A white light burned his vision. Slowly, the brightness faded to indistinct shadows of a familiar sight. The inside of a home. Their home. Questions crept in the back of his mind but were soon forgotten as she walked through the door.

Abbie.

His heart filled with a tenderness so tranquil and an ardor so passionate, it nearly tore him apart. The longing he had felt for weeks, the necessity to see her if only for a moment, had driven him mad. And here she stood, as beautiful as he remembered, as radiant as ever.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe. She slyly smiled at him causing his chest to tighten in untamed elation. She glided toward him as he held out his hands to touch her. Her small fingers slowly slipped through his. They silently gazed at their intertwined hands, gold bands upon their ring fingers. It was no surprise. Somehow he knew, this was always their destiny. It was as it should be. He lovingly turned his gaze to her. She looked up at him silently.

He sighed softly, careful to preserve the serenity of her presence. She was the image of loveliness. His Abbie. His heart. She chuckled, as if aware of his unspoken attentions, looking up at him demurely. He pursed his lips in restrained delight. It never ceased to amaze him how her sincere coyness both enchanted and seduced him. She shook her head playfully, slipping her hands out of his, and walked toward the staircase. He reluctantly released her and followed her with his gaze. She turned to him and raised her eyebrows subtly, glancing up the stairs. He arched his eyebrow. She smirked as she silently walked up the stairs.

He beheld their peaceful home. Everything was in its place, strangely the same as when she disappeared, a few new items strewn about. Yet, something in the back of his mind fought to remind him of something he neglected to remember.

Setting the matter aside, he walked toward the stairs ready to join her but a sudden pain shot through his head. He pressed his palms to his temples. The throbbing was excruciating. He squeezed his eyelids shut and fell to his knees. A chill ran up his spine. A terror he had not experienced in his life, the worst of ominous feelings, overtook him. Abbie. He gasped in desperation. He needed to find her, to save her. Once the pain ebbed away, he groaned blinking his eyes open.

A sense of horror gripped him as he saw her clawing at the bloodied walls of her bedroom, screaming in terror. Somehow he had been transported to this torturous scene, charged with the duty of silently observing her pain. He strained and struggled against his unseen confines yet remained powerless. He frantically called out to her but no words came out. She continued in her agonizing fight to escape an unknown foe.

His inability to move or make a sound filled him with an excruciating anguish. Watching her suffer, incapable of bringing it to an end, destroyed him. Her cries tore at his soul. The torture went on for what seemed like an when he thought he could not withstand another moment, darkness shrouded his vision.

A pair of frightening red eyes flashed before him. His insides trembled in terror. The energy emanating from the gaze was pure evil. He had never sensed such malice in a mere stare. Darkness clouded his sight once again only to reveal another familiar sight. He was in the tunnels beneath Sleepy Hollow or at least a perversion of it. Footsteps echoed throughout the passages. He discerned Abbie's shortened breaths and whimpers but could not see her.

He attempted to move again though he continued in his incapacitation. He snarled soundlessly. Why could he not move? It was as if his worst fear had come to pass; to remain inactive, feckless in the face of the enemy. He fought against his motionless state until Abbie finally appeared before him, sliding along the walls weakened by her seemingly endless fleeing. She appeared broken, defeated as never before. He could sense her frail state of mind. A whimper stuck in his throat as he tried to reach out to her in vain. What he would not do to hold her in his arms, to protect her, to end her torture. He heard a muffled rumble, reminiscent of Moloch's voice, echo out from the darkness.

He could not distinguish what was being said but he saw her cringe and fall to her knees. She pleaded but an invisible force lifted her from the ground by her neck. She choked out cries of outrage, writhing about wildly attempting to escape. He roared inaudibly. After an agonizing moment, she fell to the ground lifelessly. He screamed, cursing noiselessly, damning the entity that tortured her. She lay still on the cold, hard floor, defeated and broken. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering shut.

After a moment, the invisible force began dragging her limp body away from him. He cried out to her, knowing his outrage would never reach her ears, uncertain if he would ever see her again. Then she was gone.

An unnatural silence came over the tunnels. He lay in defeat, tears refusing to spill. He had failed her. Abbie was gone once again. His body vibrated in shame and anger. The rage inside him was too fierce to contain. The tunnels began to shake, rubble falling all around him.

As it buried his still body, a malevolent voice whispered in his ear, "Illa est mea in perpetuum…"

Ichabod's body jerked alive as he screamed out in agony, his voice echoing against the walls of the archives. He flew back from the table he had been resting on and wildly looked about the room. He was drenched in sweat, his hands shaking. He panted, panic overtaking him. Abbie, she was suffering at the hands of an evil entity. It held her captive. Her pain. Her torture. He squeezed his eyes shut, images of her torment flashing to the forefront of his mind, echoes of the evil whisper filling his thoughts, she is mine forever.

And yet...she was alive. Abbie was alive. He widened his eyes, taken aback by the realization. It was her, he could feel it – their bond remained unbroken. He shakily exhaled in relief, his body still trembling in trepidation. The impossible was possible. Abbie was alive!

After weeks of searching, he finally knew her fate. She had managed to cling to life but where? He darted to the bookshelves. He frantically began pulling out the books he knew contained information about the dream-like realm he feared she was being held. He skimmed through the texts, hastily discarding them as they continued confirming his worst fears.

Once he had established the futility of her situation, he raised his trembling hand to his forehead, pausing at the table in the middle of the archives. Abbie was in hell. She had entered Pandora's tree to save them all and had descended into the underworld. There was nothing he could do to save her. She was stuck, doomed to a torturous afterlife. He quivered in anger, breathing heavily. He was as inadequate as he felt in his dream, an inept fool. He forcefully knocked everything off the table near him, throwing it to the floor in a loud raucous. Shouting in rage, he banged his palms against the surface of the table.

It was hopeless. He roughly ran his stinging hand through his hair. He could not bring her back. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. No, she could not remain there. He would not allow it. He opened his eyes and cupped his mouth, desperately filtering through all his knowledge, searching for an answer to the impossible.

The Grande Grimoire.

He lowered his hand, his eyes training themselves on the spot in the wall where he had hid it. After Katrina, he and Abbie vowed to never summon forth its dark forces. She had demanded he hide it. Since she still had Jenny, it was more of a temptation for her than it was for him. Little did they know, it would become his temptation and her salvation.

His fingers twitched. A passage he glanced over the last time it had been in his possession came to mind. Perhaps not all hope was lost. After a few moments of hesitation, he huffed and strode to the hidden spot. Retrieving the book, he flipped it open.

Without warning, the door to the archives swung open. Master Corbin walked in and locked stares with him. His eyes slid to the book in his hand. His unsure smile wavered as he closed the door behind him.

"Crane?"

Startled, Ichabod's mouth gaped open. "Master Corbin...," he said breathlessly, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"You alright?" Corbin knit his brow as he slowly walked toward him.

Ichabod blinked at him, recognizing his currently indictable position. He had, as the ridiculous saying asserted, been 'caught with his hand in the cookie jar'. He looked down at the open book and reluctantly closed it. He lowered it in one hand and straightened his shoulders, preparing himself for his comrade's disapproval. Though he understood the risk he had taken in seriously considering the use of the forbidden book, he knew Corbin would only reiterate the brashness of his actions.

Corbin glanced down at the book, sensing the tenseness of the situation. "What's wrong?"

Ichabod inhaled sharply and looked away guiltily. All the warring emotions inside him had rendered him mute. He wanted to explain his reasoning yet he knew his words could not convince Joe Corbin to allow such treachery, he would not, could not, comprehend his desperation.

"What's that?" He approached him, reaching for the book in his hand.

Ichabod held his grip on it as he tried to pull it out of his grasp. He was more than disinclined to expose his true intentions. It would only serve to worsen the perspective he and Jenny already had of him. He was aware of their disapproving stance on his obsessive dedication to finding Abbie. They thought he had descended into irreversible madness. They weren't wrong. However, madness was the only path he was capable of traveling at the moment. Madness would return her to him.

Corbin snapped his gaze up apprehensively, keeping his hold on the book. Ichabod glared at him distrustfully. If he released his hold on the book, it could the last time he saw it. There was no telling how Corbin would react. He admonished himself. How could he be so callous? Corbin wanted the same thing as him: Abbie home and safe. He couldn't be so dismissive of his intentions. If he couldn't trust those that cared the most for him, then there was no point in continuing his search. He may as well remain alone. Ichabod swallowed thickly, reluctantly deciding to place his trust in him.

"Our only hope," he cautioned earnestly, slowly releasing the book. Corbin looked at him doubtfully then down at the cover of the book, studying its distinctive markings. He opened the cover and glanced at the title.

"The Grande Grimoire?" he inquired, slowly adjusting the book in his hands. He glimpsed through the pages, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Ichabod stood tensely, attentively studying his reaction.

After a moment of silence, Corbin closed it and set it down on the table quietly. He looked up at him grimly. "Jenny told me about this. It's what your wife used when she tried to take you out colonial Fatal Attraction style, right?"

Not understanding the reference but assuming it referred to Katrina attempting to murder his past self along with Abbie, he nodded slightly to confirm his conjecture.

Corbin took a deep breath, setting his mouth in a straight line and lowered his voice. "As I recall, it ended up putting Abbie in some pretty serious danger. If it wasn't for her risking her life and traveling back in time, we'd all have been screwed."

Ichabod looked away and tightened his jaw in displeasure. It was a necessary risk Abbie had taken yet she had placed herself in the path of danger due to his unstable marriage, a toxic union that he had been unwilling to terminate. He was entirely culpable for Abbie risking her life, just as he felt responsible now.

Corbin shook his head. "What are you doing with this?"

Studying his expected reaction, Ichabod decided to share what he had seen. It was the only way he could possibly convince him of the logic behind his actions. "I saw her."

"Who?"

"Abbie. She is alive."

Corbin knit his brow, his mouth parted open in disbelief. "What? Where?"

"'Twas a dream, a vision," he hastily explained, snatching the book from the table, turning away and flipping it open. "She is in hell. We do not have time to spare. We must find her."

Corbin watched him disbelievingly as he continued to scan through the pages. He scoffed, "Hang on, a dream? Seriously? You're willing to go dark side because of a dream?"

Ichabod raised a cautioning finger. "'Twas no ordinary dream. I felt her, saw her. She is alive." He continued his search through the book, seeking out all the spells dealing with traveling through realms. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he could already sense Corbin's reluctance to believe him. He could only assume a lecture would follow.

"Crane," Corbin sighed tiredly, his shoulders lowering. He gently leaned his hand on the table in front of him. Ichabod glanced up at him quickly before continuing his search. Pity, not admonishment, was in his eyes. He would have preferred castigation. "We've all had nightmares since that day."

"No," Ichabod paused and closed his eyes, frustrated at his dismissiveness. He was quickly losing the little patience he had kept intact. His lack of faith incensed him. "No, Abbie is alive in hell. This book, these spells shall help us find her. This one requires blood magic but–"

"Woah, wait a second," Corbin interrupted swiftly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. Ichabod stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He had spoken too soon in regard to his comrade's disapproval. He straightened his back and gave him a challenging stare, holding the book in one arm.

Corbin squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to process his friend's intentions. "Wasn't it you who told me that there are lines we don't cross, forces we don't unleash? What was it? Or else we risk the very humanity we fight for? Those were your words. You told me that the last time I tried to pull something this stupid."

Ichabod clenched his jaw. He had said those words not knowing they would come back to haunt him. He didn't regret saying them but how he wished he had the strength to live by them.

"Listen, Crane. I get it. Trust me, I do. But there's gotta be another way."

"There is no other way," he said in a low voice.

"So what? You gonna travel back in time? Trade places with her? Or do you literally want to raise hell to find her? Do you even know what you're putting at risk? For all you know, you could end up screwing everybody over. None of this comes without paying a price."

"I cannot stand by while she suffers! I shall not remain idle!" His nostrils flared as he raised his voice.

"Nobody's telling you to do that!" Corbin countered defensively.

He glared, setting the book down on the table. "Then I shall endeavor to find her by whatever means necessary," he said quietly, flipping through the pages.

Corbin looked at him in disgust. "Including putting us, Jenny, in danger?"

Ichabod muttered. "If that is the case..."

"Breakfast!" Jenny's voice rang out cheerfully, bringing their heated confrontation to an end.

Corbin glared at him with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Ichabod, startled by Jenny's appearance, quickly shut the book and covered it with a nearby map. He couldn't let her see it quite yet. Her reaction would make Corbin's pale in comparison.

"Hey guys, I wasn't sure if you'd be good with breakfast burritos but I figured–" She stopped reaching into the bag after looking up at the two men, sensing the tension. She glanced at both of them unsurely. "What's going on?"

Corbin looked at Ichabod, awaiting an explanation. Ichabod refused to share eye contact with either of them, unwilling to be confronted by both of them. He knew he would be fighting a losing battle.

Corbin scoffed in disgust at his silence. He shook his head. "I've got to get to work," he mumbled.

Jenny knit her brow as he hastily walked past her out the archive doors. She glanced at Ichabod before running after him.

He stood still for a moment before sighing tiredly. Corbin was right. He could not put them in danger. Abbie would never forgive him if he made unnecessary sacrifices to find her, particularly if it meant risking her sister's well-being. Moreover, he would never forgive himself either if any harm were to befall Jenny.

He huffed irritated, returning the book to its rightful hidden spot. It had been a reckless idea. He could not follow the same path as his ill-fated wife. Her desperation had only led to her destruction.

He paused and rubbed his forehead resignedly. That dream, it had reignited something inside him. For weeks, he had walked around numb, disoriented, surviving solely upon the insistence of Jenny and Corbin. He lived in a constant state regret.

He shut his eyes tightly. God, how he missed her. He missed everything about her. Yes, he yearned for her physical presence but it was more than that. He longed for her guidance, her support, the camaraderie they shared, the bond they had formed. He missed her stubbornness, her stoic manner of handling her emotions, her ribbing at his expense, even the way she mistakenly thought she had to save the whole world on her own. He missed every aspect of her – the good, the bad, and the glorious. He ached for it all. Yet, he knew it was more than mere longing for what once was that was driving him mad: he longed for what could have been.

All his life, love was his to seek out. He had been given the passion, desire, and romantic sentiments by every woman he had come across without lifting a finger. He never had to earn or appreciate it. In the time without Abbie, he had realized how little he had done to earn her regard. He expected her to love him unconditionally just as those past women, for her to choose him. But all this time without her, made him realize how unfair it was to expect that from her.

Abbie would not simply walk through the door one day and decide to be his wife. She was far more complex, a far greater treasure of a woman than he had ever come across. She was his friend and partner yet she had shown him more unconditional compassion, generosity, comprehension, and patience than all of his former friends and companions combined. He had taken her for granted. He was undeserving of her.

The mere fact that she had withheld telling him that she had sacrificed her career before going to find Jenny proved that she did not trust him. How could he expect her to trust him? He had rejected and forsaken her for nine months. He unequivocally did not deserve her but God help him, his contemptibility could not put an end to his longing.

"Crane."

He looked up at Miss Jenny. She stood glaring at him with her arms crossed. He swallowed nervously. Corbin must have been informed her of what had happened in her absence.

"What the hell were you thinking? The Grande Grimoire?"

He stayed silent. She looked ready to lecture him but seemed to decide against it after realizing his defeated state. She sighed and closed her eyes, seeking patience. She shook her head dismissively, understanding exactly what he had been thinking, what had motivated him to betray his morals.

"What's all this about you seeing her in a vision?" she asked, changing the topic of conversation.

Ichabod gazed at her determinedly, prepared to do his best to convince her. "This morning. I dreamt her but it was more than that, Miss Jenny. I felt her, I saw her. She is alive."

Jenny nodded, considering his news. She looked up at him with a firm look. "Where?"

He swallowed thickly. Though she did not approve of his methods, she was just as determined to find her sister. Perhaps he would have a better chance of convincing her to find Abbie by whatever means necessary than he did with Corbin. "Abbie is in hell, just as we feared."

She squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain. "Shit."

He nodded. "Indeed."

Jenny rolled her eyes tiredly. "That's still no reason for you to...," she trailed.

He quickly replied, "Yes, I understand."

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "So she's alive? You sure?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"Well that's, that's something," she said decidedly. She sighed, nodding. "Okay, we can work with this. There has to be a way, something." She looked at him with a determined gaze, similar to that of her sister. He felt a pang in his heart. "We're going to save her, Crane."

He tightly smiled at her. "Of course."

"Just not that way."

He nodded silently.

"I need you to say it, Crane. I need your word."

"We…," he blinked warily, correcting himself, "I shall not abandon hope. You have my word."

She nodded, heading back to the breakfast that remained on the table. "We'll look into it all later. Let's eat first. I don't want Abbie coming back and accusing me of not feeding you or anything. You know how she gets."

He grinned. She tiredly returned the smile. Though they had moments of disagreement, they were willing to deal with each other's peculiarities. They quietly distributed the food, the sound of their wrappers and paper cups filling the silence.

Regardless of their situation, they managed to keep each other from falling into complete despair. Jenny did her best to fill Abbie's shoes though relied heavily on Joe to keep her standing. Crane did his best to ensure that she did not push herself too hard. It was a team effort to keep each other sane enough to keep fighting.

After they had settled into enjoying their breakfast, Jenny continued the conversation. "You'll never guess who I ran into this morning.

Crane raised his eyebrows expectantly as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Zoe."

He remained silent. He swallowed. He almost forgot about her. He had not thought about her in weeks. After Abbie's disappearance, Miss Corinth was the last person he wanted to see. Yes, her help was valuable to him in regards to his citizenship but she was no Abbie Mills. He could not imagine wasting valuable time with her when he could be finding Abbie. He knit his brow.

Jenny mistook it as confusion. "You know? Your tutor? The one who's helping you with your citizenship? The girl you were dating? Ringing any liberty bells?"

Ichabod smile tightly. "Ah, yes, Miss Corinth. How does she fare?" he asked as attentively as he could sound. He quickly stuffed the rest of the burrito in his mouth, hoping to appear more interested than he actually felt.

Jenny continued chewing small bits of her food. "Apparently, not that great. She said she hasn't heard from you in weeks. You haven't returned any of her texts or calls."

He nodded silently, hastily picking up his garbage and placing it in the empty takeout bag. He knew where this conversation was headed and he wanted to avoid it as long as possible. He returned to his desk silently, shifting through the piles of papers resting on it. Jenny crumpled up her fast food wrappers and intently gazed at him.

"You told her you'd call."

He sharply replied, "And I shall. I am only too aware that the fate of my citizenship rests in her hands."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You know that's not what I'm referring to."

He paused to glance at her before returning to the book stacks to select another pile of books, mostly to keep his hands busy.

She glanced at his cot by the fireplace. "When's the last time you went home?"

"I am fine."

"I know you are. We're all fine. But that's no reason for you not to take care of yourself."

"I must focus on the task at hand."

Jenny huffed impatiently. "Crane, I hate to tell you this but you're a goddamn mess. If you let that beard get any longer, ZZ Top's going to have some serious competition. Your hair is greasier than these hash browns. And, I'm sorry, but it is seriously starting to smell like a high school boy's gym locker in here."

He looked at her bewilderedly, trying to discern whether he should feel offended or not.

"You need to take care of yourself, get out of here and get some fresh air once in a while. Shave. Get a haircut. Hell, go on a date. Have something to look forward to besides staying locked in here like some caged animal. It's okay to take a break once in a while," she said gently.

Ichabod could not respond. He desperately wanted to tell her to not interfere with his personal affairs but if anybody had the right to, it was the Mills sisters. He could not tell her that Miss Corinth had ceased to be a potential love interest the moment he realized how in love he was with Abbie. No, his truth could only be shared with the object of his desire. Abbie deserved to know before her own sister. Thusly, he bit his tongue as she continued. "If it wasn't for Joe, my mundane day job, I don't know how I'd get through this."

She sighed when she realized he wasn't going to respond. "What I'm trying to say is I want you to feel like you have something to live for."

Ichabod scoffed. "I do but she is currently suffering in the depths of hell," he said disdainfully.

She nodded. "I know. And I know that we are going to do everything humanely possible to get her back. But we also have to realize that there is always the chance that things won't work out the way we want them to and we have to be prepared."

There it was. The 'be prepared' address. He would never be prepared for anything save for the possibility of her return. He refused to even consider the contrary. Despair and anger boiled within him.

"Abbie wouldn't have…"

He hastily picked up the book and slammed it down hard on the table. Jenny jumped. The echo of the slammed book reverberated throughout the room. Dust flew up into the air, its particles dancing in the sunlight beaming through the windows. She blinked at him in surprise. Ichabod's chest heaved as the muscle in his jaw tensed. He could not handle it anymore. He could not hear her talk as if Abbie were already dead.

"Do not speak to me of what she would have wanted!" he spat out as he glared at her. "She. Is. Not. Dead!"

She gaped at him in stunned silence for a moment. Ichabod immediately regretted his outburst of anger and disrespect. They were misguided emotions. Jenny did not deserve his wrath. He quickly attempted to apologize until she lashed out angrily. "You think you're the only one that would give everything to get her back? Hmm? Do you know how many times I've considered using my not-so-honorable contacts to do whatever it took to get her back? But I haven't and I won't because I know that's not what she would have wanted. "

He shook his head and closed his eyes. He could not bear to hear Abbie being discussed in past tense, as if she would never be around to make those judgement calls herself. Instead of lashing out again, he kept his emotions restrained. He continued scanning the pages of his book quietly. Yet, somehow, Jenny managed to accurately perceive his true feelings on the matter.

She hissed, her voice breaking, "Screw you."

His jaw twitched as he glanced through the ancient pages of the book.

"Screw you, Crane! You walk around here thinking you're the only one in pain!" she bellowed. "My sister is gone and I don't know if I shall ever see her again. She was the only family I had left, not just your damn caretaker. Stop acting like this is even about you!"

He inhaled sharply and blinked at her as if she had gone completely mad. "Caretak–? Do not presume to understand the bond we shared," he snarled with a scowl. Holding up a finger, he continued, "And do not accuse me of making this about myself."

"Oh yeah? Then what would you call this? Obsessing over the same damn books every day, refusing to talk, making everybody feel like they need to walk on eggshells around you? You selfish bastard!" she cried, immediately covering her mouth after realizing all the hurtful things she had just spat at him.

He looked at her as the truth dawned on him. After a moment, he grudgingly closed his eyes, grimacing in shame.

"Tis not my…," his voice trailed softly before looking up at her.

He gulped visibly before lowering his gaze. He softly murmured, "I apologize. I have been selfish. You are in pain and I have been inconsiderate of your grief. I am sorry."

Jenny's chin trembled as she folded her arms defensively, hastily wiping away escaped tears.

"I…please, you must not lose hope. We shall find her." Ichabod looked at her pleadingly. He could not do this without her yet he could not bear to see her lose hope.

Jenny sneered disbelievingly, her voice watery with restrained tears. "How do you even know she's still alive? How do you know that if you open that tree again you won't see…?" she trailed off, her voice breaking. She paused for a moment to regain her composure. "The shard exploded, Crane. What if she–?" She looked at him in desperation.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head in frustration. No, it was not a possibility he could entertain. Abbie was not dead. She couldn't be. He cut her off, "No. No. She is alive. I saw her in my vision."

"What if it wasn't real? What if it really was just a dream? What if it was something trying to mislead us?"

Ichabod inhaled and shook his head sternly. He walked up to Jenny as confidently as possible. He could not demonstrate any weakness in this. Jenny could not lose hope. He could not lose hope.

"I refuse to believe it. I cannot believe it. I did not sleep through two centuries solely to spend the rest of my borrowed days without her. We shall find her. We shall save her," he said reassuringly, reaching out to grasp her hands, hoping she would believe him.

She squeezed his hands and shakily inhaled. She nodded decidedly, sniffling. "Okay, fine. We'll find her."

He softly smiled down upon her, pulling her in for a quick, reassuring embrace. After regaining their sense, they parted and she snorted sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. I usually don't…"

"No need to apologize, Miss Jenny. You said what needed to be said."

"Crane, I…"

"Tis fine, Jenny. Everything shall be resolved."

She looked up at him hopefully. "Come what may?"

Those words. Nothing good could ever come from repeating those words. Ichabod nodded instead, choosing not to risk it. "Nothing, not even the devil himself, could stop us."

Jenny smiled, her previous tears gone, leaving only watery eyes in its wake. Ichabod's confidence grew, they were ready to take on hell itself to find her.

She nodded. "Alright, then, Crane. Let's go raise some hell."

Got it in just in time for the premiere. I am sooo ready for the rest of the season to be here! I miss Abbie and Ichabod.

Sorry it took so long to update. I've recently gotten really into The Walking Dead and Richonne. There are some great fanfics on it out there, if you're interested. Makes me feel like I still got a long way to go with my writing.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter that took forever to write. I'd really love to hear what you have to say about it. I've been going without a beta for a while so there will be plentiful mistakes. Nonetheless, I hope it all makes sense.

So, thanks again!

Your super excited writer awaiting real-life Ichabbie,

semul