She's the devil in disguise || Dean

[Ivana Romanova]

Even though a serious amount of time had passed since Ivana had mysteriously landed in modern-day London, she was having a hard time adjusting to this whole new lifestyle. Her whole life she had been surrounded by servants who were sometimes afraid to speak, fearing that they may anger the young Princess and the King would make them vanish in the most cruel of ways. She didn't have to clean, cook or go out, because she had everything she needed inside and around the castle. What was going on in London though, was a whole different story. Luckily, she had had gold and a lot of money with her at the moment of her time-travel, so this was not a problem, at least for a while. She had rented a small thing, appartment it was called, which was horrible, in her opinion. The walls seemed too tight for her and she had no space to do anything she liked or wanted. It had only three rooms, a small hallway, a kitchen and a bathroom. Not once had she woken up in the middle of the night, almost screaming because of the space that seemed to get tighter and tighter, ready to squeeze her to death. In the previous two weeks or so, she hadn't even managed to get a good night's sleep, because of the dark cocktail of thoughts that came to her mind. The money would be over at some point, and what would she do? Living in this insane society was not for her and she was well aware of it. She had tried to find the funny-looking man she had met in the forest just outside Moscow, but he never came back to her.

However, the fact that she had to get back to her castle in any possible way was becoming obvious. She could not adapt to this society and it was unavoidable that once her gold was over, she was going to vanish, as if she had never walked this Earth. She had managed to get used to the new technology, as much as she needed in order to find out that Ivana Romanova, daughter of the Russian Tsar, had been reported missing and never found again. She missed home, she missed everyone; but she was strong enough to do something about it and not only wait for a miracle to happen.

Tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear, a perfidious smile showed up on her lips. She gently smoothed her dress with one hand, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. The ticking of her high heels against the pavement seemed the only sound that could be heard that night, apart from the cold wind blowing the desolate streets of the city. And yet, she could not even feel the cold getting to her bones; all she felt was the burning warmth of having made a deal with Him, a deal that was supposed to take her home as soon as possible. Her pale figure seemed to be the marble statue of an extravagant artist, yet her cheeks and her lips were burning with evil and desire. And she loved it more than ever.

outfit.

[Guest]

England. What a strange country. Absolutely nothing like anything Dean was used to. Although, in all honesty, this wasn't saying much since the only places that he'd been was around the States; needless to say, the move over here had been quite a culture-shock for the elder Winchester brother. Everything was different here, starting with the way that they drove on the wrong side of the road, and finishing with how they had their beer (warm! They had it warm! This baffled Dean immensely). Plus when he would eventually got sick of Sam yapping on about how he should stop and ask for directions every time they got lost, he received those 'oh-you're-a-tourist' smiles that locals all around the globe were so well practised at around newcomers. Like hell he was a tourist. Well, yeah, maybe in a way he was. But he still didn't like being thought of as one.

Having discovered some motel where the prices weren't too expensive and the beds were (surprisingly) comfy, the brothers had made it their homes for the next week. Seeing how shattered Dean's nerves were upon landing at Heathrow airport, a week rest before they went in search of their next job sounded like absolute bliss. The man absolutely hated flying; why would you want to travel in a tin box that could crash at 50 gajillion feet in the air at any time?! And stowed away in the cargo hold, of all places, where every jolt felt that much bigger, every bit of turbulence feeling like it was surely the end and the plane was about to take a nosedive into a field in the middle of nowhere.

It had been the most scary ten hours that Dean had ever had to endure. Give him a murderous demon any old day, hell, give him six. He would have gladly taken on them with less fear than he'd felt during the flight; even terrifying monsters that wanted to kill you were preferable to flying. Sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala wearing three sweaters and a ski-jacket, Dean had hummed album after album of Metallica in an effort to calm himself. Sam, to his credit, somehow managed to sit through an entire three records before he requested (with a kind-but-firm tone of voice that suggested he was trying his very hardest not to throttle his brother right now) that Dean hum something else. Onto Led Zepplin he had gone. Needless to say, Dean had never been happier in his life to arrive in some foreign country which he knew nothing about. It was land, it was safe, and it was a fresh start. As far away as possible from Victor Henriksen and the blasted FBI.

Having slept like a log for the entire next day after their landing, Dean had spent the better part of the morning getting himself acquainted with various parts of London. Notably those where he could hustle at pool whenever cash got short, or where he could pull off his next credit card scam when the need arose. Now, having had lunch with Sam and left him at some library to do research, Dean was cruising the streets of London in the Impala, still attempting to get used to the fact that from now on he would have to drive on the left side, not the right. He'd turn down a street, end up on the wrong side, get beeped incessantly at until he swerved back into the right lane, then repeat it all over again down a different road. It really was a wonder that he hadn't been the cause of an accident yet.

Turning a corner and for the first time today managing to end up on the right side on his first go, Dean cruised along, watching the people pass by. One thing he definitely had to give England for was their women, he mused as he caught sight of a tall blonde, strutting down the street, confindent and cool. And yet...something felt wrong. What exactly it was that was wrong, however, Dean couldn't put his finger on. It was the same kind of wrong that he'd felt that night that he'd dropped Sam back off at Stanford, after which he'd rushed into Sam's flat only to find the entire place in flames thanks to Azazel. He couldn't explain it, but it was almost as if an evil presence had latched itself onto the blonde, refusing to let go. And by the looks of her, she either didn't know or didn't care. His money was on the former.

Dean frowned in thought, watching her as he drove by slowly, suddenly not wanting to lose sight of her. What could it be? Was it a demon or was it just his imagination over-reacting? But then, his Dean Senses (like Spidey-Senses, only so much better because it was Dean) hadn't often steered him wrong. And so, chewing thoughtfully on his lip, Dean followed the blonde, the slow pace of the obviously granny driver allowing him to keep pace with her without looking suspicious. He would simply watch where she went and go from there. If she stopped at a cafe, all the better; the man really couldn't be bothered with fancy cover-up stories today.

[Ivana Romanova]

It was easy to say that the past few days had been insane for Ivana; and this time, we are not talking about the whole suddenly-getting-to-London-while-knowing-nothing-about-it-and-its-crazy-lifestyle. No, this time things were becoming serious, awkward and unexpected at the same time. Back in her beloved Russia, she was living in that world that was almost revolving around religion and faith. Every single person, from the Tsar to the simple peasant working hard in order to survive for another year, was kept alive, fed and watered by a superior invisible entity, known as God in their land, but also by other names in some other places.

Ivana however, was not only the youngest daughter of the Tsar, but also the most rebellious. She was different from her siblings in almost everything she did, because she could not think of accepting something that she couldn’t see or touch. She had always considered that things that were not tangible were not real, so God, demons and supernatural beings were for her nothing else than brainchilds of sick minds. She had often been verbally punished by her father and her elder siblings for speaking what they thought that were immature blasphemies, but she had never changed her mind about the matter while at home.

It had quickly become different though in the past few days. The way she had met Aglasis was unknown even to her. She had dreamed of him, she had had visions that made her think that she was slowly going insane. But he eventually showed himself to her. It was obvious that he was no human and that was no prank, which terrified her at the beginning, because she had almost thought that maybe it was the impersonation of her fears and her apostatizing. That night, however, nicely dressed in a smooth black dress, high heels and looking like the princess she had once been, she had got the chance to meet him properly, talk to him and find out answers, at least a minuscule part of them. For example, she had been told that he had got so close to her because he had found out about the evil thing that had happened to her and he wanted to help her get everything back to normal. That made her realize that he could take her not only back to Moscow, but also back in her time, which was what she was constantly craving for. In conclusion, it is needless to say that she had accepted to make this forbidden and unforgivable deal with him, especially thanks to the fact that he was not asking for anything from her. Only to be patient; to wait for another couple of days and understand him.

She was now feeling stronger than ever, more powerful than she had ever been, able to take her life and her unfair destiny in her own hands and make out of them whatever she wanted. She felt like she was above everyone else and, with the help of Aglasis, she felt like God, who was definetly real, was far from being so powerful as everyone said. She was better; they were better together. This deserved a celebration, one like Ivana had never had before. The streets were empty, as if they were contributing to the way she was feeling, as if the world was all hers. She stopped in front of the luxurious restaurant in the centre of London. Gently tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear, she showed the same perfidious smirk on her lips, her high heels ticking their way inside of the place.

[Guest]

Fingers tapping out Led Zepplin as he drove, Dean kept an eye out on the female out of the corner of his eye. A black Impala cruising the streets with its driver obviously watching a random woman would hardly be discreet. And until she got somewhere where he could sit and chat with her, Dean didn't want to bring about any extra attention to himself. He'd already had enough of that with his "magnificent" driving skills. As he continued on at a snail's pace after the grandma who, thankfully, was content to drive along at a walking pace, ogling the sites as she drove, the Hunter began to run through a list of various demons and spirits that he'd faced over the many long years, trying to come up with one that it might be. But going through Dean's Mind Encyclopaedia Of Things That Go Bump In The Night was like looking for a sacred apple tree in an apple orchard (which, incidentally the brothers had had to do once in order to burn it). It was difficult, and one tree (or in this case, demon) could be wrongly mistaken for a different one. Not having any facts about what was going on Dean could only take extremely vague guesses as to what the creature was.

So it was with immense relief that he saw the beautiful stranger slow down and enter what looked to be a restaurant. That relief turned to annoyance as he properly looked at where she'd gone in. The place screamed 'high-class' and with his luck they'd have a dress code. One that probably didn't include work-boots, beat-up jeans and leather jackets. Muttering an obscenity  under his breath, Dean set about trying to find a parking spot. Which was easier thought about than actually done, since it seemed a lot of people were eager for lunch at this particular place. What could be so special about it anyway? Give him a good burger with onion-rings any old day of the week; none of these tiny portions that still left you hungry and cost the price of a week's rent.

Eventually finding a free spot around the corner, Dean parked the Impala and got out of the car to root around in the boot. Those ridiculous monkey suits had to be here somewhere! So where the hell were they? Frustration written all over his features, partly because he couldn't find the suit and partly because he'd have to wear it, he continued to search until finally he gave a triumphant grin. Darting into the car again, he began the very awkward proceedings of trying to get changed into a suit in the car, all the while hoping that the blonde wasn't planning on meeting someone there. If she were, trying to find out facts would become all the more harder.

But for once, Dean was in luck. Having jogged to the restaurant looking very much like an FBI agent, the male walked in just to hear the hostess politely refusing the blonde a table. "I'm sorry, Miss, but there are no single tables available for lunch today only couples and groups," the hostess was saying. "I do apologise but you needed to call ahead if you wanted to dine alone." Well, wasn't that just perfect? Dean loved moments like this. Almost as if someone had actually planned this out, knowing that they'd both come here. He tried not to think about that too much; it would be creepy if something else was afoot here. He gave a polite cough and tapped the blonde on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhear that you were after a table. I was wanting a single table too, but perhaps you'd join me for lunch? That way we'd actually be able to snag a table," he offered, giving her his trademark smile.

[Ivana Romanova]

Ivana couldn’t say that she had ever been that kind of person that payed attention to everything that was happening around her. Back in Russia, she had people who were payed to watch after her, her each and every move or glance. Being the nonconforming princess that she was, those people following her everywhere and the lack of intimacy were the most frustrating issues about being one of the Tsar’s beloved daughters. Those had been the main reasons that had made her flee from the castle during that dark night in her existence, a night she was soon going to turn back. Getting into this modern-day city however had completely changed her attitude towards everything that surrounded her. She was on her own, so she had to always have the means to defend herself, if a stinky situation came up. And sometimes, despite the fact that she would never admit it out loud, she missed her guards and the way they made her whole life so easy and carefree.

These being said, it is needless to talk about how she had not noticed the young man in the car before he patted her shoulder. Calling ahead in order to dine in a luxurious place was another procedure she did not seem to understand and remember, which meant that once again, she was being made to leave and find another place. This was the decision she had taken before turning around, her blue eyes locking with the deep irides of the tall dark stranger. She had been intent to refuse his offer, but even she had to admit that he was way too attractive and mysterious for her to say no. She did not mean to be a romantic dreamer, because she had never been one, but he simply seemed to have that elegant aura around him, that kind of air that made you want to find out more. Luckily, ever since being just a little girl, she had been taught how to hide her emotions and her thoughts, so her icy physiognomy remained the same, just like her frosty eyes.

”It... sounds like a great idea for me. I would love to,” she replied gracefully, her pinkish lips slowly curling into an elegant, yet devilish smile.

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