Balthazar and Azazel headed back to the Worthington mansion, their frank heart to heart having worn them both down mentally. They both wanted a pint of whiskey and they both wanted to sit in front of the fire and contemplate their worlds since their chat.

Walking up to the front door, Azazel grabbed the door handle only to be greeted with a short, sharp electric zap, as if the handle had been electrified. Shaking his hand for a few seconds, he took a hold of the door handle again only to receive another but more powerful buzz of electric.

"Ow," he said, frowning and jumping back. "Mother fucker."

Balthazar stepped around his brother and tried the handle as well only to be greeted with the same jolt of electric. Taking a step back, he took measures to an extreme and kicked the door in, smiling with satisfaction as it bust wide open.

As he lifted his foot and placed it over the threshold, a powerful surge of energy bounced back at him, sending him flying back six feet through the air.

"What the fuck?" Azazel said, walking up to the threshold. He held out his index finger and inched it across the doorway, finding the point at which resilience met him. "It's a shield," he said, turning to see Balthazar already back on his feet.

Balthazar picked up a fist sized rock from the driveway and hurled it at one of the upstairs windows. He watched in disbelief as the energy shield surrounding the mansion seemed to bend like a trampoline before throwing the rock back away from itself. To Azazel's amusement, the chunk of rock bounced right back at his brother, smacking him square in the forehead.

"I could have told you that would happen," Azazel said, chuckling.

Balthazar rubbed at his head, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "That actually hurt."

Before Azazel could come back with a sarcastic response, the air around them filled with the sound of tinkles, as if a million cats with bells on their collars were running around.

"Hello, gentlemen," Mildred said, shimmering into existence just the other side of the threshold. Close enough to touch but no way of doing so. The air around her pulsed with a sky-blue energy, her eyes gleaming with triumph as her body seemed to vibrate with life. "I'm terribly sorry for this minor inconvenience. Unfortunately, I have something very important to do this evening and I can't have any distractions or interruptions. Perhaps you could seek some alternative accommodation elsewhere?"

Azazel snorted. "I think you may perhaps fuck off. This is our damn house."

Mildred gave him a bone chilling stare, her eyes empty and devoid of emotion. The sinister smile that then tweaked at the edges of her thin lips turned the air around the three of them icy cold. "I think it would pay you dividends to be very careful what you say to me, Azazel."

"I think it would pay you dividends to remember who the fuck we are, Mildred. You're a ghost, you mean nothing here."

"Let's revisit this conversation in a few hours, shall we?"

Balthazar walked back several metres, away from his brother and Mildred and their battle of words. Bending down to touch the ground, Balthazar closed his eyes as he splayed his palm out across the earth. In his minds eye, he pictured himself as a bird, soaring over the entire expanse of the Worthington estate. The same vivid sky-blue energy throbbing around Mildred flooded the earth around them.

Flying up higher, Balthazar tried to see the edges of this power, to see where its limitations reached, but to his shock, it reached out for miles and miles, filling up all the ley lines, telluric lines, and water lines. It swallowed at least half the county from what he could see.

Pages from the book he'd read on the secretive coven Mildred had been a part of sprung forwards, filling his consciousness with the words.

A witch can easily alter her physical state for a long-term period of time. Should the witch lose her previous physical body, i.e. she is in a state commonly referred to as 'dead,' the witch can inhabit the physical body of only another witch.

However, such a transfer can only take place under the exact measures of the following three circumstances:

1) The witch (from here forwards referred to as 'A') wishing to inhabit the physical form of another witch (from here forwards referred to as 'B') will need to be in a position to take control of B's body before B's soul leaves the physical form.

2) 'A' will need to have the required energy levels, strength levels, and skill levels to perform this transitioning merge outside of her group's powers.

3) 'B' will need to be fully complicit and fully understand that no reversal can take place. 'B' will essentially be replacing 'A' in the ether world.

It must be understood that no general witch can perform, undertake, nor survive such a complicated, delicate practice, nor is it permitted. This course of action is strictly to be used only if a member of The Helios Coven is in dire need of being in physical form once again.

N.B. It is highly recommended, for power and strength purposes, that an elemental witch be persuaded to aid the event. If such a feat is accomplished, and 'A' is of sufficient stature, this could be attempted single handed, although no such event has ever been recorded.

!WARNING!

An elemental witch cannot be threatened, coerced, or forced in any manner to aid any member of the order. All actions must be fully of their own choosing. If a situation arises where an elemental is a part of such a task, 'A' will need to be capable of controlling and harnessing the raw, wild power of the elemental. Failure is almost certain. Destruction of the elemental is also a distinct possibility.

Balthazar's heart stopped dead. The penny dropped as to what exactly Mildred was up to. He ran to Azazel, grabbed his arm, and as Azazel was mid-sentence describing how he would eviscerate the old maid, Balthazar ferried them out of there in a protective layer of ectoplasm.

Travelling them across town to the woods surrounding Sam's house, Balthazar closed the portal, leaving both of them covered in white goo.

"What the fuck...?" Azazel said, scraping the sticky substance off his face. "You know I hate this stuff!"

Ignoring his brother's curses, Balthazar smacked him around the back of his head. "Did you want her to track where we went? Shut up and actually pay attention to that damn book you absorbed. Page sixty-six."

Azazel, with a handful of ectoplasm, flicked it all in his sibling's face as he raced through the details Balthazar had just realised the complexity of.

"I see," Azazel said, moments later. "That could be quite problematic."

Balthazar gave him a withering look. He then raised each hand in the air and rubbed his thumbs over each fingertip several times. Slowly separating his fingers apart, a tennis ball sized hole appeared in front of each hand. Almost immediately, a haze of shimmering blue and yellow colours flooded through each mini portal. The two sparkling masses joined together before moving around Balthazar's body like a bee hunting for pollen.

"Creepy little mofos," Azazel said, shuddering. "Still don't understand how you can have them all around you like that. Urgh."

As the hundreds of tiny pixies hovered around Balthazar like pea-sized blue and yellow honeybees, they sucked his skin and clothes dry of the disgusting ectoplasm. In less than twenty seconds, he was sparkling clean with the pleasant aroma of peppermint emanating from him.

Balthazar laughed. "Because they absolutely love the stuff, it helps them with their fruit farms, and it creates good allegiances."

Azazel muttered to himself about spiders and pixies being from the same alien planet as he used his own method of cleaning. He stripped his clothes off and then held his right palm above his head like a shower head. A fine mist of water fell from his hand and as each droplet touched his bronzed skin, it tripled in size. As the water slid down his body, it cut through the goo like a hot knife through butter.

"Some warning might be nice," Balthazar said, scowling and turning away from his naked brother. "Or maybe just using the pixies, Azazel. For goodness sake."

Grinning to himself at annoying his brother, Azazel took a second to debate a mid-afternoon 'treat' in his handmade shower.

"Don't you fucking dare," Balthazar said, all but growling at him.

"What?" Azazel replied, looking down to make sure he was clean in the most important place. "It's been a while. We've been here nearly a week already and I've had no action. None. That's a record for me, Balti, and not one that I'm proud of either."

"Can we perhaps focus on the task in hand please?"

Flicking his hand dry of water, Azazel took his left hand and stroked it over his skin. The warm heat from his palm dried him as if it were a hair dryer. As he debated what clothes to produce, Balthazar threw a pair of dark denim jeans and a white cotton shirt over his shoulder at his naked brother. He couldn't bear to be this close to Azazel in his birthday suit a second longer.

"The task in hand?" Azazel asked, checking out the clothes his brother threw him. "Oh, you mean going after the elemental witch that could essentially banish us to Hell for all eternity? Or trying to stop the crackpot ghost witch, whatever she is, that's trying to perform some sort of weird resurrection thing?"

"Both, actually."

Azazel pulled the clothes on and grumbled. "Why? Aren't we supposed to enjoy watching catastrophes unfold? We're demons, remember. Not Batman and Robin."

"Well," Balthazar said, daring to open one eye to check on his brother's state of dress. "Today, we are. Deal with it."

Jade green eyes lit up with excitement. "Does that mean I get to drive—"

"No."

"But—"

Balthazar sighed. "Do you not think it's going to be difficult enough to keep the current goings on under wraps without driving around in the bat-mobile, Azazel?"

"But that's what compulsion is for."

"No. Compulsion is only to be used in dire circumstances if our identity is compromised."

Azazel grinned. "To you, maybe." When he saw his sibling's eyes narrow, he sighed and tutted. "Alright, so 'powers of persuasion' then."

Folding his arms across his broad chest, Balthazar gave him a curious look. "Please explain to me how you intend to 'powerfully persuade' an entire town that they haven't seen the bat-mobile?"

"Well...it could be that they're filming a new movie and—"

"No, Azazel." He lifted a finger to stop Azazel when he opened his mouth to interject. "And if you carry on, I'll make you dress up like Robin."

Azazel pouted and let out a big sigh. "Fine. You win. This once. Anyway, back to the task in hand." Balthazar rolled his eyes. "What's the point of going after the elemental witch anyway? What are we, or rather you, planning to do once we find her? Or him?"

"We befriend them and figure out why their power is only just coming to life now. Is there something bigger going on here that we don't know about? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Azazel. You should know this."

"Yep," Azazel said, popping the p. "That's why I had you chained to my side for two thousand years."

Balthazar gave his brother a sideways glance. "You really viewed me as your enemy?"

"Of course I did. How could I not?"

A streak of pain rushed through Balthazar's dark eyes, followed by sadness and realisation. "I never wanted that, Azazel. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

Azazel studied his younger brother for a good minute or two before he gave him a simple nod. "I know it wasn't your intention." He sucked in a deep breath and then said, "But I can't help but feel hesitant that if I find my someone again, history will repeat itself."

An arrow of pain hit Balthazar square in the chest. The truth hurt, he knew that, but it didn't lessen the pain of hearing it any less. "It can't if I've found mine, can it?"

"And have you? Considering the words you spoke when you brought us here?"

Balthazar nodded. "I'm convinced it's Sam."

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that?"

"Just a feeling," Balthazar replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I can't explain it. I just know I'm supposed to be with her."

"She knows what you are?"

He nodded. "And she's not entirely human either."

"What?" Azazel asked, narrowing his eyes. "What is she? Because whatever she is, her pesky jealous brother is one too."

"Werewolf."

Azazel closed his eyes and sighed, letting out a stream of curse words. "For fucks fucking sake. Of course he fucking is. Jesus Christ." Opening his eyes, Azazel said, "Are you prepared to claim her? You know what that means right?"

Balthazar looked down at the floor. "I don't know," he whispered. "What if she rejects me?"

Azazel licked his lips and said the words he really didn't want to. "At least you'll be out of your misery permanently. Is she worth dying for?"

Balthazar glanced back up at his brother and nodded. "Completely."