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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 4 years

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Commodore Norrington x Reader Fic! Chapter 3

Title: The Same Water

Genre: Romance, Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences thus far.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, drowning, and racism.

Summary: Commodore Norrington washes up on the shore and you must find out why.

Notes: I intentionally kept the main character ambiguous (but female) so readers can fill themselves in!

James and I got up early the next morning to head down to the marina. The sky was a dazzling pink only an island could produce.

“Here she is, Seaclusion! Don’t make fun of me. My dad named it.” James got a chuckle out of the other punny names of the neighboring boats.

We climbed aboard, and James inspected the vessel, fascinated by hundreds of years of progress.

“Here,” I said, tossing James a life vest and securing my own.

“What is this?”

“It’s a life jacket. It’ll help you stay afloat if you fall overboard.”

“Ingenious!” James said in awe as he put his on.

“Oh, and these,” I said, digging around in a compartment by the wheel. I pulled out a pair of old aviators and sunscreen. “To protect your eyes and your skin. Though you’re probably already riddled with skin cancer from living in the Caribbean unprotected for years. Keep an eye on that freckle behind your ear.”

James touched the freckle self-consciously.

“You know how to swim, don’t you?”

James rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Of course I do.” He put on the aviators and dang, he looked good. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of interrogation with him. He had an intimidating air about him that he could turn on and off.

The engine roared to life, and the beginning cords of ‘The Real Thing’ by George Strait played on the speakers. James looked overboard to the motor and rudder underwater.

“I’m sure you have better sea legs than I do, but you might want to take a seat,” I said, gesturing the rows of seats on the front deck.

“Hold on!” I said and came up to speed, pulling out of the marina. James was pushed back in his seat by the motion, not expecting a boat to go that fast. I wanted to show him what ships were like nowadays. Even over the rushing wind, I could hear him laughing with glee.

We sailed to the other side of the island with dolphins in our wake. How lucky was I that I lived somewhere where dolphins were so accessible!

I turned down the speakers, “This is Pier 21. Our cruise ships dock here, and on the other side are the shrimp boats that supply these restaurants first.” Large pelicans lazed around the docks and boats, hoping for some fish scrap from the sailors. James wasn’t paying attention; he was gazing at the Elissa like a starved man in an oasis.

“What is this glorious creation?” James stood as we idled.

I smiled, “That’s the Elissa. A little after your time, but I’m sure you can sail her just as good as anyone else on this island.”

The Elissa was a tall ship from 1877. After many different roles in life all across the globe, she was moored in Galveston.

“Is she still functional?”

“Oh yeah, she goes on one big sail to Europe once a year. She’s mostly a teaching vessel now. And next to that is a yacht. Some restauranteur owns it and has a staff to keep it ready around the clock even though I’ve seen him use it like five times.”

“Is it common for laypeople to own such vessels?” He asked, finally pulling his eyes from the Elissa.

“Here on the island, yeah, pretty much everyone has a boat. They’re still quite common on the mainland, depending on how close you are to water. I’d say a boat is definitely attainable to the upper-middle class.”

“You mentioned a ‘cruise ship’?”

“Yeah, they’re huge ships that can hold thousands of people who sail for vacation. See that huge thing over there?”

“Is that a ship?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yep, let’s get closer.”

We were dwarfed by the cruise liner. James looked up in disbelief as we buoyed in its shadow. “Galveston is a port city for cruise liners, bananas, farm equipment…Oh, and you need to see this,” I said as we turned and sped into the open water.

“I think you’ll like this,” I said as we pulled up next to the wreckage of a rusted and splintered ship.

“I am perplexed, yes,” James answered.

“This is the Selma, and it’s totally made out of concrete, or mortar, I guess is similar.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yep.

“Surely, she never saw the open ocean.”

“It did actually. Until it was damaged, and it was far too costly to repair due to war, and it was scuttled.”

James looked to the horizon, “Why are those ships not in the harbor?” Container ships always loomed in the distance of Galveston Island.

“Again, costs too much but also because the channel isn’t deep enough.”

“Are pirates a concern?”

“I’ve never seen a pirate in my life. I guess pirates were your version of terrorists,” I said.

James thought, then nodded, seemingly decided the word was correct.

“Unfortunately, we still have a problem with terrorism, plus pirates as you would know them. Instead of big ships, they run around on jet skis or dhows today. They’re mostly a problem in the Indian Ocean and around that area.”

“So, they’ve been cornered…”

“What? Down boy! You want to go pirate hunting? Well, unfortunately, pirates are actually looked upon favorably as of recently.”

James looked at me like I’ve grown two heads, “Especially here. I guess people like the freedom of just going wherever you want to and forget that they were actually terrorists. Not that piracy is now legal or anything.”

“And what are those machines in the distance?”

“Oil rigs. They dig oil from the earth, and we use it to power just about everything. Crews live on them for weeks at a time. Usually, there are less parked here, but the price of oil has dropped, so companies don’t need as many.”

Container ships and offline oil rigs loom in the distance of Galveston Island. It’s almost like the giant guardians that protect us.

“Do you want to try?” I asked, gesturing to the wheel.

He looked hesitant at first but quickly accepted. “The wheel is the same as it ever was, this is the accelerator, how fast you want to go, the kill switch if something goes awry…” I explained. James and I then switched places, but I stood behind him in case something happened. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the proximity to another person and a woman, but when we got up to speed, he looked like a bird who could finally fly again. I almost didn’t have it in my heart to ask him to surrender the wheel.

When we got home, there was a package at my doorstep. My heart started to thrum when I saw it was from the police department. I hurriedly tore it open when we got inside. The contents of the box smelled like mildew, salt, and brine. It was James’ uniform. I pushed it to him as I read the letter that was on top of it. It was a standard form letter saying they were closing the case due to insufficient evidence that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the uniform.

James held the uniform in his hand. “Do you have a fireplace?” He asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“It makes me ill.” He replied.

“You don’t want it?”

“It’s a mark of failure, both personal and professional. I would think it best if it was gone.”

“I have a fire pit.”

“Splendid.”

Later that night, Jericka came over, and we started the fire. James unceremoniously dropped the heap of clothes in the fire and sat down with us around it. Jericka and I drank while James abstained.

“To new beginnings,” I said, raising my bottle of Ziegenbock. James nodded, watching the fabric burn.

“You know, there are probably costumers and historians who would have dove in there for that uniform,” Jericka said.

“So…what happened? Before you died?” I asked.

James was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts. “I can pinpoint the exact day when everything changed. An idiot pirate sailed into my port. To attempt to capture him, my men and I sailed through a hurricane. Only a handful survived, and I resigned in shame. I essentially became a pirate myself for the time, drunk, and destitute. Then, I meant Davy Jones.” James leaned forward, the fire casting shadows on his face, almost making his sharp features look hawk-like.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“I am. He is something of a grim reaper of the seas. I was stabbed by one of his crewmen. That’s all I remember.”

“You sailed into a hurricane?” Jericka asked, “And you made it all the way to Admiral?”

James scowled. “I had no choice.”

“But what’s so wrong about the uniform, or being called Admiral?”

“I didn’t earn it, nor was it through the Royal Navy. I worked for the East India Trading Company, who were no better than pirates themselves when I was an admiral. I took the post out of necessity, greed, and selfishness. I was only serving myself, not the Crown, not the people. I was no better than a pirate as well. I much rather be called commodore if you have to address me by title.”

Jericka gave a low whistle, “Then I’m sure you heard of Galveston before.” She took a drink from her bottle.

“Was it a pirate’s den?”

“Oh yeah, Jean Lafitte owned the place.”

“Lafitte? I have heard of him. I always seemed to run into a sun-drenched lunatic named Jack Sparrow.”

“He sounds like quite the character.”

“He was. If Lafitte settled here, I must be in Campeche.”

I snapped my fingers. “I never thought of that! That’s like Galveston history 101!” I said to Jericka.

“Well, I know where I’m at, so that brings some more comfort,” James said.

“Okay, Commodore,” Jericka said, “Tell us about yourself.”

James looked like we just asked him to explain nuclear physics.

“Pets? Did you have any pets?” I asked.

“Well, I had a horse named Scout back in the Caribbean. I think she tried to kill me once.” James said casually. “And there were coconut crabs all over the fort I was stationed at. They stole everything.”

“A horse? Tried to kill you? And crabs stole your stuff?” Jericka asked skeptically.

“No one believed me! Even then!” James said adamantly and gestured wildly as he told the story, “I swear this horse was calculating, and she hated me. How would a horse know to stop right below a hanging lantern so my tricorn would catch fire?”

“Maybe you should have been paying better attention…” I said gently.

James started to speak, but thought better, “Fair enough.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Jericka said excitedly, “We need to take him to Pieces of Ship! Down on Mechanic street!”

“Excuse me?” James asked, not believing his ears.

I laughed, “It’s a shop that sells parts from ships; maps, flags, wheels, bells, you name it.”

“No, Mrs. Norrington, huh?” Jericka teased as James stoked the fire. She winked at me.

“Close, but it wasn’t meant to be,” James said, looking down for a moment.

“Yeah, everything I’ve read about you never mentions anyone,” I said. I was noticing I was relieved when I found out James never married. However, by his wording and the tone of his voice, there was someone he wanted. Jealousy tingled at my nerves.

“I appreciate time for forgetting such a blunder.” He gave a small, defeated smile.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “I think you need to see a therapist.”

We burst out laughing.

By the end of the night, we were laughing incessantly. I felt like we became friends with James at that point.

#James Norrington #pirates of the caribbean #commodore norrington

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huntertales · 7 years

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Part Two: Fact or Fiction? (I Believe the Children are Our Future S05E06)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 6,153. A/N: Inset some excuse about this being really late, but life has been hetic, and much as I wanted to, I can't avoid life responsibilities. Hopefully this part being a bit over six thousand words will help mend the pain. I hope you guys enjoy!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Growing up, there was a few fictional beings that you once believed were true, and that brought only good—creatures like Santa Clause, a fat man with a jolly laugh and white as snow beard, giving presents for those who were good, and coal for those who were wicked. The Easter bunny was a bit more of a stretch for you that made you more frightened when you were much younger with a wild imagination. The idea of a giant bunny hopping around and giving people eggs to find made you a bit frightened, but the candy left in your pastel pink basket and decorating hard boiled eggs the night before each year made up for it. But there was one right after Santa that most kids loved. It was the tooth fairy. You first heard about the tale when you were having one of your yearly checkups at the dentist’s office at the age of seven when the center bottom tooth was loose. It was a bit of stretch for you to believe someone would want your small teeth in exchange for money, but like most kids, you fell for the myth.

You always thought the tooth fairy was an innocent lie parents told their children for traditions to keep their lives exciting, like Santa Clause and the Easter bunny, but after speaking to the doctor this morning, it seemed you couldn't be farther from what you had believed. The tooth apparently was real, and she was coming much later for a bigger treasure. She made a pit stop last night, but it wasn't for a man's daughter and her loose tooth that fell out earlier that day, it was for his teeth—all thirty-two of them. You found yourself subconsciously licking your teeth with your younger from behind your tightly pressed lips, feeling obligated not to brag about the luxury of a healthy set when a man was woken up in the middle of the night by a stranger hovering over him with a pair of plyers. From the Disney movies and your wild imagination at seven years old, you thought the tooth fairy looked like one of the fairies from Pinocchio or Cinderella, magic wand included.

Come to get find out, the job was held by a man, and from the description you were given from the victim, he was the polar opposite from your imagination. The man was tough, burly, and demanded a payment that only satisfied him. You accidentally winced a few times when you noticed the flaming red gums peek through whenever the poor man tried to talk, giving you a perfect idea of what his attacker looked like. The idea of having all your teeth ripped out by a man twice your size and dressed in a pink tutu made you actually kind of scared. It was like the one case you had worked on with a coven of witches, a woman lost all her teeth, they just fell out, one at a time.You mentally shuddered at each scenario when you imagined.

Thanking the man for his cooperation, you clicked your pen and shut the notepad filled with everything you needed to figure out what was going on in this town. You stepped out of the room, letting him get used to the momentarily life of baby food until a dentist could give him dentures that would make him good as new. You stepped out into the hallway and turned your head to the left, you noticed Dean was standing around, waiting patiently for you and his brother to finish up the interview. Shoving the notepad into your back pocket, you headed over to Dean, letting out a sigh from what you had witnessed, and a little bit weirded out from the image you wouldn't be able to get out of your head for a while.

“What’s up with Toothless?” Dean asked, rubbing his palms togethers as his eyebrows shot up, curious to find out what the story was on this bizarre addition to the hunt. “Cavity Creeps get ahold of him?”

"Yeah. Close. He wrote a description," You fetched out your notepad and opened it to the exact spot where you had him write down everything when talking became too painful. "Five-ten, three hundred and fifty pounds, wings, and a pink tutu.”

“So he's whacked out on painkillers.” Dean said, seeming to believe for himself that this entire story might be mixing with his memories from the night before and the side effects of the medication.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugging off his brother’s opinion when there was another piece of information that you had left out. “Whatever it was got past locked doors and windows without triggering the alarm.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Come on. Tooth fairy?”

“And it left thirty-two quarters underneath his pillow, one for each tooth.” You said, giving him more information that linked with the myth. “Which is a total rip off, if you ask me. I always got a dollar when I was younger.”

“I see your crazy and raise you some. There's a couple of kids upstairs with stomach ulcers—said they got it mixing Pop Rocks and coke. Another guy, his face…” Dean shared a few more strange occurrences that were happening around. You’d done the Pop Rocks and Coke dare when you were a kid, despite what people said, nothing ever happened. But when he trailed off from what else he was going to say, Dean waved a hand around his face, as if he was trying to demonstrate. “Froze that way.”

Sam furrowed his brow, “What way?”

Dean looked in all directions of the hospital hallway as if he was trying to make sure nobody was looking at him. He put his index finger in his mouth and pulled out his cheeks as his eyes crossed,doing the exact same expression the man had done. A second later, he returned back to normal, fearful that he might become victim of whatever happened to the man. too “He, uh, held it too long and it—it got stuck. They're flying in a plastic surgeon.”

“Huh. My mom always told me not to roll my eyes as a kid. ‘They’ll permanently get stuck up there.’” You mocked her warning as you found yourself starting to roll your eyes, but when you realized everything that was going on here, you quickly looked straight over at Dean, suddenly afraid it might happen. You watched as he wiggled his chin and poked at his cheeks, too caught up in his own anxiety to head what you had said. “So, if you add all of that up…” You normally take an educated guess at what was happening, but you hesitated when the boys stared at you, wondering what you were going to say. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

You shrugged your shoulders, deciding you were fresh out any possible theory that could explain what the hell was going on in this town. You began heading down the hallway with Sam, Dean following behind a few seconds later when he realized where the both of you were going. "I thought sea-monkeys were real." Dean admitted, you glanced over at him as you slipped your notepad back into your pocket.

"They are." Sam said. "They're brine shrimp."

"No, no, no, I mean like in the ads. You know, like the sea-monkey wife cooks pot roast for the sea-monkey husband, and the sea-monkey kids play with the dog in a sea-monkey castle—real. I mean, I was six, but I believed it." Dean said. You nodded your head as your brow furrowed, wondering what he was trying to get from the confession. He stopped slowly in his tracks, you and his brother followed to discuss further what Dean was trying to get at. "Point is, maybe that's the connection. The tooth fairy, the Pop Rocks and Coke, the joy buzzer that shocks you—they're all lies that kids believe."

"And now they're coming true. Okay, so whatever's doing this is reshaping reality. It has the powers of a god. Or..." You thought about the possibilities of monsters that could be responsible for causing chaos in this small town. It only took a split second before the perfect person popped itself into your head. A frown stretched across your lips when you spoke his name. "Or a trickster.”

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "with the sense of humor of a nine-year-old."

"Or you." Sam remarked to his older brother.

You couldn't help yourself but quietly chuckled at the look that crossed Dean's face. He was about to open his mouth to protest the accusation, but a short second later, he shrugged his shoulders, agreeing. The three of you headed down the hallway once more, knowing there was some more research to do before pointing fingers at old enemies.

+ + +

A few hours after arriving from the hospital, Sam took the Impala to follow a few leads as you decided on digging up whatever incriminating information the victims might have hidden away. If you were dealing with the trickster, you knew he had a motive for going after people he always believed deserved a good punishment. From what you could find, the two victims who had died were squeaky clean, and the rest were just normal citizens, nothing incriminating stood out to you. You had only a few encounters with the trickster, but considering that he only went after people that deserved it in his eyes, you began to wonder if you should be looking for someone different. You had been here only fifteen minutes, deciding to join Dean to tell him what found, you attention drifted away from your computer screen and to the man sitting across the table. Your eyes narrowed slightly as Dean kept himself occupied by making yet another ham sandwich, making it his second since you stepped into their room.

While you were tempted to comment about his eating habits, the motel room door swung open, Sam stepped inside with something in his grip. He was barely here for a few seconds before he noticed his brother taking whatever scraps of meat he could find, deciding it was better to eat than throw away the day old meat that was probably no longer good. "Dude, seriously—still with the ham?"

Dean paused his chewing to give a muffled response, "We don't have a fridge."

"Well I found something. Here." Sam said. He headed over to the table and pushed away the plate holding the ham as you shut your laptop, giving him room as he put down the paper he was holding. You noticed it was a map of the town, and from the small markings, were small X spots, and as Sam pointed at each of them, you noticed it made a circle. "Un, tooth fairy attack was here, Pop Rocks and Coke was here, then you've got itching powder, face freeze, and joy buzzer—all located within a two-mile radius.”

"So, we've got a blast zone of weird, and inside, fantasy becomes reality." You said. You stood up and placed your hands on your hips, trying to summarize the best you could about what was going on in this town. "And what's the a-bomb at its center?"

"Four acres of farmland and a house." Sam answered for you.

You took into consideration of what might be lingering on the property, it could be holding what was going on here. You reached down to grab your laptop from the chair and cradled it into your arms so you wouldn't drop it. "Our motel isn't in that circle, by chance?" Dean curiously asked. You could tell from the tone of his voice that he was a little bit worried, probably wanting to make sure that none of you were in danger. But you were about to find out it was a little too late for that.

“Yeah. Why?” Sam glanced down at the map to see all of you were about a mile or so into the zone. He glanced over at his brother from the question, wondering why he wanted to know. You watched as the older Winchester shamefully lifted up his right hand. Unsure of why, you leaned forward slightly to take a closer look at his palm, wondering what the big deal was, only when you spotted a patch of hair, you couldn't help yourself but let out a slight chuckle from what he was caught doing. Sam, however, wasn't the least bit amused as you were. He quickly shut his eyes and looked away. "Oh, d-dude—That's not what I think it is, is it?"

"I got bored." Dean admitted, a bashful smile crept across his lips when he continued on. Sam looked at his brother with a disturbed look, not exactly wanting to think about any of this. "And it’s been forever since Y/N and I had any alone time—”

"Dude, stop. I'm already scarred for life.” Sam said, stopping his brother from admitting any personal information he didn't need to hear about. "You know you can go blind from that, too."

Dean made a fist with his palm, "Give me five minutes. We'll go check out that house."

The older Winchester thought it would be funny to lightly punch his little brother in the arm with his right hand, only for Sam to flinch. You rolled your eyes and began heading back to the door so you could go to your own motel room to change into your other clothes before heading out. As you reached out your free hand to turn the door handle, the shenanigans didn't stop there. You heard Sam shout as a warning to the man, "Don't use my razor!" But knowing Dean as he headed off to the bathroom, he was probably grinning, about to do exactly that.

+ + +

You and the boys arrived at the house about twenty minutes and dressed in your usual formal gear for the job. You patted around in your pockets, making sure you had all the necessary items before getting out of the car and heading for the front door. From the outside everything seemed normal, it was a big enough two-story farm house with a spacious space, and from the car parked in the driveway, somebody lived here. But the missing plates made you figure out nobody could be home. Your hands adjusted the skirt you were wearing, making sure it was properly facing the right way, and the demon knife you had stuck in was safely hidden from behind your blazer. Sam did the honors of picking the lock, it shouldn't have taken no more than a few seconds, but you might have overlooked the idea that you were alone here. Your neck whipped forward when you heard the door open not a second later, Sam quickly pulled the tools out of the door and stood up straighter.

You were expecting to see an adult standing in the doorway with a suspicious look, wondering what three strangers were standing on their porch. But you found yourself making eye contact with a boy, and from the looks of it, he was no more than eleven years old.

"Can I help you?" He cautiously asked.

"Hi," You greeted the little boy with a friendly smile, "What's your name?"

"Who wants to know?" He answered your question with another. You raised your brow from his quick tongue, but you fetched out your badge, telling him you were FBI, thinking that would be good enough to gain his trust. But it seemed it wasn't. The boy snatched it out from your hand to take a closer inspection, after a moment, he looked up at you. "So, what, you guys don’t knock?”

"Are your parents home?" Dean asked in a polite tone.

“They work.” The boy answered back.

“Well, Sam tried his luck at changing the boy's mind about the three of you. “You mind if we ask you a few questions, maybe take a look around the house?”

The boy responded with an apprehensive stare, unsure if this was a good idea. "Come on. You can trust us." Dean said, trying to change his mind. "We're the authorities."

It seemed what Dean had said made the boy change his mind, you were granted access inside just a moment later. The little boy headed straight for the kitchen, you curiously looked around the place as you followed behind him. The sound of something boiling caught your attention. You looked forward to see there was a pot on the stove and a can opened, connecting the dots, it seemed you have disrupted the boy while he was making his lunch. You glanced over at the table to see that he had everything set up for the meal. He headed over to the stove to turn it off and stir the contents inside the pot so it wouldn’t burn.

“What’s that?” You curiously asked him.

“It’s called soup.” He answered. You couldn’t help yourself but smile at his remarks as he grabbed the pot by the handle. He headed over to the table and set it down on a pot holder so it wouldn’t burn the table. “You heat it up, and you eat.”

"Right, I know. It's just," You took a few steps over to him as you let out a quiet chuckle from his sarcasm that seemed to come naturally to him. "I used to make my own dinner, too, when I was a kid sometimes."

"Well, I'm not a kid." He said, taking offense to the term.

"Right. No, of course not." You agreed with him. You stared at him for a moment or so. For some reason, there was something about him that struck you as interesting. You put your hand in front of you for him to shake. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

He reached out and shake your hand, “Jesse.”

“Did you draw this?” Dean asked. You looked over your shoulder to see the man walking forward with a piece of paper in his hands, you noticed it was of a crayon drawing, but as you took a moment to inspect it further, you realized it was exactly like how the man who had gotten all his teeth ripped out his attacker. Jesse nodded his head, saying it was the tooth fairy. Dean flipped it around so he could look at it with a bit more detail. “That's what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?”

“Yeah. My dad told me about him.” Jesse said. You noticed it wasn't what your mother told you of what the tooth fairy looked like. She wasn’t the one to paint the imaginative figure as someone you would be afraid to accidentally meet in the middle of the night. But father figures tended to tell different tales to their children so they wouldn't expect a special award. “What, didn't your dads tell you about the tooth diary?”

“My dad?” Dean chuckled as he placed the piece of paper down to the table for safekeeping so he wouldn't ruin it. “My dad told me different stories.”

“Well, the tooth fairy isn't a story.” Jesse said in a matter-of-fact voice.

Something inside you clicked at what he said, you glanced down at the drawing, noticing the detail was far too perfect for there not to be a connection here. “Jesse,” You looked over at the little boy to see what his response would be. “What do you know about itching powder?”

“That stuff will make you scratch your brains out.”

“Pop Rocks and Coke?”

“You mix them, you’ll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that.” Jesse said. He answered all of your questions with the right response, but there was just one more that you wanted to see if he would respond correctly with. You pulled out the joy buzzer from your pocket, Jesse’s eyes widened slightly in fear. “You shouldn't have that. It can electrocute you.”

“Actually, it can't. It's just a wind-up toy. It's totally harmless.” You reassured him. “Doesn't even have batteries.”

“So, it can't shock you?” Jesse asked.

“Nope. Not at all. I swear.” You said. Jesse took your word on what you were saying, he nodded his head slowly, changing his mind on the toy. “All it does is shake in your hand. It's kind lame. See?” Without a warning, you were testing your theory by placing the buzzer against Sam’s chest, who was staring at you with a panicked expression from what you were about to do. But all he got was a bit of a vibrations he could barely feel, Jesse let out a laugh from his over dramatic response. You could feel your lips stretch into a smile. “What was your name again, kiddo?”

Jesse answered all of your questions exactly how you thought he would. Childhood innocence was a thing that should be cherished, and while most of the lies parents told them for good measures, this was making other people face the once fictional consequences. You said your final goodbyes to Jesse, deciding you had gotten exactly what you needed, you left him to finish his lunch that would be getting cold soon. The boys followed behind as you pocketed the buzzer, a smile stretching across your lips, for some reason you could see yourself in Jesse. He was a little boy who still believed in lies that most kids his age stopped believing a long time ago. Not to mention the feeling of being home alone, having to cooks meals for yourself and finding ways to pass the time when your mother was away during the weekends when she had to spend it working at countless school functions. You headed down the porch steps, not thinking much about the near death experience you pulled on Sam, but he was still very much pissed.

"What the hell, Y/N?" Sam questioned you, running down the steps so he could catch up with you.

You shrugged your shoulders, not seeming to think what the big deal was. "I had a hunch.” You said. “I went with it."

Sam didn't exactly show the same enthusiasm for your spontaneous thinking as you did. "You risked my ass on a hunch?!" He hissed at you.

"You're fine, Sasquatch. I'm the brains of this group, remember? And besides, now we know who's turning this town into Willy Wonka's nightmare." You said. You stopped right between the white picket fence and glanced over at the house you had just exited from. "Everything Jesse believes come true. He believes the tooth fairy looks like Belushi, joy buzzers really shock people. That's what really happens."

“Yeah. But convince him the joy buzzers don't actually work, and they go from killing machines to crap toys.” Sam said, catching on to the theory you knew was too good not to be true.

“He probably doesn't even know he's doing it.” You said. All fingers pointed at the kid, but you couldn't jump to conclusions that he was doing this out of fun to get back at people he probably didn't even know. He was just a normal kid in a small town, not know what kind of power he held. You glanced over at the house and to the window on the second story floor. Jesse moved the curtains so he stare at the three of you from a distance. You reached up an arm and waved at him, giving the boy a friendly smile. For some reason there was something about him, something inside of him that wasn't good, but you knew it wasn't his fault. You turned around on your heels and began walking back to the Impala and asked the frustrating question, “How is he doing it?”

+ + +

There was something about having little kids being involved on hunts that made you more protective of them, it made you work more diligently, pushing yourself for answers to make sure the job got done right. It wasn't that you slacked before. It was just that you wanted to protect the innocence of the youth for long as possible. You couldn't help but feel that for Jesse, only on a much larger scale. It took you a few hours of taking to a dozen people on the phone and doing a few illegal activities that would get you into trouble with the law, but you found exactly what you wanted. You headed back to the motel in the late afternoon with a case file in your had, the papers still a bit warm after you printed them from the library. You didn't even knock when you opened up the door to the boys’ room, you wanted this out so you could leave early tomorrow morning.

Dean was sitting on the bed with his legs kicked out and doing research by skimming through an old looking book, Sam remained at the table from the last time you saw him with his laptop, digging for whatever he could find about what might be going on here. You, however, found the golden ticket. “So, I dug up what I could about Jesse Turner. It's not much. ‘B’ student, won last year’s Pinewood derby contest. But get this,” You walked over to Dean and lightly smacked his bare foot with the file you’d been carrying before sitting at the edge of the bed so you were now facing Sam. “Jesse was adopted. His birth records are sealed.”

“Naturally, you being Nancy Drew, unsealed them and found…?” Dean wondered what the big info was that you were keeping from them. You looked over your shoulder and gave the man a smallest smile from the nickname you haven't heard him use on you in what felt like forever.

“There's no father listed, but the little bugger had to come from somewhere. Jesse’s biological mom is named Julia Wright. And get this,” You said, giving the boys the real kicker. “She lives in Elk Creek, on the other side of the state.”

+ + +

Early the next morning, you and the boys headed back on the road, taking a trip across state to Elk Creek so speak to this Julia Wright. You couldn't find almost anything on her, it was almost like she dropped off the face of the earth after giving birth. When you arrived, you noticed right away Julia's house seemed a bit worn down and secluded, and when you headed for the gate that surrounded all of her house, she added a measure to her Boo Radley feel by hanging up a "No Trespassing" sign to ward off any unwanted visitors. You weren't intimidated as you pushed open the gate door that was covered in overgrown weeds as the boys followed behind, heading straight for the front door.

You patiently stood outside on the porch as Dean did the honors of ringing the doorbell, and waiting for someone to answer. You mindlessly looked down at her locks to examine them for a second or so, but you found yourself furrowing your brow in confusion, taking notice when there was two deadbolts along with the handle that required a key. Either Julia had some neighbors a few miles down the road needed to keep away from, or the woman really didn't like visitors. You seemed to have gotten the vibe when a woman's voice came from behind the door, making her presence known. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying." Dean looked over at you and his brother, he was rather baffled himself at the very cold welcoming. "We're not salesman. Agent Page," He introduced the three of you to the woman who was standing on the opposite side of the door, cautiously watching you from the peephole. "These are my partners Agent Plant and Agent Patterson, FBI." You reached inside your pocket and pulled out your badge, putting up to the small peephole next to the brothers so Julia could inspect it from behind the door. But it seemed you didn't gain her trust just yet, she required one more step. "Put your badge in the slot. Your partners', too." Julia instructed. You folded up the badge and did what you were told, you slipped it into the mail slot for her to cautiously examine. She spent a moment or so, trying to find just a spec of a flaw, but the badges fooled even the real FBI. You heard her unlock the deadbolt, and a few more from the locks clicking back into place. It seemed like a production before the door swung open, Julia handed back the badges without even cracking a smile. "What do you want"?

"Um," Sam was taken back by the woman's bluntness. He put his badge back into his jacket pocket, Julia stared at him with a cold expression, still wanting to know what this was all about. "We just had a few questions. About your son." "I don't have a son." She answered with a short tone. "He was born March twenty-ninth, nineteen ninety-eight, in Omaha." You said, thinking a bit more information would help jog her memory from eleven years ago. Julia looked over at you, her face remained expressionless. "You put him up for adoption?" Like mother, like son.Julia answered your question with another one. "What about him?"

"We were just wondering...and I know this is gonna sound strange, just bare with me. But did you have a normal pregnancy?" You asked her, hopeful from the nervous smile that was starting to stretch across your lips Julia wouldn't stare at you with a more offended look from the bold question. She didn't even respond, so, you tried asking another one. "Was there anything strange?"

It seemed you finally struck a nerve in Julia. She slammed the door in your face and shouted on the top of her lungs, "Stay away from me!"

You didn't have time to exchange a few worried looks from the outburst you weren't expecting from the woman. Sam quickly reached out and opened the door before she could lock it, and despite reassuring Julia that you weren't here to hurt her, the woman ran fast as she could to the other side of her house. You hated wearing heels for the job, it always slowed you down, but the boys managed to be faster, catching up with her in the matter of seconds. Julia tried to find shelter in the kitchen as she swung to slam the door again in their faces. But the Winchesters were much stronger. Julia realized she wasn't capable of taking on two men that were twice the size of her, so she immediately reached behind her and grabbed a canister of salt from the counter. Julia swung the salt directly at you and the boys, expecting for some kind of painful reaction, but all she did was dirty up her floor as the salt fell to the floor. She furrowed her brow and looked at the three of you, as if she expected something else to happen. You stared back at her, surprised from what she said next. "You're not demons." "How do you know about demons?" It seemed the four of you had found common ground at trusting one another when Julia realized you weren't possessed. You and the boys were now in the dining room, the boys sat at one end of the table, opposite of the woman as you took the head, watching as Julia gingerly sipped her tea. You made her some after you noticed she was still shaken up from the unexpected welcome knocking on her front door, bringing up the past she was desperately tried to forget. She took another sip before retiring the teacup to the saucer. Julia leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, now feeling comfortable enough to speak the truth. "I was possessed." Julia admitted. "A demon took control of my body, and I hurt people. I killed people." You inhaled a breath, knowing the overbearing guilt of being possessed and doing horrible things, you remembered how Lilith tricked you, making you watch like a passenger in your body when she let that hellhound in, tearing his body apart. "That," You tried to comfort her, but you seemed to have stumbled over your own words, guilt creeping into you for a moment as you subconsciously looked over at Dean for a split second before back to her. You nervously swallowed and tried to speak again. "That wasn't you."

"But I was there. I heard a woman beg for mercy. I..." Julia trailed off, she focused on the chipped and fading floral design on her tea cup. You noticed her eyes glazed over from what she admitted next. "Felt a young girl's blood drip down my hand." "That's how you knew about the salt." Dean said, Julia nodded her head to answer. "Yeah," She said. "I picked up tricks. It was in my head for months." "How many months?" "Nine."

"Oh." You whispered, not expecting to hear the unexpected news. Never have you seen or heard a demon taking possession of a pregnant woman, but you didn't think much of it. "So your son..." "Yeah, the whole time. The pregnancy, birth—all of it. I was possessed." Julia admitted the three of you. "The night the baby was born, I was alone. And the pain was—the pain was overwhelming. I, I screamed, and it came out a laugh, because the demon was happy. It used my body to give birth to a child. When it was over, something changed." You quietly listened to her story, trying to imagine what she could have gone through. "When it was over, something changed. Maybe the—the demon was tired or if the pain helped me fight it, but... Somehow, I took control.And the demon wailed inside me. It pounded against my skull. I thought my head was gonna explode. But I knew. I knew what I had to do."

Julia shifted her weight on the chair as she leaned forward slightly, her hands wrapped around the warm cup, feeling the heat seep into her skin. She remembered how she had crawled across the cement floors, how disgusting the rock salt she shoved down her throat felt, and every second of the grueling labor pains. You watched as she almost mindlessly drifted off to her old memories, her arms fumbled away from the cup, only to make it seem she was holding a newborn baby, caught up in the vivid memories of that night eleven years ago. "And when I was alone with the baby...A part of me...part of me wanted to kill it. But, God help me, I couldn't do that. So, I put it up for adoption, and I ran."

“I noticed on the birth certificate you were the only parent listed. “ You said. “Who was the father?”

“I was a virgin.” Julia responded, almost as if she was discussing the weather. You found yourself frozen in your spot at the table, her answer made your blood run cold as the silence seemed to have grown thicker around the room. If she was possessed when she was still a virgin, and if the demon got her pregnant...You were lost in your own personal thoughts, terrified for what this might actually mean, you accidentally jumped out of your skin when the woman spoke up again, having a few questions of her own. "Have you seen my son? Is he human?" "His name's Jesse. He lives in, uh, Alliance." You told her. Your lips stretched into a faint smile she made eye contact with you, it was easy to see that she was nervous, afraid of what had come from this. "He's a good kid."

Julia nodded her head, your words gave her a bit of hope that, just maybe, her biological spring off didn't inherit something evil from his second mother. You reached out and touched her hand, giving it a tight squeeze, knowing you understood everything she was going through, from being possessed to thinking might be wrong with Jesse, and even yourself. You left your cell phone with her, telling Julia to call you if there was anything more she could remember, and if she was feeling even the slightest bit in danger. When demons were involved, things had a tendency of getting messy, no matter how long they were away.

You and the boys said your final goodbyes to Julia and headed out the front door, exiting the way you had come in. Things had gone from a little complicated all the way up there to disastrous. You needed help, and not just from Bobby, you needed someone who knew more about things that just went bump in the night and what would happen if a demon got pregnant with a baby. Without wasting a second, you pulled out your phone and called Cas, hoping he would know what to do.

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