This story is unedited, unbetaed, and unfinished. I am posting it only in the hopes that someone out there finds in interesting enough to partner up with me on it. I feel I can not do justice to what is in my head on my own. I don't have enough confidence in my own writing ability to do it.
Even the title may change as things progress.
This story contains an OFC. I know many of you may shudder in horror at the thought, but I promise that she is different. She is her own person. Her own personality. No romance takes place in this, or any following story for some time to come. When and if romance does occur, it will not be of the 'in your face' variety.
This story is the begining of what I hope to be a long series that will cover not only the world of 'Supernatural', but several other fandoms as well. There will be cross-overs.
That being said, I think I should also mention that I do not own any characters connected to 'Supernatural'. They belong to Eric Kripke and company. I only like to play with them now and again.
Jace Nicholes belongs to me. Anyone wishing to use her for themselves must seek permission first.
Anyone interested in working with me, please contact me by email or PM. Thanks.
The white, sandy shore of Pawley's Island is a tranquil spot off the coast of South Carolina. Seperated from the main land by a salt marsh, the trappings of towns both big and small alike are missing here. Strip malls and McDonald's are noticably absent, replaced by the charm of quaint houses set one stilts, old clapboard buildings, and charming Bed and Breakfasts.
It also seems to be missing the crowds of tourists that populate nearby Myrtle Beach. This suits its full time residents just fine, as well as those who own summer and winter homes here.
"It's peaceful." Says Garland Appleby, the proud owner of a 1700 square foot, green and white cottage with spectacular views of the sky and rolling waves. "Not much happens here. You can relax."
For the most part, Mr. Appleby couldn't be more correct. On an average day, the most exciting happening might be the sight of dolphins playing off shore, but this lovely, peaceful spot is also the setting of one of the most endurable ledgends of South Carolina history. That of the Gray Man.
Jace Nicholes paused in typing to take a long sip from her water bottle.
It was hot, despite the air conditioning.
South Carolina in July. What the hell had she been thinking? She couldn't have...oh, she didn't know...maybe research a story about some ghost of a miner in Alaska, or something?
She rolled her neck and shoulder's to relieve the stiffness she felt growing there. Long moments spent in front of the computer screen tended to make her joints cramp up, which made her chosen proffesion something of a conundrum. Why someone who couldn't stand sitting and typing for long would be a writer was one of lifes little mysteries; but, she considered, wasn't that her mission in life? To search out the mysteries.
She turned again to her notes about the Gray Man, the ledgendary ghost of Pawley's Island. Said to appear before a hurricane would strike, those lucky enough to see him say that their homes are somehow spared from the destruction.
Some sort of omen then? If his apperences proceed a hurricane, that would make sense, although most of the other omens she'd researched had brought disaster too the witness, not protected them from it. Very strange.
A very sad whine sounded from the side of her chair. Glancing down, she was greeted by the sight of a mop of golden brown fur and black eyes. A green ball was held in the area she assumed to be the creature's mouth.
"You need a haircut." She said to it, to which the creature's tail wagged happily. She laughed. "You wouldn't be wagging your tail if I actually got the sissors out."
The black eyes looked eagerly up at her, the shaggy tail whipping from side to side.
"What do you want, Georgie-porgie?" She asked. Georgie, her two year old carin terrier, dropped the ball and looked up at her. This was the cue for her to pick up the ball and throw it. If she failed to do so right away, Georgie would pull out the big guns. "Can't you see I have work to do?"
Yep, there he went. The ears went flat, tail drooped. Georgie raised himself up till his front paws where off the floor, held before him in the doggie begging postion. He knew she couldn't resist that.
He was right. Little brat.
"All right. I guess I could use a break."
She pushed her chair back and stood. Georgie pranced excitedly around her feet.
"Hold on, hold on. Impaitent much?"
She gathered her long, brown hair into a pony tail and secured it with a clip, then slid her feet into a pair of sandles by the door.
"All right, come on." She said to the dog, inclining her head toward the door.
He scampered back to his ball and grabbed it up, then rushed to the door. She was sure he would have smashed face first into it is she hadn't opened it in time.
The sun was hot and bright as she and Georgie came out of her sleek, long motor home. The house on wheels was a gift from her cousin Tom back in New York. He insisted she have it after it became apparent that he wasn't going to talk her out of her quote 'foolish quest' unquote.
It was nice and comfortable, and she was glad she didn't have to sleep at flea bag hotels and live out of a suitcase, and she wouldn't have been able to keep Georgie without it. It certainly wasn't cheap to keep the gas tank full though.
Not that money was too much of a concern. She had the money from her parents, as well as her grandfather. Old money, family money. Money that she couldn't bring herself to dip into too much because she never felt as it was really hers, despite what all the lawyers said. She tended to rely mostly on the money she earned. Her articles where popular enough, and sold well. Sort of a travel louge, mixed up with a few unsolved mysteries and ghost stories. The reading public laped it up like cream, she was pleased to discover.
Her former editor from her once cushy job at a New York magazine had been trying to talk her into doing books on the same subjects. Jace wasn't sure she had the patience to write a whole book. Not to mention all the publicity such a thing would give her. She liked her privecy, thank you very much.
She let Georgie run without a leash. He never went very far from her, and would always come when she called for him. Besides, he loved the beach and the surf. She'd have to stick him in the shower after this, but he was the one who wanted to chase the waves, so he'd have to put up with being shampooed and blown dry.
He dropped the ball and ran, stopping a few feet away and crouching down, his tail moving in a blur. He barked twice and waited for her to obay. She picked up the ball and tossed it toward the grassier area beyond the beach. Georgie gave another joyful bark and took off after it.
Fetch was a very repetitive game, but Georgie seemed to enjoy it. Perhapes it was all the running, he loved to run. He joined her on her jog every morning, and liked it was more then she did.
The ball had been tossed and fetched almost 20 times before Georgie finally seemed to tire. She plopped down on a wooden bench that sat between the grass and sand, Georgie flopping down beside her, and just watched the waves.
Her mind went back to her article. The ledgend went that the Gray Man was the spirit of a soldier who was killed in a riding accident. His fiance lived on the island, and it was said his first apperence was to her, warning her of a big wind coming. Ever since, sightings of the Gray Man had been reported before a hurricane. So why would only certain people see him? And was it only coincidence that their property was spared from the damage?
She looked to the horizen. A tropical storm had been making its way up the Atlantic coast. It was not yet known if it would escalate to hurricane status, nor if it would head in this direction, but she thought she'd take the chance. Looking at the bright blue sky though, a story didn't seem likely, and much the same type of weather was called for in the next few days.
Oh well, she'd have to do without seeing the Gray Man. She really didn't want to consider what would happen if she didn't see him and a hurricane did come. She could almost picture her motor home scattered in pieces over the beach. Tom would just love that.
Georgie let out a sigh and lay his head down on his paws.
"Sure, sure." She said. "You used up all your energy, but I still have more writing to do. Not to mention that it's Tae Kwon Do night." She had never gone beyond the yellow belt, but she liked to keep up with it to stay in shape. That and a 2 mile jog every morning was the only excersise she could put up with. It showed in her hips. They where a little rounder then she would like, but shedding inches off them would require giving up nacho cheese Doritios and her favorite gummy bears. Some things she just was not willing to do.
The sun had started heading toward the other side of the horizen and would happily bring with it slightly cooler tempuratures. She was now all sticky and sweaty from running and playing with Georgie, who was now contentedly snoring away under the bench.
She supposed she should get up, get Georgie's but in gear and go back home. Rinse off and get some more work done before doing her Tae Kwon Do. She should, but her body simply refused to move. So she sat there and people watched.
Most of the swimmers and sun bathers had packed up and moved out. What was left was the occational couple strolling along the shore. One such couple wa walking nearer. They where different from others in that they where much younger then the usual reitiries she normally saw, and they where both guys.
Well, ok, whatever floats their boat and all that.
They where both tall, although the one with all the shaggy hair topped his companion by a few inches. They certainly where built, she observed. Musceles filled out their chests and arms, yet they still managed to look lean. And hot, she couldn't forget hot. They where definatly that.
Shaggy hair was talking a mile a minute, although she couldn't hear what about. Every once in a while he would make a gesture with his hands, the way people do when they are trying to describe something. The shorter one would nod. She got the feeling he was not really listening, just pretending to do so. She could imagine him rolling his eyes, for some reason.
As they where getting closer, the shorter one looked over at her. He grinned.
Ok. Wow. Nice smile. She was suddenly consious of how she must look. Sweat drenched and limp haired. Not that it mattered to her...much.
He continued to flash that million wattage smile at her. She returned his smile, because really, there was something very contagious about it.
He stopped walking, then took a step in her direction.
Huh. Wasn't expecting that. What the hell though. Had to keep the flirting skills up, although she had no intention of taking it any further then that.
Shaggy hair was still talking and gesturing. He didn't notice he was now alone until he looked over and saw his companion heading toward her. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes.
Shaggy hair grabbed Great Smile's arm. The hand was shook off and a look was given that Jace could tell, even that her distence, was annoyed.
Shaggy hair shook his head and said something.
Great Smile raised and lowered his shoulders in a sigh of resignation. He looked toward her again with a expression of regret.
He pouted.
He actually pouted.
Oh my god, that was so adorable.
She watched as they walked away.
"Oh well," She sighed. "Story of my life. Come on, Georgie-porgie. Back to work."