushed it off, brushing it aside because they had other things to worry about. Instead, he stood back, folding his arms and waiting. He’d had his fill of alcohol before he came and he figured to avoid hostility he wouldn’t be approaching the bar. He was ready to do this; adrenaline rush be damned. If anything that nervous energy fuelled him.