Dean was sat in the chapel with a notebook in her lap and an ink pen in her grasp. Her escort today was a small young woman with blonde hair, Jane, who stood as a sturdy guard by the door. The brunette could feel Jane's eyes on her, her gaze was heavy, and it made her nervous. She had a feeling the vampire had questions for her but bit them back. She would not share her thoughts, and Dean wouldn't ask. It'd been several days now and she hadn't become comfortable at all.

This letter was a first attempt to see how closely she was monitored. Would they read it once she asked for it to be sent off? It also doubled as a plea for help, which she refused to be ashamed by. She'd written two copies; one for her home convent, and one to Father Karras. She told them that Gabriel was dead, and that she was being held against her will within the castle. She refrained from using terms like "vampire" and "undead", and hoped that they wouldn't send some poor innocent human into the nest. She had more hope that they would try to negotiate her release from afar.

While the convent didn't readily use telephones, they did have them. And she hoped that Father Karras would understand more than anyone the danger she was in here, and do something. He'd been the one to warn her, hadn't he? Did that mean she was a sacrifice? Was she on her own? She pushed down the betrayal she felt at the thought and ripped the papers from the books and folded them in thirds small enough to fit into an envelope.

Once that was done, she leaned back against the rise of the pew she sat in and looked up at the stained panels of the wise men and their fallen friend. How much of it was true? Her own Catholic bible had no mention of Artaban and she had combed through it multiple times. And he was only mentioned once in the Biblical Magi. Such a minor character in religious history, but the curiosity of it was shaking her already fragile foundation.

"My lady?" Jane asked, her voice soft and cautious. The girl had seen her ex best friends face as she peered up at the glass, and her own curiosity had won out over orders. She sincerely hoped Aro would be in a forgiving mood later. While she was not forbidden from talking to the human, she was not to scare her, or lead her in a potentially fatal direction. That included being as friendly with her as she wanted to be. Poor Alec had suffered her whining over it for hours.

Dean looked up in surprise. Jane was standing just behind her shoulder and Dean hadn't even heard her move. It made her hair stand up, reminding her how deadly this beautiful girl really was. "Jane," she acknowledged mirroring Janes questioning tone.

"Is there something on your mind that I can help assuage?"

"Um, I don't know. I was just thinking about the Wiseman again. Do you know what happened to them? To Artaban?"

Jane shook her head, feeling settled by the apparently harmless line of thought. "No, I don't. I've never really subscribed to any religious beliefs." Dean's face fell, and the girl wanted to remedy that, as well as kick things into gear. Her master was being hard headed, and personally, she didn't see what was so bad about his situation. He got to fall in love repeatedly, and when he got bored, she'd die, and he would get a break from her. Starting all over again seemed fun to her, but she'd never met anyone she loved enough to entertain the idea.

She had her brother, of course, but he was already immortal. She didn't have to worry about such things when it came to him. There was no point on dwelling on it, and unless you're an empath, no use trying to sympathize. A smirk curved up the corners of her lips. "Perhaps you should ask master Caius. He's quite old. He may know more than anyone, besides masters Aro and Marcus."

"I think Sulpicia would claw my eyes out if I asked Aro," Dean chuckles, picturing the antagonistic brunette, and then shuddering at the image that followed. It was sort of amusing, thinking about the way Aro and Sulpicia's personalities clashed. She genuinely wondered how that worked. They'd been together for centuries, so they must be doing something right.

"Ask master Caius," Jane says again with conviction. "He'll tell you whatever he can."

Dean nods, taking that as her cue to stand up. "Well, I've got nothing else to lose, I suppose. Can you take me to him?"

She really shouldn't, but Jane felt the childish excitement at the possibility of drama. With a giggle hidden between her lips she nods and turns on her heals to lead the way to the blonde kings study.

~~/~~

Caius' study was smaller than she thought it'd be. It was still a good size, but for some reason she thought he'd have claimed a room far larger than one person truly needed to 'study' in. Jane had shoved her in and closed the door behind her, disappearing before she could be addressed or reprimanded. Dean nearly wanted to curse at her for putting her on the spot like this, but the only ears that had ever heard her say a bad word had been Gabriel, and she didn't make a habit out of it. Her chest began to sink, but she pushed the feeling away as quickly as it'd come.

The blonde king was sitting at his desk, red eyes on her with a pale brow raised. His hair was brushing over his shoulders, clad in black as they usually were. His large lips were pressed together slightly, not quite in a line, but he hadn't been expecting her. He had a fountain pen posed mid word on a long page of paper, held in between his slender fingers in a careful grip.

Dean's hands began to sweat as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and avoided eye contact by looking around the room. Rich, dark wooden floor boards and matching furniture greeted her. As well as plush rugs and carpets, two high backed chairs with a table full of art supplies discarded on them. A half done sketch was lying open on top, with a charcoal bit lying across the paper uncaringly. The curls of the woman's hair flounced over her half drawn breast, and Dean looked away from it quickly, discomfort she couldn't explain causing her stomach to want to heave. Although looking away from one drawing only caused her to notice several other paintings of the same naked woman arranged in organized chaos throughout the room.

"Is there a purpose behind your visit, or are you simply here to stimulate your own fickle brain?"

Caius' words snapped like a whip in the otherwise silent room and forced Deans blue eyes to lock onto his, ready to defend herself. The mans jaw was set in his usual tense state, eyes forced into a glare he didn't feel in his soul. Dean bit her bottom lip once again before standing up straighter and squaring her shoulders.

"I wanted to ask you some questions about the Wiseman Artaban."

Caius' brows raise in genuine surprise and he leans back, settling his pen down in a cup on the desk. "And why would that have piqued your curiosity?"

"I'm a nun," she states as if it were obvious and shrugs her shoulders. She dares to walk closer, gesturing to the chair across from him in a silent question. He gives a stiff nod and she sits down, crossing her ankles to the side and folding her fingers together on her knee. "How come he isn't any of the Catholic scriptures?"

Caius scoffs but doesn't divert his attention away from her. "The Catholic church hides a great many things, even from it's own flock. Artaban was the first immortal. The greatest sinner, second only to Lucifer Morningstar himself. The one person who was able to defy both God and the Devil and get away with it."

"By becoming a vampire?"

"Yes. The story goes that he was very sick when he began the journey to witness the birth of Jesus Christ and both God and the Devil wanted his soul for themselves. But he'd been in league with a powerful witch coven who gave him an elixir that granted him immortality. It came with the price of eternal thirst."

"If he's the first, why isn't he king of your kind?"

At this, Caius sat up a little straighter himself, looking stricken. The look scared Dean, making her back pedal her thoughts. "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean- of course, I'm sure you're doing a fine job. I mean...is he dead or something?"

"I hadn't given it much thought," Caius interrupts her. "I'd always kind of chalked it up to an old story. He's been gone since before the rule of the Romanians, if he were real." His gaze looks far away for a moment, peering through Dean as if she weren't really there. He stands, suddenly, and rounds the desk to stand over her.

Dean jumps to her feet, not quite understanding what's going on but her heart rate picks up at his proximity and the new look on his face. He's nearly smiling.

"Thank you," he says, making her head spin. "I do believe you've inspired me," he continues without further explanation.

"Um...you're welcome, I guess."

Caius tenderly pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, shocking and confusing the girl as she looks up at him. They are standing close, nearly chest to chest. She can feel the cold radiating off his skin, and it causes goose bumps to spread across her skin, but she finds herself wanting to pull him closer. His next words are soft, and full of an emotion she can't place.

"For the first time in a long time, I think there may be hope."

~~/~~

The last thing Dean remembered that night was going to sleep. She hadn't had vivid dreams since she'd been here, and so finding herself in one now was nearly a shock. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, though, considering the events of the day. Things had gotten so weird for her, and she was partially thankful that she was a lucid dreamer.

The sky was dark, not a cloud, nor a star in the sky. The air was crisp, the smell of baked apples floated in from a cottage window near by. Dean was approaching a fire. The flames reached high into the sky and had several figures sitting around it. One such figure was standing right beside the flames, clothed in dark red robes, and she had a pair of tongs in her hands. She pulled the tongs from the fire with a vial presented in the clasp.

Dean continued to approach, eyeing the belt of moon phases around the woman's hips. Suddenly, the woman looked up at her.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean gasped, stumbling backwards and nearly falling on her backside. The woman chuckled, pulling a dark red cloth from a pocket sewn into the robes and placing the hot vial of nearly black liquid into the cloth. "Who are you?" Dean asked.

"No one," she answered softly. The others around the campfire didn't seem to notice her, or otherwise were not disturbed by her presence. "But I've got something for you." She indicated to the elixir in her hands.

Dean curiously took another step forward. "What is it?"

"A cure," says the woman simply. "For what ales you and your true love."

"My...what? I'm not sick..."

The woman shakes her head. "I know this is all very confusing to you. This is a dream, Dejanna, but you must take it seriously. You are in grave danger. This will solve one of your great problems, but you must give it to your love at the right time or it will all be for naught. There are bigger threats than reincarnation and immortality on the horizon."

"I don't understand," Dean says, stress straining her voice.

The woman sighs, dropping her arms to her sides once again and her chin pointing to the floor. After a moment of contemplation, the woman looks up. "You will. Trust me. The vampire that was released in Romania is coming, and he will be mad. He will be relentless, and unpredictable. You must take care."

"Who are you and why are you so involved with my life?"

"Someone who's been watching from a distance."

Dean's head began to swirl, her vision becoming fuzzy as the real world began to call to her. "Tell me your name!"

"Hecate."

The name is barely a whisper on the wind as Dean reluctantly opens her eyes to the morning light.