We caught wind of a case in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho, that was eerily similar to a demon case that Sam and Dean had dealt with years ago. The problem was, they got the demon to tell us all their secrets, so when he was sent back to Hell, we figured the other demons would've finished him off. We weren't exactly sure if this was our guy or not, but we had to check it out. While I knew people were dying, I couldn't shake this strange excitement I had to be working a demon case.

When we walked into our new motel room, Dean's phone rang immediately. He looked at the caller ID, confused, "'Classified server'? Gotta be Devereaux, right?" He answered, "Hello?" (...) "Thank god. Frank..." He grabbed a radio receiver from Sam, "Frank, what do you got for me?" (...) "Frank, you're breaking up."

I spotted Sam acting strange, and he pressed his palm where his scar was. I walked up to him and put my hand on his arm, "You okay?"

He cleared his throat, nodded, and then went back to laying our case files out on one of the beds.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" Dean asked, "It's Dick Roman. Turn on CNN. Didn't you see him at that, uh, press conference in Phoenix? The bastard's everywhere." (...) "You sure?" (...) "No, I— I— I don't—" (...) "I don't care that they've infiltrated the luxury boat industry, Frank." (...) "Great. Call Kanye," He hung up, shaking his head.

"Frank's still stumped on Roman?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean tossed his phone on his bed, "Alright, let's do this."

"Okay, um, look at the victim profiles," Sam said, gesturing to the pictures of two blood-covered women's bodies, "Same age, same hair color, body type. The ritual mutilations line up exactly."

"Who down there would've let our demon out of the can?" Dean asked, "He squealed on his superiors. We made sure of that. I mean, he should be down under until, uh, trumpet day."

Sam shrugged, "But two women killed in the last two weeks, same parts missing, I mean, same old hunting grounds, even."

"Alright, well, we can take a swing at it. But you know it's all about the leviathans now, okay?" Dean pointed at Sam and turned away, "They're the ones we need to be huntin'."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, but, no..." He shook his head, "I mean, not right now. This one's ours, Dean. It's unfinished business, apparently."

Dean nodded, "Alright. Let's get some shut-eye and figure this out tomorrow."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I weakly laid down on the couch. I was so exhausted, I almost felt drained. I looked down at my hands and noticed that my hands and arms were almost skin and bone and covered in bruises. I shook my head and blinked my eyes, but when I opened them, nothing had changed.

I sat up quickly, hyperventilating, and looked down at the rest of me. My whole body was basically just skin and bones, and I was now sitting on a bed with white sheets in a bright white, almost blinding room.

Someone cleared their throat next to me, and I jumped. I looked up to see Crowley, looking down at me almost sympathetically.

He sat down on the bed and put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me back gently, "I told you, you need to relax. You won't get better if you don't listen to me."

I shook my head as I laid back, "What's go—"

Crowley put his finger over my lips, "Ah-ah, save your energy." He snapped his fingers, and a table with a metal pitcher and a glass appeared next to us. He picked up the pitcher and started pouring thick red liquid into the glass.

I felt an overwhelming hunger grow over me, and my mouth watered as I watched the blood fill the cup. He picked up the glass and handed it to me, and I immediately snatched it out of his hand and drank it savagely.

Crowley laughed, "Wow, you've really built up a healthy appetite."

I finished the cup and picked up the pitcher and just started drinking straight out of it. I could feel the strength filling me, and warmth burst throughout my body. I finished the pitcher and put it down. I looked down at myself, I now had drips of blood all over my white clothes, but I was no longer skin and bone, and I felt amazing. The strongest I've ever felt in my life.

"I told you this is what you needed," Crowley said, looking at me almost with admiration in his eyes, "I'm here to help you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I woke up with a start, to our police scanner going off.

"This is Unit 32. Repeat, Unit 32," A man said, "We've got another one. That's a 187. Female Caucasian, maybe late thirties, at the Henley Auto-Wash."

I sat up on the couch and watched as Sam and Dean started to stir awake too.

"Unit 32, assistance is en route," A woman said.

Sam sat up and turned on the lamp next to him.

The man sighed into the radio, "We got a real mess here, dispatch."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After getting ready, we made our way over to the crime scene and flashed our badges at one of the officers guarding the perimeter. Then he nodded at us and lifted the Do Not Cross line for us to duck under.

"Thanks," Sam nodded.

"You know, every time we do this, I wonder if today's the day," Dean said, "We walk up, flash our tin to a bunch of chompers pretending to be policemen."

"I hear you," Sam said.

A detective walked up and clasped his hand down on Sam's shoulder, "Thought you guys might show up. It's the drummer boys... Agents, uh, Bonham... And Watts, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

Dean nodded with a smile, "Yeah, absolutely."

Sam nodded, "Uh, it's a pleasure to see you again, Detective..."

"And who's this little lady?" The detective smiled at me.

"Uh," Dean chuckled, "She's our new trainee."

"Ah," The detective nodded and smiled, "Always nice to see fresh faces coming up," He held out his hand for me to shake, "Agent..."

"Uh," I shook his hand, "Prescott."

"You know what?" Sam asked, "Pardon me. Uh, what was it, Detective...?"

"Oh, no problem..." The detective laughed, "Detective Sutton," He smiled and shook Sam's hand.

"Sutton," Sam nodded.

"Sutton, yeah," Dean smiled and shook his hand, "Hi."

"Sad to say, case looks to be open again," Detective Sutton said.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked.

Detective Sutton nodded and walked over to the body, "Same tools. Same cuts. Same crazy." The victim had cuts all over her face, and her pinky finger and part of her palm were missing on her left hand. The detective sighed, "Makes sense. I mean, we didn't catch the critter last time, did we?"

"And no suspects?" Dean asked as he looked at the blood and broken glass in the back of the victim's SUV.

Detective Sutton shook his head, "Same as before. Very thorough," He cringed, "Cold-blooded."

Sam walked around to the front of the car to the driver's side and looked in.

Dean nodded, "Thank you, Detective."

"Any time," Detective Sutton said and then walked off.

Sam nodded at Dean and me as he walked back toward us and joined us to look in the back of the vehicle.

"Hey," Sam reached down and put his finger in a yellow powder. Then he sniffed it and nodded, "Sulfur."

Dean shook his head, "Damn it. Better go check on Havelock."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nora Havelock was a Wiccan that was involved in the last case. She helped us track down Jeffrey, the man who was possessed.

When we met up with her, she greeted us right away and then welcomed us into her apartment. Just inside the door, on the wall, was a sign that read, WICCAN'S WEB. It had a devil's trap between the two words, and below the name was a website: www.wiccansweb.com.

"This is it," Nora said as she closed the door behind us.

"Wiccansweb.com?" Sam asked as he looked at the sign.

Nora nodded, "Internet mail order. White magic only... Herbs and talismans," She walked past us and opened double doors to another room, where a devil's trap had been painted on the floor in the doorway. She carefully stepped around it into the room and looked back at us anxiously.

"You sure about that?" Sam asked.

"Careful, it's still drying," Nora said as we stepped closer to the room, and then she nodded, "I have a friend at the sheriff's office. I know about all the new murders. I'm doing what I can to protect myself."

We carefully stepped past the devil's trap and joined her in the room.

Nora walked behind a desk and handed Sam some papers, "I'm also translating some very old banishments."

Sam read over the papers for a moment, "Wow, uh, these are— these are good."

"Thanks. I've got an affinity," Nora smiled, "But back then, that night in that farmhouse, I was in over my head. I know that now, believe me. I will leave all that to the pros."

Dean shrugged, "Well, you helped track it down. I mean, it was some solid legwork."

Nora took the papers back from Sam, "When it came down to it, all I really knew was somebody who knew somebody who knew the right number to call. And your number is not working, by the way."

"Right, we, uh, we've had some," Sam took a deep breath, "Technical difficulties... Phone issues."

"It's a monster problem, really," Dean said.

Sam shot Dean a look and then turned his attention back to Nora, "So, uh, you haven't had any contact?"

"With the demon?" Nora asked and then shook her head, "No, thank god. I have one or two things to finish in town, and then I'm leaving."

Dean nodded, "Good choice."

"Have you found Jeffrey yet?" Nora asked.

"Who?" Dean asked.

"The man who the demon possessed," I said.

Nora nodded and squinted at Dean, "The one you almost beat to death."

"Yeah, Jeffrey," Dean said as the realization hit him, "That poor bastard."

"Some demons tend to be sentimental, don't they?" Nora asked, "Always go back to the same host if they can."

Sam looked at us and shrugged, "It's a start."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We tracked Jeffery to a vet clinic and waited for him outside in an alley. When he walked past with his dog, Dean chucked a metal garbage can lid across the alley, making a loud clattering sound to get his attention. Jeffery hesitated and looked down the alley and then decided to walk down to see what the noise was. When he was only inches away from the dumpsters we were hiding behind, we jumped out. Dean grabbed him from behind, holding the demon blade to his throat, and Sam and I splashed holy water on him. Jeffrey gasped, but didn't react to the holy water.

Sam furrowed his brow, "Jeffrey?"

"Jeffrey?" Dean asked and let him go.

"Okay," Sam said, putting his hand on Jeffrey's shoulder, "Look, it's okay. You're okay, you're okay."

"Sorry. Just had to make sure," Dean said as he tucked the knife away.

"Make sure of what... That I peed my pants today?" Jeffrey asked, and his dog started whimpering at us. He looked down at it, "Aw, you scared my dog," He said and crouched down to comfort the dog.

"Uh, we did not want to do that," Sam said.

"Listen, Jeff, we got to, uh, we got to talk," Dean said.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jeffrey welcomed us into his sparsely furnished apartment, and we each took a seat.

Dean looked around, almost as if he felt pity for Jeffrey, "Well, this is, uh..."

Jeffrey nodded and unclipped his dog's leash, "I know what it is."

Sam sighed, "Look, I know it must've been, um, hard."

"What do you guys want from me?" Jeffrey asked.

"Well, um, we're pretty sure the demon that possessed you... Is back," Dean said.

"What?" Jeffrey asked anxiously, "What do you mean? You exorcised him, right? He's..." He stood up, breathing heavily, "He's supposed to be in Hell."

Sam stood up and put his hand on Jeffrey's shoulder, "Jeffrey, look, please just calm down. Just have a seat, please."

Jeffrey nodded, and he and Sam sat back down, "I don't understand."

"Three more women have been murdered over the past two weeks," Dean said.

Jeffrey exhaled sharply, starting to cry, "No, no."

Dean nodded, "Same vic profiles, same forensics, crime scene dusted with sulfur. We've got to assume that it's him."

"But we're here now, okay?" Sam looked at him sympathetically, "So, if he comes after you, we'll nail him just like we did last time."

"What was her name?" Jeffrey asked.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The last one he killed," Jeffrey said.

I furrowed my brow, "Anna Paxton."

Jeffrey nodded, "Marjorie Willis. She's the next one on the list."

"List?" Sam asked and shook his head, "What list?"

"The demon used to recite it all the time, like a grocery list. He burned it in my head..." Jeffrey said, "The names of all the women he was gonna kill."

"He already had his victims chosen?" Sam asked.

"And put in a line in an order," Jeffrey said.

I shook my head and looked at Sam and Dean, "Do demons usually plan it out like that?"

Dean shook his head, "Demons aren't usually into the obsessive serial-killer crap. You know, they're more just kind of all-around evil. Why would he do this?" He looked at Sam, who shrugged, unsure himself.

"He said it was his job," Jeffrey said. Then there was a knock on the door, and he held his finger to his mouth for us to stay quiet. He walked over and answered the door.

A man peered into the room around Jeffrey, "Jeffrey, did your, uh, guests sign in?"

"So, what do you think?" Sam whispered to us.

"I think we really helped mess this poor son of a bitch up," Dean whispered, "Look at him. He's got a state-assigned dad."

Jeffrey closed the door when he finished talking to the man and walked back over to us.

Sam stood up, "Uh, Jeffrey, look, I'm gonna go, uh, I'm gonna go find Marjorie Willis, keep her on watch, okay?"

Jeffrey looked at him, nervously.

"Don't worry," Dean said, "Maddi and I are gonna stay here just in case."

After Sam left, the three of us got settled back on the couch, and Jeffrey held his dog on his lap.

Jeffrey sighed and pet his dog, "When you left me at the ER, I had three smashed fingers, five teeth out, a broken wrist, nose, cheekbone, collarbone. I had to get 160 stitches," He exhaled and laughed, "Mugged. The doctor on duty said it looked like I got caught in the Spanish Inquisition."

Dean nodded, "And we're the good guys."

Jeffrey nodded, "They patched me up, mostly. But I lost my job, my health insurance. I just started to drink and drift, and I got lost. Had some kind of mental break. And I started to talk... About what happened."

Dean shook his head, "Aw, man. Never tell. Never... Never."

"I know that now, believe me," Jeffrey said.

"So, let me guess," Dean said, "Drunk tank, to psych eval, to 72-hour forced hold, to a nice long stay at an institution of their choice."

Jeffrey nodded, "Yes."

Dean sighed, "It's happened to friends of ours."

"For a long time, I didn't care. The truth was more important than where I was," Jeffrey shook his head, "I was in no shape to cope with the outside world."

"Well, hey, you got out, you know?" Dean shrugged, "Holding it together."

"And now the demon is back," Jeffrey said.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry, man. I mean it... About all of it, you know?"

"You saved my life," Jeffrey looked at Dean very seriously, who shied away from the compliment, "I owe you for it. I know that. I owe a lot of people for getting even this far. I..." He hesitated and then furrowed his brow, "Crap."

"What?" I asked.

"If he isn't already circling the next woman, Marjorie, then I— I think I might know where he is," Jeffrey said, "He had this special place... Where he kept souvenirs... Where he nested."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" Dean asked.

"I didn't want to go," Jeffrey looked down, ashamed.

Dean shook his head, "You don't have to go. We'll handle it."

"I do. I have to," Jeffrey said, very seriously.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Excitement filled me as Jeffrey, Dean, and I pulled up in front of an old brick building that had graffiti all over it and the fence surrounding it.

Dean pulled out his phone and checked it, "Damn it... No service."

Jeffrey looked next to him at his dog in the backseat, "Good girl. You stay. Here's some jerky," He handed her some, "Stay."

Dean looked back at him, "Thing's not gonna pee in here, is it?"

"Um, I don't know," Jeffrey said.

Dean sighed, and the three of us stepped out of the car.

"So, he'd get you this far, and then he'd shut your lights out, yeah?" Dean asked.

"For some reason, he was very secretive about this place. But after a while, he'd only really sort of cover my eyes when we walked in," Jeffrey said.

Dean nodded, "Okay, you think you can get us back there?"

Dean and I walked into the building first with our flashlights, Jeffrey had his eyes closed, trying to remember with a hand on each of our shoulders.

"Red door down the hallway," Jeffrey said.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, there is," He pulled out his demon blade, and we continued walking down the hallway until we stood in front of the door.

Jeffrey opened his eyes, "This must be it."

We walked through the door and into a large open room, there were symbols painted all over the windows.

Dean grabbed Jeffrey's arm and pulled him over to the side, "Alright, stay over here. Okay? You just stay here. Don't move," Then he nodded at me and we continued walking until we spotted a man chained to a chair in the center of the room. Dean looked at me, "What the hell?" He shined his flashlight back at Jeffrey, who looked terrified, and then back at the man.

He took a few steps forward, and I grabbed his arm, "Wait..." I whispered, "Something doesn't feel right."

He looked at me, "It's alright, just wait here, I'll be right back."

"Dean..." I protested, but he gave me a look and continued walking anyway.

Dean made it over to the man and put his hand on his shoulder, "Hey. Hey, alright."

As I watched him, I felt something sting my neck, and the room went fuzzy and dark.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I groggily opened my eyes, I was tied to a chair next to the man in chains, next to me was an unconscious Dean, also tied to a chair.

"Dean..." I said lazily, but he didn't respond, "Dean..." I said a little louder.

Dean's eyes fluttered, and he woke up, looking around and realizing the state we were in, "You okay?" He whispered, and I nodded back. He struggled with his ropes, "Jeffrey?!"

Jeffrey was petting his dog, on the other side of the room as it drank water, he looked up at us and stood up, "Good. You're up," He walked over to us.

"What happened? What's going on?" Dean asked.

"No one asked you to get involved, to save me, to save anyone," Jeffrey said.

Dean furrowed his brow, "What?"

"Did you ever think that maybe I loved being possessed?" Jeffrey asked as he pulled a wheeled table holding ingredients into the center of the room, "Did you?"

Dean shook his head, "Oh, you got to be kidding me," He sighed and gestured to me, "Look, why don't you let her go? This is between you and me, she wasn't even there."

Jeffrey chuckled, "Do you think I'm stupid?" He furrowed his brow, "Why? So she can go get Sam? Or take me out herself? She is a hunter, right?" He shook his head, "No, that's not gonna happen, and besides, once all this is over, I'd be happy to make her my next victim. That way, you can watch my artistry."

Dean shook his head, "Are you insane?"

"I loved the connection to him, the power. And I loved him. Love of my life, actually. He liberated me," Jeffrey said as he poured lighter fluid into a bowl in the center of the table, "Started me on my true-life mission."

Dean nodded, "So you're the one with the thing for all those women. Aren't you, Jeffrey? You're a serial killer."

"I was nothing before he found me... A shadow too scared to do what I was brought here to do," Jeffrey lit a match, "Too timid to live up to my true potential," He dropped the match into the bowl, and it burst into flames.

"So, what happened... Redheaded mommy make you stuff birds, put on dresses?" Dean asked.

"You shouldn't trivialize other people's pain," Jeffrey said.

Dean nodded, "So, demon comes along, rides co-pilot in your skull... Teaches you how to kill."

"The list was yours," I said, "Why?"

Jeffrey nodded and smiled, "For years, it was just a game I would play. Every time I'd walk by one of them in the street or see one on my mail route... There's a sound that comes from their brains. You know that?" He asked, stepping closer to me, "Only I can hear it, like an evil, little steam whistle. Every time I saw one, I'd follow her, take down her address," He walked over to the table and picked up Dean's knife and a bowl, "But I was never gonna do anything, not 'til he came along. He's the one who saved me. And you sent him to Hell." He walked over to Dean and cut his arm, letting the blood drip into the bowl, "I like to think I know you pretty well."

"Yeah, how do you figure?" Dean asked.

"I watched you torture an innocent man to get out a demon." Jeffrey stood up, "Pretty charged situation... Revealing. You guys talked about a lot, showed a lot of character. God... You were so desperate to fix the world back then. It kills you... That people keep getting hurt... And you just can't stop it," He said as he walked back to the table, "Or I should say..." He smirked, "It's killed you, shouldn't I?"

"You know what?" Dean asked, "Screw you."

"Hey. I was there. I was depressed, Dean, because he was gone," Jeffrey said as he picked up a jar filled with liquid and started stirring it with the knife, "I was a wreck, an emotional shell, a drunk. I was suicidal."

"I don't usually endorse suicide, but, man, what stopped you?" Dean asked.

"It was Alan..." Jeffrey stopped stirring the liquid, "At the house."

"You're kidding me," Dean said.

Jeffrey shook his head, "He's a really good rehab therapist. Really helped me focus on my goals..." He wiped the knife down with a towel, "My attitude. I have to say, I really benefited from the whole program."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed.

"A life well-lived comes from the structured pursuit of meaningful happiness," Jeffrey walked toward Dean with the knife and a large bowl, "I realized I was nothing without my demon. Then I decided I have to get him back..." He paused and then sighed, "I'll be right back," He walked away from Dean toward the dog, "Hey, there, honey. Come on," He looked back at us over his shoulder, "It's a bitch of a recipe, I must admit." Then he and the dog walked into another room.

I sighed, "Oh, come on. No."

We could see his shadow raise the knife in his hand and come down swiftly, and then the dog let out a whimper.

"Oh, you sick son of a bitch," Dean said.

Jeffrey came back into the room carrying the bowl, which had some sort of organ in it. Then he placed the bowl on top of the fire. He picked up the bowl containing Dean's blood and poured it in. He picked up a piece of paper and started reciting something in Latin. As he read, the building began shaking, and dust fell from the ceiling. Once he was finished, everything went still. He looked down in disappointment as if the spell hadn't worked.

Until suddenly, the man next to me burst out of his chains. His eyes were now black, and he stood up as he took the duct tape off of his mouth, "Hello, Jeffrey," He smiled. He turned to Dean, "Dean Winchester. As I live and breathe..." His eyes turned back to normal, "Again," He said as he walked to Jeffrey.

"Wha— wh—" Jeffrey said, confused, and then the demon embraced him, "Oh! What are you doing?"

"I'm thanking you, Jeffrey," The demon said and then began to waltz around the room with Jeffrey in his arms.

Dean and I looked at each other, completely caught off guard by this strange scene.

"What are you doing with this half-dead piece of crap?" Jeffrey asked, "Come into me."

"We had a very special time together, didn't we, Jeffrey?" The demon asked, "It warms my heart to see you haven't forgotten what I taught you. You built on it," He released Jeffrey and put his hands on his jacket, "You captured two Winchester's. You, Jeffrey... My pupil."

Jeffrey smiled, "I don't want to be your pupil. I want to be yours."

The demon took a step back, "But I'm done with you. My work is finished. You can do everything now. All on your beautiful own."

"No," Jeffrey said.

"No?" The demon asked, and Jeffrey shook his head. The demon backhanded him sharply across the face, and he fell down. The demon crouched down next to him, "We don't do 'no.' Remember, Jeffrey?" Dean tugged at his ropes, and the demon turned to face us, "Keep sawing away at your ropes, Penelope Pitstop. We can dance standing up if you want."

"So, is this what you do... Find postal workers, make 'em go postal?" Dean asked.

"I talent scout. That's all," The demon shrugged, "Looking for the next generation of superstars... Before they get to Hell, like Jeffrey here," He walked back to Jeffrey, knelt down, and put his hand on his chest, "He had all the raw material... Just bubbling in there... All I had to do was loosen the lid on his jar, show him some practical know-how."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, what about the kid?"

The demon stood up, "This one? I don't think. Not much to work with. No natural gift. I'll probably burn this meat off on my way to Vegas."

Suddenly, Sam came out of nowhere, and the demon turned to face him. He swung out and hit Sam. They continued to fight as Dean, and I tried to break through our ropes. Finally, Dean got out of his and helped me. The demon hit Sam in the chest and sent him flying across the room as Dean grabbed his gun off of the table. As Sam got to his feet, the demon stepped forward and then was cut short.

He looked up at the ceiling at a demon trap, "You've got to be kidding me!"

Nora walked up next to Sam, "You let go of my son!"

Dean and I walked over to stand next to Nora and Sam.

The demon chuckled, "Where do you keep coming from?"

Jeffrey picked up the demon blade and started charging at us. Dean shot him twice and he dropped to the floor, sending the knife clattering next to him. The demon growled from within the devil's trap.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..." Nora recited.

The demon laughed, "He'll be back, you know. Back in black."

"Go to hell," Dean said.

The demon groaned as Nora continued reciting the exorcism. He dropped to his knees, and black smoke poured from his mouth. Then Nora's son fell, and she rushed over to support him.

"Mom?" He asked.

Nora nodded tearfully, "I got you. I got you, baby."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After making sure Nora and her son were okay, we went back to the motel, but I couldn't shake this feeling of being genuinely pissed off. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew exactly why. I wanted blood, even though that kid might've had to die for me to get it. I shook my head, trying to shove the feeling away, I never wanted to resort to that.

When we walked into the motel, Dean collapsed onto his bed, "God. Oh," He laid face down.

I walked over to the couch, took my shoes off, and laid back with a sigh.

"So, Jeffrey was just pretending to be the victim. Way back in that farmhouse during the exorcism..." Sam said as he sat down on his bed, "He— He was just... Acting."

Dean sighed, "He was a psychopath, Sam. That's what they do all the time, is act. Act like they're normal, act like they're not balls-to-the-wall crazy."

"You guys going to sleep?" Sam asked.

"Yup," I said.

"Damn straight. Screw consciousness... That's what I say," Dean groaned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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