I managed to repair and resell antiques thrice more before I had to stop. I was in the process of selling the repaired goods to a nice asian couple somewhere in Southern Ohio.

"I found these bookshelves in an estate sale, but they're too big for my apartment. I know they're at least fifty years old. What do you think they're worth?" I asked in an almost practiced fashion by this point. I'd tried garage sale, inheritance, and even dumpster diving, but estate sale adds some legitimacy for some reason to these people.

The older man seemed to be going for a hard sell and he pointed out minor knicks and wear to his wife. "See here? It's scratched up, and this here? It's not been taken care of at all. It's definitely aged badly."

The wife nodded along faux sadly with his words. "Yes, yes. It's too bad. Good craftsmanship too. We'll only be able to get $300 for the little one, and maybe $500 for the big one."

I held back a sigh in annoyance. I'd bought them for about that before the repairs. I knew they could resell for more. "I think you could get six for the little and at least eight for the larger one." There, now we can haggle down to five and seven.

They looked a little sour, but I walked away with $1300 instead of my expected $1200. I might have had to threaten selling them to the pawn shop if they didn't give me a fair price, but it all worked out in the end.

I managed to get to the Challenger before I felt it. It was like that feeling you get when someone is watching you. You almost feel the stare on the back of your head. I felt that, but it felt… bloody. That's the best description I can give. I immediately turned around to look at the source, and found a shadowed figure in the alley staring at the antiques store. I immediately knew it was a vampire. My Supernatural Senses from being the Prophet of God helped with this, but my memories of hunting them helped confirm it.

Thinking quickly, I pulled out ingredients from the back. A mixture of saffron, skunk cabbage, and trillium was ground down, and a quick Gaelic cantrip was cast.

"Tine" I whispered, and watched it catch on fire. This left me with a scent-blocking mixture designed for vampires exclusively. I sprinkled it on my clothes, and grabbed a machete I'd recently bought.

Sneaking up on a vampire isn't easy. They have enhanced senses, like superhuman hearing, smell, and sight. I again used a cantrip to muffle any sounds I might make.

"siopí" I barely murmurred the Greek word as I approached. I was able to get within five feet of the vampire when I noticed its appearance. The vampire was short at around 5"2, and had greasy blonde hair. The man was dressed in something that was probably a very nice suit at one point. It was tattered and looked a little bloody now though.

I was able to get right behind him, and yank him further into the alley, and out of sight before turning to chop his head off. I mistimed it however because the vampire recovered faster than I thought he would. I wound up being thrown back towards a wall, and had to struggle to keep hold of the blade as the vamp snarled at me. "It's you! The freak that killed the others! You won't get away now. We're on your trail!"

I winced slightly at that. I apparently had a reputation among the vampires, and some enemies as well. Shaking off the errant thought, I leaped forward, and used my free hand to divert the lunging vampire's head upwards as the blade drew close. I managed to improvise some kind Judo pivot into a clothesline, and decapitated the vampire as it rushed past me.

It took ten seconds or so to realize I had just instinctively seen a monster, snuck up on it, and killed it in the middle of the day with a mishmash of armed and unarmed martial arts. That could have gone wrong in so many different ways, but it didn't somehow. I acted almost without thought, and just handled the problem. I suppose there were a couple of factors in play for this though. Hand-to-Hand Asskicking, Shed Tears in Hell, and even Walking, Talking Bestiary had to have been part of it, but my memories of the past twenty eight years surely had a part too.

It was something to consider later, though. For now, I needed to get out of here. I can't be found with a decapitated corpse, and I wasn't interested in hiding the body. I covered my tracks enough by eliminating my scent from the rest of his nest.

I quickly got in the challenger, and drove to the nearest highway. I would need to make distance from the rest of the vampires he eluded towards being near. I was two towns away, and in a cheap motel when I felt pressure behind my eyes. I rubbed at them a little, and found my sight changing to a group of at least thirty vampires running around the town at night looking for something, and sniffing the air. I wanted to get a closer look at them for familiar faces, but found my vision going towards a college town. My sight zoomed in on a cordoned off area with fire trucks hosing down a building. I felt like I remembered this from somewhere, and realized where it was immediately after, when I saw a tall young man loading a shotgun behind an impala. It was with this realization that I felt my eyes clear, and the hotel room returned to my vision.

So, Azazel killed Jessica, Sam and Dean are off to hunt him, and I have at least thirty vampires hunting me. I was leery of getting in contact with Sam and Dean before, but now I know I can't. I doubt I'll be able to shake these vampires any time soon, and the angels protecting the Winchesters wouldn't look kindly on me bringing a horde of bloodsuckers to their doorstep anyway.

I collapsed on the bed in weariness, and considered my options. I really wanted to do this safely by training up my abilities in a safe location, and then hunting Jeffy down in well under a year, but that's just not going to happen. I need to shake off these vampires, or kill them. I recall hearing that if a vampire gets your scent, then it's with them for life. So, I have to assume they have my scent already. After all, they tracked me to that antique store.

I can mitigate this with the scent-blocking mixture, but it's a stopgap measure. Any slip up, and they'll be on my tail again. No, I need them dealt with, and I know the perfect thing. The Men of Letters have a nasty gun that literally tears them up inside out with irradiation. I have the schematics for the gun, and I can make it. I will need some rather rare materials though. I'll need something to produce radiation, and the cheapest method is to induce ionizing radiation.

It won't be cheap to do this right, but it's my best bet. I'll need to stock up on scent-blocking mixture, and do something way past overdue. I need to visit a tattoo parlor, and ward against possession, scrying, and other forms of magical surveillance or control. I could get a couple of trinkets that are warded, but this is better in the interim. I'd need a ritual of some kind to put the wards in my bones like Castiel does, and that'd take too much time. I need to book it further out, and get a nice buffer between us for the tattoo session.

I found someone willing to tattoo 'pagan' symbols on me with my own ink. It was harder to find someone willing to use my own ink than it was to get materials for the gun, actually. I needed specific ink because I wanted a magical resonance with the sigils. It would give me feedback when they're in use. For example, it would heat up if an angel tried to peep on me, or get colder when a demon does the same.

The tattoo artist was a scruffy looking guy that obviously needed the money. "You're sure you want all these at the same time? Most guys will spread more intricate tattoos out over multiple sessions. The harder it is to draw, the longer it'll take." He questioned more for the act of it than anything I assume.

I only give a terse nod in response. I wasn't thrilled about tattoos, to be honest. I never had any before, and didn't see the appeal. Well, I didn't before it was the last line of defense against possession. I was surprised at myself though. I didn't make a peep the whole time. It wasn't comfortable, and it did hurt. I just managed to bull through it. I guess Shed Tears in Hell had a hand in that, and made me glad for it. I imagine I would be getting more tattoos before long.

I managed to make it to the next town over several hours before the vamps caught the scent of the blood I spilled in the tattoo parlor. Luckily, the artist was splurging his new income at a bar, and wasn't their meal for the night. I was impressed at how convenient being a Prophet made keeping tabs on people. I might not have much control over when I get the visions, but, so far, they all seemed helpful to me in some way.

I managed to procure some dead man's blood in syringes as a back up, and decided to start this hunt. I had already put the gun together, and knew it would work. The only downside to using it was the consequences it might bring. In the show, they ended up bringing the Alpha's attention to them for using items like this to kill hordes of vampires. He deemed them unsporting, and sought to intervene. I wasn't sure how to fight that guy. He was the fastest monster in the show, and the only thing that might kill him is the Colt.

I knew Daniel Elkins had the colt right now, but I couldn't take it without messing up the 'Grand Plan for The Apocalypse'. Which meant, it was as radioactive as the Winchesters. My best bet was to fight them fair and square, and keep it as a trump card. I would be using the visions I received to track, isolate, and eliminate the vampires.

Luckily, they just so happened to be in the town over. If they followed the same pattern, then they'd disperse in packs of three to try to catch my scent. I even managed to get a number on them. Fifty one vampires were hunting me down. I had seventeen packs to knock off, and not a lot of time before they regrouped. They usually caught up when they've been through the town. This town wasn't too large, but it wasn't small either. It would take several hours to sniff around it all.

My goal for the night was three packs in three hours. That's what led to me crouching behind a park bench waiting on Vampire Goon A to get closer. He'd done several sweeps of the park in concentric circles trying to sniff me out, but I'd already masked my scent, and magic'd my body heat and silenced myself. He'd have to actually spot me to find me.

I could hear him sniff loudly, and knew he was close enough now. I managed to vault the bench in swift movement while bringing the machete down on his neck. I let the body thump down while sprinting towards a tree nearby. I just barely managed to get up on a branch when Vampire Goon B and C ran over yelling. "Victor!/Vic!"

I used their moment of grief to pull a real life Assassin's Creed. I managed to get one's head off, but the other only got a bad cut on his shoulder. "You bastard freak!" Vampire Goon B yelled at me as he lunged forward, fangs showing.

I was able to push the headless corpse in his path, and jammed a syringe of Dead Man's Blood into him as he stumbled. I took a step back to watch as he got dizzy, and collapsed to the ground. I kicked him over, and spoke angrily to him. "Why are you chasing me, and why are you all calling me a freak?"

He seemed to regain some clarity, and tried to bite me. Unfortunately for him, he misjudged his distance and bit into some dirt. "Go to hell!"

I sighed in disappointment. I didn't have time to interrogate, and he wasn't talkative. So, I finished him off, and went after my next target. This next group stuck closer together while searching near the grocery store. I managed to get one by throwing a syringe of dead man's blood, but the other two rushed me. I had backpedal to avoid a bit, and was thrown five feet by the other. I used the momentum to roll into a crouch, and slashed one of their legs off when they followed me. That bought me a second to stand, and barely caught the other's neck to stop the bite for my own. "This is it, freak!" The legless vampire crowed from the ground a second before I managed to take off the other's head.

I took a second to evaluate the others. One was doped up on bad blood, and the other was struggling to stand with one leg. I decided to finish the mouthy one first, and swung the machete for her neck. She blocked well enough that she only lost a hand, but I kept at it. Eventually, she lost her head, and I tried again to interrogate the third. "Why are you calling me a freak?" I asked, but already knew I wouldn't get an answer. I was proven true when she snarled pitifully at me. I withheld the sigh this time, and left her a foot shorter before trying to get another pack before they regrouped. I wound up killing another pack before hightailing it out of town. I didn't want to face the vampires or the authorities in the morning.

This was my routine for another three days. I would go into town, get a tattoo, leave a scent in the air, and lay in wait for them. I took out another three packs that first night, but they wised up after that, and went out in larger groups. I had to be very careful, but managed to take out six the second night. On the third night, I only took out three that strayed from the nest to look for a quick snack.

Unfortunately, none of them talked, and I was left fumbling through my memories for a reason they called me a freak. I could infer they hated me just because of my kill count over the last eight years or so. I don't even know for sure how high that is, but obviously it was noticed. I was all set to continue luring them to towns for traps when I got a different kind of vision.

I saw myself luring a trio of vampires into a warehouse only to find several more breaking through the windows. I was surprised to see them continue to pour in, and found more than I expected. There must have been several hiding in the wings because I counted an even thirty. It was then that one walked forward to gloat. "The great Michael Doyle caught like a rat!" He laughed a little, and I finally recognised one of these guys.

This was someone he saved from being turned nearly six years ago. "Kyle? Aren't you one of those kids I saved from being turned? Why are you here?" I asked in befuddlement.

He seemed to puff up in anger. "You didn't save me! I wanted to turn. I wanted to be powerful like you! But no! Michael the Freak is the only who gets to decide who turns! Well too bad! Now, I'm stronger than you, and you're going to pay for it all!" That's where my vision started to shift, and I saw Sam and Dean hiking in a forest with a small group somewhere. Then, my vision cleared again.

I felt myself droop in disbelief at the situation even as my mind whirred. A vampire fanboy saw me use peak human abilities to kill vampires, got jealous, and rounded up a horde to kill me for it. I didn't kill his brother, or fail to save his mom. It wasn't any of those cliche tropes. No, just an edgy teenager with anger issues. On a side note, Sam and Dean are going after a Wendigo.

I had to decide my course of action now. I can guess where that warehouse is because my next stop is already planned out, and abandoned warehouses are few in the town. So, I have a chance to lure every vamp hunting me into one building. I could kill them all with the Vampire Irradiation Gun, or avoid the trap entirely. I could probably lessen the numbers enough for them to run away, but that leaves the risk they'll just come back again. I already know the leader has my scent, and I also don't remember seeing him sneaking around tracking me down. So, I doubt I can lure him out without overwhelming numbers to secure him.

I can probably get away with using the gun this time, but I'll need to back off the vampires lest the Alpha take offense. I need to focus on the demon, and this is an unneeded distraction. I was somewhat willing to do this the hard way before, but knowing the reason for it all drained me of that willingness. Honestly, teenagers are the worst.

I managed to recreate the same steps I saw in my vision, and even managed to react like they surprised me. I only stopped when he started on his spiel. "You didn't save me! I wanted to turn. I wanted to be powerful like you!..."

I cut him off in anger and disappointment. "Okay, that's enough of that." I pulled out the Vampire Irradiation Gun, and let loose. I had to admit it was anticlimactic the way they all died. The gun managed to change their blood via radiation into literal poison. They burned from the inside out, and I was left in a multiple homicide crime scene. "I can kind of see his point of view though… This is not sporting at all.." I mumbled in slight conflict before taking off.

I needed to get at least two states away from this crime scene before I felt safe. The last thing I needed was the police taking me in. I decided to head south, and try my luck in Georgia. If I had time, then I might even stop by some of my favorite scenes from The Walking Dead. It might be fun to do the tourist thing for once. Well, as much of a tour as it is to visit a parallel earth's film site of a show that hasn't aired yet… Yeah, maybe I'll just find a nice hotel.

Either way it took two days to make it to Atlanta, and I started up on the antiques trade once again. I had gotten the act down well enough, and didn't have any trouble getting enough to rent out a hunting cabin for a couple of weeks. It seemed to be my best bet at the moment. I needed seclusion to work out my next move.

My cabin turned out to be surprisingly accommodating. There was a well, septic, and a generator out back. I wouldn't be using an outhouse which was a gift unto itself. My grandparents had one, and it was not pleasant. The closest neighbors were miles away, and I had an excess of space to experiment with magic, or just relax.

I had managed to settle in fairly well when I received another vision of Sam and Dean. I was able to see Dean fire a flare gun into the back of a Wendigo, burning it alive.

I withheld a grimace as I pondered these visions. I was slightly worried that I'd continue receiving updates on the Winchesers like I received News Alerts in my email everyday. I'd managed to put email filters on the supernatural updates from around the world, but my visions were trickier. I couldn't stop them altogether because I might need a little foresight to survive here. I wondered if I could train myself to focus more on my personal future, and not 'The Winchester Chronicles', or whatever Chuck was calling it.

I settled in at the cabin, and performed the usual deterrents like angel glyphs, goofer dust, salt circles, etc. I wasn't going to be here forever, but I wanted to sleep well while I was. I was somewhat surprised that I managed to get a full night's rest, but decided Normal Life had to be doing something for me. Going by my experiences so far, I'd be fine if I kept all the supernatural mojo private, but when I started hunting something or profiting from it I had issues. I imagine using witchcraft to turn a profit wasn't classified as normal, and let the vampires find me. Of course, when I started targeting the vamps, I wasn't normal either. So, if I wanted to avoid monster attacks, then I would need to find a mundane way to earn money.

That could wait until I got my soul back though. First order of business was to determine how to kill Jeffy. There were several ways shown in the series. There's the demon killing knife in Ruby's hands, the Colt, the Demon Tablet has recipes and spells designed to counter demons, the witch Rowena invented a demon killing spell, and, my personal favorite, burning their bones.

Apparently demons are legitimately just malevolent spirits amped up to a hundred. It was shown that Bobby could light up a demon with their bones, and cause harm and even kill them. That's where I'd like to start. I have an ability to locate anyone, anywhere, thanks to being the Prophet of God. I would bet that those bones could be traced by locating Jeffrit the CrossRoads Demon. There was obviously a connection, and I imagine it was traceable with some practice.

I felt something in me shift slightly as I settled on a direction, and smirked slightly. "Now, like any man coming into his mind magic mojo, I need to center myself, and find the Force." I cracked a small joke to myself, and winced internally. I was somewhat glad no one heard me making Star Wars references to myself. It was bad enough I talked to myself, I didn't want people to know I made myself cringe.

Meditation was hard to get down. Fighting came to me like second nature, magic seemed to be as easy as breathing, even foreign languages were mastered without a thought. Meditation received no perks, and was something I would have to train in to do right. Oddly enough, that encouraged me to succeed even more.

I wasn't disappointed that my perks made things easier, because I needed them to survive. I can't imagine what would have happened if a horde of vampires tried to hunt the old me down. I wasn't out of shape before, but my highschool days on the football team were long gone. I barely remembered the karate I had done as a kid, and I wouldn't know where to begin on foreign languages, let alone magic. No, I was extremely thankful for all of that, but it was fulfilling in its own way to practice something from scratch.

I would spend most of the morning at the cabin doing physical exercises to keep in shape, and acquaint myself with my fighting skills. In the evening I would start off with meditation, and end the night by going through the knowledge stuffed into my head for anything useful.

I found that my fighting skills were off the charts. I remember that most serious martial artists would master between three and five styles in their whole life, if they really tried. I had yet to find a style that I wasn't capable of. I would need to practice them further to build muscle memory, but I knew the how to's and why's for every style from boxing to iaido. I would need to remember to try out more weapons to find my limits at some point.

The Men of Letters had more than just magic in their knowledge base. They were steadily applying mysticism to technology, and had vast archives on everything supernatural. That meant sorting through it all would take time. I would have to settle for manually reviewing occult and mystic materials to pull certain information to the forefront of my mind. For instance, I was laser focused on vampires and how to kill them recently, and was able to pull up lots of information related to the subject, and now it was truly part of my knowledge base. I could rebuild the vampire irradiation gun from scrap if I had to.

I reckoned I'd have to do something similar for the rest to truly make this information stick in my mind. Luckily, my mind was performing at the peak of humanity like the rest of my body. I would get through everything eventually, but would focus on witchcraft, rituals, warding, sigils, demons, angels, and basic monster lore for now. I knew this was a lot, but it seemed the most prudent for my situation. I would also verify what I could through practical applications as I did so to both test my magical aptitude, and strengthen my innate magic.

There was a reason older witches were more powerful. It wasn't just experience that gave them strength. Channeling the energy of the universe through yourself had consequences. Most of them are beneficial like keeping the body brimming with vitality and magical power, increasing natural reserves, but others are not that helpful. Like the fact that anything with a little awareness will notice your body thrumming with power. It meant stealth would become less of an option without proper measures taken to hide such things. I had no doubt that if older witches didn't use a hex bag, or ritual to mask their magic, then every monster in miles would rush to chew them up. Luckily, I had realized this pretty quickly, and made up an amulet to mask such things.

So, I was free to start working through over a thousand years of lore. Something that quickly became apparent to me was how little practical knowledge they had for most of that time. Sure, they kept record of everything they could, and that was a lot, but they didn't really get a lot of the witchcraft until they destroyed Rowena's coven to plunder their spellcraft.

Actually, they didn't even do that themselves. They sicced the church on them, and snuck away with the good stuff in the aftermath. Heck, it wasn't even until the early 1900's that they even started actively coordinating hunters, or providing others with their information. It was almost like they were a secret society hellbent on scavenging every bit of lore possible, just to have it. Something happened in their hierarchy around World War Two though, and they found a conscience. They found out about the Nazi vampires, A.K.A. The Thull, and decided to put them down. Well, they decided to help someone else put them down, but it was a step up from their usual Modus Operandi. Things started to get better from there on. They actively worked to contain the supernatural where they could, and where they couldn't they kept record of it.

I'm not sure where in the last twenty or so years that they started training grunts inhouse like I was, but it is a worrying sign. Especially when I look back on the indoctrination I was put through. They had me vilifying anything non human, and even trained me to kill it on sight. I remember there were, if not good, then neutral monsters out there. I think a Hunter named Garth even became a werewolf at one point, but the Winchesters let him live. I'm not positive that the Winchesters are the be all and end all on good vs. evil, but it is something to consider. I should probably watch any further contact with the Men of Letters in case I'm declared unnatural.

One thing that dulled my worry for the future was how easily magic was coming to me. I hadn't found a ritual or spell I couldn't perform. Sure, there were several I abstained from for personal reasons. I wasn't going to sacrifice a goat to see if I could pull a Nazareth turning water to wine, but nothing I had actually failed on trying yet. I wondered if this was what Rowena felt like all the time. Magic was as natural to me as anything else, and it only required the correct leverage to perform a task. Making lead into gold could be as simple as a ten hour ritual under the full moon, or as dangerous as getting dragon's blood to use to transmute the substance.

As a consequence of my magical studies, I had had to go on multiple shopping trips for materials, and was something of an odd duck to the locals. There was only one herbal remedy shop in town, and I was frequently seen stopping by for orders. I had to actually bribe the shop owner to procure some specific reagents for me like myr, natural spring water, wolfsbane, and a variety of other foreign materials.

It took over a week, but I managed to work through an excessive amount of magical lore, and was familiar enough with monsters, mythology, and whatever else seemed helpful at that point. I might not have mastered the knowledge, but it was still available like a half forgotten song that just comes to you after some thought.

On the other hand, My meditation was bearing fruits. I was able to regularly check in on Sam and Dean, and use their familial link to spot John. I saw them move from a lake in Wisconsin to multiple airports across multiple counties, and finally saw them head towards St. Louis. Oddly enough, John was always within two counties of the two. He seemed to be hunting on his own, but close enough to swoop in if needed. I was still ambivalent about the guy, myself. He seemed to care, but was also part of the problem. Then again, I'm not sure I can judge a man without going through something similar. I'd never been married, or had kids. So, I don't know how I'd react to a demon ruining it all. I just hope I don't find out.

Anyway, I managed to train my Localisation enough to spot John from his blood ties to Sam and Dean. I reckon I can try finding Jeffy's bones. I was getting ready for that by loading up the Challenger with supplies, and packing up everything else. I imagine a seer peeking on a crossroads demon might not be considered normal, and I'll need the option to book it.

"Okay, Jeffy, let's see where you came from." I mumbled as I settled into a trance. I found Jeffy fairly quickly. He was in a town on the border of Mexico and the United States called Nuevo Laredo. Oddly, I didn't get the feeling that he noticed me. I was surprised, but happy at my luck. I had prepared myself for him holding up like a turtle after this.

I tried to feel for connections, and felt small tendrils shooting off from him. Some of them felt like sulfur, and I imagined these were his contracts. I looked for one that felt the oldest, and found a nearly invisible cord that I followed. I found a grave in a small town in Louisiana.

I pulled myself from the trance, and tried to find its name. I felt like smiling as I saw it was Crowley, Louisiana. "I've a feeling someone is messing with me on that name."

I hurried to the Challenger, and started the engine. I was nearly out of the forest when I felt something bestial skulking around in the woods. I frowned slightly as I considered whether I should take care of Jeffy, or settle this beast before leaving. My mind was made up when I saw a family of four setting up their campsite nearby.

I pulled the car over, and cursed my conscience as I try to Localize where that bestial feeling came from. I got a flash of a gaunt rabid humanoid thing running through the trees. "Dang, what are the odds? I've been camping out in a Wendigo's hunting grounds."

I realized that packing up might have saved me from being on the defensive from this guy. He might have snuck up on me while I gathered my stuff. I remembered Sam and Dean using a flare gun to off one of them, and decided not to mess with the classics. I tracked him through the foliage to a cave nearby. Like, literally within a mile of my cabin. I was dumbfounded by my luck. "Yep, Normal Life was worth the C.P." I mumbled to myself before approaching.

The big guy had been on his way out apparently because he was staring me down as I approached. I didn't even give him time to react as I fired a flare gun from each hand. One actually missed, but the other nailed him in the shoulder. I watched morbidly as he howled even as he burned, and decided to add marksmanship training to my schedule.

I managed to make it out of the forest and on the road within the hour, but it was an hour of introspection for me. I had been within a mile of a man-eating monster for weeks on end, and never noticed. I wanted very badly to find time to figure out the triggers for my Normal Life perk, but had more pressing concerns. It would take about a day to make it to Crowley, and I needed to book it before something else popped up to smack me around.

Crowley turned out to be oddly pleasant for being the birthplace of a demon. They even boasted being the 'Rice Capital of The World' due to it being the main export. I decided not to judge it badly for one bad egg. I was still going to desecrate a grave before I left though.

I didn't bother with a motel room, and just stopped at a diner for supper. I wasn't expecting to sleep tonight. I pulled into the cemetery I'd seen before, and tried to sense where the tendril led from Jeffy to here. I wasn't surprised Jeffy's bones were in the older parts of the cemetery. Most souls need time to turn demon, let alone make their way up being a crossroads demon.

I eventually found his tombstone, "This must be you, 'Peter Johnson, 1872- 1902'" I murmured to myself, and decided to get to work. I need to dig him up first. I had barely gotten a foot deep when I felt something hungry and sulfuric pop up near me. "Don't tell me he left Hellhounds to guard this place." I said in dismay.

Hell hounds were tricky beasts to fight. They were invisible for starters, very fast, very strong, and very hungry. I'd not managed to find holy oil, and that meant I couldn't make glasses to see them. I'd need to play defense, but I had my own advantages. I could vaguely sense a pack of four circling me, and I had a pistol with unlimited ammo to use. "Okay, pups, let's see if you earned those awards." I quipped at them as I willed a silencing cantrip onto the muzzle. I didn't need the cops coming to investigate gunshots.

I tried to use my Supernatural Senses to feel when they lunged at me, but had little luck as they managed to push me around between them. I finally got tired of being tossed around, and used my trusty Crowbar and smashed one on the head. I could tell it staggered, and fired a point blank shot to its neck. I'm not sure if I killed it, but I could tell it collapsed due to the dust flying up.

I wasn't able to enjoy it for long because another leaped at me, and managed to bite into my shoulder. I flinched back at the pain, and dropped the Crowbar. Luckily, I still had the gun, and a good approximation of the beast's torso now. I fired three shots into its sternum, and saw it send up a cloud of dust as well.

Not letting another hound lunge at me, I jumped to the side, and tried to retrieve the Crowbar. I wasn't able to get it because a paw print smashed into the ground on top of it, and left it in the depression. This turned out to be helpful though because I could determine where one of them was. I managed to clip it at least if the yowl it let out was any indication.

I was able to feel the other sneaking behind me, and ducked low just in time for it to smash the one I had shot. I worked quickly before they regained their footing, and unloaded a clip onto the two of them until I stopped hearing their pants.

I listened for anything else, and tried sensing for any more, but failed to find any. I relaxed minutely, and went to the Challenger for some healing poultices I'd made in advance. It'd help heal my shoulder quicker than normal, and I'd be fine by morning.

I had to grit my teeth as I dug out the grave though, because the sensation wasn't pleasant. I finally got to the coffin, and opened it to find an old skeleton. "Well, I don't know what I expected, but this was a little anticlimactic." I sighed, and poured salt and lighter fluid on the bones. " Tine" I murmured the Gaelic cantrip for firestarting, and backed off as it lit up like a bonfire.

I winced, and backed up as I felt something intrinsic to me shift, and black lettering appear all over my body. I watched in a daze at what had to be the contract for my soul literally burned away. I had to endure the process, and felt like I was being burned alive.

When the lettering vanished I sagged into a puddle of sweat, and was heaving for air. "Ha, ha, ha! Take that, Jeffy!" I cheered in delirious joy. I'd managed to get my soul back! I wasn't damned to Hell, and had a chance at life again.

I fell onto my back, and looked to the night's sky just letting it sink in. I'd managed to avoid Jeffy's minions, hellhounds, and whatever release protections he had in waiting. I imagine he never knew what hit him. He probably left the Hellhounds here as a safety measure against vandals instead of hunters after his bones.

I managed to pull myself together, and cleaned up anything that would lead back to me. I didn't leave much evidence, but it never hurt to be thorough. After an inspection, I was leaving town to find a cheap motel somewhere.

I found a spring in my step the whole way. I'd even tipped the clerk at the motel for some reason. I guess getting a new lease on life is therapeutic. All that cheer lasted until I saw a familiar looking envelope on the motel bed. I looked to the address, and felt a shiver at the name.

" SacrificeMichael"