I just wanted to take an opportunity to thank all of you wonderful readers who have read, favorited and left me some really great reviews. I have really been amazed that many from another fandom have followed me here into my new obsession. WOW

I AM Truly Humbled

Ya'll know how awesome you all are. right? If not let me say it again.

You ROck!

But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent

The destined ill she must herself assay?

Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,

To put the by-past perils in her way?

Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;

For when we rage, advice is often seen

By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

-W. Shakespeare

His first instinct was to protect her. Not in the same way he wanted to protect Abbie. With Abbie he had a need to protect her as he knew she would protect him—to man up as she had said before. With Katrina, her frailties were more noticeable since her mysterious return. True, she had always been strong and more than capable, but Katrina was no match for the modern era. As forward thinking nad behaving as she had been in the past; Crane had to admit to himself that the world was full of people that were far more forward thinking now. His poor wife couldn't keep up.

She nodded at his insistence for conversation. He had expected more of a fight, but Katrina raised herself to a sitting position on the couch and affected a haughty repose. "What do you want to know my darling, Ichabod?"

"Katrina, I had asked you before, but now I must insist. I need to know how you got here."

Katrina cocked her head to one side as if confused. "DO you not recall, my love?" she smiled. "I did tell you."

Crane shook his head. "No, Katrina. You did no such thing. The last time I asked you, you changed the subject. I have given you much leeway in order to acclimate yourself to your new surroundings. But, in light of the new situations that have occurred in the past two days—"

"What situations are those?" she asked.

He stood then. Something was wrong and he could tell. She wasn't…right. "Katrina," he began again, "Tell me again how you got here."

HE watched as her face seemed to crumple in on itself. He knew then, she did not want to tell him. Whatever it was far worse than any of the lies she had told before. "Ichabod, Darling. Cannot we just enjoy the here and now?" she offered him a smile that, in another life would have rendered him complacent, but, far too much had happened for him to be placated with whimsy.

Ichabod shook his head. "Katrina," he spoke all the while fighting the urge to shake her, shale whatever flippant little thing had rattled loose in that head of hers. "Now is not the time for docile silliness. Katrina," he spoke her name sharply in the hopes of scaring her. "What is it? What have you done this time?"

Katrina gave her husband a half smile and pulled her long legs to herself. "I gave you what you wanted dear Ichabod. What we both have wanted all along."

The sound of rustling forced his hand from choking her. It was a reflex he had always found more than distasteful in others, but in himself—inexcusable. She talked in circles, and her words had brought with them a migraine of Biblical proportions. "What do you mean?" he asked, ignoring the buzzing that was slowly rising behind him.

She looked at him in shades of memory. He recalled the first time he saw her, the first time they kissed. He remembered their first night together as man and wife. But, it was the recognition of playing on his memories that stilled him. She wanted to cull him into forgetting; into love that he knew was slowly fading. "Ichabod, everything I have done, I have done for you " she tilted her head prettily; an action that would have once lead Crane into their bedroom now left him with a sickening feeling of dread.

"Katrina! Please, if you have ever loved me, you will be straightforward now. For God's sake, there are lives being affected. Have you no care about them?"

The buzzing began in earnest, and while he wanted to turn to find the source of the clamor, he feared removing his eyes from the visage of his wife would give her enough time to disappear. "Katrina, answer me!"

"It was the only way, I had to do it." She offered. "I should never have come. You no longer feel anything for me, do you?"

"This is the perfect time to speak of the nature of our marriage. Now?" he bit through clenched teeth.

"Ichabod, you needed me, and I missed you. He offered me a way to come back. I had to take it. DO you not understand that?" Katrina moved her hands in front of her face, "When I could take no more torment, he came to me and offered me salvation. I am needed here, now in this fight."

"Katrina, whatever means necessary I am glad you have come." He iced gently. "But, if you came here under evil means, no matter how well intentioned.." Crane took a deep breath in an attempt to settle the bile rising in his throat.

"I asked and he granted. He cared for me more than you."

"Who?" Crane asked growing weary of questions. "I have little time for games now Katrina. Whatever this is, whatever you have done, you need to tell me now. We cannot fix this without knowing what needs repair."

Katrina did not answer, her face became slack and her mouth shifted into a steady gaping 'O'. He followed her gaze, not wanting to see but needing to know what scared the powerful witch.

The buzzing nearly drowned out her words. The entirety of the archives was bathed in the sound. Finally, realizing Katrina would only talk in codes; he turned and promptly regretted his actions.

The round windows were black, moving masses of flies. Their fat bodies climbed over each other

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The glass doors burst open and a horde of people began to fil the station. The flies entered with them, and Abbie waved around an old magazine in a futile attempt to keep them away from her.

"This again?" Irving asked as he appeared in front of her desk, he wielded a manila folder like the brave little tailor hitting several at once. "I thought the two of you were getting a handle on this. "

Abbie shrugged and pursed her lips. She continued to wave away the large black flies "The other two phenomena dissipated quickly. They seem to be a localized phenomenon."

"Localized how? To what?" Captain Irving motioned to the nearby window where large swarms of flies were gathered around the intersection. "You can barely make out your hand in front of your face. " He turned back to Abbie. "And now you are telling me this is a local thing? How do we send whatever it is back to where it came from…oh."

Abbie wanted to laugh at Irving's comic mouth clamp. She shook her head and sighed. "It's complicated, Captain."

"It's a danger to my town. That affects everyone in her general vicinity." He stopped and looked at the young woman then. "She's here, isn't she?"

"Frogs all over the cabin, had to bring her somewhere."

"Uh huh."

Abbie nodded "Down in the Archives with Crane. They're having a heart to heart." Abbie smirked.

"We don't know for sure if she is the direct cause of the—"

"This woman was purportedly in Purgatory for some 200 odd years, magically appears out of the blue in the middle of a demon infested battle that you and your partner have no idea how you made it out alive; and let's not forget that she is some powerful witch. But. Wait, those ten plagues have nothing to do with her. She's not a harbinger of the Apocalypse, nahhhhh." He shook his head for effect. "She's just Crane's wife. No biggie. Nothing outta the ordinary."

"Captain…." Abbie spoke but could not meet her friend's eye. She was making excuses for the woman, and her reasons were far removed from any initial jealousy that Jenny had (rightly) accused her of. She didn't want to see Crane devastated from this. This was gonna leave a mark.

"Lieutenant, localized or not, this woman appears to be a nexus of Biblical displeasure. Now, I realize Crane is your friend and partner, but I was under the impression that the whole End of Days thing trumped all of that."

Abbie nodded again. "I'm gonna go see if I can't find out what's what." She reached for her coat and purse and headed toward the back walkway. Figures it is my turn to go skulking through the tunnels.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx

He met her in the tunnels. Crane was holding his wife's hand and leading her to the station when she collapsed. In truth he had been worried about Miss Mills; he had wanted to make sure she was all right. When she didn't answer her phone, Crane realized he could not leave his wife alone in the archives, but he could not

Katrina felt like a dead weight as he lead her through the darkened walkways. Then, he felt her grip slip from him. When he looked down she was crumpled into a heap.

"Katrina, we have to keep moving."

"It itches." She wailed piteously.

He knelt by her side and squinted for a better look in the dar. Katrina's long fingers dug into the flesh of her arms and legs. Some spots had already begun to welt and bleed. "Katrina, what in the world."

"Crane!" Abbie shouted as she moved closer. "Why are you in the tunnels?"

"You didn't answer your phone." He accused. "Katrina seems to be in distress."

"When is she not?" Abbie mumbled under her breath and Crane pretended not to hear. They advanced on the still scratching woman in the corner of the tunnel. "We need to get her back to the archives."

"Why, so more plagues can manifest? No offense, Crane but I have no secret desire to sit in darkness or eat diseased livestock."

"Lieutenant, are you refusing to help someone in need?"

Damn you Crane and your evil Jedi mind tricks. Abbie took one side of the woman as Crane took the other. Each held onto an arm attempting to prevent Katrina from doing any more damage. Katrina fidgeted under their grasp "It itches; God's wounds I cannot bear it much longer!"

By the time they reached the archives, the flies were completely gone from the windows. Katrina's plaintive cries had reduced to silent wet moans. "She's nearly flayed herself raw." Crane muttered as he led her back to the same couch he had just moved her from. Crane placed his great coat over her torso and kneeled beside her. "Rest, Katrina." He intoned. His hand stilled just centimeters from touching her; not sure what part of her would be safe from undue torment.

Abbie waited for him to move back to the other side of the room before pouncing. She stood like judge jury and executioner; arms folded and legs poised for a fight. "Crane, what did you get out of her?"

"You mean before all of this." He waved to the now cleared windows.

Abbie nodded but did not move. "Quit stalling; tell me what the hell is going on here."

Crane's frame crumbled into one of the massive red chairs. He rested his head on his hands; arms teetered on his knees. "She told me nothing, Lieutenant."

"Nothing?" Abbie accused.

Crane shook his head again, and Abbie began to wonder if he wasn't on the verge of insanity. "I asked, and all I seemed to be able to elicit from her responses is that someone sent her back here. She says I should remember. That, we should remember."

"Remember? You and me or you and her?" Abbie asked. "Because all I recall of that particular night that your wife came waltzing back into the land of the living could fit onto the head of a pin."

"Indeed," he answered, and for the first time, Abbie heard the bone weary exhaustion in his voice. In the time since his wife's return, she had maybe heard the intonation of weariness in his voice, but Abbie now realized she had ignored it; had chalked it up to too much celebrating. Now, she knew better. Now, Abbie knew she had merely been a bad friend and a worse partner.

She stretched her hand to him, placing it on his shoulder. He immediately brought his hand to hers and leaned into her touch. "I had no idea…" she stammered.

"As well you shouldn't" he nodded softly and Abbie reveled in the feel of his stubbled cheek against her bear arm. "It was neither your concern nor yours to worry."

"I should have known better. That you were exhausted from…" she shrugged not sure how much she should assume.

Crane nodded again. "If I had need for you, I would have sent for you in some small way. Or, a bonfire perhaps." They shared a small laugh then, and Abbie for the first time since Katrina returned, it felt like old times. Like every times.

She leaned into his head with her own; the shared moment too fragile and fleeting. "We need to figure out a few things. " Abbie added after a time. She could have stayed there with him forever, but there wasn't time. "Crane, it's the plagues of Egypt."

"Yes, I fear you were right. As per usual." He smiled. "But these are not on the scale of anything that would provoke an exodus."

"Or even a minor revolution." She knew she had to tell him then, for good or bad; better or worse he had to know. "Crane, you need to know this is an extremely localized event."

He lifted his head again then; his blue eyes pierced her brown ones with a thousand questions ready to tumble all at once. "Localized?" he was as quick as the captain. "Of course, how could I be so stupid?"

Abbie shrugged. "Hey, I know it's been kinda a weird month." She smiled for levity but her partner did not return the gesture.

"Miss Mills, my wife. Her return, is it possible?" He rose quickly and moved with his usual grace to the books in the far corner. Long fingers encased a tome that looked as if a good wind would blow it away. His face affected that serene determination that reminded Abbie of when Corbin would get an idea in his head. The question of what was wrong with his face hovered right on the very tip of her tongue.

"Damn it!" he shouted suddenly. Abbie turned to see if his declaration had disturbed the injured witch on the other side of the large area. No, she remained a nearly lifeless lump on the couch. Her quivering reminded Abbie of lime jello.

"What, what is it?" she asked coming to his side. He tilted his head forward to gain better access to her space. His long index finger pointed to a passage in the ancient tome, his voice was cracked and paper dry as he spoke.

"See here," he began running his finger beneath a language she did not speak. "This is a passage of prophecy from Egypt."

"The home of the original plagues." Abbie filled in.

"Quite," Crane nodded. "It states that if a soul is released from Purgatory without forgiveness it will unmake reality."

"But, we knew that already." Abbie insisted, folding her arms and tucking her hands under. Something in the air, in the words had fostered a chill that wanted to shake her bones to dust.

With a small nod he went on. "Here, it refers to the actual unmaking of reality. A seal. The fourth seal." He glanced toward the reposed form on the couch then spoke quieter. "The release of a sinful soul from Purgatory is the breaking of the fourth seal."

Abbie shook her head and gathered her arms about her body. "So it's too late, Katrina's release from Purgatory is the fourth seal." She nodded to herself before going on. "Even if those plagues are all centered around her, whoever is in her vicinity is going to experience the worst of them. "

"You want the good news, or the bad news?" He offered with an enigmatic smile.

Abbie returned his gesture with a small pout and a glare that often spoke of her impatience, gilded only by his presence. Long suffering, she answered. "Is this a riddle?"

He offered a real smile then, "Miss Mills, if you please? Perhaps you should call Irving and offer a warning regarding the purchase of any means in the area for say, the next two days."

"Fifth plague; got it." She made the call as quick and concise as possible. Irving assured her he would offer a recall to be posted as soon as possible. "We'll just call it a terrorist threat; make it easier for folks to believe."

She thanked the captain and turned back toward Crane after ending the call. "Ok, what's the bad news?"

Crane took a deep sigh and placed the book on the table. " that was the good news. The bad news looks further ahead." He shook himself and went on. "The rate of the onslaught of these plagues places the last one as happening within 48 hours. Once that one has occurred, the fourth seal is broken and there is no going back."

Abbie nodded again. "Ok, so we keep Katrina out in the boonies where no one loses a kid."

With a deeper sigh, Crane clasped his hands and spoke slowly and carefully. "Miss Mills, did I ever explain to you how I received such an inglorious name?"

Abbie was more than just afraid at that point. She had an inkling but motioned for him to go on.

"I was born a murderer. My mother died in childbirth. Not an uncommon thing for that time. " Crane stopped and raised his chin a bit. His eyes cast far away. "I was a large baby, she was young and I was a first child."

"I'm sorry." Abbie said, knowing what maternal loss feels like. Knowing the gut wrenching horror of losing the one person you should be closest to of all humans on the face of the earth.

Crane shook his head and went on. "I was first born, Abbie. This could be the ned of me as well."

The pair turned toward the shuffling noise that had somehow escaped their notice until right upon them. Katrina held herself up with the large bookcase. Her skin displayed the receding lice torment. "It's me, Ichabod." She spoke evenly. "This is all my fault, but I swear to you I can fix this. I can end it. If you allow me." Katrina moved closer to the pair, Crane caught her as she stumbled toward him. "I had a plan from the minute Henry offered to remove me from Purgatory. If you are agreeable, I can fix this. I can fix all of us and end this war."