8708/The Librarian: Burnt Offerings at the Crossroads

The Librarian: Burnt Offerings at the Crossroads
Date of Scene:	09 August 2019
Location:	Diner at the Crossroads
Synopsis:	John and Willow visit the diner at the crossroads that she and Sam once stopped at - still in search of the brazier. Only they're not the only ones looking for it. Unexpected guests arrive, including Agent May - who calls in the big guns. Everyone lives to fight another day, and they get the prize!
Cast of Characters:	Willow Rosenberg, Constantine, Melinda May, Castiel
Tinyplot:	The Librarian

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Willow Rosenberg has posed:
So, they had the candlesticks. Which had been an adventure. Willow made a point of not asking John what he'd done with the box of gremlins, and so far he hadn't offered the information.

Altar cloth, and candlesticks down, three items were still missing (they'd since discovered the candles were a red herring and crossed them off the list).

Willow had used the cloth, and her laptop, and had since informed John that the hits she was getting we the same as the ones she'd had when she and Sam had taken their cross country trip to the interior.

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense. We didn't find anything," she'd told him. But as things happened, it was determined that even if it was a wild goose chase, they'd start there and see where it led.

Worse came to worse, they could cross this off the list. With luck, maybe the trail would pick up again somewhere along the way. Willow's magic was good, but in some ways it wasn't always as precise as one might like.

A car had been rented, and this time provisions were packed against possible breakdowns, and the pair of them had set off down the mildly familiar path she and Sam had taken, Willow pointing out stops along the way, remarking how they'd been different in the late fall, most snow covered and hidden.

If it weren't for the seriousness of the trip they were taking, Willow could have convinced herself she was taking a vacation.

Constantine has posed:
Yes, best not to ask what John did with the box of gremlins... or why one of the stuffier buggers in the Masters of the Mystic Arts was suffering so many misfortunes lately... Purely a coincidence! Just ask John, he'll tell you.

Anyhow the road trip, John was behind the wheel with Willow acting as navigator/tour guide.

"Dunno," John says, "Could be someone snatched them before you got there, maybe the weather messed with things, sometimes a storm isn't just a storm." He lets out a sigh though. "But weather casting's a bloody pain in the ass so if someone wanted to mess with things there are easier ways."

"Anyhow, we'll check out the pings and if it doesn't pan out at least we've seen the sights, yeah?"

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I don't know," Wiloow shrugs, telling John to take the next left. "I'm not sure the magic works that way. I think it's part of a process?" No, that wasn't quite the word she wanted. It was more part of the journey? Like if certain steps weren't followed - the way rituals worked. Only this was rather more loose than that. "There should be a crossroads up ahead. And a little diner there. They have the best pies!" They did. She'd also pointed out to John the little motel that she and Sam had been snowed in at for two days when the trail went cold.

There's a smile on her face as she recalls, "Sam doesn't like pie, because of his brother. So I ordered a piece of every kind they had, brought to the table in a box, like a whole pie." She giggles. "He wanted to be so angry with me, but he laughed."

Willow sighs. "I miss him. He was nice to hang out with. There were no complications with him, like trying to figure out if we were supposed to hold hands or kiss or anything. Though I did kind of hope he and Buffy would get on."

Newsflash: They didn't.

Constantine has posed:
John considers Willow's take on things for a moment, "Sort of it's not the destination but the journey, yeah?" he asks as he takes the left smirking a little as Willow mentions the motel as they pass.

"Really? Snowed in at a motel and nobody made a move?" he asks incredulous. "Sure he likes girls?" he jokes lightly. "An' yeah, tried to fix him up with Buffy? Interesting."

"Could do with some pie though," he remarks as the diner comes into view. He drives on, slipping into the parking lot and coming to a stop outside.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow nods, looking thoughtful. "I mean, we're trying to find an item that both does and doesn't want us to find it. It's kind of a race, isn't it? Which of us gets to it first. It has to be careful how it leads us to it - we might be more helpful than hurtful, just like them.. Is that weird? To think we might actually be helping?"

After all, the old woman had spoken of how the items *wanted* to be together, and how they'd foolishly brought them together in the first place, letting Father Halvorsen become corrupted.

She gives a slightly bashful nod as to setting Sam and Buffy up. "I thought maybe my two best friends might like one another. Only they really didnt' have any chemistry. It's okay, though, she left shortly after, and I don't konw, he didn't seem bothered by it."

She waits for them to come to a complete stop in the parkinglot before closing her laptop lid and shoving the thing into her satchel, readying herself to go inside. Notably, the cursor on the current search was still blipping in and out when she did so. Whatever else is happening, so far so good, it seems that they're on the right trail.

Constantine has posed:
"Nah, makes sense it wants to come together and we're gathering the pieces, so yeah, we're helping but we've just got keep our wits about us when it all does come together to make sure when it happens things happen the way we want them to."

"Makes sense," John says of the set up. "Risky too, if it'd worked they'd have both vanished into that whole lust bunny, new relationship thing," he says.

He parks the car and when he gets out, glances around to make sure they're not being watched.

"Anyhow, glad he took it well. Nothing worse than yer friends feuding over broken hearts, or so I hear."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Ew?" Willow says of the whole lust-bunny situation. "But I guess I also kinda want her to be happy. " Mind you, her own love live was both non-existent and complicated.

"I was thinking, if we're gathering things and could be helping the wrong side, they could be helping us, too. Which means the book doesn't care who gets things, just as long as someone who will use it finds it in the end."

Which doesn't entirely make sense to her. She'd heard the thing could be both positive or negative depending on who was weilding it, and yet it seemed it had a decidedly dark bent to it. It was puzzling to say the least.

She opens her door and gets out, cheerfully checking the place out. "You have to be careful of the step up going in." Like many older buildings, there was this odd single step leading in that had no real purpose being neither a full step in height, or necessary to step in.

Constantine has posed:
John chuckles at Willow's ew. "What?" he teases. "Thought you wanted her to be happy, and getting it on with a big strapping lad like that, well that sounds like pure bliss," he says pushing buttons with gleeful awareness.

"But it's good you're trying to do her a solid, from what I've heard of Slayers, they usually don't have best friends, or boyfriends, just an early grave." Not that Buffy had missed out on that, it's just that she came back.

"Maybe it was just built that way, 'get back together at all costs' and it don't care which side gets it in the end," he says with a nod, "But yeah, safe bet it's helping the Blue Man and his group as well."

Willow's warning saves John from tripping, "Thanks, an' what's the bloody point of that thing anyhow?" he says glaring at the step as he passes over it.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Hunters, too," Willow points out of early graves. Not to mention the whole who can you actually talk about your job with business. "And just because I want her happy doesnt' mean I want to think about her and Sam doing it. They're my friends. That's like thinking about your parents doing it."

She shudders, and reaches for the diner door, opening it, letting John enter first.

"I have no clue. Unless there are deep puddles when it rains." And even then, why?

Constantine has posed:
John nods, there's no argument to be made there, Hunters tended to end up dead just like Slayers and usually with a lot more mess, on account of their lack of super powers.

John shudders at the thought of his parents doing it, "Good point," John says.

The step is given another look and a shake of his head as he steps inside holding the door open for Willow as he gives the place a once-over.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Well, if John is going to insist on taking the door from her, who is Willow isnt' going to argue. Probably some nod towards gallantry. She's not bothered by it. Instead she cheerfully steps inside and takes a look around.

A waitress in a hair net, proudly sporting a nametag that says 'Gert' gives a bored little nod of head to the pair, "Find yourselves a table and make yourself comfortable. Be by in two shakes of a dead lamb's tail. Short a waitress today, so might take a minute, but I'll get to you. Coffee's on the house for your troubles."

And with that, she turns away from there and leans over the kitched window, calling out an order to the cook in the kitchen behind.

Willow peers about, and sees the perfect table, making a slight squee of a noise, "Our table is free!" Which pleases her to no end, and probably means the table she sat at with Sam, not her and John's table given there's no way they're regulars here.

Scattered about the place are several other patrons. All sitting single at their talbes. all looking both bored, and minding their own business. For a mid-afternoon, between lunch and supper, this really isn't all that surprising.

Constantine has posed:
John smiles at Gert's greeting, "No worries, luv, take your time," he gives her a winning smile as he does so. Not anything seductive, just talking up the staff.

Smiling at Willow's excllamation he follows her to the booth and sits down. "Take it you and Sam were in this one, yeah?" he asks.

He gives the room another glance just keeping an eye on the scattering of patrons. "This still looking like the spot?" he asks her. Though right now, even if it isn't, John doesn't mind stopping, he's hungry.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Well, not our table, but the one we sat at," Willow has to admit, with a sheepish grin. "I don't really get out much. It kind of shows, doesn't it?" Which is fine and well.She's not exactly hillbilly in the big city territory, but she is rather wide-eyed tourist leaves the 100 mile radius of her hometown cute.

"I'm not sure where we go from here." Willow pulls out her laptop and waits for it to start up again. When it does, the cursor is blinking, both on this spot, and then in a concentric pattern that circles out from the spot - much as it did last time before it just stopped and all directions went away. At the time she'd chalked it up to the snowstorm and spotty internet, but then again, had she ever really needed internet to do this?

Willow wasn't sure.

She turns the laptop to show John. "See? Only last time I had some auction ads, too. This time there's nothing but the cursor flashing."

A cursor that seems to be slowing down as John looks at it.

Constantine has posed:
John nods, "I get your meaning, luv," he says about the booth. "An' yeah, well with all your work and studying it's no shock, we'll have to fix that for some of your training, give you the grand tour."

Leaning forward to watch the cursor make laps of the diner on the screen, John frowns, "Guessing the ads were hints on where the things were, but now, hey, it's slowing down some. Not sure what that means exactly but I think what we're looking for is close."

He glances out the window for anything that struck him as a spot to hide an item like the one they were after.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I don't know," Willow says of the cursor, and its slowing down. "Last time it meant we lost the trail. Say, do you believe in the Bermuda Triangle? I mean, crossroads are like that, right?"

There was enough lore on strange things happening at the crossroads, including deals with the devil, that it wasn't too far off for Willow to get that idea, even if it were mixing a few bits of unrelated lore. Then again, if they were a nexus point with a direct line to hell, who's to say they also didn't interfere with magic.

As the pair ponder the matter, another couple of patrons come in, and wave to Gert, who picks up menus and takes them to John and Willow's table.

"Special today is the meatloaf. Comes with your choice of sides, coffee, and a slice of pie. I can bring your coffee and come back for your order."

She gives the special in rote tones, like this was the thousandth time she'd said them. Likely that was true if the place worked like most mom and pop hole in the walls. If they did, that was likely the special the same day of the week every week, excepting maybe holidays. And before John or Willow can actually reply, she's placed a handful of milk and creamers on the table and wandered off to fetch cups and the promised pot of coffee.

Constantine has posed:
John nods about the cursor, that was very much Willow's wheelhouse. As for the Bermuda Triangle, he nods, "It exists don't it? 'Course I believe in the Bermuda Triangle. An' yeah, crossroads are like that, convergences of energy, just the Triangle is a few degrees of magnitude stronger..."

He lets his words trail off as the waitress arrives and he favours her with a winning smile. "Meatloaf would be grand, luv, but give me a tea instead of the coffee?" he asks with a nod. "Good with all the rest."

Though the woman is gone before he's sure his request was heard.

"If she comes back with coffee she's going to lose her tip," John grumbles.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"That's mean, don't you think?" Willow frowns at John. "But I bet she heard you."

There's a nod as he talks about convergences and energy. Toss in some ley lines and nodes, and you have yourself a party. "But I don't think you can really summon the devil. That would be really silly, don't you think? Everyone would be doing it."

Meanwhile, the cursor blinks, it's path slowed down to a standstill that seems hovered off in the distance - about the motel 6 distance away; it's even stopped blinking. Then it disappears and lights up about the same distance as that, only in a new location. It's not blinking the way cursors should anymore. Just blinking in and out of existence with several seconds between jumps, seemingly without a pattern. Seemingly... but these things can be deceptive - especially at the rate the cursor is moving.

Gert returns with two mugs, a stainless steel hot water container for tea, a tea bag - all upon a tray. The other hand hefts a coffee pot. "Heard you liked tea instead luv," she tells John with a wink, making it clear she also heard his tip comment.

The coffee pot is set on the table while she hands out the other things, and pulls out her order pad. "Two specials, is it?" She lists off the sides like their order is assured to be that, and waits patiently.

To be fair, most folks order the special. Off the beaten track rarely runs further than a basket of fries.

Willow chooses fries over the special. "I don't eat meat," she says when Gert scribbles on her order pad.

Constantine has posed:
"Hey, I wasn't the one that walked off before I finished my order," John reasons with a shrug.

As for devil summoning? "He's not taking calls these days anyhow," John explains. "But there's a whole type of demon that shows up at crossroads to make deals, they're sort of Hell's sales department. Wouldn't recommend it though, shitty terms of service."

There's a small smirk at that, one that widens when it's clear Gert heard him.

"No offense, luv," he says sliding over what would be a sizeable tip. on their order "An' yeah, a special for me," he says before adding to Willow, "If you're ordering that you don't get my pie, so best order your own," he warns in case Willow has plans on sneaking some of his.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Ew, the devil has sales associates? Isn't that kinda weird?" Okay, Willow isn't unaware of demons. She's just never thought of them that way before. "I guess it explains used car salemen, though."

Gert just chuckles at John; he's not the rudest customer she's dealt with, not even close. Nor is he the most blunt. She's an old-timer waitress, the kind who put on the apron in their youth and wear it till their children are grown and the thing is threadbare. She gives as good as she gets, and the boss isn't likely to fire her because he couldn't run the joint without her.

"So, one special. One basket of fries. Slice of pie on the side. We have fresh blueberry, still warm from the oven if you like that kind. All the regulars as well."

"Oh! Lemon. No Bluebeery.. No.. lem-blue-.."

Gert laughs. "Right. Two slices of pie on the side. One of each. You're young, sweetie. It ain't gonna hurt you to have both. Look like you could stand it if you ask me."

John gets a wink. "Now you, you could stand something else." But she doesn't say what.

Willow's coffee is poured and Gert takes their order to the window, but not before stopping at another table or three to freshen cups and see if anyone wants anything else.

Constantine has posed:
"Sure they do, the big boys got to get their souls somehow, so they get their underlings to hustle for some souls up here in our world, an' some of those they send hustle for themselves while they're at it, if they've got the juice to deliver on their end of the contract," John explains matter of factly. "An' trust me these blokes will make car salesmen look like bloody saints."

John starts fixing up his tea while the whole pie business is worked out.

"Blueberry for me," he says of his own, "An' stand something else, maybe if you lot got beer."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
The thing about specials is that they've already got a lot of the meal made, and usually piping hot to boot. Makes for fast turnaround. In fact, if it weren't for Willow's fries, they'd have had their meal in minutes. As it was, it was only long enough to finish a coffee (Willow's) before Gert is back, putting their meals in front of each of them. Willow gets a coffee refill, and Gert does another round of tables.

Willow douses her fries in a frightening amount of ketchup and vinegar, totally oblivious to any possible looks of dismay at the fact, and happily munches away, sipping her coffee between fries. Normally she'd have a coke or something, but Gert had already brought her the coffee and Willow felt like John was being impossible enough for the both of them. Besides, she felt utterly grown up. Even if she did have two pieces of pie coming.

Midway through her basket, Willow puts down her fork - she's been using both fork and fingers in an odd little dance of fry gluttony, dabs her mouth with her napkin, and declares she needs the rest room.

The restrooms are located in the very far corner of the diner - furthest away from the door as it happens, and thus a trek away from the table - leaving John alone at the table with Willow's half eaten fries, his dinner, and Willow's laptop.

Constantine has posed:
John definitely eyes the amount of ketchup and vinegar being employed and reaches over to steal a fry that has yet to be touched. "Savin' it from the flood," he explains before tucking into his own food.

When Willow departs the table John gives her a nod. "Think they're over there," he says nodding to the corner, before going back to his food and keeping an eye on the place.

Melinda May has posed:
With Sam Winchester having gone out west to help his brother or some such, May took it upon herself to keep tabs on Ms. Rosenberg. That had been a singularly uneventful task until today, when the young woman had rented a car then went on a road trip with a man that she set facial recognition to working on. Then, she followed them. Official reason? Field observation of a potential WAND recruit. Tailing them had been extremely easy, after all, no one ever bothers to look UP.

When they pulled into the diner, May flew her cloaked quinjet ahead a short distance, settled the aircraft in an open field devoid of livestock, and within moments, a jeans and black jacket-clad May is pulling a touring motorcycle onto the roadway headed toward the same diner.

Mere seconds after Willow has excused herself to the restroom, May steps into the establishment and takes a seat after Gert goes through the greeting process, sitting about halfway between the hallway to said restrooms and the man left at Rosenburg's table. Now, to wait and observe. In the meantime...

Ugh. Coffee. Gross.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
May's entry - like all the entries before hers - stirs up a n eddy of dust and leaves across the diner floor. For some odd reason, the things seem to be congregating near the hallway leading down to the bathroom. Must be the air currents in the place.

Constantine has posed:
John happily eats his food, looking up as the woman enters the bar, though before long his eyes drift from her to the gathering by the bathroom hallway.

Frowning, John knocks back some of his tea and stands, saying to Gert as he passes her, "Just going to the loo, not dining and dashing luv."

He wanders over to the corridor for a better look.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
There's nothing to see. Empty hallway but for the detritus. Men's room. Ladie's room. Lightbulb burnt out. Typical diner fair. Smells clean enough.

Constantine has posed:
Making a show of at least stepping into the men's room, John washes his hands and makes his way back out agian, feeling satisfied he'd done his due dilligance, as he makes his way back to his table he gives the newcomer another more conspicuous look before sitting down again.

Something felt off.

John returns to his food but keeps an eye on the diner as he does.

Melinda May has posed:
May isn't even really looking toward either the restrooms or Rosenberg's table. She's just seemingly another traveler stopped in for a cup of caffeine. The man's stepping away from the table does give her the chance to look toward the laptop left there, not that she can really make out much of anything on the device from this distance.

As the man crosses back to the table, she takes a small, miniscule, practically non-existent sip from her coffee cup and pulls her phone to seemingly check something on the device. She feels that the man is suspicious of her, and honestly? She could not care less. She's here to make sure Winchester's female friend remains safe.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
The air in the diner is still. Too still almost. Like how things get before a storm comes. That electric, dust dry stillness and silence before winds whip up and rain starts to fall.

Conversation happens, but it's oddly muted. Like the volume has been turned down, but nobody seems to notice. Everyone at their individual tables caught up only in their own little worlds.

Only May and John seem truly present in the place.

The cursor on Willow's laptop has been doing that turtle slow ping in, ping out, tracing a space on the screen around hte diner.

John has barely sat down in his booth; May has barely drawn her phone up to pretend she isn't watching him; Willow's laptop screen goes black, then with a crackle, turns on again and now there's a brilliant circle of light about the diner - each spot the cursor had landed upon now lit up in the form of a summoning sigil.

There's a sudden rush of wind in the diner that seems to come from several directions at once; the detritus swirls in a rising eddy - a dust devil even. The air smells of seaweed and salt water.

The lights go out.

A man is heard laughing.

Constantine has posed:
The still air, the muted conversation, either an angel was messing with time or some sort of mystical fuckery was afoot and he didn't see anyone 'round with wings.

The business with the laptop just confirms it.

Before the smell, losing the lights or the laugh, John is grabbing the salt shaker off his table and reaching for the one on the nextf one besides.

"Bugger all," John mutters as the laugh rings out. "Blue, is that you?" he calls into the diner as he unscrews the first shaker and starts pouring salt around him on the floor.

Melinda May has posed:
When the lights go out, May is instantly out of her seat, a blade in her hand that gleams just a little more whitely than the usual steel, and she's heading for that hallway leading to the restrooms. Her priority is Rosenberg. Then she'll see about dealing with everyone else.

She doesn't miss hearing the Brit's call out to someone named Blue, though. What's that about?

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Blue."

The single word is spoken with a Nordic accent.

Another laugh as John reaches for salt. The voice tsking softly.

May can head towards that hallway, but she doesnt' get very far - there's a flare of light, pale blueish-green, hissing as it reveals a dessicated man in priests robes, blocking the hallway to the washrooms.

"The little witchling is indisposed, ja? Such a shame." He nods his chin towards John. "Das is salt? I am not a dinner to be seasoned."

Laughing, he grabs a shaker, and upends it over a palm, then blows the handful away, dropping the shaker on the ground where it clatters and rolls away.

Strangely, the others in the room are not reacting. They aren't quite paused in time, but neither do they seem present.

"You will have to do better than that."

Constantine has posed:
John notices that flash of a blade in May's hand.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he asks.

Though Blue interupts so John interrupts right back. "Don't like Blue? What's your preference, Petey? Or do you want to go all formal like Father Peitor Halvorson," he says testing the creature before him putting will into the speaking of it's name.

"Don't knock salt, mate," John warns finishing his circle even if he hasn't powered it. "But if it's not to your taste then maybe you'd like some fire."

John raises a hand shouting: "Adolebitque!" and sending a gout of flame in the thing's direction.

"If you got any tricks, now's the time," he calls to May as he readies another burst of flame.

That's assuming she was on his side of course.

Melinda May has posed:
May stops abruptly when the desiccated man appears in her path. She watches him as he does that grandiose thing all annoying villain-types do, waiting for a distraction which the Brit helpfully provides in the form of gouts of fire. She's ... not going to ask how he's doing that.

In a move so quick it must have been practiced, she tosses her blade into her other hand and pulls her ICER to fire a round at... Father Halvorson? while putting some distance between them again. This she was NOT expecting though she really should have.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
The man - Father Halvorson, it would seem - flinches away from John's using of his name. It doesn't stop him from holding up a hand to brush away the gout of flame, though. Both John and May can see that the flame does harm him, his flesh turning a greasy black, and there's a smell of dank rot, but the man isn't deterred.

May's ICER, sadly, does little but add another, albeit very small, scorch mark - this one leaving behind a papery grey mark pale in comparison to John's flames.

"Tricks. Ja, I have tricks too little warlock," Halvorson returns, even if those words were directed at May, and not himself.

He opens his mouth and at first it seems no sound is coming out, but then they both hear it:

Waves crashing on rocks; an incessant crash after crash after crash, brushed against with the low hissing lull of water on sand, counterpoint to those crashes. There's a rising falling motion to it all, and Halvorson lifts that scorched hand, murmuring, "Rise my pretties. Rise. Answer the calling.."

As he does that, the other patrons in the diner rise from their seats, and move - some towards John. Some towards May. A number coming to act as a shieldwall between Halvorson and the danger that the two present.

Dishes clatter to the floor as the occupants of the diner move to do his biding. Some with utensils in their hands lifted as weapons against John and May. All with a blank stare on their faces.

Constantine has posed:
John grimaces as the barely touches the priest. He was going to need more, a lot more and that meant getting outside.

"Hope you brought some heavier hardware, luv," he says off hand to May.

He also needed to get Willow that complicated things.

Then things got even more complicated as the people started getting up and coming towards them. "Bloody hell," John cures as he lunges at the closest patron grabbing for their head and uttering the words of a sleep spell: "â??Molles somnos, somno iam!" if it works that was one down of many, if not, then John was going to be way closer to this bloke than he wanted.

Melinda May has posed:
Backing off a bit more, May hesitates to take down the innocents now being used against them. Heavier hardware? Yeah, she's got some serious ordinance at her disposal. She'd really rather not resort to it, but needs must in order to protect everyone in this building AND stop the bad guy.

"Castiel, could use your help here," she says mostly under her breath while watching the 'zombies' looming ever closer. That youngish looking man, he could probably best tolerate the dendrotoxin in her ICER rounds. She'll aim for him first. "Which would you prefer, Torchwood? Silver or cold iron?" Because that's really all she has access to besides high carbon steel in her jacket's many pockets.

Castiel has posed:
Halvorson laughs, even if it is a semi-pained chuckle. John did manage to strike a blow - even if it didn't to all John hoped for, and Halvorson also knew that John knew his name. That... could be a problem.

"Ja. Tricks. All the pretty people. You wouldn't want to hurt the innocent. That is where you fail. Always."

John's spell drops one of the patrons to the floor. They just sink down like they've melted, and by the rising and falling motion of their chest, they seem to be nothing more than asleep. Their breathing stable. The others, though, continue their job as interference, and they don't seem to have any danger sense of their own, advancing on the very well armed and even better trained Agent May.

Others come to John's circle of salt and stand there, confused, it would seem. But they are a complication, as to get out and away, John has to bypass them.

May's call out, however, might be a game changer. It's really hard to tell..

There's a second of nothing in response, and then the angel is there, standing with his back to Halvorson, and facing May, "I was enjoying a boilermaker." As much as to say this better be good, though it might only be you've never called on me before. In fact, the two had met in just such a diner as this, nearly coming to blows that time. "What?"

It's only then that he notices the shamblers, and as he does, Halvorson laughs again.

Constantine has posed:
"Of those choices, the cold iron," John says to May as his patron drops to the floor at his feet. "That's one down, just a whole bloody horde to go."

John backs up to his circle of salt and steps inside "Excitant" he calls out flooding the circle with his own power to enhance it's existing mystical properties. Making himself a temporary wall to buy some breathing time.

Time well spent it seems as May summons his fashion double and the bloody angel appears.

"Oi, Cas, little help here mate, got an undead priest and his lot of minions on our hands. Can't hurt the minions though, just unlucky enough to eat at this dive."

As he laid things out John started new calculations in his head, the priest, Castiel, May, and Willow all being part of the equation,.

Melinda May has posed:
May notices that the minions seem to hesitate at the salt that the man dressed like Castiel poured on the floor. Tucking her ICER away again, she pulls and tosses a cold iron blade -- still in its scabbard -- over toward John then tosses her silver-blade back to her other hand again to take up a salt shaker.

And then, Castiel. "These innocents are being controlled, Cas. I don't want to cause them undue injury." She's seen him make people fall asleep, it should be no problem for him at all. "Or, you can deal with the undead being behind you." His choice, and then she'll buy him liquor to make boilermakers seem TAME.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel grumbles as things are all made clear to him.

"You owe me," he glowers at John, and simply begins turning and touching patrons, one by one, fingers to their forehead, whispering 'shh', and much like John's spell, each merely sinks to the floor in slumber.

It's not a fast process, though. Much like John's spells, he can only do one at a time, but it does leave John and May to deal with Halvorson, who is still laughing, presumably at the audacity of them to call in an Angel of the Lord.

Interestingly enough, Halvorson doesn't seem all that worried about that fact.

Only one patron seems to be rather independantly busy - Gert. Gert who is behind the counter. Gert who seems to be searching for something.

Constantine has posed:
"Hey, I wasn't the one who summoned you," John complains off-handedly, but yeah, May would have to fight him for Cas' next bar bill. John always paid back favours...when he could.

He catches the knife May throws to him stuffing it quickly into his belt.

As the minions start to drop John smudges his circle letting the power flow back into himself, his eyes are focused on Halvorson, "Alright Blue, you want to play rough..." John spreads his hands eyes half-lidded as he begins his incantation: "Father Peitor Halvorson..." he focuses on that name saying each word with intent. "â??The Sacred Cross commands you. The Star of David commands you..." he lets his power build feeling it course through him channeled into the sacred words. "The Omkar, the Lotus, the Shahada, and the Ankh of Nabu commands you!" He raises his hands then, to channel his power as he finishes the incantation: "Disperges in ventum! Be not, and be gone!â??

It was a banishing spell. against a minor thing it would be enough to tear apart its form and send it back where it came from with Halvorson? Who knew he was tough and unique but it should be enough to give him pause.

Or that's what John hoped.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Castiel when he starts gently getting the diner patrons out of their way, then looks at Constantine as he starts a spell against Halvorson and scans over the room aga-- the waitress. What is she doing over there?

Stepping up onto a booth's seat, she takes to running/hopping from the back of each booth seat to the next to get to where the waitress is and avoid all of the zombie-like diner patrons remaining. Whatever the woman is doing, she wants to stop it.

Castiel has posed:
It all happens quickly. Castiel is no sooner putting the last patron barring Gert to sleep and out of Halvorson's reach, than John is evoking the Powers that Be, compelling Halvorson to be gone, than May is moving to intercept Gert's rummaging.

Halvorson knows what is coming. He can feel the build of power, even if May can't, and it's unnerving him - especially as Gert doesn't seem to have found what she's looking for. Agitated, and concerned, He makes a noise, raising his hands to counter John..

Castiel draws his Holy blade, the thing shimmering with Divine light, and as he does, Gert grabs the nearest object and throws it - aiming at Cas, but let's face it, she's under a spell and her aim isn't all that great. It's lobbing in that general direction, but it's easily enough intercepted.

NOT that Cas is in any danger - it's just a battered old mint dish. The metal of it all dinged and tarnished.

Halvorson, however, isn't happy about the fact she's thrown it at Cas, screaming out "NO!"

Even as he screams that, John's spell completes, and while Halvorson could fight the compulsion, against these odds he thinks better of it. Instead, he turns into an ashen dust, sinking into nothingness.

His parting words are chilling, though:

""She'll take the girl..."

Then all is silent and the lights come back on.

Constantine has posed:
Sagging to one knee John lets out a breath, "What? What girl?" he calls at the fading shape of Halvorson.

There's no answer just the lights coming back on.

"Bloody hell, there's always something," he says trying to get to his feet oblivious of the dish drama.

Melinda May has posed:
May is nearly to where Gert has been rummaging when the waitress suddenly flings something at Castiel. Almost on reflex, she also throws something: the silvery blade she's been carrying. The blade flashes through the air much faster than the plate and knocks it off its trajectory so both clatter harmlessly to the floor.

And just like that, Halvorson is gone and the lights recover, and May spares only a second to look at the others before moving to go find Willow.

Yes, she caught the desiccated man's words, and she is NOT taking any chances.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel issues a curse, and points to the sleepers, and the dazed and coming out of it Gert. "Sleep, John. That one. I need to check on something."

And rather abruptly, without anymore more than that, or a demand to know what is going on ( which suggests Cas already knows), the angels is gone.

Constantine has posed:
John's mind quickly turns the same direction as May's and he rushes towards the bathroom, nodding to Cas before the angel vanishes.

"Owe you a four horseman, mate," then it's off to find poor Willow.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Now that things have settled, for some value of settled, there's a banging from down that hallway, and a plaintive Willow voice calling out, "Hello? Hey, help! The door is locked! I'm stuck!"

The dish is slowly spinning on the ground, it's movement slowing down bit by bit. Curiously, the thing looks old. Like really old.

At John and Willow's table, her laptop screen has returned to normal, the cursor blinking intently over the spot marking the diner.

Melinda May has posed:
May gets to the restroom first, and when the door doesn't open promptly, she looks at John while pulling a set of lockpicks from her jacket. "You should probably do as Castiel said, John."

It takes her under a minute to have the door unlocked, and she's pushing it open to make sure Rosenberg is truly unharmed in there. "Ms. Rosenberg."

Constantine has posed:
John had been so exhausted by his spell he'd missed Cas' meaning. May makes it clear and John turns, calling back, "Make sure she's okay."

Then he's back out in the diner, jumping the spinning dish to go put Gert to sleep. Once she's down though something clicks and he looks back at the dish.

"No bloody way," he walks towards the thing and picks it up giving it a look. "Well I'll be buggered."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Gert has begun to snap out of the spell by the time John reaches her. "Hey! What have you.. don't you move. I'm calling the cops!"

She's reaching under the diner counter when John reaches her and puts her to sleep, and if you said she had a gun under there, you'd have been right. It's likely a good thing John did as Castiel asked, but the trio might not want to come back for a meal anytime soon.

The diner is cluttered with sleeping bodies. Other than lying on the floor in awkward crumples where they fell, nobody looks to be hurt (which is a minor miracle in and of itself).

Willow is caught mid-bang on the door when May opens it, blinking owlishly at the woman, before making a small face of concern. "You're Sam's friend. I remember you. Hey! Where's John. What did you do with John?"

And despite May's 'saving' her, Willow attempts to push the older woman aside to make sure her friend is okay. It would be laughable if it weren't so adorable in it's own way.

In the diner, when John picks up the dish, the cursor stops blinking, and disappears. Willow's laptop shuts off, and yes, John has the brazier. That's three items down, two to go: The sheaves of the book, and the athame.

Melinda May has posed:
May isn't about to be pushed around by anyone, much less this young woman. When Willow tries to push past her, she snags the woman by one arm. "Calm down, right now. He's in the main dining area." She watches Rosenberg for a couple more seconds, then releases her arm so she can go find the man.

But she's going to follow. Because, like Willow herself just said: Sam's friend. She takes something like that quite seriously.

Constantine has posed:
When Gert's down John reaches under the bar to yank out the cord on the phone. Not much of a hinderance in the world of cellphones but it'd buy a few seconds if she came to unexpectedly.

As for the dish John smiles, and calls, "Found our bowl, but we should get out of here, looks like free Kool-Aid night in Jonestown around here," he says to both the ladies as the bowl is tucked into his jacket and he goes to their booth to grab their things.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow is startled when May stops her, but she calms enough when she's prevented from leaving. Or appears to. Soon as May lets go and moves aside, Willow rushes out into the main room, eyes searching for John, who, once she's determined is alright, she tells, "I was worried. The lights went out and the door was locked. I couldn't hear anything. I thought maybe that guy came and oh, is that the brazier?"

Willow considers the thing, then giggles. "Oh gosh. No wonder things kept getting screwy here. It was the crossroads thing, and that we'd found one of the things. How silly. If we'd just thought about it last time.. wait, why is everyone passed out on the floor?"

Melinda May has posed:
Leave quickly. This terminology May understands only too well. She promptly moves to retrieve her thrown silver blade and moves to get Willow's laptop for her if the younger woman doesn't hop-to fast enough. "Meet me one point five miles down the road, open field on the right side."

And that likely sounds completely ridiculous, even though she says the words completely seriously.

Constantine has posed:
John just chickles at Willow and tosses the brazier, "He did come, but I ran him off," he says half-jokingly even though it was mostly true. John recognized that tactical retreat for what it was.

"Best not to ask about the folks on the floor, I'll explain later," he says handing Willow her laptop.

May is tossed her iron knife, "Sure thanks for the help," he says before looking to Willlow and whispering. "Who is she?"

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow takes the brazier, and stuffs it in her satchel, closing her laptop, and following John out to the car. In the hurry, she even forgets to remind him to pay the bill.

To his question:

"I don't know, she was Sam's friend."