Rowena saved your life.
You never imagined you'd be friends with a powerful, ancient witch. Until she came along, you never even believed in the supernatural; going about your life blissfully unaware of the creatures that lurk in the dark. That is until you laid hands on an amulet from Egypt's Predynastic period. It also happened to be cursed.
Rowena, who's initial concerns laid with gaining ownership of the necklace, had in fact become a friend over the weeks it took her to break the spell. Over the years, you've stayed in touch. The fiery redhead showed up on your doorstep from time to time, willing to share her eccentric life for an evening or a weekend.
You're an Archaeologist working for the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. It's taken a lifetime of hard work and unwavering focus to get here, but you've landed your dream job.
You're between exhibits, working on a presentation to pitch an exhibition on the lesser known Pharaohs of ancient Egypt, when Rowena's text pings on your phone. It's late on a Friday night and the rest of staff went home hours ago, but you're still here, knee deep in research papers.
Rowena: Are you working?
You smile. She starts every conversation with the same question.
You: You know me, always working. What's up?
Leaning back from your desk, you kick off the ground to spin a full circle in your rickety office chair. Checking your watch, you didn't realize it was so late - nearly pushing nine o'clock. It's not like you have anywhere else to be. The work consumes you at home just the same so it doesn't really matter where you are.
Your heels came off hours ago. As you make the decision to pull an all nighter, you pluck at the buttons of your silk blouse tp let your neck breath. Fighting with the desk drawer, you yank it open with a screech and retrieve a tumbler and a half-empty bottle of scotch. It's not what you prefer to drink; you keep it on hand more for the plethora of older, male colleagues that filter in and out. But tonight it'll do just fine.
Pouring yourself a glass, you lean back and close your eyes, waiting for the text you know is coming.
Rowena: You need a life
Rowena: Go get laid
Chuckling, you sip the scotch, only to scrunch your face when it burns the back of your throat.
You: Someday
While you know she's only joking, her words settle in your stomach, bringing up feelings you've long since buried. You couldn't even tell her the last time you had a romantic interest, forget about a casual fuck. It's just not in the stars for you.
You're an Omega, a rarity, and you've spent your entire life trying to pretend your not. Alphas have never appealed you; you have no interest in being claimed and dominated by any man...and the Betas you've been with have never been able to satisfy you physically. Besides, you don't have time for a relationship, casual or not. Your life is filled with work and that's more than enough.
Rowena: I need a favor my love
You can practically hear her voice, that Scottish brogue sweet talking you through iMessage. The last time she asked you for a favor, you ended up with a warlock sleeping on your coach for the better part of a week.
You: Should I be scared?
Rowena: I have a friend who needs your kind of expertise
Rowena: A hunter
Rowena: He's going to call you
Your shrug, replying -
You: ok
Rowena: You're the best
Rowena: Talk to you soon
Setting the phone aside, you go back to work, jotting down notes and comparing articles. It's almost midnight when the call comes in. You're just thinking about peeling yourself from the chair as the shrill ring pierces the quiet of the office.
You answer, glancing at the known number, "Dr. Moreau."
"Uh, hi." The voice on the other end of the line is deep and distinctly male. He sounds distracted, as if he didn't expect you to answer. "I hope I'm not bothering you, I know it's late. Rowena said she gave you the heads up."
He must be her hunter.
"Yeah, it's no problem. I'm still in the office, burning the midnight oil." You close your notepad, giving him your full attention. "What can I help you with?"
"I'm having trouble with a translation. I think I've got most of it except for the last passage. I must have mixed something up, because it doesn't make sense."
"What's the source you're translating from?" Your interest is peaked.
"Scrolls," he breathes heavy, you can hear papers shuffling in the background.
"Originals?" You're not sure how an American hunter ended up with Egyptian scrolls, and part of you doesn't want to know either. You've had your fill of that world.
"Yeah," He confirms, you can hear him typing. "I've scanned them along with the work I've done. If I email them to you, will you take a look?"
"I'd be happy to."
You give him your email address and wait on the line until your inbox lights up. You've been so wrapped up in the same monotonous work for the last few months that you're excited about the prospect of a new challenge.
There's a soft click from your computer as the files come in. You open the first, looking at the script. You're familiar with what you're seeing, line after line of carefully written text that dates back a couple thousand years. His notes are attached to each file and you read through the translation he's already completed.
"Wow," you breathe out, raising your eyebrows and leaning forward to admire his work. "Where'd you go to school?"
"I didn't," he chuckles. "Not for this, anyway. I've learned a little over the years."
"Color me impressed."
And you are. This isn't the sort of thing people typically pick on the weekends. You've devoted most of your life to perfecting your understanding of ancient cultures and their languages. Between college, grad school and now your career at the museum, it's been all consuming. If he's being honest about being self taught, he must be incredibly smart.
"This all looks good to me. I mean, I'll have to really sit down and go over it in detail, but at first glance it looks like you've got it. What do you need me for?"
"It's the last attachment," he confirms. You can hear another voice in the background and the phone being covered, then his distant voice hissing - I'm on the phone...Go watch it in your bedroom. He uncovered the phone, "Sorry, my brother…"
"Oh, sure," you respond, not really paying attention to anything he's saying. You're looking at something you've never seen before - a language that's familiar yet foreign at the same time. At first glance, one might think it's Demotic but upon closer inspection it's something else all together. "Where did you get this?"
"That's a long story," he sighs. "You recognize it?"
"No - I mean, it feels familiar, but this…" Your mind is pulling you in a million different directions. You're an authority on ancient languages, you've seen everything there is to see, but this is new and very exciting. Your heart speeds up as you examine the screen. "Can I see it in person?"
"That's probably not a good idea," He hesitates in answering, clearing his throat. "We're kinda in the middle of shit and I don't wanna drag you into anything. It's better if I keep my distance."
"I understand." You're disappointed, but the last thing you need is another curse situation. It took years to get over the first time and you're still looking over your shoulder. "This is incredible. Can you give me, say, the weekend to look it over? I have a friend in Damascus that might be able to help."
"Sure," He confirms. "The sooner, the better. I know it takes time, so whatever you can do to help I really appreciate it."
"No problem, I live for this kind of thing." You're still lost in the image in front of you when you realize you have no idea who you're talking to. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Sam."
Life happens. The weekend turns into Monday morning and you're caught off guard by the resignation of one of your colleagues. Julian doesn't even give his notice, just walks out, suddenly leaving you in charge of an entire department.
On Tuesday morning, your cell vibrates. You curse when you see Sam - Hunter on the screen. You answer with an exclamation, "I can't believe I didn't call you back!"
"I didn't hear from you all weekend and I wanted to check in to see if you made any headway." He doesn't sounds upset, just hesitant.
"Shit, I'm so sorry." You close your eyes, swallowing the emotion rising up. You can't believe you forgot; you could have at least emailed. "After careful examination, I think what you're looking at is a code. That's why the traditional translation doesn't make sense. I'm definitely not a cryptologist, but I know a guy - Jamal - who should be able to help you. I'm gonna email you his info right now.""
"Thanks" Sam's quiet for a beat and then asks, "Are you okay?"
It's not his words that take you back, it was the fact that he sounds like he genuinely wanted to know the answer.
You almost tell him the truth.
"I'm fine, just tired. I've got a lot of balls in the air."
Three days later, you have the worst day of your life. It's a spiral that begins with the heel of your shoe breaking before you even make it out of your apartment building only to culminate in your boss tearing you a new asshole over something that was not even your fault.
Your boss, Larry, is an Alpha and a gigantic bastard. He's a smart guy and deserves every bit of professional recognition he's gotten, but it seems like he lives to make your life a living hell. There was a time when he liked you, years ago when you first came to the museum. He'd been polite and professional, tip-toeing around the fact that you were an Omega - the only Omega working for him.
It only look a few months for the comments to start; just little jabs about the fact that you needed time off every month, preferring to stay home when your heat came. It's your legal right to choose to leave from work in favor of suppressants and you've never experienced any real prejudice...until him. You worked hard, harder than anyone else, because you felt the need to prove yourself valuable despite your Omega status.
After nearly a year of off-handed remarks about missing work, you decided to bite the bullet and take suppressants. It's not ideal, and by no means a long term fix, but it works for now and that's all you're concerned about. On days like today, when you're heat is being kept at bay by a mix of chemicals and sheer willpower, you are utterly miserable.
By lunch time, you're struggling to keep your head on straight. The final straw is your assistant, Pete, knocking your laptop off your desk where is shatters on the ground with a sickening crack.
You don't know why you call him.
You're pacing back and forth across your office, trying your damnedest not to cry out of frustration. There was a time when you had actual friends, but moving to New York yanked you from the meager social life you had managed to maintain throughout college. With the exception of work colleagues, you don't really have anyone to talk to. And you're in desperate need of a distraction.
"Hello?" Sam sounds surprised when he picks up your call.
"Hey. I, um, I just wanted to call and make sure you spoke with my code guy."
"Oh, yeah!" He livens up, his tone slipping into something more casual. "He's amazing. And he works fast. He was able to sort it out in, like, two hours. Thanks for sending me his way; you're a lifesaver."
"Wonderful," you breath, pressing your thumb and middle finger at your temple. You shouldn't have called, you've got nothing else to say to him. "Okay, well, that's good to hear. I'll let you go-"
"Hang on," he interupts. "Is that really why you called?"
"What?" You bristle at his terrifyingly observant accusation, sputtering in response. "W-Why else would I?"
"It just seems like you're...dealing with something maybe?"
"No, I'm good. Never been better."
"My mistake," Sam responds. The two of you sit silence until you can't take it anymore. The damn breaks.
"I'm having the worst day of my life." You gulp, sighing heavy and slumping onto the small, ratty couch tucked agasint the wall of your basement office. "Or maybe it's just me being dramatic. I think I'm just tired - no, more than that. I'm exhausted. Have you ever felt like you've been working so hard, for so long, that you're not sure how you keep going?"
Sam snorts softly, "More than you know. What happened?"
"It's just been one thing after the other. I feel like I'm in a Irwin Allen film - everything that can go wrong has and is. It'd be funny if it wasn't real life. My life"
"Believe me when I tell you, I know what you're talking about. My brother and I were working on a case, years ago now, and, to make a long story short, I ended with a cursed rabbit's foot. Let me tell you, it's a miracle I didn't end up with an anvil dropped on my head."
"Misery loves company." Closing your eyes, you lie back on the sofa. "Care to make a girl feel better by sharing you tales of calamity?"
"Alright, well first I really have to describe Bella to you…."
And that's how it all starts. You talk for the better part of the afternoon, and when you finally say goodbye, your phone has been hooked up to the waller charges for an hour. It was the beginning of an easy, natural friendship. You find that you have many common interests, although his life is exponentially more exciting than yours. The conversation ends without a plan to speak again, but you're not at all shocked when you're phone rings the following Friday night and Sam's on the line.
Five Months Later
"Hi," His voice is accompanied by a crunching sound. "Sorry, I'm eating."
"Don't worry about it," You chuckle as you wave your hand as if he can see you. With the phone in one hand, you're inspecting the sealed plastic bowl of pre-made salad you picked up from the market earlier in the day. You had forgot to put in the refrigerator when you got work and now the lettuce appears a bit wilted for your taste. "What are you having? My greens are depressing me."
"Carrots," he responds, still chewing. "Nothing too exciting. How'd your presentation go?"
"Embarrassing. The whole day has been one disaster right after the next. I left my laptop cable at home, so naturally my computer died halfway through the slideshow I spent so much time on. Although, not before I got a notification from my mother talking about a bra sale at Lord and Taylor. It popped up right on the big screen in front of a dozen men who will judge me in silence for the rest of my career."
You're rambling, but it feel good to just tell someone and Sam is always willing to listen. He's told you before he likes the normalcy of your life. That the mundane little details that sounds so trivial to you, amuse him to no end.
"Then, I had lunch with Kent from public relations. I've told you about Kent right? He's dating Troy from IT…"
"Yeah, long hair and kind a bitch, right?" Sam confirm, chuckling on the other end of the line.
"Yes, that's him. He told me my dress was really you, which I know damn well is code for I hate it but I'm not going to tell you...It's stupid, I know, but I haven't stopped thinking about it all day." Taking a breath, you stop to remember last night's conversation. "Shit, I'm talking about office gossip and you killed vampires this morning."
"Four of them," He corrects you, sounding satisfied with himself. "Well, it was more Dean, but my shoulder is still bothering me."
"You should have it looked at; it's been bad for a while now."
You worry about him. For a guy who does the research, it seems like he's always in the middle of the action. You have no doubt his brother is an Alpha but you've pegged Sam as a Beta, you're sure of it. He's smart and sweet and unassuming; he seems ill suited for his world of hunters and monsters. Hunting scares you; you've always been kind of a wimp and that was before you ever knew about all the scary things that go bump in the night.
"I'll be fine. I just need a couple days off and I'll be good as new." Dismissing your statement, he continues on. "So, what are we watching tonight?"
You started this ritual a couple months back when you ran out of things to talk about while he was in the middle of a docudrama series on Netflix. Since then, the two of you have been making your way through all of Ken Burns' documentaries. It was your turn to pick.
"Tonight, we're watching the first installment of The National Parks: America's Best Idea. You ready?" Placing him on speakerphone you lean back, propping your stocking feet on your desk.
"Just a sec," Sam rustles around for a moment. You can hear the creak of his bed frame as he gets comfortable."Okay, I'm ready."
Eight Months Later
His name pops up on your phone, vibrating across your coffee table. It's been three days of radio silence while he and his brother were in the backwoods of Idaho looking for a werewolf and you've been eager to confirm his safety.
"You're alive?" You answer with the question, only half joking.
"Yeah." You can tell right from the sound of his voice that something's wrong, he sounds tired and there's a hitch in his throat.
"You got hurt." You stiffen, a nauseous feeling rolls through your stomach to the point of feeling sick. "What happened?"
"I'm fine, really. I just...I got shot."
"Sam!" You sit up straight, lunging for the remote to jab the power button for the television. "Oh my God."
"I'm gonna be fine. I got stitched up and Dean found some hydrocodone so I'm actually feeling pretty good at the moment. I even got my own motel room."
"You're livin' large." Sniffing, you grab the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and pull it around you. "So are you gonna tell me what happened?"
"Well, it's not as bad as it sounds so don't overreact. But, Dean thought I was dead…"
Thirteen Months Later
"To what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning call?" You inquire with a smile, juggling your phone, purse, briefcase and fresh cup of hot coffee. You're just getting off the subway, headed to the office on a Wednesday morning.
"We're on the road." His voice is muffled, the rumble of a car engine in the background. He doesn't need to tell you his brother is there, you know by the sound of his voice. He's less casual when Dean's around, not as chatty and more careful of his words. "There's a case in New Jersey. It's a whole thing, I'll tell you about it later. But...we're gonna be close, so I thought when we were done, maybe I could-"
"Yes!" You exclaim, freezing in the middle of the busy sidewalk. "Come and visit! We got the first shipments for the exhibition yesterday, I really want to show you what I've been working on. You're gonna love it; it's like a geek's paradise."
"Sounds like a plan." Dean says something the background, but all you can make out is Sam telling him to get fucked in response. "I gotta go, but I'll talk to you soon."
"Okay, I can take you to that-" The call ends before you can finish but you don't care. You're beyond excited. While you love your job, it's been difficult to make friends in the city and you've been solitary for far too long. The prospect of having an actual friend, live and in person, makes you feel like a giddy schoolgirl getting ready for her first sleepover.