Welcome to my first Warehouse 13 story! I have to say the past two episodes have inspired me with WellsxMyka. They are so cute together! So, as it's one of my (now) favorite pairings, I decided to work on a fanfic~

I'll apologize in advance for how short my chapters are. They look so much longer in a Word document! I'll try harder to get more into each chapter after this and chapter 1 (since they are already typed up. : )

Of course, I don't own anyone or anything related to Warehouse 13 other then this story.

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Dusty books lined the dusty shelves of the old store that was tucked away from the main street. Dim lighting filtered out through the dingy shop windows and onto the sidewalk under a tattered cloth overhang. A solitary car passed, but other than that the streets were falling silent as night crept over the quiet little town.

Gregory Astov moved through the aisles of old literature to the front door to peer out. It was well past closing time, but he'd been sorting through a few new orders that had come in. He switched the 'open' sign to closed and clicked the doors lock into place. He started back towards the rear of the store, and the back room that he resided in. Books had been his passion for as long as he could remember. When he'd been young he'd loved wandering old libraries and discovering the leather bound treasures within. He'd spent years of his life saving up enough so that now, despite his old age, he'd be able to follow his passion. He'd owned the store for just under a decade. He didn't get much business, but he had his regular that would come in like clockwork to pick out some reading material before heading to work or back home.

The door to the back store room creaked open, making him smile at the familiar sound. He shuffled his way to a comfortable chair he usually spent his evenings in, plopping himself into it. His feet went up onto the ottoman in front of him and he reached to the stack of books that rested on a little stand to his right. Picking up a heavy volume he then reached to his left and switched on an old radio. A practiced routine he'd done night after night, year after year. He looked back to what he'd grabbed.

'Holy Bible' was stamped in gold across the black cover. It seemed like it was old, but then the things he bought always were. He carefully opened it, noting the scrawling handwriting on the very inside page. The name David Allen marked there. He passed this, his fingers caressing the thin leafy pages, aging and stains making them seem fragile and delicate, as if he were to touch it too roughly they'd damage.

His eyes scanned the familiar words, the spiritual text he'd read in his childhood, making him think of Sunday mornings spent in church with his mother and father growing up, his siblings, going out for picnics afterward.

He paused as he neared the end, the Revelations, his fingers running over the text as he read through it.

The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to shew unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it by his angel unto his servant John:

Who bare record of the word of God, and of the testimony of Jesus Christ, and of all things that he saw.

Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein: for the time is at hand.

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Please review! Just the prologue thus far (will be adding a chapter just after this though), but I'd love to know whom (if anyone) is reading this. Keep me motivated to write, darlings~ ;D

Until next time!