Summary: Etched upon Dean's skin reflected his soulmark, a life that he never found. Not that he went looking. mind you. not after he watched what his father had went through after his mother died. Not after Jessica had been attacked by a demon; never to be found again. It was however when they literally summoned by a cheeky witch with ties to his soulmate that forced him to thoroughly understand who was meant for him... Whether he liked it or not.
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P.S. OFC is portrayed by Scarlett Johansson - what she looked like in Captain America: TheWinterSoldier... Will be introduced in the next chapter. ;)
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An 1967 Chevrolet Impala carefully turned onto a darkened street of an unknown urban neighborhood; their surroundings seemed to be empty of life for at least a five mile radius. It was almost as if it were adopting a bad replica of a Scooby Doo episode and it didn't take a rocket scientist to wonder why precisely the car was reflecting upon the driver's hesitancy. However much alike the most of the characters within the original 1969 cartoon, the occupants housed in the vehicle had more than their fair share of monsters with no end in sight any time soon. There was no beckoning light at the end of the darkened tunnel, showing them the way to the future that they hoped - maybe even prayed - that they deserved. After catching a sharpened glimpse of the half formed, illuminated moon that suspiciously looked much alike a half closed eyelid from where it was hung high above the earth; the car shone in brightened angles that contradicted the shrouding darkness that had previously engulfed it as it moved fluidly forward upon command.
The man seated within the passenger seat cast his face away from the gloss of the window to glance dryly upon his older brother's form from within the shadowy depths of the Impala, and hoped that even when it was seemingly impossibly to witness the look to it's full extent - that Dean would still be able to feel the weight of it upon him. He had actually hoped just a little while ago that Dean wouldn't stall this, that he would understand - one brother to another - that he needed to hunt down 'Yellow Eyes' in vengeance for Jessica. Jessica. His soul mark was still brightly colored from the spot that it had always been, etched upon his skin and prove that she was still alive. Somewhere.. The urge to find and shield her from the monsters that he knew all too well was lurking within the shadows; concealed, hungry and waiting to strike - overwhelmed him. Beings that she probably wouldn't have even known of existed, He naively thought for a moment before quickly casting the thought aside. As much as he would have liked to think so otherwise, he wouldn't have possibly kept the truth from her for the rest of their lives. Something, somewhere along the way, would have happened. He just thought that Jessica… that Jessica deserved more than what had happened; whatever that may have been.
That was what they were trying to figure out, attempting to follow the siren call of an unknown witch that wanted to encounter them for whatever unknown reason. Discover what the witch had wanted and Sam knew that he was right along with his older brother with all this suspicion for it; but he felt that if it led them to anything concerning Jessica - it was worth a shot. It was stated many times before, backed up with actual scientific evidence throughout History, that eight out of ten people wander upon the earth their entire life and never crossed paths with their soulmate. Whether it was ruled as 'unfortunate circumstances' or not, unsociable or otherwise; Sam had been and always will be contented that he had known Jessica Moore, just as much as he was still unwilling to let her slip through his fingers. Sam shook his head softly in dismay that is more than just borderline perturbation, his brown locks that almost reached his shoulders shifted slightly with the movement, as he takes the time to clearly remember just how happily in love the two of them had been.. that they found each other against all the odds, the universe and all it's demons, and stood firm together until she had been attacked..
He spared only one last second to remember the downfall of soul bonded pairs, as he recalls with relative ease (almost as easily as it is to conceal the instinctive wince that follows) just how hardened his father had become shortly after his mother's death. At how his father, John Winchester, died inside when his wife had did; as if a part of him followed Mary to the grave. As if he refused to part with her, even in death.
Seeming abruptly, Sam jerked forward in his seat, the belt against his body the only thing that saved him from thrown through the windshield at the force that came with the halt of the car from where it was in the middle of the road; almost without care. With a grunt of surprise leaving his lips, Sam slowly turned his deep brown eyes to the left of him; locking upon those green eyelashed framed orbs that glared daggers with irritation, boring holes into Sam's tanned face. Or maybe, Sam suddenly guessed mutely, that he didn't house irritation with him as much as his brother hated the situation. The younger Winchester brother - whom could ironically pass as older given into account his outward, muscular build - mentally winced as he watched his brother eye him in silence; in concern. Some people didn't dare to even try to understand it, didn't look past his looks to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, Dean Winchester wasn't as immature as he tried to make everyone think. Or at the very least, not all the time. Sam trusted Dean with his life, had done so on more than one occasion. Yes, Dean was both humorous and mischievous in his own right; a man of action more so than he was of research. It wasn't as if he didn't use his brain daily, it was just that he seemed to like the life of a hunter more than the life of a 'bookworm'.
He was understanding, dependable, and while Sam was currently muted underneath the weight of his brother's hawk-like stare that always seemed to uncover the carefully concealed secrets Sam always attempted to hide, and as Dean frowned deeply in response to whatever he had discovered from observing him there was only one word that resonated through Sam's mind; unaware that he reminded Dean of their father in that moment. More so than the both of them would be comfortable with if the pair of them voiced such reflections.
Damn, Sam growled darkly within his mind in response. He was more than a little annoyed with how long this drive seemed to be taking when the truth was that he had been searching for was most likely an estimated ten minutes away (if it involved Jessica to begin with) … but he also felt that he should have knew better. He should have factored in Dean's aversion to witches/warlocks and their 'magical voodoo' to put it in the most basic, 'nicest' of terms. Though it was now with Dean's doubtful facial expression that was edged from within the depths of the darkness shrouding them, that made Sam wonder worriedly if his own desperation was leading him down a path that he had once promised himself in his teenaged youth that he would never walk down. Was this desperation even close, even half, of what his father had experienced? … And how, exactly, was he going to raise from avenging Jessica, finding her amongst the darkness that engulfed them…. To finding redemption if he gave into the urges that plagued him right in this moment?
What if… what if the darkness that he was currently experiencing… engulfed him like it had engulfed their father? Powerless to stop it; ineffectively fighting against a destiny whereas he was meant to linger adrift.
"Don't you dare make me slam baby's brakes, Sammy." Dean growled suddenly, his fingers tightening upon the steering wheel as he referred to his precious Impala; and it was clear that he wasn't in the mood for anymore drama. That he was at the end of his rope, even though the night was literally still young. Sam acknowledged full well that his older brother didn't like the fact that they were being led to seemingly nowhere, by a witch or warlock no less, but he was thankful that Dean was with him all the same. "Focus."
Sam nodded sharply, focusing on here.. now. Focus, Sam repeated to himself mentally, roughly, echoing Dean's last word that he directed to him. He simply needed to focus. Focus on life, on hope, family... on the fact that Jessica was alive and that he would find her even if it was the very last thing that he did. On Dean's helpful yet expectant gaze; unwavering.
It was the only way that he would ever make it through.
The siren call sounded again through their minds, beckoning them both through the darkness into the unknown; tempting as the forcible knot around their souls yanked with earnest. Dean clenched his teeth in frustration; both of his hands tightening on the leather of the steering wheel momentarily before slowly releasing his grip to one that was back to normal. A groan of annoyance slipped heavily from behind his lips that had been set in a firm, grim line. "Damn it ... Fine." He spat out angrily, a dangerous underlining with his words as his eyes hardened, "We'll go see the fucking Wizard of OZ - follow the Yellow Brick Road, and all of that- but that doesn't mean that I have to fucking like it."
Sam cast a sideways glance at his brother; his mouth opening in an attempt to say something - anything, really - to offer the same type of calm that Dean had offered him... but the words seemed to fall flat. What could he possibly say that would be both the truth as well as something that would offer comfort to the both of them? Dean's head lazily rolled to his right side to eye his brother, whom still couldn't seem to voice the word that he was tempted to say, and after a moment of silence between them, Dean filled the silence with words and the reveling of the engine.
"Alright, Sammy. Let's go find out what the Wicked Witch of the West wants from us."
Sam directed a look of amusement Dean's way, reflecting into his voice as he finally found his words, "What makes you so sure that the Magical is a woman?"
"It's always a woman." Dean grumbled darkly with a scoff, mindful of the anger that his own soulmark echoed from a person that he had yet to meet. With his luck, the woman that was drawing them in... would be the one that Fate or whomever made these marks that quite literally appeared out of nowhere after you hit puberty and your hormones have settled. A witch as his mate... from his exprience, nothing good came out of working with them. Yup, that would probably be just his luck. Dean scoffed again as he once again contemplated this whole voodoo summoning shit with rising annoyance as the car moved forward upon command, carrying them forward from within the dark, "...and for the record, please don't you ever say the word 'Magical' in my presence ever again."
The younger of the pair fought the bemused smirk that threatened to curve upon his lips in response to Dean's tone of voice that seemed torn between wariness and a whine; before nodded his head in understanding, "Fair enough."
At least somethings never changed.
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Deep green orbs narrowed as Dean cast his suspicious gaze through the darkness as the pull released it's hold upon them; they had been driving an estimate of ten minutes, abandoning neighboring houses within the first five after the had stared to move again. There was nothing within a mile radius of them though, or so he had first thought - for upon further examination of his surroundings, he locked his eyes upon a housed settled upon a hill. A Cottage? He thought with humor as he analyzed it, a snicker left him as he absently wondered whether or not it was constructed out of Ginger Bread. "I hope your ready for this." He directed at Sam before reaching behind the passanger seat to grab two iron pipes and a full plastic spray bottle; the last item making Sam aim an amused eyebrow at him, (especially with all the Wizard of OZ jokes that Dean had along the way) as he took one of the pipes in hand.
"...Really?"
"Holy water generously mixed in." Dean offhandedly gave an explanation - (and in that moment Sam didn't know what his was more unsettled by: the fact that Dean had stepped foot in a church to even get the Holy water... or that he had stolen it from a church) - and just he was about to reprimand his brother a figure appeared at the top of hillside. Cloaked by the shadowy depths around them, the figure didn't make a single movement. Though it was a beat later that kind of magic from before was back, though this time the both of them felt the accompaniment of impatiency mixed within.
Dean groaned lowly and mumbled something softly before getting out of the car, engulfed by the cool night air and the dark sky alight with twinkling stars. "Eh, yeah. Definitely a woman." Sam laughed softly before he too exited the Impala and followed Dean's lead as they treaded up the hill with caution. The closer they got, the more that it became apparent that the figure was indeed a woman. Clad in ripped jeans and a white lace-sleeved shirt that seemed to compliment her dark olive skin tone and black, long curls; the young woman eyed them with amusement glittering in the brown depths.
"Iron, hm?" The woman smirked at both of the men before her, seeming to be fearless of who they were and what they could do to her. "I am going to take a guess here and say you didn't like my summoning? Was it too much for the big, bad Hunters? That's simply too bad." An underlining accent came forth, one they couldn't place at the moment, as she playfully pouted at them.
The mocking element held heavily within her voice instantly made Dean's temper flare; with ease. Who the did this woman think she was? Did she really just drag them out to Heaven only knew where... just to toy with them?! He was normally good with women - not so much with manipulative witches. He was just thankful that she wasn't his mate; thank fuck for miracles. "Let's cut to the chase so we can all part ways and go about our day to day lives as if all this summoning shit never happened. We go back to hunting evil, bad guys that laugh diabolically and make plans for world domination - whilst you go back to trying to cook Hansel and Gretel.." It seemed as if she grew more amused with each word that he spoke, paired up with the defensive stance that Sam had adopted while eyeing her suspiciously. "Who are you, witchy, and what the fuck do you want from us?"
She grinned widely at them, though mainly Dean, and her eyes sparkled with interest. "So much sass; this will undoubtedly prove interesting..." After what seemed like a moment of contemplation, she nodded her head slowly before introducing herself. "My name is Nadia - and I don't want want anything but to help... and in turn for you to help her. You may not understand it right this moment, Dean Winchester, as you haven't crossed paths with her yet - but I sense that someone very important to me will become important to you."
Dean scoffed, this time more amused than anything else, "Keep dreaming, sweetheart." He raised an eyebrow at Nadia when it came quickly apparent that she didn't share his amusement about the subject in question; that he had long since given up on seeking out his soulmate. "You're actually being serious?" He released a hearty chuckle, "Yeah... Nadia Whatever-the-hell-your-last-name is I'd say that it is a pleasure to meet you... However the fact remains that you happen to be a tad bit more crazy and a lot more witchy I know what to do with so-" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb; trying to retrace his steps down the slope whilst keeping his eyes locked on her.
The woman that had introduced herself as Nadia slowly tilted her head to the left, her face becoming a picture of innocence as a curious air came to rest around her, "Crazy?" She echoed the word softly as a question before allowing it with a so-so hand gesture; seeming to become oblivious to how both of the hunters before her shifted with unease. "I may be mistaken but doesn't that usually depend on a person's perspective? What you call crazy - I call desperate. You see a witch I may be; a liar I am not. Whatever issues you have going on, none of us have time for them. Not me, not you.." Her lips curved upwards sadly, "And certainly not her... Though keep your sass, Winchester, trust me - you'll need it."
In a move that was quicker than either of them thought possible, the young woman that had to be at least twenty years of age raised her hands toward them. Palms outward, the power within her veins eagerly surged forward upon them; assaulting all of their senses in such a way that reminded Dean of going to bed drunk. The pair of them fell where they stood, Dean scrambled for something to keep from descending down the hill.
"What did you do?!" Sam questioned through clenched teeth, struggling to fight off whatever magicks she inflicted upon them both and as Dean's stomach began to move unsettlingly and his world began to twist, turn and darken - he gazed hatefully up at where she sat almost peacefully at the top of the incline. One leg crossed over the other as she regarded them both with an almost smug expression; as if she were a Queen overlooking her loyal subjects.
Fuck, I knew that this wasn't a good idea!
Dean wasn't counting on an answer being given, even as cryptic as she made it but what he did know was that her three carefully spoken words echoed within his ears for only a few seconds before the darkness edging his vision enveloped his whole world and then he knew no more.
"Genesis...Chapter one."
Fuck... and people really wondered why he hated witches?!
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