This was outrageous. This was impossible. This couldn't be happening! To think that she, of all beings in Hell, had been dragged into some kind of ridiculous election battle with a salesman! The redheaded demon was snarling with anger as she threw a table across the room in rage. Much like a rabid dog, she was pacing around in the room, having locked herself in. This wasn't a time to be graceful. This was war. War did not involve elections!

Heaving a growling sigh, she sank down into an armchair, massaging one of her temples as she stared a hole in the wall in front of her. The demons were weaklings these days, bowing down and accepting the rule of someone like Crowley. Useless, pitiless worms, crawling around in their own blood. Faceless, twisted imbeciles. Her chest was heaving visibly as she tried to calm herself; something which was easier said than done. Crossing one leg over the other, Abaddon took a deep breath, softly letting it out.

She was currently staying in some family home. Of course, the family was long since dead, scattered across the house in pieces. A splash of red truly had done wonders with the place. Sucking in another breath, she frowned with her eyes closed, slowly opening them again. What she needed was a plan of action. As little as she wanted to admit it; Hell had changed, and not necessarily for the better, at least not in her opinion. It wasn't just about raw power and the intimidation that it brought anymore; she could only win over so many with that strategy. However, she had no clue where to even begin. This was far beyond her; she had never had any interest in politics.

"A war for the hearts of the demons.. The only hearts I want are the ones I've ripped out." Huffing lightly, she knew that her anger would make little difference. She somehow had to come up with a way to win herself votes from the demons; she had to prove that Crowley didn't have what it takes to rule Hell. It was obvious to her, but apparently the demons of today were a bit more thickheaded, much dumber than the ones she was used to.

After a few minutes of silent thinking, the woman smirked eerily to herself. She would play by Crowley's rules; go along with his little scheme. She would crush him, humiliate him in his own home, best him at his own game. He would never be able to show his face again, he would become the laughingstock of Hell itself. It would take time, she would have to learn about things she had no real interest in learning; but for the prize of beating Crowley, ruining him to the core.. Nothing could be more worthwhile.

After all, it would be disgraceful if a Knight of Hell couldn't beat a mere salesman, no matter the rules.

Back in the bunker, things were going quite well. Dean had forgiven Amy for running off on her own; at the cost of a pie that had taken her, Sam and Castiel several hours to make. It hadn't been a complete disaster, although there had been some close calls, such as with the angel and the electric handmixer. So there he stood without a tie, watching the others enjoy their pie. He even found himself longing to be human, if only for a moment.

"You're making me a house? Really?" Amy perked up as he looked over at the brothers. Dean nodded with a grin. "Yep. Well, not making it from scratch, more like, taking a derelict shanty and making it livable for you." Sam ran his tongue over his blueberry blue lips, clearing his mouth before speaking. "It's only about an hour and a half away from here, so we won't be far away. Nice woodland, quiet and secluded, I think you'll like it. With some new furniture, though. The ones available there are not worth the materials they're made of." She grinned excitedly before licking her plate, having finished her pie.

"So when will I move in?"

"It'll take a while" Dean admitted, shoveling some more pie onto his plate without really thinking about how full he was feeling. "The builder said he'd have it ready by fall, though. Then we gotta ward it against demons and all that crap."

"Will you come visit?" The unicorn was looking at them hopefully, her hands in her lap and a smile curving her blueberry stained lips. The brothers let out a synchronized chuckle before leaning back in their seats. It was nice, having someone who didn't associate their presence with horrible events, pain and suffering.

"Sure, if you'll have us." Sam leaned over the table to push the remaining pie away from Dean, who had just been about to grab another slice. Dean shot him a disapproving glare, but it only lasted for about a second before his stomach reminded him of just how bloated he already was.

"It would be ridiculous of me to invite you if I wouldn't let you in." Sam let out a light laugh, running a hand through his hair out of sheer habit.

"That's true. Alright, it's a deal, we'll come visit. But you're going to have to stay here with us for a little while longer." She nodded firmly with a smile before pushing her chair back, getting out of her seat. "That's fine! I like it here. When I move, can I take some books with me?"

The two brothers hesitated, glancing at each other. Eventually Sam spoke up, his voice dragging slightly. "I, don't think that's a great idea. These books are kind of one of a kind." Amy's shoulders slumped and she sank back down into her chair. "Oh.."

"But we have a whole truckload of copies of Bobby's books, you can have as many of those as you like." Dean grinned, amused by how quickly the unicorn perked right back up, speaking eagerly but far too fast for them to comprehend before she bounded towards her bedroom. Shaking his head, Dean got out of his seat to go and get himself a glass of scotch.

"It's sort of like having a dog, without having to train it." Sam raised his eyebrows at the other, a bit stunned by his choice of words, but he didn't protest. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more traits he could think of that Amy shared with dogs. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to feel about that. Dean returned to the table, grunting softly as he thumped right back down into his seat, a glass of scotch in his hand. He threw a glance at his brother before chuckling lowly, sipping his drink.

"Relax, she's going to be fine on her own." Sam blinked and only then realized that he had been staring towards the bedrooms. Shaking his head, he turned back around to look at his empty plate. "Yeah, I know. It's just…"

"Yeah, I know. It's gonna' be empty when she leaves." Dean finished his brothers' thought for him, and Sam glanced towards him with a slight smile. Looking down at his hands, he sighed lightly.

"For the first time in, heck I don't even know how long, we've got someone who actually doesn't think we cause death and destruction wherever we go." Dean nodded slowly in agreement, letting more of the scotch slip down his throat, the warmth of it humming in his chest. "And now we've got to kick her out?"

"It's for the best Sammy, and it's not like she'll be far away. We'll be able to visit." Letting out a somewhat sarcastically amused huff, Sam leaned back in his seat, resting his head against his knuckles. "Yeah, if we'll ever have time once this whole war thing really kicks off." He sucked in a breath, sighing deeply.

"We've got an angelic civil war and a race to become president in Hell, and like they're not busy enough, they're trying to exterminate each other. It's only going to get worse. I don't know Dean, that's going to take up a whole lot of our time real quick."

"Well then" Dean cleared his throat, putting his glass down onto the table. "We'll just have to make time, won't we?"