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itisaterriblelove · 8 months

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“HEY BABY, I’M IN THE PARKING LOT.”

One of the very best things about being friends with someone for so long and so completely was that Elle didn’t even bother to ask any questions. We could operate on the same brain frequency sometimes. I knew that if I showed up to anyone else’s place at this time of night – well, okay, morning because it was fucking one am – there would at least be a couple of inquiries about my sanity or, in DK’s case, some grumbling about interrupting his cuddles with Jemma Moss. He could be such a selfish asshole sometimes, I swear. And stingy with his cuddles, too.

But because Elle loved me and was literally the best person in the universe, I only had to wait eight minutes before she came out of her dorm building carrying her purse and a blanket because the air had started to catch a chill. Her eyes were still wide, a shimmering green, so I knew that I hadn’t woken her up.

She yawned when she pulled my truck door open and hopped in, but her smile was soft and warm when she looked over at me and kissed me on the cheek. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shrugged a shoulder instead of answering aloud and cast a wry grin in her direction. She was well versed in my spontaneous bouts of insomnia so I knew that I didn’t really have to explain it to her. On nights like these I always showed up to her place and we picked a random direction to drive in until I found a spot that felt like a good place to stop. She was usually the navigator, I was the driver, and we just kind of let fate do whatever it wanted with us.

“I’m controlling the playlist,” she announced and pulled up my phone to start rifling through her options. “And whenever you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’m all ears.” She didn’t bother to give me a chance to object to her decision to dj, so I already knew that it wasn’t a fight that I was going to win tonight.

It was fine. We both knew that I didn’t really mind.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I countered while she poked around on my phone. There was nothing on there that she couldn’t see and, anyway, her biometrics were hooked to all of my things. Because Elle was the person who was responsible for wiping my searches clean if I died unexpectedly or fell into a coma or some shit. So the government wouldn’t think I was on some serial killer schtick if shit went down… I was just curious, damn!

“My brain just won’t stop,” I made a turning motion with my hand and she nodded in understanding. “Why were you still up?”

“Sketching out a design for a new dress,” she beamed at me and my heart turned over. I fucking loved the way her designs gave her so much joy. “I just finished up when you called, so perfect timing. Ohhh!” She squirmed, excited all over again, and pressed onto the screen with her finger. “Secret music!”

I chuckled because I recognized the playlist immediately after hearing her words, as my own guitar sounds came streaming through the truck speakers. “These are not secret, baby. Just unfinished.”

“Yes, but you’ve never played them for me,” she cut an accusing look at me from the corner of her eyes and I didn’t bother to dispute it. Okay, so, we didn’t have any secrets. That was true. But fuck. I hadn’t ever played her this particular set of songs probably for a reason. And not one I wanted to delve into, so I just didn’t bother to respond.

Elle got quiet as she listened and I concentrated my attention to the road ahead of me instead of categorizing her reactions to the sporadic hints of lyrics and ever-switching melodies playing through the speakers.

She was a quick study, so by the time the playlist repeated Elle was humming along. “These are good, Gav!” She smacked my leg lightly in what I knew was admonishment for keeping them from her. “I didn’t know you were writing your own stuff. Why doesn’t the band play any of these?!”

I hummed, but I could feel the rush of heat sliding down from my cheeks to my neck. “Eh… Cressida’s pretty particular about the mood of our songs. These don’t really fit.” They weren’t love songs, exactly, but they weren’t… not… Cressida and Aidan had some kind of ban on love songs.

Besides I didn’t want to fucking share them.

The songs weren’t about being in love. They weren’t. But they were whatever the fucking platonic adjacent of that was – the way that I felt about my friends. The ones that I knew I would keep forever. So, yeah. They were kind of personal and the irony of Elle softly humming along was not lost on me.

“Your singing’s not so bad. We could go on the road together,” she teased, bumping her shoulder into mine, and I grinned back at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something similar or that I had agreed to it, either.

“I thought that was already the plan.”

“Unless you dump me for DK. He gets kinda pouty every time I say we’re going to have our own two-man band one day.”

“Yeah, yeah. That fucker doesn’t know how to share,” I scowled playfully out the windshield, seeing a nice little turn ahead that looked like exactly the kind of place that I wanted to stop.

“Only him?” Elle teased, aghast. “I’m pretty sure he’s in good company with you on that front, mister.”

I made an affronted sound as I found my spot and pulled over. “The fuck, Elle? I resemble that remark.”

She giggled as she swung her door open, following my lead. “You really, really do.” She hopped down and clapped her hands. “Okay! Now for something lighter!” And she switched the music to a really pop-y boy band that I absolutely fucking refused to admit I knew the name of and started belting out the lyrics with her arms thrown wide.

I turned the music up a bit and followed her out, glancing up at the sky with a long sigh. It was a beautiful night out and there probably weren’t too many of them left. I knew once the cold really seeped in it wouldn’t let up again for months and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

But tonight the air was decent and the stars were bright, and I was in the company of my absolute favorite girl in the fucking world.

“Sing with me, Gavin!” Elle crowed, taking my hand, and so I danced with her and joined my voice with hers as we used the truck’s headlights for illumination under the stars.

And this was why we took these drives on my sleepless nights. I knew that when I got home my head wouldn’t be unsettled anymore. Instead I would just feel like everything was exactly as it should be, even though I also knew there would be a niggling part of me wishing things could stay exactly like this forever. Just never fucking change.

It was a fool’s hope, for sure, but I could afford to hold onto it for just a little longer yet.

#my art #my writing #gavin x elle #forever girl #kinda salty that i drew FEET #and you can't see them here #might post the entire pic #pleasant valley girls #fg ch04

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waylibee-analysis-firm · 7 months

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mustang theory (ch09)

guys im being so serious rn. im so scared to post this. but bee is being wonderfully supportive (as usual <3) and i am going to be. so very Brave. this may not be coherent, but...i hope it makes some sort of sense ok. anyways here is the theory for ch09:

mike and will leave the camp dance early bc of Bad Memories and/or they would rather just be making out (which is. fair)

(fearless lore is referenced throughout but also will be theorized/posted about separately)

this would be proven by the references to wish you were sober by conan gray (yes ik it’s not in relation to ch09 but. this part Could Happen at the end of ch08…just saying).

this specific theory is fueled by the weird eureka moment i had regarding this post. is this a reach? yes. do i fucking care? no.

they take mike’s car, despite will’s grumblings abt his stupid fucking mustang.

ch01 im staring. Directly at you. shut up. shut up. i hear what you’re saying and i just can’t listen right now okay. ch01 we’ll get back to you i prommy

“Also, God forbid I have to leave the grounds in Mike Wheeler’s stupid fucking Mustang more than once this summer," he adds, nearly spitting. (ch01)

need i say more.

also this would totally be building more on their trust....plus probably some references from follow the sparks that i don't know off the top of my head

also could have been foreshadowed by ch02…when will refused to get into mike’s stupid. fucking. mustang. just saying….

ch02 is also biggest fearless lore references we have that i can think of but that is for another time

“Don’t tell me you’re driving that thing,” Will scoffs, eyeing Mike’s car in trepidation, eyes sweeping along the length of the racing stripes. (ch02)

...forcing Will to declare a lesser of two evils: throwing dignity to the wind and accepting a ride in the Mustang — the undeserving bane of Will’s existence...(ch02)

CAR EMOJI !!!!

this chapter is “thea’s baby”. well thea is also the resident car expert.

im literally so funny for this sorry not sorry im cracking myself up ->

either something happens between them and they end up pulled over OR something happens to the stupid fucking mustang

THIS could be that one post thea made…which could have been totally innocent OR it could have been COMPLETELY SINISTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OUT TO GET US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! putting on my tinfoil hat

smth happens between them...backseat driver will (mentioned in ch02) as well as the stupid. FUCKING how to drive manual that's been driving me INSANE the past couple of days (found here.)

side note: thea i love you but you are driving me Bonkers (mwah <3)

alternative to the above point is that mike pulls over to 1) make out with will (again. which is again. fair.) 2) chat with will about what they Are

option 2) would require some sort of shift in their relationship/situationship beforehand…im thinking this could mean you know that i caught it could take place BEFORE or DURING ch9… this could be the They Know motif coming to a head (meaning everybody. they Know for real this time. and now mike’s confused about it. “what are we?” talk from ch05 but times a million)

“save me ‘till the party’s over/kiss me in the seat of your rover”

^^ regarding this. i wrote all of this before i rediscovered that wish u were sober has nothing to do with ch09 (supposedly). im just too lazy to change it bear with me please.

will gets mad at mike for some reason?

if the original point made (something happens to the stupid fucking mustang) ends up happening, this could be will’s breaking point bc he’s overwhelmed and panicked and stuff is happening too fast for him

ch09 is a will pov chapter.

also frustrated crier (some ask about ch04 that i need to find to link before this gets posted)…just saying.

will gets mad at mike continued and reverts back to his I Need to Hurt You phase bc it’s safe and he doesn’t know how to handle the UNDOUBTEDLY romantic feelings n thoughts he’s having about mike…

he’s scared of getting hurt again like he was with derek and he’s scared of the unfamiliar territory that comes with being nice to mike/having mike be nice in return

This type of gentleness is certainly a facet of Will that Mike has known, having seen it more than a handful of times over the years, but it’s not quite one he’s accustomed to. (ch06)

this ^^ goes both ways i assume...there's gotta be evidence abt it in a will pov chapter but i am. exhausted.

he lashes out at mike that they aren’t anything, they’re just a casual fwb situationship, etc.

wow would you look at that…this is paralleling the fearless lore theory…

cue "straight up" by paula abdul for mike pov (i've been a fool before/wouldn't like to get my love caught in the slammin' door/how about some information, please? // straight up now tell me/do you really want to love me forever oh, oh, oh/or am I caught in a hit-and-run?/straight up now tell me/is it gonna be you and me together oh, oh, oh/or are you just having fun?)

“Hit-and-run” CAR IMAGERY ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

"straight up" by paula abdul is on mike's driving playlist and i've been going insane about it since i saw it. btw. i love this song.

mike's unsure abt what they Are/what will is thinking so he reverts to the childish fighting thing too...pushing will's buttons is second nature for him by this point...evidence for this in a mike pov i will find later prommy

this is also wish you were sober coded “trip down the road, walking you home/you kiss me at your door/pullin’ me close, beg me ‘stay over’/but im over this roller coaster/imma crawl out of the window now/gotten good at saying ‘gotta bounce’/honestly you always let me down/and i know we’re not just hanging out”

first half here. could be about how mike is begging will for a relationship. but will is “over the rollercoaster” and the push and pull of their friendship to rivalry to fwb situation.

second half here. will’s metaphorically leaving mike (crawling out the window). he’s “gotten good at saying ‘gotta bounce’” bc he’s done this to mike Before when they kissed when they were thirteen…i Think (fearless lore theory). “honestly you always let me down” could be a reference to. will being angry with mike for not just being happy with their fwb, even though he wants more too? “i know we’re not just hanging out” come ON this is will saying he KNOWS THEY CANT JUST BE CASUAL. HE LITERALLY SAYS THIS IN CH05 I BELIEVE. OR MIKE DOES IN CH06. THEY CAN’T BE ANYTHING BUT EACH OTHERS EVERYTHING.

^^ literally kill me now i can't believe none of this is related. curling up into a little ball and sobbing.

this would be the beginning of the Angst that’s a 3-4 on a scale of 10 bc we know they're both idiots just miscommunicating But. hey.

so that's uh. that's the outline of the Theory we currently have...it's our most fleshed out one rn fs but there are a few Others that were referenced here that we need some more information on...

anyways. thanks for being insane with us. <3

#/theory #/mustang theory (ch09)#god help me. i did this All.#collapses #also girldummy if u see this...was gonna post my ch06 comment in ao3 tn but i am So Tired so you will prob be seeing me there sometime #this week <3 if thats ok #ps. if anybody finds anything off about this that i didnt already point out. please feel free to share.#i dont care if im wrong im just having fun But. this is just a working theory...and if we can find more evidence for it or #we change it completely bc smth else works better #that's okay too! that's what this blog is for :)#ok done now #🫧

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laurel-finch · 5 months

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'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch04: Home

Summary: The Winchesters and their new friend work an emotional hunt together... Referenced Episodes: S1 E09 "Home" CW: Minor gore. Word Count: 6545 Recommended Song: You're The Only Hell Your Mama Every Raised -- Warrant Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

I stood on my front porch, leaning against one of the colonial columns with a cup of coffee in hand. It was roughly five in the morning and the other pack members were surely sleeping.

It wasn’t that long ago that I woke up, having gotten used to the more human routine of being awake through the day. I had only just poured myself a cup when I heard the purr of a car engine roaring down the highway towards my home. I took a sip and smiled at the recognizable roar.

My grin grew wider as I watched the sleek black car turn into my driveway, excitement bubbling up in my chest. A month without seeing the curious Winchester boys seemed far too long - I was excited to see the rebellious brothers once again.

The car finally came to a stop, the passenger door being thrown before it had fully come to a rest. Out stepped Sam, a characteristic friendly smile adorning his lips. I set my coffee down on the porch railing and walked toward the youngest brother.

Sam extended his arms in an embrace, which I happily took. Dean watched as he stepped out of the car, a chuckle falling from his lips.

"Didn't think you'd miss us that much, fido," he said, a charming smile gracing the trio. "I suppose being alone for a month can do that for you."

I chuckled. "I was alone for much longer than that before I met you, Dean." I turned and sauntered away from the brothers towards the open front door. "Are you boys coming in? I made coffee."

The boys were only there for about an hour when Booth came strolling into the kitchen. He paid them no mind, knowing they were coming as I had already alerted the pack. Unfortunately, I failed to tell the Winchesters about my new pack members and they responded accordingly.

The Winchesters watched with mixed looks of shock and horror as Booth drank from a nearly empty carton of milk in the refrigerator. Dean spoke up when the older man had finally finished the carton.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Booth paused in the middle of throwing the carton into a trashcan. He turned to look at me, an amused smile fighting to show itself. "You didn't tell them?" he asked, confusion written on his face.

I laughed, laying my head down on my arms, struggling to breathe. The Winchesters were riotous, yelling back and forth with Booth struggling to calm them down. It was very clear Booth's patience was wearing thin.

I wheezed and fell silent, hearing Booth's deep growl. I glanced up at him to see his eyes glowing a faint blue and fangs beginning to protrude. Both Winchesters had guns drawn and aimed at the older male.

"Guys, enough." I said, tone suddenly cold. Booth glanced my way and immediately dropped his snarl.

"They started it," he said, turning away from the younger men and depositing the carton in the trash. I snorted, trying to wipe away my smirk.

"Put the guns away," I said sternly. The boys slowly lowered them, never taking their eyes off Booth. Dean glared at him. It was a look that made me shiver, and I knew Booth would certainly be dead if looks could kill. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of that look.

"Who the hell is he?" the elder Winchester demanded, spite lacing his voice.

"My second in command," I responded nonchalantly. All three met my gaze with wide eyes, an equal look of surprise on Booth's features. I shrugged at him, a smile dawning on both our faces at the sudden decision.

"Your what?" Sam questioned. "Since when did you have a second? Since when did you have a- a pack? I thought you told them to leave?"

"I did. Three stayed. They're annoying, but I've grown quite fond of them." Booth huffed at this and leaned his back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed to delight in the Winchesters' confusion. I turned to face my newly named second. "Where are Andrew and Sasha?"

"Out in the bunkhouse still."

"Well, go get them. We have guests."

—

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Sasha asked quietly, visibly drooping. I smiled a warm smile in response.

"I won't be gone long. I'm just going on a short hunt with them. Small ghost hunt, nothing special."

"How long will you be gone for?" chimed in Andrew who was washing dishes from the delicious breakfast he had cooked.

"Not longer than a week," Dean interrupted. "We won't keep her from you for too long." The three skinwalkers nodded in response, the two younger looking slightly crestfallen. Booth was once again his aloof self, not paying much mind to the interactions around him.

The Winchesters had gotten along better than I expected after eating with them. Tensions had been high at first, with the two almost reclusive brothers not trusting many strangers. I was surprised that they had any trust in me at all. Andrew and Dean had gotten along quite well, discussing food of all things. I didn't think I could roll my eyes anymore than I already had that morning, watching their interactions.

Now it was time for us to go. With my bag slung over his shoulder, Sam carried my luggage out to the Impala as I said my short goodbyes. I had faith that Booth would take good care of them, and they had enough food to last the three of them quite a while should I not return for longer than anticipated.

The Impala was just as I remembered - drenched in the scent of beer and burgers. I loved it, though how the Winchesters themselves managed to survive with such sweet, distracting scents, I would never understand. Maybe their own senses were numb to it by now.

It wasn't long before the three of us were racing out of town, away from a home that I hadn't left for nearly two years. I couldn’t help but wonder if I could outrun the Impala. Probably not, but it could be fun to try.

I grinned, imagining Dean's face as I hurtled along beside him, legs stretched to full capacity. It was a wonderful feeling, to push yourself to the limits, to stretch out far enough with each lunge that you thought you might break. It was something no other creature would ever understand, not humans, not vampires or ghouls, or even our werewolf cousins. It was unique to skinwalkers.

Sometimes I wished I could stay that way forever. But I knew if I did, I would eventually lose myself.

—

A little over half a day of driving and we were already there. It was already night and the boys had opted for a motel. I slept most of the car ride, but as soon as the moon came up, I felt wide awake. During the day, I often hated the pull it had. I’m not a werewolf by any stretch, but I guess that we’re closely related enough for it to have the same effects.

Dean pulled the car around to the front while Sam went to pay for their rooms. I stared out the window once again, off into the tree line not too far from the motel. "Dean?" The older man grunted in response. "I think I'm going to go for a run."

"It's almost midnight, Astro. A bit late for a run."

"It's never too late for a run, Mr. Jetson." I could see Dean smirk in the rearview mirror, our eyes locking.

"Alright. Don't come back too late, we're getting up pretty early-" he had hardly finished before the car door flew open and I burst out, already in my fur and rushing off towards the trees. I hadn't even bothered to shut the car door behind her.

When Sam returned to hand Dean his room key, he looked surprised to see his companion gone. "Where'd she go?"

"Off into the trees somewhere. She'll be back soon."

God, there was nothing like running. The section of forest was rather small, and it was the only thing between Lawrence, Kansas, and the neighboring town. I had already crossed a large swath of meadow, a gigantic field that I had paused to roll in and enjoy the feeling of the grass in my fur.

Laying on my back, I stared at the sky, the stars more visible than at home. Here, they weren't obscured by moss and trees. I huffed and flopped onto my side, watching the waning moon and the clouds gently passing over it here and there. The moon had already passed its midpoint in the sky. I yawned, thinking it was late enough to head back – I didn’t want to be too exhausted on the case tomorrow.

I stood on tired legs and shook out my fur, looking back the way I came. It wouldn't be a long trek back, I could easily get there within the hour, if not sooner. I sighed, wishing I could stay out here forever.

A breeze tickled my fur and my hair stood on end. My hackles rose – something felt wrong. My ears perked, hearing gentle whispers wafting my way. It wasn't a human voice, surely, but I couldn't place the sound. A low growl left my throat as I looked towards the tree line I had just escaped from.

I took a few careful steps forward but stopped upon hearing a single word.

Come.

At this, I took a step back. The whispers were getting steadily louder, though never rising to a volume high enough for me to hear clearly. It sounded watery and dampened, and my head spun.

Come. It said again, more urgent this time.

Hell no, I thought, before turning and running around the source of the whispers, set on avoiding them on my way back to the motel.

—

It was nearly three in the morning by the time I returned, my legs and lungs pushed to the max. I had to run the whole way back to make it here on time.

My paws padded softly on the rough gravel parking lot as I made my way to my room. I looked for my room number, scanning up and down the row of rooms before my eyes settled on... a man sleeping in the doorway. I chuckled softly to myself and padded over to him.

Dean was leaning against the door frame, a jacket thrown over his torso like a haphazard blanket. I bumped the side of my furred face against his head, nudging him gently. He grunted and swatted at me gently when I tried it again. His eyes opened slowly, locking with my yellow ones. He smiled and reached a tired hand up to my furred cheek, his fingers gently brushing against it.

"Hey," he said, his voice raspy with much-needed sleep. I leaned against his hand tenderly and shifted back. His palm rested against my cheek and I smiled at him.

"Hi."

He quickly withdrew his hand and stretched. "I thought I said don't come back too late."

I brushed my hair out of my face, smirking at him. "Sorry, dad, I got a bit distracted." He hummed in response, staring down at his feet. "What are you doing out here so late, Mr. Jetson?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up slightly. The cropped style stuck out at odd angles. "Didn’t want you to get locked out," he uttered sleepily and stretched his back, popping from the uncomfortable position.

My smile only widened at this, as I leaned up towards the door handle. I turned it easily, facing no resistance and the door creaked open, casting waning moonlight into the room. "Locked out, huh?"

The elder Winchester simply glared at me before standing and marching inside.

—

The motel couch had to be the most uncomfortable thing I had ever slept on. Sleeping on the ground, out in the woods would have been better, no matter how uncivilized. I groaned and rolled onto my back, hearing the boys shuffling around in the room. It seemed one, who I assumed was Dean, had gone to take a shower.

I looked over to see Sam packing a duffel bag after having pulled all the weapons out and inventorying them. "What time is it?" I questioned groggily.

He chuckled in response. "It's about seven in the morning."

"Fuck."

"You know, if you hadn't stayed out all night, you wouldn't be so tired."

"No, if I hadn't slept on this God-awful couch all night I wouldn't be tired. I slept nearly the whole car ride."

"Whatever you want to believe."

I smiled, throwing my arm lazily over my eyes. I didn’t have much time to lounge before we were ready to hit the road. The brothers wanted an early start and talk with the victim, a young mother who had just moved into the house. I was told to sit in the car. Figures. I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest and watched the Winchesters introduce themselves to the new owner of the house. She was a pretty woman, though I didn't envy her. Moving into a new house with a ghost was never fun.

I leaned back in my seat and stared up at the ceiling. Why wasn't I allowed to come in? I chewed my nails, biting at the torn skin around my nail beds. Did they not trust me as much as I thought they did? Or were they hiding something?

I could smell them approaching before I saw or heard them. I sat up and stared at them out the window as they approached and easily slipped into their respective seats. My brows furrowed when Dean quickly started the car and pulled away from the house. I leaned between the seats, eyeing the brothers closely.

"Where're we going?" I questioned, carefully watching the route Dean was taking. I knew they weren't looking for a diner – they had stopped outside a gas station earlier for some snacks. Sam reached for the glove compartment and withdrew a worn leather-bound book, thick pages covered in additional photos, scrawled notes, and sticky notes. He flipped open a page and flashed an address at Dean. "I'm starting to think maybe you're trying to kidnap me…"

"Please, we don't kidnap monsters," Dean scoffed and Sam gave him an unamused glance.

"Dude."

"What?"

"You don't have to say it like that."

"Doesn't matter to me, Sam," I interjected with a subtle frown. "I've been called a lot of things, being called a monster is the least of my concerns." Sam huffed and faced forward again, eyes training on the road in front of him.

The elder brother didn't answer for a few moments. The silence seemed to thicken as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. The tips of his ears flushed pink a bit, debating whether or not he wanted to share the next destination with me. "We're going to a psychic’s place."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat. "What do you need a witch for?"

Seam twisted over his shoulder to meet my gaze. "Not a witch,” he corrected. “Psychics don’t make spells and rituals like witches do. They just… have a higher perception than a normal person.”

“Seems like a load of bullshit to me, but dad seemed to trust her," Dean grumbled. My brows rose. This was the first time they had mentioned their family to me.

"Then why are we going to see them? Why can't we just talk to your father?"

No response.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We should tell her, Dean."

Tell me what?

The elder brother grumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a string of swear words. "’Cause maybe she can pull something outta Sam's grapefruit and tell us why he's getting visions all of a sudden."

"Sam has visions?" I exclaimed, leaning even further forward until my seat belt locked up. "What, like a- a psychic? Since when?"

"Easy, Pongo. You'll see soon enough."

It wasn't long before we arrived at this psychic’s house. I chewed on my nails, nervous over what we might see or hear. I had never been one for predictions or the future. Always unnerved me a bit, knowing someone else might know more about me than I did.

As we sat in the waiting room, I fidgeted in my seat. The boys themselves were getting frustrated with the long wait, and Dean smacked down a magazine in irritation. He opened his mouth, surely to say that we should leave when a man exited the 'reading room' or whatever psychics called their lairs of mystery.

"Don't you worry ‘bout a thing," came a woman's southern drawl as she exited after him. The man looked rather confused, yet happy by whatever she had told him. "Your wife is crazy ‘bout you."

The man gave her one last smile before he left the house and she closed the door behind him. The dark-skinned woman sighed and straightened herself, one hand pressed against the door. "Poor bastard. His woman is cold-banging the gardener."

I straightened at that, a look of confusion and mild disgust on my face. "Why didn't you tell him?" chimed Dean.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come here for good news," she answered, making her way back towards her lair. She turned back to look at the trio expectantly. "Well? Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain't got all day." The brothers glanced at each other, stood, and quickly followed after her. I didn't move, unsure if I was welcome until the older woman turned to her and said, "You too, pooch. Let's go."

After exchanging pleasantries, the woman, having now introduced herself as Missouri Moseley, took Sam's hand in her own. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry ‘bout your girlfriend." I looked at Dean in confusion, wondering just what this woman was talking about. His only response was a slight frown.

"And your father..." Missouri started again. This caught Dean's attention rather quickly. "... He's missing?"

I stiffened. Missing? I glared at both the brothers, watching them closely. I didn’t want to intrude, but… why was I here if they weren’t going to tell me anything important? The brothers both rushed to ask her questions, Sam being more concerned about how she knew, whereas Dean cared about what she knew.

Missouri paused and looked at me with a soft gaze. Motherly, warm brown eyes that seemed to pick me apart and put me back together with minimal effort. My skin crawled. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, it looks like I wasn't supposed to tell you yet." She glared at the boys, "You better have told her some time. I expect she wouldn't have been none too happy if you hadn't."

"Do you know where dad is? Is he alright?" Dean asked, a million babbled questions flying out of his mouth.

"Don't know," answered Moseley.

"Don't know? How can you not know? Aren't you supposed to be a psychic?"

She turned on him with pure irritation and glared. "Boy, do you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician?" She was blazing with fury now. "I may be able to read thoughts and energies in a room, but I can just pull facts out of thin air."

Sam seemed to delight in the verbal beating his brother was taking. I struggled to hide the growing grin on my face. The three of them eventually sat, the two boys on a couch while I had a chair to myself. Before Dean was even fully seated, Missouri proclaimed loudly, "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table and I will whack you with a spoon." Dean, looking abashed, moved his feet as far from her table as possible.

The boys asked their questions about their father and I was racing to keep up. What fire was she talking about? Their mom was dead and their dad was missing? Why the hell was no one telling me anything?

The boys had finally finished their questioning and agreed with Moseley that they should take a look at their childhood home for any evidence of this evil... thing... that had killed their mom. The boys stood, shook her hand, and turned to leave, and I rose to chase after them.

I flinched at the sound of the unnatural woman calling my name. I spun slowly to face Missouri with a wide gaze. "I'm sorry ‘bout your family honey. I know your uncle meant a lot to you." I nodded in response and looked towards my feet. "Do you want a reading, dear?" Missouri kindly asked, settling herself back into her chair. I looked up in surprise.

"Maybe, uh, not an in-depth one," I hesitated meekly, wringing my hands. Would this even work?

"About your pack? If you'll be alright?" Missouri offered. I nodded in response, earning a smile from the psychic. "You'll be just fine, dear. Stick to your morals and don't let anyone make you stray from them. You'll be a fine leader."

I thanked her, a nervous smile on her face as I turned to leave.

"Oh, and darling?" I turned back to look at Missouri, who was now staring out the window at the Winchester brothers. "Keep those boys close and don't let them get into too much trouble. They'll be mighty important to you someday."

I followed the woman's gaze and it settled on Dean, leaning against the side of the car with Sam, waiting for the skinwalker to exit. I had to admit, the two boys looked quite handsome, despite their rugged, untameable appearance. And just like my pack, they were quickly becoming family.

"They already are."

—

"So your mom died in a fire when you were both really young..." I said, pausing as the brothers nodded. "... And your dad became a hunter..." Another nod. "Sam left and went to college, then your dad disappeared and... Jessica..." Only Dean nodded in response to this, his hand clenching. "And now you're going to your old house because Sam has visions that sometimes come true and you think the new owners might die..."

"Yeah," said Dean, taking another bite of his burger. I rested my elbows on the diner table, cradling my temples as I tried to make sense of everything.

Sam attempted to explain himself. "It's... a lot to take in. We didn't expect this case to be so huge. If we had known-"

"- If you had known then you wouldn't have invited me along and I would have been kept in the dark forever." I snatched a fry from Dean's basket.

"Pretty much," answered Dean, glaring at me and my new fry. I ate it, glaring right back at him.

"Alright," I pushed my empty plate away from her, "What are we going to do about this evil 'thing'?"

Dean smirked at this. "We're going to kill it."

—

This time when the Winchesters knocked on their old front door, they had company. Missouri and I were both with them, much to the complaint of Dean. If he had it his way, I would be sent back home and not be involved in their business. Had he known how deeply personal this case was, he wouldn’t have invited me along.

Missouri talked with the woman, giving her the whole spiel about how they were here to help and that there was a dark presence in her new home. Neither Winchester agreed with 'drawing back the curtain', as Moseley had put it in relation to their father. The fewer people who knew about the supernatural world, the better.

The woman finally agreed to let us in and Missouri quickly made her way to the second floor. She hummed thoughtfully to herself. "This is it. This is the center of it all."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

“Something this tragic… it leaves a hole. Something needs to fill the space.”

"Is it like it gets stretched?" I asked, twiddling my fingers with nerves, confidence faltering. "Like, it gets stretched and can't return to its original shape, so there's room for more to get in?"

Missouri nodded her head. "This used to be your nursery, Sam. This was where that evil first appeared. Something has to fill that space again."

"So what is it?" Dean chimed in. I glanced his way but quickly turned away when he looked back.

"This house has attracted a poltergeist, and a nasty one at that." Missouri let out a shaky breath. "The spirit won't rest until this woman and her babies are dead."

"Then we need to get them out of the house," Sam offered, turning swiftly towards the door. He was already on his way down the stairs before anyone else had reacted.

The family left quickly, with much reluctance and arguing from the mother. "I just don't think I feel comfortable leaving you here alone," she said, tapping her foot nervously as she adjusted her toddler on her hip.

"Oh hush honey," said Missouri, ushering her out the door, "Take your kids to see a movie. It'll all be over by the time you get back." The woman swallowed dryly and nodded, rushing her kids to the car. Missouri's serious tone held a sense of foreboding that made me shiver.

We quickly ran back into the house to find Dean and Sam putting together a handful of blue pouches. Their ingredients were strange – I had never seen such things.

"So what exactly are these, Missouri?" Dean inquired, sprinkling a handful of what looked to be ash onto the blue-stained leather.

"Powerful anti-ghost magic. Bury these within the structure of the house, and it'll be sure to keep the poltergeist at bay."

"It won't banish it?" I asked, taking my own leather bag.

"No, darling. You can't banish a poltergeist, it's become one with the house. Maybe with a more gentle poltergeist, but not one this powerful."

"What about the other ghost?"

"Unless we can figure out what's keeping it here, I don't think we can get rid of it. All we can do is hope this magic keeps it at bay as well."

The brothers nodded, but I shook my head in shock. This was not what I signed up for - granted, I wanted to help the brothers in any way I could. I felt like I owed them after they helped me take down Chikaltio and preserve my own well-being in the process.

Everyone was told which floor to go to and distribute their magic bag thingies. I still couldn't wrap my head around it. Magic - ha! In a world full of the impossible, this sure seemed to be the exception. I watched as Missouri made her way to the basement and heard Sam thundering up the stairs. I was left with Dean to find a place to deposit the bag.

"Try the kitchen," I said to my partner. He quickly looked between me and the kitchen before shrugging. I scanned the surrounding area, waiting for any sort of spiritual disturbance. I took a few steps into the living room, only to hear a very sudden yelp from Dean and the crash of a table.

I whirled around to see several knives lodged into the table and another flying towards me. I ducked and ran quickly towards Dean, hoping to give him some support. I ducked again and ran low to the ground, avoiding flying knives. At that point, the poltergeist had nearly run out of knives and was chucking assorted silverware and kitchen utensils towards the pair. A spatula whipped past my head and hit the table Dean had thrown up.

I watched as his hand flailed madly for the whole he had put in the wall, bag in hand. He couldn't quite reach it without exposing himself.

I made a mad dash for the table, vaulting myself over it as all utensils directed themselves towards me. I snatched the bag from his hand and quickly shoved it into the hole in the wall. Any utensils flying quickly dropped and I collapsed beside the elder Winchester brother, chest heaving.

Dean turned to face me, breathing equally as heavily. He looked down at my arm and I followed his gaze. "You're bleeding."

I glanced down at the wound, recognizing the pain the moment I saw it. I placed my hand over the tender slash, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "It wasn't silver, I'll heal quickly." I smiled at him with a crooked grin, wincing slightly at the stinging pain. “Better me than you, right?”

His lips parted slightly as he stared at me, brows pinching together. The tips of his ears flushed red. My own lips parted to say something, anything to break the awkward silence. Before I had a chance, he was on his feet and racing towards the second floor, likely to find Sam. I sighed and picked myself up. Dean would take care of Sam – it was my job to find Missouri.

The older woman was thankfully unharmed. An old desk had her shoved against a wall, but she had deposited her bag only moments before. She had a few bruises, but it was nothing some time wouldn't heal, thankfully.

There was a loud blast and it seemed to shake the whole house. A white glow enveloped the two women and Missouri smiled. "That should be it. The spirit should be held back now."

"Good," I exclaimed. "I hope I never have to deal with another poltergeist." Missouri chuckled at this and hobbled her way up the stairs, my hand on her elbow to help guide her up.

The kitchen was an absolute wreck, and I assumed that the upstairs was just as bad. The boys were back downstairs now, Sam rubbing his neck tenderly and Dean looked like he was ready to kill something, per usual.

A soft knock was heard on the front door and it was gently pushed open. "Hello? Is it over?" The woman asked, a look of worry on her face. Her children stood dutifully behind her.

"Yes, dear. You can come back inside now," answered Missouri. The woman stepped into the house and was appalled at the state of the kitchen.

"What happened here?"

"Things got a bit rough with the spirit," I offered. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

"Don't worry, ma'am, we'll pay for everything," added Sam. Dean's eyes widened with surprise.

"And Dean has so kindly offered to clean up this mess for you," Missouri said. She turned to Dean, a teasing look in her eye. "Well, go on boy, get yourself a mop." Dean glowered and turned away from her, but stopped when she hissed at him. "Don't you cuss at me, boy." He sheepishly went about cleaning the kitchen after that, with some help from Sam and the new house owner.

Missouri sat with the children, bouncing the youngest one on her knee. The little girl sat beside me on the couch, haphazardly playing with the hair on the head of one of her dolls. I sat uncomfortably beside her, muscles tense, not knowing what to do with or say to the child.

"I take it you don't like children, do you honey?" Missouri inquired. I shook my head.

"Never had much to do with them before."

"Children are delightful dear." Missouri flashed a knowing smile at the younger girl. "Don't worry honey. I see that pretty soon you'll feel differently about them."

My eyes widened at this and I looked sheepishly toward the psychic. The older woman nodded delightedly. I couldn't help but smile too.

—

Sam has insisted upon keeping watch over their old residence, much to the disappointment of his companions. Missouri had gone home, just as the other two wished to, but Sam didn't believe that their task was quite finished.

Dean was griping again about having to stay. He finally told Sam to wake him if anything interesting happened. I leaned back in my seat and stared up at the night sky. It was a cloudy night and no stars could be seen.

I jumped when Sam suddenly straightened and shook his brother awake. His eyes were locked on a second-story window. My eyes widened, seeing the mother pounding on the window glass, fear, and horror written on her face.

I was out of the car and in my fur before Dean was even fully awake. I slammed into the front door, knocking it loose on its hinges, and blasted into the house. I pounded up the stairs to the woman's bedroom and leaped against the door, clawing at it with the woman screaming on the other side.

Don't worry, I said to the woman, though the only noise that came out was a deep rumbling growl that only made the woman scream louder. I howled in response begging the woman to calm down as I launched myself against the door.

I heard pounding footsteps racing the stairs and the unmistakable scent of cherries hit my nose. I backed away from the door and turned to see Dean racing towards her.

"Go help Sam with the kids, I've got her!" he shouted as he approached. I gave one nod of my furry head and was off once again racing down the hall. I heard a door crash down behind her.

Racing down the hallway, I nearly ran into Sam who had both children in his arms. I quickly shifted back, my bones cracking and reorganizing. The little girl screamed, but Sam shushed her.

"Take the boy, get him outside quickly," he ordered. I nodded again and took the toddler in my arms and ran down the stairs, Sam hot on my heels. I was out the door long before him and found Dean waiting on the front lawn with the crying woman in his arms. She outstretched her arms, reaching for her son, and I quickly gave him up. The woman hugged her son close and cried, watching the entrance to the house.

Her daughter came running out not long after and raced to her mother, who enveloped her in a warm hug.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked the girl. She only shook her head. "Where's my brother!?"

"It took him," she wailed, "He's still inside."

The two hunters looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before tearing across the yard together. The front door was shut tightly, and no amount of shoving would make it budge.

"Wait here," Dean ordered, running back across the lawn to the Impala. I kept trying the door, ramming against it and using all the strength I had. It didn't give, not even a little.

"Watch out!" shouted Dean, and I turned just in time to see him flying towards me with an ax raised and a gun on his waist. I jumped to the side, landing roughly on the lawn. I quickly picked myself back up and began tearing chunks off the door from where Dean had hit it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a large enough hole that they could fit through and the two ducked into the house together.

Despite all the previous panic, the house was dead silent. I followed Dean to the kitchen and there was Sam shoved against a wall by some invisible force. The brothers called out to one another and Dean rushed forward, prepared to pry Sam off that wall with whatever tools he had.

Sam gasped, drawing the attention of his two would-be rescuers to a figure at the end of a hall. This... thing was burning, though there was no smoke in the air, nor the smell of anything burning. The hair on the back of my neck raised - this thing was unnatural. Dean raised his gun, likely full of rock salt, and aimed it towards the figure.

"Wait!" Sam called out. Despite the lack of smoke, the heat was overwhelming and already the three of them were drenched in sweat.

"What do you mean wait!?" Dean shouted back, looking toward his brother.

"I know who it is," said Sam with awe in his voice. "I can see her now."

Dean turned to face the figure and his formerly stoic features morphed into shock. The fire died down around the figure and in its place stood a handsome woman, her long blonde hair flowing just like the flames. She smiled at the boys and took a few steps closer.

"Mom?" Dean whispered and the woman nodded. My jaw dropped. The ghost was their mother?

Mary Winchester reached up towards Sam, as though to touch his face, but quickly dropped her hand down again. She smiled weakly at him. "Sammy... I'm sorry..." Sam looked confused at this.

"What are you sorry for?" he questioned softly. She only smiled in response and whispered a few more things to them before turning and addressing the poltergeist. The house shook as she demanded the raging spirit leave her house, and in a pillar of flames, she and the spirit were gone.

—

I leaned against the side of the Impala, a little bruised and battered, and still very confused. Dean stood beside her, watching Sam talking with Missouri. The two sat on the front steps of the brothers' old house and Missouri was speaking in a hushed tone to the younger brother.

"Your mother..." I said, searching for something to say. Those two words caught Dean's attention and he turned to look at her. "She was... really something..."

Dean kept watching the young woman until I turned to look back at him. We locked eyes and I couldn't help but admire him. Sure, he was roughed up with a cut lip and dappled bruises, but he was still as charming as ever. I flushed and looked away from him.

"She was," he finally responded. He looked back towards his brother thinking about his family. He couldn't help but wonder where his father was, or if his mother was still a ghost. He was sure she wasn't; Missouri had mentioned something about the two spirits 'canceling each other out,' whatever that meant. I chewed nervously on my lips, thinking of what exactly I wanted to say. I had so many thoughts that wanted to come tearing out, but didn’t know where to start.

"Hey, Dean?" I said and he quickly turned his focus back on me. I was equally as roughed up as him, with a long cut on my arm that was quickly healing and a few bruises here or there. His expression softened when he looked at me, taking in the bruises and scrapes for the umpteenth time that morning. "Listen, if you or Sam ever need anything, just know... I'll always be there. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. I'll always be there if I can be."

He smiled at that and turned to look up at the thin clouds passing over the pale morning sky. It was certainly going to be a beautiful day.

"What do you say we get you home, sweetheart?”

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