Jenevieve was used to running. She had done it almost every day of her life. What she wasn't used to was the new feeling of tears running down her cheeks, almost freezing in the cold wind. A wind borne from Hell itself. She choked back a sob, her dark hair tangling into the fingers of a pursuing demon. She felt herself being jerked back, but she instead reached back and placing a finger into the palm of his hand whispered a line of an excorcism. The demon shrieked, and drew back, cradling it's smoking limb, claws dripping off into sand. Ah, so that was their game. Taking her back alive, unwounded, to continue their work. Being a renegade demon wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She laughed, a harsh, forlorn sound that was half pain, and half broken amusement.

Jenevieve swung back around, curls thrown haphazardly across her pale face. She narrowed her maroon eyes and set her feet. She stood, strong and hidden, as the icy-grey demons shot past her. They had heartlessness, but she had cunning. She smiled bittersweetly. Then she felt the twinge in her spine. She let out a breath as she collapsed. At least she had made it this far. The chemical in her bloodstream worked it's magic quickly. It spread out from the small of her back, out to her mind. Wiping her memory clean. As blank as her eyes.

Alistair stood above his mentor, half-crying, half-laughing. So this was emotion. He vowed that day never to feel again, even if it cost him everything, he would be the best. he would surpass her, and he would forget her. But deep down, he knew he couldn't. Because even demons love, and they love fiercely and strongly. Alistair's hand betrayed him. The muscles tensed, then relaxed. The syringe, still half-full of holy water, rolled across the tunnel. A cave more than a tunnel, really, he mused, attempting to think of anything but the task at hand. The task of torturing the ultimate torturer. The task of killing a white-eyed demon, killing his teacher. The task that he knew could break him if he let it.

"Alistair. ALISTAIR. Alis- ah, come on. There's only one thing for it then. ALICE! GET YOUR FAT ASS OUTTA BED! EVIL DOESN'T SLEEP, BLESSIT!" Alistair's memory was cut short by the (very pleasant, actually) voice of Esabelle(1), Jenevieve's (adopted) little sister. Real piece of work. He liked her.

" 'M up, 'm up... Whatsa rush, Esse(2)?" He rubbed his eyes, ignoring her blessing. He expected something normal, something like Ruby being back, or Meg bitching about Dean or-

"Crowley's back." Not that.

A/N:

1. Esabelle is a normal demon, while Jenevieve is Lillith's daughter. Just thought I'd clear that up.

2. Pronounced: Ess. Hard S.

Also, this is the Good Omens Crowley we're talkin' about here. Both show up, though.

Please review!

NT-