November, 1983

"Winter can bite my frozen ass. No, that's not an invitation to touch it, Harvelle."

William Anthony Harvelle, or 'Bill' to everyone but his mother—god rest her soul—threw his gloved hands up defensively. "Wouldn't dream of it Ellen. Besides, my fingers are so frozen I couldn't tell if I was touching you or a block of ice. Not that there's a difference—ow!"

"Ow!" Ellen clutched her freezing, stinging fingers. Backhanding Bill had backfired.

"Serves you right."

The slope down to the river was gentle, but ice and wind had turned the whole thing into a treacherous, bumpy sheet, snapping with each step. Jagged rocks cropped up here and there, waiting to snag unwary feet. A heavy blanket of fog shrouded everything. The small copse of trees was only a few yards from the wide, sluggish river. Yet Ellen could barely see the one and only hear the other. Aside from the trees, everything was barren, empty. An early freeze left many of the leaves dead on the branches like little hangmen swaying and rattling in the wind, little corpses of a summer gone too soon.

Ellen was conscious of the gun holstered beneath her jacket. A constant weight, reminding her why she was here. She was here to hunt a monster, not sightsee. Not that there was much to look at. The wide, rocky beach might look devoid of life, but if she took that for granted she was dead. Just like many before her. They didn't know what she knew, but even hunters made mistakes. It only took one mistake.

The still air shrouded them, swirling around their feet with each step. Cold seeped through her jacket, squeezing in the small gap between her hood and scarf. Cold spots were impossible to detect this time of year, so there was no telling if a ghost was near. Bill followed Ellen into the tight gathering of trees. What little light the veil of clouds allowed dimmed. The air seemed thicker here. Ellen's breathing grated her ears, harsh and loud. This was where the latest victims were last seen alive.

The article that led them to this godforsaken town clearly might as well had "Killer obviously a ghost" as it's headline. Every door and window locked, no sign of forced entry. Just puddles of water, blood, and...other things you might expect to find in a bathroom. However, the more they dug into the town's history the less it looked like a haunting. Sure, there were similar deaths over the years, but never in the same building or street. Then there were the drownings. Any town by a river would have them, but that didn't come close to explaining those.

Like the snapping of teeth through bone, Bill's boot cracked a frozen twig. A large, dark shape rose from the mist before them. Fog swirled, disturbed by the sudden movement. Ellen almost jumped out of her frozen skin. Heart pounding, she reached instinctively for her pistol but didn't draw it. A man stood in front of them—At least it looked like a man. After a moment, she realized he was still half crouched. His sunken eyes were wild with fear at first, but then a wide, friendly smile replaced the fear. Fear still lingered around the corners of his eyes, and he held the smile too long for it to be real. Straightening, he rose to his full height; despite the incline, Ellen still had to look up to see him. She took an involuntary step back. He looked at her, glanced at Bill, and then turned his attention back to her. The smile still didn't fade.

"Well, hey there gorgeous!" He had a deep and gravelly voice, in a pleasant sort of way. The flirtation slid out effortlessly. Too easily. He stood at least half a head taller than Bill, but despite being well built, he looked gaunt, as if he'd recently lost more weight than he could afford to. Sunken cheeks and eyes gave him a look as bleak as their surroundings. The dark, stubble beginnings of a beard covered the lower half of his face. It was a handsome face, despite everything. Under other circumstances, he would be a charmer.

Ellen frowned at him, recoiling a little. It wasn't just the greeting that bothered her. After working at Harvelle's—the saloon Bill ran—and other places before that, she was used to that kind of talk. She might hate it, but she was used to it. No, that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her about his greeting bothered her about his smile. They were fake. Rehearsed and thrown out like a shield.

"What are you doing out here?" Bill managed to spit out. He tilted his head to look the stranger in the eyes.

"Just out for a walk. You?" The stranger kept his voice light, but there was tightness there too. Hands shoved into pockets, arms clenched close to his sides. His eyes flickered back and forth between them. He looked to either side, behind his shoulder, trying to see a path around them.

"Uh..." Bill had to think about that. He glanced sideways at Ellen, his mouth hung open like a mounted bass. They hadn't expected to see anyone out here. It wasn't exactly a big town, probably less than a thousand people. There were more empty houses than occupied. They hadn't even thought of a cover story. Rather stupid of them.

Ellen stepped forward, addressing the stranger. "A man was found dead here. You shouldn't be anywhere near here." She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Ellen trusted her gut, and her gut told her this man was hiding something. If he was actually a man at all. Given her experience, he probably wasn't. Tall, dark, and handsome; and right in the middle of a murder scene.

"Whoa, really?" His thick eyebrows shot up. He blinked in surprise. It might have worked if he'd wiped the lingering smile from his face sooner. "Guess I'll be on my way then." He shrugged, hands still in his pockets. He inched up the slope to their left. "Don't want to be the next guy."

All friendly conversation and smiles. Not exactly the usual reaction to finding out someone died where you're standing.

Bill and Ellen turned themselves, unwilling to have the stranger at their backs. He did the same, facing them as he backed away. Circling each other like predator and prey. She felt, rather than saw, Bill reach for the silver knife he kept up his sleeve. He didn't like to take the chance of becoming prey. The river sloshed fitfully behind them now. Her hand twitched towards her pistol. They'd worked together long enough to know each other's moves. They were a good team, working in tandem. Bill was quick, and Ellen had wicked aim. If this were their critter, it would be in for one hell of a fight.

Any remnant of the smile faded. Brow furrowed, his eyes flickered over Bill's face down to his hand. Sizing him up. He'd go for Bill first then, leaving himself open to Ellen's shot. She stepped to the side, giving herself more room to cover Bill. She could only hope that the stranger didn't have claws. She always hoped the men she ran into didn't have claws. She would have to be quick.

The stranger's head snapped up, looking over Ellen's head towards the River. He grimaced, cocking his head to one side. "What the hell is that?"

Reflexively, Bill and Ellen looked over their shoulders. It was a stupid reflex, and in any other situation, it would get them killed. Ellen cursed, whipping her head back in time to see the stranger sprinting through the edge of the trees and across the open gravel. She sped after him without hesitation, sprinting through the edge of the trees, forgetting the thin layer of ice. He—or it—was fast, but Ellen was no slouch. The distance between them didn't close, but he didn't get any farther either. Ellen's feet skid on the ice; one foot flew in the air. She fell back, arms flailing. There was a crack as her backside hit the ground, pain biting through the numbing cold. She groaned, going limp as she regained her breath. The thick hood of her jacket shielded her head from the ice and rocks beneath her. She could hear Bill laughing and turned her head to glare at him.

He was a few feet behind her, hands on knees as he doubled over. "I'm—I'm sorry." He wheezed, shaking head and hands apologetically. "Are you okay?" His whole body shook with laughter. "That looked like something straight out of the three freaking stooges!"

Ellen laughed in pain, giving Bill a thumbs up. She turned her head painfully the other way and saw the stranger off in the distance, disappearing into the fog. So much for giving heroic chase.

After a minute, Bill was able to quit laughing at her long enough to finally help her up. Not that she needed the help, but it was still rude of him to stand there laughing. Bill waved the way the stranger ran, dismissing him. Jerk was still laughing at her. "He's long gone. Not likely our critter, besides."

Ellen put her hands on her hips, still glaring at him. It didn't carry as much weight after her banana peel slip, unfortunately. "So what, you want to just forget about him? Even if he's not a monster, him being here is suspicious. He probably knows something."

Bill rolled his eyes. "No, that's not what I'm saying. We can find him later. You just want to catch up with him cause he flirted with you."

If she wasn't mad before, she was now. The idea that some blatant, rehearsed line would get to her…Bill should know better. He'd tried enough of them when they first met to know better. She couldn't think of anything to say in reply, so she settled for glaring at Bill. Again. "How about we just go back, see what he was doing?"

The ground around where the stranger knelt was disturbed. Aside from boot tracks, everything else looked older. A paper-thin layer of snow obscured everything. A wide swathe of dark, gritty ice led down the hill to the water's edge. It went against the natural slope, switch backing through the barren trunks. Ellen wasn't any kind of tracker, but it looked as if someone—or something—had been dragged. Then again, she wasn't a tracker, so she let Bill take the lead. She never saw the little, subtle patterns in the ground until he pointed them out to her. Even then, most of the time she still didn't see them. She just trusted Bill.

"There." Bill pointed a ways down the slope. A dark winter cap stuck out from the ice, partially submerged. He approached the cap carefully, Ellen following, looking intently at the ground. He stopped unexpectedly. Ellen bumped into him and Bill slipped on the ice, falling back onto her. In a vain attempt to steady him she grabbed his shoulders, her own foot slipping. For the second time in less than ten minutes, Ellen found herself on the ground, backside throbbing. This time, she had Bill on top of her, practically sitting on her. His thick head nearly cracked hers. She spat out fluff from his hat.

Bill rolled off. His belt dug into her stomach. She pushed him the rest of the way, gritting her teeth. Stupid ice.

Bill cracked a smile as he helped her up again. At least he wasn't laughing at her this time. "Hey, hey Ellen." She heard the echo of what he must have sounded like as a teenager. Ellen narrowed her eyes. He only sounded like that when he was about to make a stupid joke. "Ellen, I think—" He bent over, snickering, before straightening. "I think I just fell for you."

Her heart clenched. Why would he say something like that? Constant teasing. Why did she think it would stop just because they were hunting? The stupid, juvenile prick. Heat rushed to her face. She tightened her lips, raising her eyebrows, unimpressed.

Bill didn't care. He was still laughing as he pointed out what he'd stopped for. "There are tracks, right here."

At some point, the ground had soaked up enough melted snow to turn to mud. Three little tracks, each no bigger than Bill's palm, formed shallow depressions in the refrozen earth. Bill filled one of the depressions with snow, making it easier for her to see. The track was smooth and rounded at the base. At the other end, three prongs stuck out like toes.

"Okay," Ellen said. "What the hell is that from?"


Enjoyed the story? Tell me! This is the first fanfic I've ever posted—EVER—and I'd love to hear what you think!

Story notes:

Hey everybody! Just a few housekeeping notes.

Firstly, this story is complete (no, it's not just one chapter), so you shouldn't have to worry about me abandoning this. I won't be posting it all at once, because it's part of a series, and I need time to edit those future stories.

Secondly, this is the first in an AU series. Everything is basically the same as what I can interpret from canon, with the only difference being that Sam and Dean were born girls. Yes, this is a genderswap AU. The idea was a 'what if': What if Sam and Dean were born Samantha and Deanna Winchester? What would change, what would stay the same? How would those changes ripple into the future we're familiar with?

That last note won't really come into play in this fic, but I wanted to give a heads up. As a final note, I only changed Sam and Dean. Everyone else is the same.