Dark, not a typical Bewitched story. Rated M for tone, language and content.

It had been a month since it happened, but it felt longer.

It felt years longer.

Darrin stood in what was once his old office in McMann and Tate, and took in the view of the city. The day was nice, puffy- almost marshmallow like clouds caking a blue backdrop. Below, everything seemed normal. To the untrained eye, it looked almost like business as usual.

Kids playing in the street, people bustling in the sidewalks, cars zooming here and there. But if one watched closely, they would notice that on every corner of every single street, there were men in BDU's, soldiers, with black berets and rifles. All their faces were stern, not betraying a single emotion.

Down below, the people seemed frightened, but not of the soldiers, but of something else. A pizzeria owner stepped outside his shop, wrung his chef's hat nervously, did a silent Hail Mary, and retreated back inside his little shop. Every now and then, children passed the soldiers, thanking them for protecting them, giving them little treats and proud salutes. And the people, Darrin thought, the people were the worst. The ones on the sidewalks, the ones in the cars, just people in general, who glanced at one another suspiciously, murmuring under their breaths if their own neighbors were "the wicked ones."

Behind him, Darrin heard the soft wish of the door. He felt the fear radiating off from the other person, and Darrin's voice, suddenly old and tired from a young body, said wearily, "It's okay, Lar. I know."

He turned around slowly, to see his oldest friend and former boss staring at him, his face muscles twitching involuntarily, beads of sweat dripping from his brow, and his big blue eyes bugged out as he pulled out a napkin from his suit pocket, "D-D-Darrin! Uh, you, you can't be here." Suddenly Larry's voice dropped, whispering hoarsely, "We fired you already! You need to leave! People know! You need to get!" His eyes nervously shifted around the room, and he let out a high, nervous laugh.

Darrin turned around, facing Larry, "I know already. I just came to collect a few things." He barely looked over his now empty office. He reached to the cardboard box sitting on his desk, filled with the possessions the company allowed him to take, including a picture of his family. It was him, very happy and basically ogling his beautiful, blond wife as she held their then newborn daughter in her arms. And he held his wife in his.

It was taken roughly two and a half years ago, but it now felt like a lifetime ago. Darrin picked up the box, and left the office. As he walked past Larry, his head held high, the taller man visibly flinched. As Darrin walked past the secretaries and made his way over to the elevators, a wave of typing fingers stilled, and soon the whispering started, all eyes on him. When the elevator door slid opened, a fellow advertiser recognized him and nearly jumped out of his skin, "STEPHENS! GahhhHHHHAHH!" With his back pressed against the wall, the man leapt past Darrin and ran as fast as he could down the hall.

Darrin stepped into the now vacant elevator, the cardboard box of his former life in his hands, and he stood as tall as his pride could allow. His brown eyes stared straight ahead, to an empty hallway, no doubt all his former colleagues afraid to even let him rest his eyes on them. And as the elevator doors closed, Darrin finally allowed his eyes to close, a fresh headache beginning to form inside him.

As the arrow went from the highest floor (the one he was on), to the lowest (the main lobby of the building), all Darrin could think was, "This is the exact direction my life is taking."

Ting

Darrin opened his eyes just in time for the lobby doors to open. Two soldiers were there, rifles in hand, faces hard. As Darrin stepped out, the older soldier took out a paper, no doubt a picture, compared it to his face, and nodded to the younger one who stepped forward and asked, "Darrin Stephens?"

"Yes." Darrin swallowed, accepting his fate.

The younger one informed, "Larry Tate phoned us that you were on the way down."

"Good 'ole Larry." Darrin bitterly thought, but he held his tongue.

"We need you to come with us." The younger soldier said, and all Darrin did was numbly nod, "Of course."

"We expect no trouble." The younger one persisted.

"I won't lift a finger." Darrin answered honestly.

But the young soldier's eyes seemed to be looking up at the ceiling, his index finger lingering just above the trigger of his rifle, "We meant of the 'ethereal' kind."

Ethereal Kind?

They meant Sam, and the thought made Darrin so mad he wanted to punch this man in the face and shout at how wonderful a woman Sam was. How she could whip up a splendid dinner without witchcraft, how she was an excellent mother for his little girl, how she was so much woman in one package that after their lovemaking he would thank God she chose him. With her abilities, inner and outer beauties and patience, it was as if a literal angel had descended from the heavens and landed right into his life. Loving her was like loving an angel, only she wasn't.

She was from something other.

Her bloodline had satanic roots.

She was a witch.

And he married her.

THE POWER OF HATE

He was in an interrogation room. An old one. He was sitting across two men in suits. One was a bald, thin, white man, with a mustache and grey suit, the other seemed to be of Latino descent, with a thin penciled in mustache, slick back hair and sporting a burnt orange suit. Their names were Mahler and Rodriguez respectively. They were detectives, and they were on assignment: Investigate and Terminate.

They didn't have to say it.

Darrin just knew.

Just like he knew that even though he wasn't handcuffed, he was still a prisoner.

Rodriguez pulled out a cigarette case, offered one to Darrin who turned him down, and proceeded to smoke. He let in one long drag before exhaling a long puff of smoke from his nose. Mahler seemed slightly agitated by his partner's performance.

Mahler proceeded, "Let's start at the beginning, Mr. Stephens." He didn't wait for a reply as he continued, "When did you meet your wife?"

"Four years ago." Darrin answered promptly.

"How did you meet her?" Mahler asked.

"I…" Darrin paused thinking about it before he answered, "I bumped into her."

"Bumped?" Mahler repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"In a rotating door," Darrin rushed, trying to explain, "You see, earlier that day I was at a meeting with Mr. McMann and his associates discussing a possible ad campaign for Hershey's Milk Chocolate, and I had one too many scotches. Well, when I went out to lunch with Larry to celebrate, I knew I needed to, y'know, relieve myself, but it was one of those fancy places and they wouldn't let me use their restroom, so I quickly hurried over to a building that was across the street," Darrin thought about that for a moment, "Well, off to the side, not directly across the street and-"

At this, Rodriguez chuckled, tapping the two-way mirror he had been leaning against since that point with his knuckles, "Hey, this fool here bumped into one of the most deadliest creatures on earth on his way to the john!"

Darrin could almost hear the laughing from the other side if he strained his ears enough. Mahler himself bit the inside of his cheek, smirking, "Settle down, Rodriguez. Let the man finish his story."

Darrin was not amused. Instead he felt his cheeks flush with great embarrassment, but he tried not to show it too much. He ran his upper teeth over his lower lip, nodding, "Well, I, uh" The story wasn't going to get any better from here, Darrin realized as he told them the truth, "I'd uh, never been inside that particular building before. It was a department store, and I was too proud to ask for directions so I thought I'd look around until I spotted a restroom sign. With my eyes set on it, I ran over to it only to bump into the girl," A soft smile appeared on his lips, "my future wife", but he quickly wiped away the smile when he noticed Mahler jotting down everything he heard and saw. Darrin swallowed hard before continuing, "I bumped into her again. I hadn't seen her. She was busy looking at some jewelry, necklaces I believe. I felt like such a blasted idiot! She was quite an attractive female, and I kept stepping on her feet every time I bumped into her."

Mahler nodded, "But that was the last time you bumped into her, right?"

Darrin nodded before shaking his head, "No. I uh, well, after I used the facilities, I saw the counter with handsome wallets and it just so happened I needed a new one at that time, and even though I knew Larry was waiting for me, I just thought I'd at least take a look see before heading out. It would take only a minute- and as I was leaving,"

Mahler finished for him, "You bumped into her?"

"In front of a mannequin." Darrin promptly responded, "I remember, because that was the last moment I was by myself, in life that is."

As Rodriquez blew out another long puff, Darrin looked over at him, "Do you have to smoke that in here? I feel like I'm in a bar in New York City after midnight." He turned to Mahler, "Isn't there a rule against this kind of stuff?"

Rodriguez simply held out his hands, "Oh, sorry." As he put out his cigarette in the middle of the ash tray, he flashed a white smile at Darrin, "Wouldn't want to aggravate you. Maybe your hot wife would zap in here and hurt me."

Darrin's eyes flashed at him, beyond annoyed, but Mahler held his hand up, "Let it go, Mr. Stephens. I have the same problem with Ricky Ricardo here all the time."

Rodriguez gave Mahler a disgusted look, "Ricky Ricardo is goddamn Cuban, and my family is from Brazil, German. Learn some fuckin' geography, or are you're people too busy committing genocide?"

Darrin watched as the muscles in Mahler's face twitched. He turned slowly to Rodriguez, his voice cold, "My family came to America in the '30s…to escape what was happening to our country."

"Doesn't change the fact you're from over there," And then Rodriguez said the word he had been itching to take, "Nazi."

It appeared Mahler was going to punch Rodriguez straight across the face as he shouted, "We were being persecuted! I am a Jewish, you over the border piece of shit!"

Just as Rodriguez was going to up his insults, obvious by the look on his face, a voice from the intercom chimed in, "Fellas," it said, "Focus on the man who married a witch and leave these trivialities behind."

"Trivialities!" Came an excited mumble from Mahler as he turned to Darrin, straightening his grey suit, "That's what they call them, thousands upon thousands of deaths, and they're trivial."

Darrin swallowed, his nostrils taking in the smoke from the room as Rodriguez leaned against the two-way mirror, intentionally turning his head away from Mahler and Mahler adjusted himself in his seat before continuing, "So Mr. Stephens, what happened after you kept bumping into this woman?"

"We met for dinner, before one of us got hurt," Darrin added with a smile before instantly letting it drop at the incredulous look Rodriguez was giving him, "We found we had a lot in common. Cars, Radio, Trains, the movies… and she was so irresistible to me, I just asked her to marry me."

Rodriguez asked him, "So how did you know she didn't set up this whole thing? I mean, she's a witch. Maybe you aren't even in love with 'er. Maybe it's a spell."

At this Darrin balked, "Sam? Set this whole thing up? If she did, then why would she choose me?!"

Mahler nodded over at his partner, "Gotta point, Rodriguez. What would she want with a funny looking guy like this? He's in no government position. He's not attractive. And I don't think he's too smart."

Rodriguez chuckled.

Mahler then leaned in, "Unless, of course, you're holding out on us, Mr. Stephens."

"Holding out?" Darrin blinked.

Mahler nodded grimly, "Were you and your wife planning some sort of take down of the American people? The human race even, hmmmmm?"

If the situation wasn't so grave, he would've laughed. Instead he shook his head slowly, wondering if both these guys were psychologically insane, "Uh, no."

Both looked even more suspicious than before. And that's when the irony of the whole thing really hit Darrin. This, was a Witch Hunt. A Witch Hunt, not in Salem Massachusetts of the then, but right here, in a modern day with modern day men.

"Then why did she choose you!" Rodriguez shouted, so loud it startled Darrin. The former advertiser twitched a moment before saying back, in a higher than average voice, "Beats me! I was just a typical, red-blooded, American boy and I thought she was a typical, red-blooded, American girl! I didn't even learn she was a witch until our honeymoon!"

"Must've been some surprise!" Rodriguez shouted, now rounding the table as he got inches away from Darrin's face as he shouted at the top of his lungs, "How did you find out?! Did she draw some satanic shit on the floor, lit up some candles, and tried kinky witch stuff?! Maybe she spanked you and you liked it!"

"WHAT? Kinky witch stuff?!" Darrin repeated, shocked, "Her mother visited and almost spoiled the whole night!"

"Her mother?!" Rodriguez shouted back, not quite sure where this was going. But as Darrin quickly explained his feelings toward his mother-in-law, all which ranged from slight annoyance to full on, seeing red, rage. Mahler and Rodriguez barely glanced at one another until Darrin was finished.

And then they asked about Tabitha, Rodriguez convinced that she had been conceived in some sort of lengthy ritual, but Darrin, blushing slightly, admitted it was more closer to 4 minutes of quick lovemaking in the car as it was parked in the garage of their home. After that, they went inside giggling and ready for Round 2 when the Kravitz came knocking. They were halfway up the stairs and Sam begged him not to answer the door, but he stupidly did. They were then forced to entertain their guests, much to their own disappointment. By the time the Kravitz left, all they did was go straight to bed and fall right to sleep the moment their heads hit the pillows.

But Rodriguez wasn't convinced with all this 'domesticated' stuff. He asked Darrin point blank what kind of creature Tabitha was born as. It took every ounce of Darrin Stephens not to launch at the detective as he said through gritted teeth, "A beautiful, baby girl with blue eyes and a light trace of blond hair. So light, she could've been mistaken for bald! She enjoyed watching TV, rolling around the ground with her stuffies, and cried when she had nightmares! So I guess what I'm saying is, the kind of 'creature' she was, was a normal, little, girl!"

"She aint normal and you know it." Rodriguez threw at him, turning his back and walking towards the door, telling Mahler, "German, keep trying to crack this nut. I'm going to men's room." He then smiled over at Darrin, his grin wide and oozing of sarcasm, "I'll try not to bump into any witches on the way there!" As soon as the door was closed, Darrin said loudly, "That man is an asshole!"

Mahler smirked, "I know. But enough about him, back to these witches. We want to know… how many are there?"

Darrin shrugged, "I don't know."

"Are they all female?"

"Some are male. Those are the warlocks. My father-in-law, Maurice, is a warlock. Even he would hate to see me treated this way, and that's that he doesn't like me either. Well, no one on Sam's family particularly likes me, except for Aunt Clara. She's very nice, and if you knew her, I don't think you could consider witches a real threat-"

Mahler narrowed his eyes at Darrin, "They are all a threat, even your precious daughter, Mr. Stephens. To suggest otherwise is beyond stupidity."

Darrin pulled a face, defensive, "You do realize they have been living amongst us for centuries! They weren't a threat then, and they certainly aren't one now! You're just making an avalanche out of a snowball here!"

"Is it not true that they can snap their fingers or recite fancy poetry and Bam! Or Zomp! Or Pow! What they imagined comes into fruition! The danger in that is astounding! What if they want the President of the United States dead?! What if they wish to rule over the human race as Kings and Queens?! What if they destroy and topple our civilizations and religions, replacing them with Satanic mosks!"

Darrin flinched, "Why do you all keep using that word? Nothing about Sam is Satanic! She warm, wonderful, open-minded, patient and caring!" He then added, under his breath, "Now Endora's a different story…"

"Well, since she's so warm and wonderful, where is she?" Mahler challenged.

But in truth, Darrin didn't know. About a month ago, everything was normal until one night, it was a Tuesday of all days. He was thinking of another advertising slogan he had to fix, and was in the middle of dreaming about it when suddenly Tabitha's screaming jolted him awake. He groggily got up, feeling the bed's movements. But it wasn't the bed, it was Sam, scrambling out of bed, her face full of panic, her hair flying every which way, yanking on a robe… but she looked different. She looked too bright, too overexposed. And that's when Darrin turned his head to the windows and noticed such a bright, white light invading his bedroom, he had to shut his eyes for fear of being blinded.

"SAM!" He cried out, and soon his wife popped in right next to him, their crying daughter in her arms as she panted breathlessly, "Oh my stars, Darrin, it's happened!"

"What's happened?!" He desperately asked, his eyes shut but his hands instinctively pulled his wife closer to him.

"They know about us!"

"Who?!" He demanded, growing panicky himself as a sudden low hum was heard.

"The mortals!" Sam shouted hysterically as Tabitha began howling in tears.

The humming grew louder, and Darrin almost passed out from the insane headache it was giving him, but he willed to stay conscious, screaming over the hum, "Sam, what're we gonna do?! What's that light?! What's that sound?!"

"It's an evacuation for all witches to leave the mortal realm!" Sam shouted, her voice beyond frightened. At that, Darrin risked being blinded as he snapped his eyes open, and noticed for the first time that both Tabitha and Sam had their eyes wide open, as if not fearing the light, but longing for it. It was as if the light had a special calling to them that Darrin just didn't understand. And the sound, what hurt his ears seemed to hurt Tabitha's as well, but as Sam gently stroked their daughter's hair, she seemed to calm and relaxed against her mother, as if hearing a lullaby.

Darrin couldn't believe it.

Sam then turned to him, her face changing from longing (when she was facing the light), to an expression of pure ache (when looking at Darrin). She told him, her face stressing for a moment, "We have to go, Darrin. The guardians of this world, your police, your soldiers, will be looking for you. Tell them what you know, it's alright. It won't matter in the end, they won't be able to find us. You mortals can't travel to the places we can, but Tabitha and I will have to leave you for a while, here, on this plane, but do not lose faith." Sam reached over with her free hand, tipped her husband's chin and kissed him for the final time, "I will come back for you, my love."

The last thing he saw was her lovely face.

The last thing he felt were her soft lips on his.

And as his eyes drooped closed, that was it. When he awoke the next morning, he thought it was all a dream, until he searched the whole house and Tabitha and Sam were nowhere in sight. At first he thought they went to the groceries, after all, they did need milk since Tabitha's favorite "meal" was cereal, but soon, he realized they didn't go to the groceries. He began to suspect as much when he arrived at work, and everyone just stared at him. And when Larry called him to his office, saying that "visions" of what Samantha truly was filled his head the night before, he almost begged Darrin to admit it was all a gag of some sort.

Darrin was beside himself. What could he say? He tried to exit, but as the days progressed, more and more people somehow knew. Then the soldiers came, and the cops were pulling double duty and there was panic in the streets. It seemed that somehow, in some way, everyone who had come in contact with a witch or a warlock during their lifetime were suddenly aware of it, all except Darrin who had been aware of it since his honeymoon.

And he had lost his job.

And the Kravitz's were more jumpier around him than usual, with Gladys shouting, "I knew it! I knew it!" And Abner shushing her, "Gladys, can it or he'll hear us! Probably turn us into a moose or something!"

But the worst part of it was, Sam and Tabitha were missing.

Gone.

In a puff of smoke.

Darrin stared at the creases of his hands, knowing full well that Mahler and Rodriguez were sizing him up. He was a man in grieving. But they saw a suspect. And of course the absurd questions continued throughout the interrogation- a first of many to come. They asked him if he was a communist, his views of Senator McCarthy, and if the witches worked with the Russians to foil Democracy.

And Darrin just sat there, dumbly letting these things assault all his senses before trying his best to answer calmly and not hysterically.

When he was "satisfactory" enough, they released him. He returned to living in his home, alone now. He ate TV dinners, gazed into the photo albums, always touching Sam or Tabitha's faces. They seemed so happy then…

He eventually found work as a cashier in a grocery store. He hated it, serving all those damn customers, but that was the only job that actually hired him. Everyone else seemed irrationally afraid of him.

And soon, the days passed, the weeks, then more months. Darrin was pretty sure Sam had forgotten about him, but his heart refused to drop faith. And of course, there were the visits of Mahler and Rodriguez, checking his now empty home to see for any traces if the witches had returned.

Many people, the teenagers mainly, painted terrible messages on his house. One read, 'HUMAN RACE TRAITOR', another 'WITCH-LOVER.' He didn't see what business it was to them who he chose to be with, or for that matter, the government.

Sometimes, he would go to diners and bars, and they flat out refused to serve him. Other times, he would awake to his phone ringing, quickly grabbing it, hoping it was Sam only to be shot down at the sound of people telling him he was evil and a heathen.

Things were getting ridiculous.

He would turn on the TV, and there, right in front of his very eyes, was President Nixon, calling for people to lock up their houses and be on alert for 'wicked ones.' He basically told them to sell out their friends and neighbors if anything suspicious cropped up in their communities. Darrin couldn't believe it. And within moments, the police were again at his house, going through things, breaking certain items such as a pink vase Sam adored and checking in every damn closet. Darrin could've asked who called, but just knowing that the Kravitz's home was the only house in the neighborhood with their lights still on gave Darrin an idea of just who exactly called the police at that time of night.

As the police left, all snarling at him save for one man, a shorter man with apologetic blue eyes who mumbled, "Sorry for the disturbance, sir." That same officer pointed at the picture that used to be in his office, the one of him holding Sam and her holding Tabitha. The officer offered a light smile, "She's gorgeous, your wife, sir."

"Thank you." Was all Darrin could think to say.

And as the officer left, he tipped his hat, "Your daughter looks just like her mother. Good day, sir."

It was such a small thing, to be talked to like a human being, but it meant the world to Darrin. Unfortunately, one Saturday when Darrin turned on the TV set to watch some of Tabitha's favorite cartoons (he always hoped that when he saw her again, he could fill her in on Josey and the Pussycats and Scooby-Doo), when there was a report that a group of 'Witch- Sympathizers' (Darrin had heard of such groups but opted to stay away from them as he felt all it would bring was unwanted trouble) who took to the streets and attacked four policemen. Three were taken to the hospital with severe injuries, the fourth was shot dead- a bullet to the brain.

When they played the picture of the deceased officer, Darrin merely hung his head. It was the nice one who told him his wife was gorgeous.

What were the odds?

He didn't want to think of it.

And there were more midnight visits from police, and Darrin supposed it was Gladys Kravitz again, and all he really wanted to do at this point was march over there and staple her lips shut. And there was more writing, and at times police or soldiers would enter the grocery store he worked at and take him to the back to interrogate him for things he had no clue about. Once it was for a 'witch list', which meant they wanted to know all the witches that had been in the world, as if Darrin knew them all! He didn't, and the only witch he cared about was Sam. Then when a rumor caught on that the Witch-Sympathizers were going to plan a protest in Washington, the soldiers came back again, demanding he tell them all he knew about the group, as if he knew anything about them other than what he saw on TV. And then when something called 'The Black Operation' was taking place, they brought him in for that. When satisfied that he had no earthly idea what was being discussed, they let him go. Of course he had a split lip and a bruise on his belly, but he was finally free to leave.

Soon a year had passed since the evacuation of the witches in their plane, and Darrin was losing faith that Sam would ever return to him. Still, that tiny grain of hope never left him. As he was tending Sam's garden, behind the house in their tiny suburban backyard, he heard a noise behind him. He turned around, wiping the dirt and sweat from his face saying over his shoulder, "Mrs. Kravitz, if it's you again I swear I'll-" He turned around, and the sight nearly knocked him off his feet.

It was her, the witch of his dreams, in a white gown with an otherworldly ethereal glow to her.

"Sam!" He let out an excited whisper, his eyes hungrily taking her in. He reached for her, but she quickly backed away, "Darrin, please, don't touch me. The glow around me, it's residue from another dimension. I'm afraid it can harm you."

He quickly wiped his hands over his black pants, his body practically shaking, "Sam, I, how, where-"

"I can't stay long. Tabitha and I are fine. We are with mother, daddy, Uncle Arthur, Aunt Clara and a few other family members…" Her eyes zeroed in on the scar on his lip, "Oh Darrin, I've been watching what they're doing here. It's madness."

"They say," He gulped, his paranoid eyes darting around the yard, his voice dropping, "They say that your kind is demonic and other things, and I try to defend you as best as I can-"

"Darrin, I know." She replied sadly, looking down, "I know."

"… Is it true?"

Sam looked it up, and from her face it appeared as if she wanted to burst into tears, "Yes. Witchcraft has… dark roots. Given time, I like to think we've evolved from such evil, but certain stories still stick in the minds of man. We are much more powerful than ever before, but most of us don't wish any harm to come to the mortals."

Darrin took in a moment to digest the information before proclaiming, "I don't care. All I know is that I love you and Tabitha, and I want you both back."

Sam gave him sad smile, "I know. And I suppose I've always known."

"Always known?"

"I feared one day this would happen, mortals once again believing in the occult, but it hadn't happened for centuries, I allowed myself to believe that we could live a normal, regular, life. I should've known better."

As she looked down, Darrin did too. Her feet, they appeared to hoover on the ground, almost like a ghost. And suddenly he was remembered of something Mahler and Rodriguez told him. He looked up, skeptical, "Why me, Sam? Out of all the mortals, why me?" He held his arms a part, for her to take in the sweaty, muddy mess he was since he had been gardening.

And this time her smile was bright, "I looked into your heart, and I saw you were stubborn, loudmouthed, pigheaded, proud and paranoid about that which you did not understand."

Darrin smiled at her, "Please darling, just list my best qualities."

Her smile grew even more, "But you had such a good heart. You were as mortal as any mortal I had ever met. So full of room to grow, overcome, accept, adapt. I knew that your will could never be broken, you could be tempted by treasures, but you would not sway. You were a seeker of truth, and a man who never truly knew what love was. You didn't quite believe in it, though you wanted to. So," she stepped closer to him, "I showed you."

"I can't bear to be apart from you, Sam." He breathed, his brown eyes watering, "The pain in my chest, it spreads everywhere… you're all I think of, you're all I want. Please, don't go. Don't leave me here."

"I won't." She promised, and then, just as quickly as she came, she was gone. But her voice wafted to his ears, "Thank you for tending to my roses, darling." A light wind hit his face, almost like a kiss from her. How he longed to kiss her back.

And so he returned to her roses, and continued watering and weeding.

NEXT: THE POWER OF LOVE