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At first it was because he was desperate to save the Archives. Also, if he were ever to be in danger of getting deported, it wouldn't do to have her fellow Witness being across an ocean when evil was barely starting to take them through the tribulations. Not to mention general consensus was, they already acted like a married couple so it would make the most sense. It was a win/win really. The Archives would be saved and she wouldn't have to worry about fighting the Apocalypse alone.
So, Abbie had let herself get caught up in the habit of holding his hand in public and he got in the habit of leaning down so she could kiss his cheek. By time they were seated in front of Ichabod's case worker, there was no doubting the two were nothing less than an affectionate couple. In fact the case worker wanted them out of his office just so he wouldn't have to look at them making ridiculous googly eyes at each other.
One of the last three questions, finally...
"And when is the wedding again?" he asked.
"His birthday..."
"Her birthday..."
Both had been delightfully cheerful until the moment they simultaneously declared the other's birthday as their wedding date. The petite federal agent pursed her lips and slowly gave the tall gentleman next to her the kind of glare only a bride-to-be could give. The gentleman had the subtle horrified expression of "I just fucked up" that only a true groom-to-be could have in his situation.
The case worker really wanted to end the interview right about ten minutes into it but... unfortunately he had to have answers to his questions.
"No," Abbie said slowly. "We said your birthday because if they're making us rush things along we should do it on the one that comes first."
The case worker mentally pleaded for Ichabod to have the good sense to not rebut. Not because it would look bad on the file but because no man could survive an argument when it came to a woman's wedding plans. But then the British man sucked in a breath and shifted in his seat to peer down at his bride.
"I distinctly recall we agreed upon your birthday because you had mentioned nothing good ever happened on it," Ichabod retorted. The case worker mentally cringed when Ichabod pointed a finger at her face. "Furthermore..."
"Get that finger out of my face right this second or so help me I will break it off and shove where the sun don't shine," Abbie growled. He at least had the decency to withdraw his hands into his lap and fall silent. "That was exactly why we said not my birthday. Because bad things happen on my birthday."
"Aren't you afraid he might forget your birthday Miss Mills?" the case worker asked.
The couple looked at each other and suddenly all the anger that had just been there disappeared as they both snorted then started laughing. The case worker silently thanked God. He didn't realize how nice it was to see them being affectionate until they had been annoyed with each other. Although he did feel like he was missing out on a joke.
"He has an eidetic memory," Abbie provided. "He couldn't forget my birthday if he tried. I must have not told him I decided on his birthday as the new wedding date."
Ichabod recaptured her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. He then looked at the case worker and affectionately replied, "I would like to clarify that it is my birthday which the blessed event is taking place."
Blessed event. Who the hell even talked like that any more?
The case worker looked down at the questions on his sheet. To be fair, he could easily answer them just from other questions they had already answered. If the two were getting married just to give Ichabod Crane citizenship, they were lying to themselves. He stood and extended his hand across his desk to shake their hands.
"Thank you for coming in."
"That's it?" Abbie asked, surprised.
"I have all the information required," the case worker replied. "We'll be in touch by either phone or through the postal service."
Then thankfully the two were gone.
##
At first it was because it felt nice to huddle up together, watch Netflix, and chill without it being "Netflix and chill." Then it was because he had gotten really good at tossing popcorn into her mouth, from his position with his head on her lap, only occasionally missing. Then one day Abbie clamped her mouth down too fast because he playfully insisted on personally assuring the arrival of the popped corn to [her] mouth.
Ichabod's finger had become entrapped between her teeth.
She had watched his pupils dilate when she inadvertently brushed her tongue over the pad of his finger. Things progressed rather rapidly from there. She had drawn his finger into her mouth and pretended it was another part of him that she wouldn't mind teasing with her lips and tongue, until finally he was kissing her. Clothing somehow ended up being very optional shortly thereafter.
Then it was because she grew impatient waiting for that one night a week they could settle down and watch Netflix. Also because, after a hard day, having him inside of her and her nails scratching down his back or chest was a wonderful stress reliever.
After all, even if it was just to make sure Ichabod got his citizenship, they were going to be married soon enough anyway. The only change that took place was that sharing a bed seemed like a much better option than having separate rooms. Not to mention, in her head anyway, it made it look less like a green card wedding.
##
At first it was because she was scared.
Fighting evil, her putting her life on the line every day with the FBI. Hell, there was even a risk that she would misstep while standing in a chair to retrieve something from a high shelf and plummet to her death. The latter would be one of the most ridiculous means of dying on the verge of the Apocalypse but, as she discovered, it was still very much a viable option.
She didn't want to actually fall in love with him.
Sure, she had affection for him as a friend, but she had her own heart to protect. There was no telling when either one of them would actually find someone they could spend the rest of their life with. Not to mention he had ran off on her before, what's to say he wouldn't do it again?
It had been easier to do when he had been off gallivanting. But looking up at him, her fingers curled tightly into his coat, from where he had somehow made it across the kitchen, from the laundry, just in time to keep her head from hitting granite--the horrified panic in his eyes, one of his large hands cradling her head and the other holding her tight against his body--she realized it was already too late.
Then the only ridiculous thing was just how much she loved him.
She steadied her breath. "That was close," she said quietly. "Would have sucked for you to be a widower again so soon." She gave a faint smile hoping it would lighten the mood.
"That is not funny," he said barely above his breath, shaking his head. He struggled for a moment to find more words before settling on a shaky, "That will never be, in any form, be amusing."
She could see it in his eyes that he loved her too and she wondered how she had never noticed it before. While reflecting, it was as obvious as what she felt and had been there for a very long time.
Then she wasn't afraid. Maybe it was seeing it raw and beautiful on his face was what made her fear disappear. Maybe she just realized she had just been trying to protect herself from a rejection that would never dream of coming.
Then she was saying it. And he was saying it.
Then there was kisses on lips and fingers in hair. The granite counter top which had nearly been her demise was then put to a much better use. As was the kitchen floor.
##
At first it was because she was terrified.
She paced back and forth thinking about how they had just finished fighting the mastermind behind the third... fourth... tribulation. Hell she had lost count. The third and fourth had felt like one long, drawn out battle anyway. And it was only a matter of time before next asshole would come along.
But they were more than half way there. And for now there was a period of peace.
It still didn't excuse their being so reckless... The timing said they had celebrated winning the last battle a little too thoroughly.
Abbie stopped and stared at the door. Ichabod was on the other side, resting, completely oblivious to what had happened. Oh God, would she have to explain everything when he woke up? Or would he just accept the news?
Then she stopped. She took a deep breath. She looked down at the little white stick on the counter.
Two lines.
Just like the other two. And the three she had done the day before.
Her heart leapt into her throat when he knocked on the bathroom door. "Is everything all right, Abbie?" he asked. "You've been in there almost half an hour."
Taking another deep breath, she picked up the test and opened the door. She held it up so he could see the result and the small diagram that explained what it meant. "This is the sixth one. The result has been the same each time."
Confusion... Perplexed... Horrified... Joy... Hope.
Next she knew, she was being swept into his embrace. The terror she had been feeling drifted away and settled into acceptance. "And it seems after one of our darkest hours has passed," he murmured against her temple. "The powers that be have sent us hope for the future that lies ahead."
She slipped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. How could she have doubted it for a second?
Thankfully, peace lasted another year.
##
At first it was to protect her from the horrors that were taking place. The last thing a toddler needed was to have nightmares of demons fighting her mommy and daddy. So they avoided any talk of the final tribulation around her. They protected her.
Ichabod was a doting father who would sweep little Hope into his arms and dance around the room with her until she squealed with delight. Then he would dance with Mommy around the room until she, too, was giggling and hanging onto his neck.
Then it was because the monsters seemed hell bent on taking her from them. But there was still debate on whether a child needed to know demons were real and how to fight them.
Hope had been three when the final tribulation began. She was four when she started noticing things.
Strangers with black eyes that would start to approach her at the park and Daddy would hurry her away back home. Or Mommy pouring salt in her window sill and around the edges of her bedroom then soothingly asked her to not look outside because a scary storm was coming through. She also noticed the way Mommy and Daddy would lower their voices when looking over old books at the Archives. The way they would silence Auntie Jenny when she started on certain subjects...
So one night, just weeks before she turned five, Hope snuck out of bed to listen in on what they talked about after she went to bed. She made sure to take the doll Daddy's friend Big Ash had given her last Christmas. He had said it could keep her protected if she was ever in trouble. He had even told her something special she could do with the doll, but only if she was in danger, that could be a big help.
"I just want to know why," she could hear Mommy saying. "Why her? Why, out of all children in Sleepy Hollow--in the world, even--why do they keep coming after her?"
"I believe... it is perfectly clear as to why," daddy replied. "Where once we were each other's greatest weakness... now we have Hope as a joint weakness. And a child born of the two Witnesses would be a formidable force in the wrong hands."
"Well we can't just... send one of us off into battle while the other stays home to protect her. We have to find some way to tell her," Mommy said. "To prepare her... just in case."
"Let us not be hasty, my love," Daddy said quietly. "We are near the end of the tribulations. She could very well make it out of this unharmed knowing nothing of the terrible things we have endured."
Hope jumped slightly when she heard Mommy's hands hit something hard that rattled when she did so. "And what if one or neither of us make it to the end, Ichabod? What if we're not here to protect her? What then? Because you know, if we're both out of the picture, Jenny will damn sure make certain Hope can protect herself."
"Begging your pardons, Abbie but," Daddy replied. "Should we both fall in this final battle. No amount of preparations could save anyone."
Hope wasn't really sure what they were talking about, just that they were very worried about her. And that someone was trying to get her. She would like to see someone try and take her from her parents, she'd show them what Big Ash had told her to do in an emergency.
She tiptoed back to her room, carefully stepping over the fresh salt line Mommy had put down at bedtime. The skirt of her nightgown brushed the salt, making a very small gap in the line. She worried her bottom lip and wondered if she should call for Mommy to come fix it. Then she reasoned that Mommy and Daddy were near by, if there was trouble she could call for them.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she swore she saw something move in the shadows of the hallway. Yellow eyes peered at her from the darkness followed by long, jagged teeth. Hope shrieked and slammed her bedroom door closed, which only served to scatter the salt more.
Whatever had been in the shadow seemed to pay no mind and cloud like wisps curled underneath her door. Even in the moonlight she could see it turning into something that resembled a large dog without fur, then it stood on its hind legs as its eyes fell on her again.
Hope scrambled into a corner trying to get away. She could hear Mommy and Daddy on the other side of her door screaming her name and trying to force the door open. Clinging to her doll, she remembered what Big Ash had told her about her doll.
She took in a deep breath as the thing stepped towards her. Her small hand grasped the doll head and gave it a firm twist. The head popped off and a glowing blue stick revealed itself as being hidden inside her doll. It looked like a small wand, no more than a few inches long. Think of something that makes you feel safe... something that protects you.
Hope immediately thought of her parents. The way Daddy would pick her up and carry her to the car if she saw something scary. She thought of Mommy in her FBI uniform in the mornings and when she got home at night.
The glowing of the wand grew brighter as she concentrated on those two things. The creature reached out for her. Hope raised the wand and fearlessly touched it to the creature's outstretched hand, right as Mommy and Daddy managed to kick the door open.
The creature let out a loud howl of pain as it turned grey like ashes, cracked, then shattered to the floor in front of her. Hope was still holding up the wand when Mommy and Daddy reached her and pulled her into their arms. The wand's colour faded when Daddy took it from her to study it, once they had made sure she was okay.
Mommy looked at Daddy.
"Still think she's too young to learn how to protect herself?" Mommy asked.
Daddy turned the wand over in his hands. "Not in the slightest," he said quietly. "This is decidedly not of the Shawnee... The doll, yes, but not this..."
"I don't care where it came from," Mommy said and kissed the top of Hope's head. "It protected her."
##
At first it was because it was just so damn weird not having to fight demons on a regular basis. It made everything else about their lives weird by association. Abbie threw herself into work, Ichabod focused on making certain Hope new precisely how wrong her history books were on the American Revolution and anything else he knew. The latter would often be followed by tidy writing on a slip from her teacher because God knows she inherited her father's habit of correcting everyone.
They had no mission. Their mission as Witnesses were done.
They were a team only on the loosest of terms.
Partners, couple...
It would be stretching it to call themselves lovers any more, considering how busy they kept themselves. Between little league, homework, the FBI, and the Historical Society they barely managed to say two entire sentences to each other each day.
Before they knew it, it had been almost two years since the final showdown.
Abbie had two weeks of vacation at her disposal and it had started as soon as she scanned out that night. Hopefully she could use that time wisely to reconnect with her family. But, as soon as she made it home, the only light on was the porch light. Even more perplexing was the bright green post-it note taped to the door that read "Go to the kitchen first."
Abbie unlocked the door and made her way inside and froze in her tracks. Candles were everywhere... Big ones, small ones, tea lights, jars, votive types, and tapers. The colours were just as varied as the types.
A grin couldn't help but form on her lips as she made her way to the kitchen curious as to what she would find. What she found was a candle burning near the seat she normally sat in. Next to it was two folders with "Confidential" stamped in the middle of them and regular white envelope containing a note written by Ichabod:
My dearest Abigail,
First and foremost allow me to welcome you home. You may have noticed the distinct lack of childish laughter ringing through the corridors. This is given the fact Miss Jenny took it upon herself to take Hope on a camping endeavour for the weekend. I, myself, am likely still trying to prepare everything to assure your utmost relaxation after what was undoubtedly a tiring and stressful work day.
The folders on the table are the product of what was to be our family photographic session. If you recall the photographer was unable to reschedule and the options, in your absence, was to either lose the deposit or go through with the session. We went through the session and decided to have a little fun with it. I am hopeful you enjoy the results as much as Hope and I did.
Once you have had a moment to put yourself at ease, please feel free to join me in the bedroom at your leisure.
Your dutiful and loving husband,
Ichabod
P.S. Dinner in is the microwave if you are feeling peckish.
Abbie sighed happily and went to retrieve her dinner from the microwave. It was still surprisingly warm and it made her wonder just how quickly Ichabod had thrown everything together and what else he had in store for her. She tucked into the baked chicken and roasted veggies while she pulled the folders over to peruse the contents.
She almost choked when she opened the first one and was greeted by a picture of Hope paper-clipped to a page made to look like an FBI employee sheet. Hope had her natural hair wrangled into two small poofs on either side of her head, wore sunglasses entirely too big for her small face, and an expression of extreme seriousness. Her tiny arms were folded over her chest and an over-sized FBI vest. She even had a Hope sized side arm at her hip.
It was one of the cutest things Abbie had ever seen.
She scanned the "employee sheet." Very Special Agent Destiny Hope Mills-Crane. Abbie lightly touched the childish print that spelled out Hope's likes (kittens, tea, and camping), known hangouts (The Park, home, Starbucks), special skills (climbing, eidetic memory, swordsmanship), and current status, which had been written by the same tidier handwriting her name had been in.
Abbie's eyebrows arched with interest at discovering Hope was a rogue agent, last seen helping her felon father evade capture. Behind the sheet was another envelope which contained various "surveillance" photos. A few of Hope alone, doing various action poses with her toy gun, and a few with Ichabod in which they looked like they were evading detection. One of them even featured Ichabod face down on the ground with Hope handcuffing his hands behind his back. Abbie was pleasantly surprised that in all of them Ichabod was wearing modern clothes topped with his favourite coat.
There were a few more sheets that gave details on Hope's "career" and "betrayal." Abbie chuckled and closed the folder. She picked up the other, opened it, and found herself looking at a picture of both Hope and Ichabod in full colonial, blue-coat uniforms. They both looked stoic and formal, like they were better suited to being the feature of an old oil painting than a photograph. This time they were a spy duo and Hope's hat was constantly covering her face or pushed back to the point of falling off her head. It looked like they had themselves a nice little adventure doing the photos, marching down a wooded trail, in a field with Ichabod teaching Hope how to shoot an old rifle.
One in particular made Abbie chuckle--Ichabod with a stunned expression on his face, holding the barrel of the old rifle from the other photo, a cloud of smoke coming from the exit, while Hope held onto the butt of the gun with one hand and the other was covering her ear, her face squished like she had just experienced something unpleasant.
Then there were more pictures in an envelope simply marked "various." Hope in her normal clothes with the too-large-for-her-tiny-head tri-corner hat on and waving a large American flag, one of Ichabod trying to tame Hope's hair into the tiny puffs she had worn in the FBI folder photos. Abbie felt tears sting her eyes as she looked at pictures of the two just being everything she had always wanted growing up... Just by looking at the pictures she could see how much father and daughter loved each other.
She saw them every day but she felt like it had been forever since she had actually been with them. Always working, even when they did get a chance to go out as a family, she would either get called to go in or be stuck on phone calls. And, God, when did Hope get to be so tall? Her head was already at Ichabod's waist. Maybe she lucked up and inherited his height.
Abbie put down the last photograph and looked at her half consumed plate. Ichabod was waiting patiently for her and she wasn't feeling all that hungry anyway. So, she put the plate in the refrigerator and made her way to the bedroom. When she got there, Ichabod was lounge on the bed, thumbing through one of Hope's school books with an annoyed scowl on his face. He had Netflix pulled up on the television and plenty of nibbles available on the night stand.
"Hey there handsome," Abbie greeted, toeing off her shoes. A smile instantly over took Ichabod's face and he set aside the book. "Want some company?"
"I would love some company," Ichabod replied affectionately.
She crawled onto the bed and they met in the middle with a kiss. Ichabod took her face in his hands, drinking her in slowly until he could envelope her in his arms and she relaxed into his embrace. It felt like... coming home after a hard day at work.
She couldn't believe it had been so long since she had been at the leisure to enjoy intimate time with Ichabod, that she had almost forgotten just how sweet his kisses could be. Sure they had engaged in relations a couple of times since they had put a stop to the Apocalypse, but she hadn't allowed the closeness and the care to come into play.
If she, herself, had missed the intimacy she could only imagine how Ichabod felt. He craved intimacy like a thirsty man in the desert and had been denied it for almost two years. God, she felt terrible for how she had been acting. She hadn't realized Hope had grown as much as she had, she had essentially turned the person she had fought the Apocalypse with into something she took off a shelf when she needed it.
To make matters worse, she probably wouldn't even be considering anything was amiss if she hadn't taken time to talk with Sheriff Reyes earlier that day. She had found out Ichabod had been helping with police cases again, while Hope was at school, and Reyes had inquired if everything was all right between them. Abbie hadn't had an answer because she didn't know.
"I am a terrible person," Abbie murmured between Ichabod's kisses. He pulled back and looked down at her, confused. She smiled softly and cupped his cheek. "I'm sorry I've neglected you and Hope. It's going to be better from now on, I promise."
"I knew you needed time," Ichabod said softly, tracing her lips with his fingertips. "When the weight of impending doom is lifted from the shoulders that are baring it, it can prove to be difficult adjusting." He put his forehead to hers. "Just remember, my love, we are still in this together, regardless of whether we are fighting demons in a literal sense or if they are ones born of our own hearts and minds."
Abbie smiled. "I love you."
"And I you, my love," Ichabod replied.
Some time later they curled up together under the covers, naked not only literally but emotionally, Abbie kissed each of Ichabod's fingers. "I talked to Lena today, she's getting ready to retire at the end of the year."
"Yes," Ichabod sighed. "Do not remind me that I shall once again have to instil faith in my abilities on a new sheriff."
Abbie looked up at him and smiled impishly. "Well, she said she wanted to make sure the town was left in good hands when she left... What if those hands were mine? I could be home more. You and Hope could come along with me on slow days..."
"You could start going to the PTO meetings I have rudely been banned from attending. You could also come along to the talks I regularly have to have with Hope's instructors," Ichabod provided.
Abbie laughed. "Oh God, what have you done now?"
Ichabod huffed indignantly. "It was not my doing. I had simply pointed out that if we focused on the issues which needed addressing in the school instead of organizing cake walks we could probably easily solve the funding issues the school is having. And the instructors are constantly seeking council with me because Hope is inclined to point out the many ways her textbooks are giving inadequate and often inaccurate information. The most recent being that she asked why the school history book didn't elaborate on the true nature of Christopher Columbus' murder, enslavement, and torturing of indigenous people."
Abbie arched her eyebrows. "And where would she get that?"
"From... one of the books here at the house," Ichabod muttered. "But that is not the point, the teacher was not so much insulted by the information but concerned because Hope tried to 'rally a protest' in the middle of class... again."
"Again? Just how often does she try to start elementary revolutions," Abbie asked.
"At a minimum... twice a week," Ichabod replied. "Most of the instructors have taken to only sending a note home at the end of the month requesting a chat because it's easier than having me in there every day. They only require a special consultation if she actually succeeds in starting an uproar."
"This is exactly why I said you didn't need to tell her your old war stories at bedtime," Abbie said, unable to keep laughter out of her voice. Something occurred to Abbie and she started counting on her fingers. "Wait... how is she getting into history books and all that, she's only five... They should be teaching her how to read and count and other basic stuff."
"She is six and was in the so-called kindergarten for three days before they decided to promote her to first grade," Ichabod said. "And she became bored with lessons in first grade after a week... so they promoted again, putting her into the advanced second grade class. She is still very bored but the administration is not comfortable promoting her any further until she is older. They begrudgingly suggested home schooling or perhaps a special school for children of advanced intelligence."
"But...?"
"She has made friends," Ichabod replied. "Despite being more intelligent than her peers, being amongst those who appreciate her talents has proven to be beneficial... far more beneficial than I feel secluding her at home or surrounding her with people that will only ever know how to associate with people of higher intelligence would ever be."
"Oh?"
Ichabod nodded. "Indeed. For example. Did you know she has helped at least a dozen of her peers in achieving a better academic record, which will help them to gain better placement in classes as they advance? She knows how to speak to someone of normal intelligence without making them feel inadequate which is something I, myself, struggled with for a long time. Except for her instructors. She deems it perfectly acceptable to give them hell for some reason."
"Maybe she sees the instructors as being the same intelligence level as she is," Abbie suggested which made Ichabod laugh. "What?"
He shook his head. "Oh she does not," he replied. "While she does like her home room teacher, who also doubles as her science and mathematics instructor, she feels the other two second grade instructors need to..." he cleared his throat. "...find gainful employment elsewhere because they, and I quote, 'are idiots without an inkling of how to educate young minds'."
Abbie laughed hard. It felt good to laugh. "She's a bossy little thing isn't she?"
"Some would say bossy, I say she has all the qualities that should be necessary in a great leader," Ichabod said. "Something I have pointed out to the other two instructors when they suggested such behaviour was unsuitable to a young girl."
"Wait a damn minute," Abbie said sternly. "They pulled the 'girl' card? No... Uh-uh... I'm going to be the one to talk to them next time. When do they usually call you in to come talk to them?"
"I just received a summons this past Friday, but they scheduled the briefing for after the spring break holiday, after classes have been completed on the Monday they return," he provided.
"And I am going to be there," Abbie said. Ichabod looked speculative for a moment. "I am. I have two weeks off... I can do it."
"It's not a matter of whether you can or will," Ichabod said. "It's just you seem to have forgotten we're not returning from Orlando until Tuesday. I've already approved it through the school and everything." He looked crestfallen. "Did you forget you promised Hope we could go to Disney World for her birthday? We're leaving Sunday once she returns from camping with Jenny."
Abbie worried her bottom lip then groaned. "I'm... such a bad person... I don't even remember her asking. It didn't even register her birthday was next week. I... I'm just..."
Ichabod kissed her softly. "Shh, it is okay, Abbie. Preparations have long been made. Your promise will not go unfulfilled. You have been under a considerable amount of strain and stress so I took the liberty of assuring all would be well in case you forgot."
"Well... on Wednesday, we will both be going to talk to her teachers," Abbie concluded. She trailed her fingers along his shoulder and neck, traced the shell of his ear. "I'm glad that, out of all the people God could have ordained I fight along side during the Apocalypse... that I got to fight with you."
"As am I," Ichabod said, then kissed her soundly.
Abbie let herself get swept up all over again.
##
At first it was because she wanted a safe and public arena to talk to the two men that had been asking questions about her. Then it was because the baby had decided he wanted apple pie al a mode. So the diner had seemed the perfect place to meet the gentlemen claiming to be from the FBI, with Ichabod and Hope in tow of course.
She needed to only take one look at their badges to realize they were fakes. It probably could have fooled the average person who had only seen FBI badges on television shows, but not someone who had actually been in the FBI. But she decided to humour them, find out what they wanted, then decide if she was going to arrest them for impersonating a member of the FBI.
"Thanks for meeting with us, Sheriff Crane," the first one said as he slid into the booth opposite her and Ichabod.
"No problem at all," she said cheerfully, putting on her brightest smile before taking a bite of her pie. "Tracy, get these gentleman some pie, on me."
The waitress glanced toward the two men then nodded. "Sure thing Sheriff."
"So, what brings the... what was it?"
"Special Interest Division of the FBI," the second gentleman offered. Abbie wanted to roll her eyes, she didn't know if it was because there wasn't really a special interest division of the FBI or because the guy sounded like he was trying to be Batman.
"What brings the Special Interest Division of the FBI to Sleepy Hollow," Abbie asked. Tracy returned with two plates of apple pie al a mode for the gentlemen. She gave Tracy a wink. "Tell Mitch he outdone himself on this pie."
"Will do, Sheriff," Tracy replied, casting a glance at the men before hurrying off to the kitchen.
"We're just doing a little follow up on a case from a couple of years ago that your name came up on," the first one said.
"In fact you and your husband's names popped up several times on cases that were said to involve demonic activity," Batman added.
Not at all subtle. Abbie could appreciate that. In fact, she appreciated enough to go ahead and lay all the cards out on the table.
"Well," Abbie said carefully. "That's because at the time, I was working for the FBI, which by the way, if you boys are going to impersonate FBI agents, you might want to make sure the person you'll be talking to doesn't know what an FBI badge really looks like. That's just a small FYI." She glanced around as the few patrons that were in the restaurant started to leave. Hope was still tucked away at the counter, absorbed in a book and her e-tablet. "Second--and I'm just speculating right now so stop me if I'm wrong--you're seeking me out because we were in the middle of several cases involving demons. Do you really think it's smart to confront someone who walked away from those encounters alive, alone?"
The two men looked around themselves when Tracy and a couple of the other restaurant employees latched the doors and started pulling blinds.
"I'm going to give you boys one chance," Abbie said coolly. "You can either tell me who you really are and what you want... or I can have you arrested. Because, I am under doctor's orders to remain calm and stress free." She lightly patted her rounded belly.
"Our concern is what you want," Batman groused.
Abbie blinked at them. "I want to eat my pie. I want to find out what kind of threat you pose to me, my baby, my husband, and my daughter. Then I want to go home, prop my feet up, and zone out watching Netflix with my family. And if the station calls me, I will waddle my ass down there and see what's up, because... even though I am on maternity leave, they can't seem to function without me."
The two men shared a glance.
"We... want to know if it's true it's all over," the first one said.
Suddenly Hope whirled around in her seat at the counter, tablet in hand. "They're hunters, mommy," she said primly. She slid out of her seat and walked over to hand Abbie the tablet. "They're on our side. I took their pictures and ran them through your old FBI facial recognition program." She retrieved the book off the counter. "Ordinary human beings whom have either willingly or have been ordained to fight in the battle between good and evil."
"Ichabod, what the hell are you letting her read?" Abbie looked down at the tablet and arched her eyebrows. "The infamous Winchester Brothers. I was wondering if we'd ever get to meet you." She finished off her pie and directed Hope back to her seat. "And yeah, it's over, as far as we know. There hasn't been any activity here in Sleepy Hollow since the final battle." She waved at their waitress. "It's okay Tracy, they're friends. You can go back to normal business."
"So you heard of us?" Sam asked.
Ichabod nodded curtly. "We actually sought out your assistance during the sixth tribulation as our trusted advisors on all things demonic, at the time, had been trapped in a mirror by the forces of evil."
"But we managed to get them out," Abbie said with a nod. "But big thanks on finally getting around to coming to help."
"You guys... wanted... our help?" Dean asked. "But you're... the Witnesses, why would you need our help?"
"Like my husband said, my sister and her fiancé were trapped in a mirror at the time," Abbie replied. "We were desperate to find help from people that knew what they were doing. That's how we found out about the hunters. Are there still demons cropping up in your neck of the woods?"
The bothers shook their heads. "Nope, nothin'," Dean replied. "Not even the slightest rogue possession. And to be honest, we don't know what to do any more."
"You can start by eating your pie before I take it from you," Abbie said. "Second... You would fall under the Counterterrorism Division with a specialization in paranormal activity. But that section is kinda small so you might want to be careful throwing it out there in case there are some already on site." She gave Ichabod a nudge and he eased out of the seat and offered a hand to assist her out of the booth. "And, if you guys are ever interested in making the FBI a real thing... let me know. I've read some of the stuff you've gotten up to, I'd be willing to help you get on with them." She took Ichabod's hand and stood.
"Why does he dress weird," Dean asked, sweeping a glance over Ichabod.
Ichabod eased an arm around Abbie's waist. "I was a soldier in the revolutionary war... and after a 200-ish year slumber, I awoke in your modern age."
Abbie patted Ichabod's chest. "That and he looks damn sexy in it," she said. "We can tell them the full story some other time. Let's get home." She looked at the hunters. "Enjoy your stay in Sleepy Hollow, boys. I hope you find your new purpose. Because that's what you need. You don't need to look for demons because, if they're still out there... they'll find you or they'll find us. Or they'll find any of the people that are still out there, waiting for them." She patted Dean's shoulder before calling for Hope to come along, she then handed them both her card. "You're not the first former demon fighters to seek us out, you probably won't be the last. All of you are the same... lost souls looking for a new purpose. If you need a place to crash and get a hot, home made meal, give me a call."
"We're having a delightful and robust roast tonight, so please consider joining us," Ichabod added. He looked down at Abbie the same time she looked up at him. "Did you remember to contact your sister and Joe about joining us?"
Abbie took her phone from her pocket. "I will get on that right away." She gave them wink. "The offer stands though. We have plenty of room at our table for friends. And we'd love to hear about your part of the battle."
That's what they did now. Because people that had once been fighting were now seeking them out, having heard their names in the many circles their kind found themselves in. And if ever there came a time the demons decided to make a come back, they'd have plenty of allies ready and willing to help them fight.