Hey guys. This is my try at a Supernatural fic. I honestly really like where it ends up, but we've got to get everything established first. lol. This first few chapters take place in earlier seasons, but it does catch up with the series after awhile, I promise. I hope you guys give it chance and let me know what you think. Enjoy!
Something Wicked This Way Comes:
Season 2, Ep. 13
Chapter 1:
Houses of the Holy
"Dad wants us to pick up where he left off, saving people, hunting things. The family business."
Providence, RI
The newspapers, television and radio replayed stories about people going around after 'being touched by an angel' killing others that were deemed evil. They were overrun with the stories because honestly, they were sensational. It caught the attention of more than a few people, both civilian and otherwise.
Sam and Dean crouched over the grave they'd unearthed, the body inside reduced to nothing more than bones. They stared at the corpse, highlighting it with their flashlights and tried to believe their eyes.
"Yeah well, whatever told Gloria about this knew what it was talking about." Dean sighed begrudgingly. "I'll give ya that."
Sam glanced to his brother and shared his disbelief. With nothing more to do and having the confirmation they needed that the victim was an 'evil man', they stood. Dean stretched and popped his knee, groaning when he had. Sam chuckled and received a glare in response. Dean was only in his twenties and had the body of an old man.
As they searched themselves for everything they'd brought with them, being sure not to leave anything behind, a creaking floorboard echoed to their left. Sam and Dean froze immediately. There was someone else in the house and they were making their way down the steps.
The brothers instantly darted into the shadows. They didn't have the time to get out. They saw the boots of the person on the stairs before they'd even heard the sound. So they hid, sinking as deeply into the corners behind a shelving unit as they could and held their breath.
A beam of light passed around the room, encompassing everything it touched in brightness as the stranger finally made it to the dirt floor of the cellar. Sam and Dean pressed their backs as tightly to the wall as they could; internally praying nothing stupid happened like their phones going off.
With slow sure steps, the stranger took in every sight the cellar had to offer in front of them and soon enough, they spotted the grave. Their flashlight was aimed directly at the corpse only a foot and a half from the shelf the brothers were using to hide. Sam closed his eyes and prayed internally they wouldn't look up or -god forbid- call the cops. If they were some kind of family or something, the chance of them calling the police and staying behind was high and neither Winchester could risk being seen.
Like they had, the stranger crouched by the edge of the grave and examined the body without touching it. Their back was to the brothers and it was their only saving grace.
"Sick bastard." The stranger muttered.
Both brothers perked. They glanced to each other, both sharing a curious stare.
"No way." Dean mouthed to his brother. The familiarity of the voice was enough to cause them pause, but not to reveal themselves. They weren't that sure.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. The action was simple and meant to go unnoticed. It didn't. His sleeve caught the ladder just behind him and raised it only an inch before letting it fall. The small jostle was enough to loosen the ladder's position against the wall and send it falling forward.
The stranger reacted immediately, leaping forward and out of the way of the falling equipment. Sam and Dean tried to move, but were blinded by the sudden flashlight.
"Who are you?!" the stranger demanded, aiming a weapon at the two in the corner with their hands over their faces to block the light.
"Hey, hey, hey, just calm down." Dean said, his brain working over time to think of a lie.
"Dean?"
The air suddenly turned thick and tense. Dean tried to look through the light to see who might have said his name when the beam shifted to his brother.
"And Sam?" they continued. The stranger sighed loudly and turned off the flashlight giving both the chance to see. "Jesus, I almost shot you."
When the dots in their eyes began to finally fade, the two were able to see who was stowing their weapon. Dean had guessed right.
"Jenny?" Sam asked with a smile. The young woman grinned widely. "What are you doing here?"
"I can ask you the same thing." She laughed, hugging the young man who'd stepped towards her. She squeezed him tightly for a moment and parted, her eyes falling to Dean. The eldest brother was simply eying her. "Hi Dean." She teased.
"Hey," he muttered, moving away from the corner, but not immediately trying to embrace the young woman.
She thought it was funny and openly laughed at him. Dean wanted to glare, but Jenny reached for him, snagged his jacket and pulled him into a hug regardless. She squeezed him as well whether he wanted her to or not. Dean returned the affection at half strength before they parted.
"Awe," Jenny joked. She reached up and held his chin in her hand, shaking it from side to side and talking to him like a baby. "Is someone still upset? Hmm?"
Sam laughed, enjoying the scene while Dean swatted at her hands forcing her to let him go. Dean rubbed his jaw and continued to eye the young woman smiling at him.
"No." he muttered. The statement was unconvincing when he added the pout. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"Same thing as you I guess." She answered, stowing her pistol in her waistband again and guiding her jacket over it. "I just got here a little later."
"Well we got this, thanks."
Jenny cocked a brow to him, but again, the smile remained.
"You are still mad."
"Am not." He snapped before his eyes moved to Sam. "Look, can we just get out of here before someone else shows up?"
"Sure." Sam chuckled.
Flustered, Dean made his way back out the cellar door and into the yard. Sam and Jenny looked to each other out of the corner of their eyes, still musing over Dean's discomfort before following after him and to the car.
"So, last I heard you were in Michigan." Sam said as he and Jenny made their way towards the Impala.
"Was, yeah. Then I just slowly started moving east and come on, angels? You know I had to check this out."
"Well it's good to see you again."
"Speak for yourself." Dean mumbled just loud enough for them to catch it before yelling from the driver's seat. "Can we go now please?"
Jenny stepped around Sam and put her hand on the roof of the Impala. She bent down to look at the man sitting behind the wheel and smiled wide. He fidgeted and turned his eyes back to the road ahead.
"Oh come on Dean, it's been like- a year. You gotta let it go, sweetheart."
He continued to grumble under his breath and avoid looking at her which seemed to make Jenny smile wider. She shook her head at him and stood to return her attention to Sam.
"I guess you should go." She whispered sarcastically.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "Well hey, since you're here, why don't you stop by the motel? We might as well work together on this."
"What?" Dean squeaked from inside the car.
The pair ignored him and Sam waited for an answer.
"Sure." Jenny smiled, hearing Dean's grumbling and cursing get just an iota louder than before. "Still got my number?"
"Yeah."
"Just text me the name. I'm gonna pick up something to eat."
"Deal." He replied, reaching forward and hugging her again. Before he let go Sam whispered, "Bring him some quarters. It'll put him in a better mood."
She looked at him curiously when they parted, but Sam gave her a reassuring nod before getting into the car. She bent down again and waved, going so far as to exaggerate Dean's name and being an overall smartass.
He didn't bother looking at her as he started up the Impala. Still giggling to herself, Jenny winked knowingly to Sam and stood, letting the irritated older brother drive off towards their hotel.
~~!~~
One year ago:
The three Hunters sat around the table in the rundown motel room laughing heartily. Dean poured another shot into each glass before setting the bottle of Jameson aside.
"Seriously?" Jenny laughed, taking the full shot glass into her hand while the brothers grabbed theirs.
"No joke," Dean smiled. "They had all this gear and everything. I mean, decked out in shit. Freakin'ghost hunters man… "
They continued to laugh before clinking their shot glasses together and downing them in a single gulp. The trio slammed the glasses back down onto the tabletop. Sam groaned, drawing the eyes of the two much more experienced drinkers.
"Problem there Sammy?" Dean teased.
"No…" he grumbled heavily, his eyes were focused on the table and his face a little pale.
"Sweetie, you're looking a little green." Jenny said sweetly, unable to keep from smiling. "You sure you're good?"
He attempted to nod, but did little more than jostle his head from side to side.
"Okay," Dean chimed, grabbing Sam's glass and scooting it away. "No more for Sam."
He and Jenny laughed lightly while Sam tried to make a face. Honestly neither of them could tell if it was intentional or not, which made it all the funnier.
"Okay!" Jenny finally said, smacking the table and making the increasingly slumping Sam jolt. "Scariest and/or creepiest case. Go."
"Seriously?" Dean asked with a raised brow, pouring two more drinks for him and Jenny, excluding Sam all together. "Scary… that's kind of relative isn't it?"
"Then creepy. What's the creepiest job you've ever worked?"
Dean thought about it for a moment as he slid her shot glass back to her.
"Hard to say." He answered honestly. "A real creepy one though was this ghost kid that was drowning people in the lake."
"You're kidding."
He shook his head sloppily, obviously beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. Jenny wasn't that far from it either, she just chose to move less than he did so it wasn't as clearly noticed.
"Turns out this kid was bullied and shit by some other kids. They dumped him in the lake and he drowned. Like twenty years later or something, kid's ghost started going after the guys who did it."
"Wow," she sighed. "Yeah, kids are the worst."
He nodded his agreement. "What about you? Creepiest case."
"It was a kid ghost." She laughed causing Dean to chuckle in response. "Seriously man, they're the worst."
"What happened?"
"Okay, so I was in New Orleans, right?" she began, scooting to the edge of her seat to tell the story. Dean mimicked the action and listened intently. "It was right after Katrina, which was awful by the way. There was this boys' home that got flooded real bad, but it was still standing. I got a call from a contact that was working down there trying to put a bunch of the spirits back to rest."
Dean nodded his understanding. So many people had died and so many graves had been wrecked. He was surprised he and Sam hadn't gone down there too, but they never did, not with Sam in college and him and his dad in the north.
"Well, I get down there and head to this home. The owner of this place was saying there was weird stuff going on while they were trying to do repairs, like stuff turning on and off, shit moving, cold spots, all that jazz. Being New Orleans, most the people down there know bout ghosts and stuff so they figured that's what it was. After they tried getting rid of it, they called in the pros." She said, pointing cockily to herself.
"You wish." Dean teased, tossing a wadded paper towel at her. She swatted at it with a smile and disregarded the action.
"Don't be jealous of my awesome." She smiled. "Okay, so I get there right and the EMFs are going crazy, cold spots everywhere, total poltergeist behavior. I started blessing the house cause after the hurricane, there was no way for me to know who it was, ya know?" he nodded. "As I'm doing this, that little bastard takes over a nail gun and starts shooting it at me."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah!" she said in a high pitched voice and a look of irritated disbelief. "Little shit got me too, like twice before he showed himself. Turns out the home used to be for the wards of the state back in the thirties. There was this real bad kid, Anthony Markesan. You name it this little psycho did it, torturing animals, killing strays, beating the other kids, everything. He was even suspected in the death of his kid brother. That's why he was sent there in the first place."
"Jesus, kid sounds like a real Damian."
"Yeah. He came at me every which way he could after showing himself. I still have flash backs of that kid. Twelve year old Satan…" she shuddered and reached for her drink. "Hated that case."
"Kid ghosts," Dean said, lifting his shot glass. Jenny did the same and toasted him. "Worse than demons."
"Here, here." She agreed.
The two took their drinks, slammed the glasses down and noticed something in the background. Low rumbling snoring drew their eyes to Sam. He was slumped so low in his chair and leaned so far forward his chin touched his chest. The pair laughed at him.
"Maybe it's beddy bye time for little Sammy." Dean mocked. "Give me a hand?"
"You got it." She nodded.
Together, they each took and arm and hoisted Sam to his feet. The young man grumbled and woke only barely. He mumbled questions about moving and so forth while struggling to get his feet under him, but they reached his bed soon enough. Sam fell face first onto the surface, sliding out of Dean and Jenny's grip. He groaned happily when he stopped moving and slowly but surely wiggled to the head of the bed, his face disappearing into a pillow.
"I think he's good." Jenny smiled.
"Kid needs to learn how to drink." Dean laughed as he and Jenny went back to the table.
She laughed at his teasing and joined Dean in another shot. The night went on in that fashion, the two Hunters comparing war stories while Sam slept in a pool of his own drool. Eventually, they began to compare scars. It was just something that tended to happen with them.
Ever since Sam and Dean had met Jenny a few months prior -and surprisingly enough hit it off- Jenny and Dean had to try and outdo one another. They had to have the better stories, be the better shot, stronger fighter, and just be the best everything. Apparently, they even had to have the more wicked scar.
"Oh yeah," Dean nodded sloppily, the pair already incredibly drunk. There was only an inch of liquor left in the bottle. "Racist truck. No joke."
"I call bullshit."
"Nope. Ask Sam." He dared with a crooked grin, lowering his sleeve to hide the scar. "You're turn."
"Okay," she nodded, accepting his challenge. Jenny looped her long, mousey brown hair around her forearm and lifted it. She turned in her seat to show Dean the side of her neck just beneath her ear. "Vampire, two years ago. Bastard tried to take a chunk out of me."
"I don't see it."
She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Letting her hair fall, Jenny grabbed her chair and scooted closer to Dean until her knee hit his. She again lifted her hair and turned to show him the mark.
"See?"
"What, that?" he asked, pointing to a few marks that were a shade or two lighter than her already fair skin. "Pft," he scoffed causing her to pull back and cock a brow at him. "Those are just scratches. Check this out." He leaned forward and pointed to a healed mark that stretched about an inch and a half in length just below his hairline and above his right eye. He pulled back smiling proudly. "Redneck, psycho family that hunted people."
Her face dropped into stunned shock. "No way."
"Oh yeah." He beamed. "Top that."
"Okay," she nodded, sucking on her teeth briefly like she was annoyed. "Fine," she pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal her collar bone. "Goblin with a dinner fork. Ha."
Dean laughed before he could stop himself. Sure enough, right by her collarbone, were four small pinpoints about the size of fork prongs. Letting go of her collar, Jenny crossed her arms over her chest, pursed her lips and raised a brow, awaiting Dean's weak attempts to beat her for weirdness. Dean shook his head with a smile. They were fueled by alcohol and it made the already goofy individuals down right cartoonish. Everything from their attitudes to their mannerisms was exaggerated. They didn't notice, but they were about to.
"Okay, I got one." Dean said. He stood up and lifted the hem of his shirt. A scar about the length of her pinky and half the width stretched across his skin half way between his ribs and hip. "Werewolf."
Jenny reached out and touched it before she could stop herself. She'd never gone up against a werewolf before. Dean flexed the moment he felt her touch him, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead he looked down and noticed how interested she seemed to be, inching closer to the raised mark and running her fingers along it.
"Whoa." She mumbled as though thoroughly impressed.
"Yeah," Dean muttered.
She looked up at the strange tone and noticed his blank face. She met his eyes and in that moment both knew something else was brewing beneath the surface. Their hearts beat faster and urges began to course, all aided by the bottle of Jameson pumping through their veins.
"Well how bout this?" she asked. Jenny stood, her and Dean only a foot apart from each other.
Still they stared intensely into each other's eyes, knowing there was a distinct subtext to what was happening. Movement caught his attention. Dean's eyes traveled down and watched as Jenny lifted the hem of her shirt, not stopping until just beneath her bra, exposing her entire stomach. He tilted his head marginally to the side and leaned back enough to see a set of three pink scars that dotted her ribcage just beneath her right boob.
Dean reached up and held her ribs. He'd let go of his own shirt in order to examine her scars like she had his. His large hand easily encompassed her ribcage letting his thumb gently run over the raised marks. Jenny's heart beat erratically in her chest at the sensation.
"Krampus demon." She said softly. Dean's eyes shot to hers.
"Not shit?" he asked in the same mild tone. Jenny nodded. Dean raised a single brow. "That is so hot."
Before she could laugh, he lurched forward and kissed her, snaking his arm around her body and pulling her close. Dean and Jenny kissed each other passionately and a bit sloppily. There was no telling how much booze they'd taken in, only that it let them not care about what they were doing.
Stumbling and fumbling over each other, the pair began to make their way towards Dean's bed, kicking the corner of Sam's on the way. They began to peel off each other's clothes, throwing jackets and other layers around the room before toppling onto the lumpy mattress. Jenny giggled as she and Dean scrambled to get into the center of the bed.
"Wait," she whispered while Dean tried to attack her lips. She laughed again. "Wait." She giggled, pushing at his chest to get a bit of distance.
"What?" he groaned.
"What about Sam?" she asked, motioning to the man not six feet away.
"He's out." Dean explained. "Look," he turned his head. "Sam." The youngest brother didn't move. "Sammy!" Dean yelled. Sam snorted and grumbled but made no move to wake. Dean looked back to the young woman beneath him and smiled cockily. "See?"
Jenny laughed again when Dean dipped down and began to nip at her throat. With the assurance Sam wouldn't rouse, they began to tear sloppily at the others' clothing. Passion grew and actions became more determined. Jenny began to undo Dean's jeans, slipping off his belt and unzipping them when he suddenly stopped. Without warning, Dean shot up from her. He stared at the young woman, his face serious as though he'd suddenly realized something was wrong. A moment passed, but soon Jenny seemed to notice the same. Slowly, their eyes traveled south and the problem was obvious.