JACOB GALE--

Doing the menial is a low point of this job, usually Ren takes out the trash, but the boy's out with friends. Friends, of all things, that can't end well, but the kid has to learn from his mistakes. Humans can't be trusted, nothing can, not really, the differences between them and Us, and by Us I mean Monsters with a capital M makes it so we never walk the same path. I suppose letting him go and make his own way and learning the hard way about life's little lessons is why I am here tossing a few bags of trash into the bin instead of him (and for your information, we do recycle and we compost, Ren wants gardens in the spring).

I brush my hands off when I hear a sound coming from behind the bin, just loud enough to make my Demon ears perk, winter here's been deathly quiet, no noise of passing cars, no hum of the city and all it's electrical glory, just the very faint crackle of the snow under my feet as I turn around to squint into the shadows. Had it been the day time I would have brushed it off as squirrels or something, though I suppose even now when the sun's been set for hours it could be a raccoon or even a cat, but that sound didn't remind of an animal. Well, not your typical animal anyway. My eyes gleam red and I snap my fingers, the snow around me becoming disturbed as Hellhounds fall in, one on each side of me.

"Show yourself, I can smell you." I sneer at the shadows.

The house and bar are warded to a point, it wouldn't stop Angels or Demons from entering, but they don't go unnoticed and so far no one's come along to disturb my peace, maybe I have been lax thinking that I could settle here and raise my son quietly. I'm only waiting for him to grow stronger, to understand what he is. My attention is back on whatever is hidden in the shadows as it makes more noise, shuffling, scraping and then, a filthy hand scrabbling at the edge of the bin before coming fully into the light. The smell is what get's me first as the creature opens it's maw and howls and moans as it stumbles towards me again. I am taken aback a moment not having expected this, whatever it is. A zombie? The disgust is apparent on my face but it changes to surprise when with a grunt and a swing the Zombie's head flies off to the side, cut clear from it's decayed neck and I watch it roll off to the side, the Hellhounds scamper off after it like someone had tossed a tennis
ball into the parking lot.

When I glance back to the body, already having crumbled to the ground I find it's slayer standing over it, long silver machete in hand, gleaming with gore. That body that can't be mistaken and that grin that comes to mind when her name escaped someone's lips. She cocks a delicate brow and tosses her head, her dark hair catching the florescent parking lot light.

"Meg." I breath, not understanding. She is supposed to be dead.

"Jacob, what's a girl gotta kill to get a drink around here?" She says ending with a lick of her lips.

To say Meg looks good for a dead Demon is an understatement, she's virtually glowing with glee at her little surprise. I wouldn't even be astonished to know that she brought the Zombie here herself, just to make a dramatic entrance, she was always the attention whore. Problem is, I don't want her here, but turning her away now would be a mistake, she should be dead, she should no longer exist as from what I heard, the King himself snuffed her out. Crowley doesn't make such mistakes, so this is important and news I will likely have to share with the Angel. No sending her away now would be a mistake, there is too much to learn.

"Could have just walked in the front door, you know." The Hounds will take care of the mess, for now I turn and lead my guest to the bar where I can ply her with copious amounts of alcohol and hope she's in the mood for spilling secrets.