Supernatural Visions
Chapter 1
The Reluctant Huntress
Author's Note: Well, after pulling my hair out because my hard drive died in my last computer and forced me to lose everything I previously worked on in this Supernatural-verse, I finally managed to finish the first chapter of this story. Chapters two and three are already started and I plan on writing the beginnings of chapters four, five, six, and seven. This will be the first in an eight story series and I'm really excited about this.
WARNING: This is very AU! I merged my own canon from my original fiction with Supernatural, so various things have been changed. Not so much in this story, but the further I go, the more I change. I plan on following the series up to the middle of season six. After that, I might keep a few key points, but will mostly go off of my imagination. This is what I imagine would happen if I introduced an Original Character (Brianna really isn't a fan character) into the series. So, read at your own risk.
No romance per say, this is mostly a friendship fic between Sam, Dean and my OC.
Sleep is the most important thing for anyone who wanted to stay in their right mind. It didn't matter if someone had, let's say, three hours of sleep a night because it was all they needed that time of rest was vitally important.
Me? I only need maybe three hours of sleep every two or three days, but I manage to squeeze in six hours a night. Strange to hear, no? Someone who could easily be considered an insomniac can, actually, fall asleep in a humanly normal, consistent schedule. I had about five years of practice now. Five blissfully normal years, well, as normal as someone like myself can ever get.
Now, you're probably wondering at my choice of the word humanly to describe my routine sleep cycle, right? Well, I'm not human... At all. There was never a time in my life where I once was human then turned into something else (usually something dark), I was never experimented on as a child, and I've never made shady deals with demon (lying bastards that they are). No, I'm one of the good guys (not one of the rogue Fae claiming to be a god or goddess). I'm an elf. Yes, you heard that right, elf. As in the Tolkien elves (sort of) who are supposed to be tall, thin, and beautiful beyond the lot if mortals. I have certain super human strengths and weaknesses that are unique to my race. I have elemental powers and can control all five of them (there's a reason for that I'm not too thrilled with). I can see in the dark. I have excellent hearing. I... I can conceal myself from mortal eyes and walk among them appearing human.
Part of that desperate grasp for humanity was my need to keep a normal sleep schedule. Which was interrupted again for the third time that month and the only time it would happen that week.
Something opened my window. It wanted my attention, you see.
Bleary from my rest where I had been enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, I pulled back the green covers of my bed spread, each layer a different shade, and padded across the hardwood floor to my opened window. I can't describe it as a mysterious occurrence. I knew how the widow opened.
I looked out into the night, the sounds of Dallas, twelve AM traffic reaching my ears. My eyes, a strange color of teal and the only thing about my elvish heritage that bled through the disguise, searched the silver illuminated ground below me. I lived on the third floor of a five-story apartment complex off University. There was no conceivable way for anything to force my window open, well, anything that was evil or human at least.
These guys were impossible. There wasn't some sort of runic protection against them. They were just wolves; intelligent wolves peering at me from the moonlit landscape with their imploring golden eyes. Most wolves had yellow eyes. These guys were apparently too cool for creepy yellow and went for the gold.
I grabbed the top of my window, about to slam it shut again. This had to stop. They had been getting persistent lately.
"Go away!" I hissed from my room, "I don't do that stuff anymore!"
I tugged, hard, and my window descended to the ledge with an audible bang. I winced at the loud sound. I hadn't meant to be loud.
They still watched me when I glanced outside again. I sighed, shook my head, and closed the curtains (I didn't like blinds).
With a weariness that could only come from being subjected to visits from unwanted nocturnal animals, I trudged back to the comfort of my bed and heaved myself back underneath the covers. Another thing tended to come after the wolves' visits and I had long resigned myself to the strange occurrence ever since it began.
I closed my eyes and went through my mental exorcizes that lulled my brain back to the wondrous world that was sleep. This time, though, I didn't have a dream. I had a vision. Or, something strange that I could barely wrap my brain around.
I felt like I had woken up as I sat up in the usual room I appeared in after the wolf event. It was almost like some weird ritual I didn't understand.
My human guise was gone, it always was in the dream, and revealed my pointed ears, "exotic" beauty and glowing skin and hair. Against the white walls, white furniture, and white atmosphere of the room, my pale skin washed out more than it would in a normal, every day, room. Thankfully my hair was dark enough to help me stand out and my eyes were another thing that didn't blend in. I took that as a good thing.
I looked down and frowned. White dress too. Always white and I never understood why. Was this dream taking place in my mind? I pondered that thought at the start of every encounter.
"You're here," came the deep bass sound of a male voice on the other side of the small white room.
I figured the room was a sort if parlor, but I wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a reflection of a memory I had as a kid? Who knew?
In front of me though, was a seemingly human man. I say seemingly human, because as far as I know, he seemed to be able to enter my mind from a great distance. I had long ago come to the conclusion that he was, probably, a wizard. Wizards and witches were a sub-race of beings that stemmed from human and elven cross breeding. It was impossible for him to be anything else. Evil forces couldn't enter my mind, not easily. I'd made sure of that long ago.
He was dressed in a white flannel shirt that buttoned up the middle (of course) and a pair of white jeans. The jeans had floored me the first time i had met him. All my life and I had never really seen white jeans. Well, I hadn't noticed them, at least.
I smiled at him and met his sapphire blue eyes while attempting to center myself. It was a normal reaction I had to him. There aren't many humans I would ever admit to myself as breathtakingly handsome.
He returned my expression, though his half-hearted grin didn't meet my eyes, and I cocked my head to the side in confusion.
"I've been trying to see if I could contact you on my own, but I can't seem to control it," he said.
I frowned. I knew that rhetoric. It normally preluded a spot of me, Brianna, playing therapist. Granted, he'd heard my share of complaints, so I couldn't really say anything.
"I found someone like me. Demon killed his mom in a fire and everything. He was young, though, still in high school. He killed his father and uncle then attempted to kill his step mother," my unnamed companion informed me.
No, I didn't know his name, though I knew that I could find him in real life if I wanted to. I didn't, though because I refused to step back into that sort of life again. I'd been free for five years and I wasn't going to ruin my life because I had some connection with a ridiculously handsome human I met in a dream. Oye!
"Why? What was the motive?" I asked because it was an important question.
"Abusive father and uncle with an apathetic step mother carrying a guilty conscious," he replied.
I whistled and moved to sit down on the stark white couch which was surprisingly cushiony despite the fact that it kind of resembled the consistency of a pearl.
"Poor kid, what happened?" I asked.
He followed me looking absolutely devastated. Judging from that look I had a sneaking suspicion that he had grown very close to this kid and the case and that it affected him more than he probably wanted it to.
"He killed himself," he said.
I placed my left hand on his shoulder that faced me.
"Must be hard, feeling like you failed him," I said while getting straight to the point.
It didn't take a genius to figure out how he was feeling.
"Well, I did," he said dejectedly.
"The problem with life," I began while my body leaned back against the rise of the couch, "is that it's filled with people we can't help or can help. This boy was probably seven seconds away from killing himself the entire time and the smallest trigger could set him off. Personally, I would have let him have his revenge. It sounded justified to me, no matter how wrong murder is."
"In cold blood?" He asked shocked.
I shrugged, "He wouldn't be the first. I work with law enforcement sometimes. This scenario is something I've personally seen and, well, the officers go through the same thing you do. I've distanced myself from it by now... Been doing it for too long."
He looked like he was contemplating something so I watched him, watched the slight downward curve of his lips and the small arch to his brow. His eyes seemed to stare at nothing, so I had a feeling that he was reliving some sort of memory. To us, it was a few minutes before he spoke again.
"My brother always says that we shouldn't get attached to people because of what we do, but... I can't help it. I like people, always have, and when I found out that there could be others like me, well, I was happy. But now I don't know if I'll go crazy or not," he said.
I laughed, "Firstly, crazy can be fun, especially if you own it. Secondly, I doubt your powers are going to turn you evil. That's not how innate magic works no matter how you swing it. You don't have demon magic, well, not enough to over power my defenses."
"You still think I'm a wizard, or something don't you?" He asked.
"The signs are there," I insisted.
The room flickered as did his form and we shared a sad smile. I'll be the first to admit that I've grown fond of my mortal dream partner.
"Have a good day," he said.
"You too," I replied.
With that the dream ended and everything went dark. Awake, I opened my eyes and let out a wide yawn. Well, these dreams were never bad, at least. I didn't normally have bad dreams, not any more, but that didn't mean I never have them every once in a while. As odd as these dreams with this mystery man who told me so much about himself, I enjoyed having someone to talk to just to talk. Granted, the preceding parade of reminders of my former life were something I could do without.
I twisted in my bed thinking about falling back to sleep when my phone vibrated on the side table next to my side of the bed. I groaned, already guessing who it was, and picked the thing up it glance at the text.
"New case Davis. It's an odd one for ya. You should like it." - Gibbs-
I let out an annoyed breath. A consultants' job was never done. Not in the big city of Dallas, Texas. My eyes rested on the time. Six-thirty. With a shrug, I moved my covers and slid out of bed with a finality in my movements that said I wasn't coming back for the rest of the day.
When it came to clothes I had three different places where I put three different clothes types for all occasion plus a fourth area where I hid nice pretty dresses for formal events be they work related or not. I know the system sounds neat and organized, I can assure you that it is for me, but most people would call my closet an organized mess. Needless to say that I did not do natural clean very well.
Anyway, I tended to wear a pair of nice jeans and a plaid shirt. I also tended towards sneakers for footwear. I've had to run after (or from) perps before and sneakers were the best sort of footwear to run in. By six-forty-five I was rushing into my car with the text Gibbs sent me that told me wear the address was. I logged it into my GPS system and then took off into the waxing dawn.
Dallas traffic was interesting, but having lived in other areas of the world where traffic laws were virtually non-existent, I preferred the complex road system and the slow driving to dealing with several hundred obviously drugged individuals probably suffering from some sort of hangover or withdrawal. At least the roads were labeled.
I arrived at the scene of the crime with a frown on my face. Nice neighborhood. Like really nice. Like the kind I technically could afford, but didn't dare dip into those funds to retrieve the money.
The house I was staring at was the generic large house that looked like it had a big first and second story plus a walk in attic. It was a nice house, just not a very interesting one.
Detective Vincenzo was in his element torturing the newbie Detective Lazaro. They were taking pictures of the door that seemed to have been broken from the inside out. My eyes narrowed in on that bit. Strange. Why would a door break out instead of in?
I got out of my car and was about to approach my teammates when two men sidled passed me dressed in sharp looking suits. I blinked and then wanted to stab something. The bloody Feds! What the hell were they doing here?
I silently followed them as they approached Vincenzo and Lazaro. Both detectives looked up, saw the Feds and caught my eye. I shook my head. Let them pretend I wasn't there for a moment.
"Hello, we're agents Shield and Darnell," began the short one as they flashed IDs but I noticed that they didn't show any badges.
"We're here to investigate the Laten murder," the short one with the blond hair continued.
"Uh, why?" Vincenzo asked impertinently.
I smiled and winked at him. Giving the Feds hell was always a lot of fun, especially if they weren't Feds.
"Because there were five other murders in the exact same style here in the neighborhood in the past week. We're making sure that there's nothing out of the ordinary going on," I think the short one was named Agent Shield?
"It's a precautionary measure, you understand. Practically routine. You won't even notice us," said the tall one.
I blinked. Why did his voice sound familiar?
"You lot said that last time and we still noticed you," I piped in dryly.
The sight of two grown not-so Federal Agents jumping a foot into the air was probably the satisfying high light of my day. They were not as ninja-like as they liked to think they were. Both men whirled around to face me and the smirk I was about to plaster onto my face froze. Because, here's the thing about dream boys, they're only supposed to stay dreams whether they were real or not. The tall agent with shaggy brown hair was the man who visited my dreams (and yes I know that sounds as cheesy as hell) and, frankly, that scared the shit out of me.
I mentally forced myself to recover from the shock of seeing him and plastered the smirk on my face anyway. I crossed my arms.
"No, really, you Feds are so covert that you're overt. It's actually painful to watch," I said.
The tall one was staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I knew that look. He probably noticed the similarities between myself and my elven appearance and was trying to figure out if I was the same person or not.
Well, I was not going to do this now, if ever. I didn't do this elf style stuff anymore. I prefer the mundane life of mortals, thanks. Less stressful.
"You know, most Feds show their badges and not their picture IDs," I pointed out.
The shorter one rolled his eyes, totally unprofessional, and lifted up his jacket. The tall one followed suit. Oh. Well. They did have badges.
I also was still quite certain that they weren't Federal Agents.
"Well," Vincenzo started, "I'll go let Gibbs know you're here. Bri, come on back if you want."
The shorter one held up his hand when I started to walk around him. I gave him one of my faux sweet smiles.
"Why is a civilian entering a dangerous crime scene?" Blond boy asked.
"Because this civilian is a) our primary consultant for odd cases, and b) because she's a tiny spitfire that has been known to break bones and rupture vital organs," Vincenzo replied pointedly.
I smirked, "That was code for move it or lose it."
Agent Blondie's bottom lip pushed out and up into a small frown while he bobbed his head in a nod, telling all of us that he believed us. He lowered his arm and stepped away from me, holding up both hands in defeat.
I walked passed him and into the building while Gibbs moved for the door. I smiled at her.
Detective Rachel Gibbs had worked homicide for two decades. Her persona was as tall as she was, making her seem like she was larger than life. She had brown speckled gray hair and honey tanned skin (natural). Her eyes were green and excelled at making people feel uncomfortable. I almost burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter at the thought of watching her make two Federal Agents nervous, but I bit back the urge. I had a crime scene to observe.
I walked down the hall to the back of the house where the second den was (yes there were two living rooms inside that house) passing the familiar faces of the other officers along the way. I nodded and smiled a greeting while letting a few of them know that the Feds were here. I was met with a barrage of groans, eye rolls, and amused glances. All of them remembered what happened the last time the precinct had to work with the Feds.
It wasn't until I had made it to the crime scene that my good mood plummeted. There was the dead man on the floor surrounded by a puddle of blood and pink goo still leaking out of his ears. His eyes were also gouged out and the empty sockets stared straight into the ceiling fan where the lightbulb had shattered. I stepped over a few glass shards so as to not damage potential evidence.
My mouth fell and a burst of anger welled inside my stomach. I DID not do this stuff anymore!
Deciding to at least take a look at the body, but not believing there was any hope for me at this point, I knelt down beside the medical examiner.
"So, what do you see right now?" I asked.
"Cause of death is unclear, but I don't think it was the eyes. There's a strange substance leaking out of his ears, but I haven't idem tied it yet. The only other thing I can say about him is the weird twisted smile he's got, but I doubt that means anything," Doctor Alynn McCreenie told me.
I frowned, "No, believe me, I think I already know what happened and I need to talk to Gibbs."
Before she could ask me why, the Feds walked into the room followed by Detective Gibbs. I took out my phone, opened the texting app and started typing. A moment later, after I hit send, Gibbs' phone buzzed.
I had written one word, Goblin.
Her lips pursed and she glanced at the Feds then back at me. I shrugged letting her know that I would deal with them later.
"What the hell is that pink fluid stuff?" Blondie asked.
Brains, I though but neglected to speak up and tell them.
Dream man knelt down and took out a small vial with a Q-tip attached to the lid and scooped up a sample. Thankfully I didn't need to do that. I'd seen this scenario before. The wonders of being an ex-OLIMPUS hunter.
"Well," began Dream Man, "We'll find out once we get this back to the lab."
I remembered when I first encountered a situation like this. I had been stationed in Cardiff, Wales following up on a string of odd murder victims. The murder victims, you see, had been committing random pranks that ranged from harmlessly entertaining to down right dangerously alarming. I hadn't even realized what the problem was until I ran the tests on the liquefied brains. That was a bit of forensics I never wanted to do again.
"Lab? Yeah, right! Lab," Blondie said momentarily stepping out of character.
I exchanged a glance with Detective Gibbs and Dr. McCreenie. I wasn't sure about our coroner, but Gibbs and I were definitely on the same page where these two were concerned. They definitely weren't Feds. Feds would never actually act like they were incompetent, not like these guys.
I watched as Gibbs lifted up her hand that held her phone and proceeded to tap a little harder than was necessary on the keys. My phone buzzed a moment later.
Impersonating Federal Agents? She asked.
I replied, Probably. I'll handle them. I think I know what they're up to.
You better.
With that we watched as they stepped back and nodded in Doctor McCreenie's direction with Blondie feeling the need to add a cocky smile. I rolled my eyes then caught the gaze of Dream Man. His blue orbs shined in a mix of aggravation and bemusement. Apparently, he dealt with this type of behavior frequently and had finally decided to just sit back and roll with it. I couldn't help it. I grinned then sent a wink in his direction. I'd done that several times in our dreams, not that he'd actually know. I looked different, after all.
Just as I expected he would, Dream Man ducked his head to one side, left I think, and turned an endearing shade of red. I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the laugh that welled up from my vocal chords and settled for an undignified snort. If he hadn't recognized me in my human guise I definitely knew that he would recognize my laugh. Best not the get into that subject just yet, I figured.
"We'll be going now," Dream Man said, "Thank you for your time. Come on, Agent Shield."
And he grabbed Blondie's arm and pulled him out of the crime scene. When we were sure they'd gone Gibbs, McCreenie and I shook our heads and proceeded to take care of the body and the rest of the crime scene. I didn't need to do a complete thorough search like the others. I'd already known what to look for.
"Davis am I gonna have to worry about them boys?" Detective Gibbs asked after talked to Dr. McCreenie about the time of death and the probable cause.
I laughed, "I think I know why they're here. I'll deal with them, promise."
After all, there were only two branches of hunters in the world and only one didn't have an official organization.
"And this case is your sort of case, right?" she asked.
I nodded and a frown replaced my humor-driven smile. Yes, this was my sort of case, no matter how much I didn't like it. But this was business as usual, of course. My price for remaining off the grid (because I had no doubt that my aunt knew exactly where I was) was to take care of the localized supernatural occurrences and to keep the humans as far away from the issue as possible. Kind of hard to do when one runs in to the human hunters, though.
With a sigh I turned to Gibbs and shrugged, "Unfortunately. I'll deal with this, you guys focus on trying to find a good cover for this one."
The precinct knew about the supernatural by now. They had to since I was there.
With that I took my leave and headed back to my apartment fully intending to conduct research on these human hunters. Unfortunately, this meant that I'd have to log in to OLIMPUS's database, but I needed to find this bit out. It was better to know the names of the people I was about to bar from this investigation, after all.
I decided that the first thing I needed to do was run a search through OLIMPUS's records of human hunters. There were a lot of records about the hunter families in the human world. It always ended up turning into a family business for them and they had their own distinct networks to deal with. I sifted through the individual hunter files first but didn't expect to find anything. It was when I made it most of the way through the Hunter Family files that I actually found something.
Winchester.
"Damn," I cursed.
I knew about the Winchesters. I had worked with John Winchester about seven years ago, shortly before I left OLIMPUS. He was, admittedly, good at hunting, but he wasn't good enough to where I was actually comfortable with him pursuing the supernatural dark creature (actually, I think it was a darkling we were chasing). He partially proved me right. At least he was resourceful.
It looked like I was going to be dealing with his two sons, one of whom had a glaring Fed record for murder. I frowned at that then clicked on the police report.
I sighed. Okay, so, string of serial murders seemingly committed by different people, but the Feds ended up pinning it on Dean Winchester. Since the older Winchester was actually there I suspected that there was a supernatural job involved.
Hmm, maybe I could use this to get the brothers out of my hair with this Goblin? It was worth a shot.
With my mind made up, I closed the lid to my laptop and went to go look for the Winchester brothers. I pointedly ignored the little voice in my head telling me that I finally knew the name of the man who visited me in my dreams once a week. That was a place I most definitely not willing to go.
After some deliberation, I decided to find them in the place where I had no doubt they'd be; at the crime scene, at night, looking for supernatural signs. Elves never needed to use half the equipment they did. For one, we had a special connection to the world of the supernatural that humans didn't, so we were able to sense things better than most. Another reason involved the fact that elves used technology that was far beyond what mortals could come up with. Elves who decided to go into the hunter business also went through rigorous hours of indoor study learning the signs and histories of the creatures we hunted. It was a lot of work, but still important, and sometimes I missed actually going through the system.
But that was the deal I had struck with my aunt when I told her I was going to completely shut myself out of the elven community and live with Professor Moruni as her student in archeology. I had to keep up with the few supernatural incidences in Dallas and keep the police department from getting caught up in that sort of shitstorm. If I did that, she would keep me out of the eye of the elven courts.
It was part of the reason why I did so much consultant work, but it hadn't taken Detective Gibbs very long to notice that I actually liked doing what I did. So, she had taken to tricking me into the mundane cases (at the beginning) and slowly managed to weave my life into her team's.
The house, as I approached it, looked incredibly foreboding in the dark. All of the houses on this street did. It was the way they were modeled, I decided, that gave their appearances a sinister edge to the way the half-moon shined down onto the looming buildings. I slipped up to the house I knew the Winchester brothers would be in and tried the doorknob. Unlocked.
Slowly, so as to not attract too much attention, I reached onto my purse and took out a permanent black marker. Mentally sifting through the different rhunes I had cataloged in my mind I finally came up with the one to keep the door and myself from making loud, sudden, noises. Carefully, I drew on the wood of the door and my skin- right above the doorknob and right above the fading rhune that kept me looking human.
Satisfied with my work, I opened the front door and walked right in.
The thudding of footfalls and bickering voices reached my ears and I willed myself to not roll my eyes. Really, these guys were too obvious to be Feds and it probably was a good thing I knew what they actually did. How they managed to not get caught this long was (and always will be) beyond me.
A bright yellow glow from the partially ajar backroom told me that one of them had turned a lamp on. It was another amateur move on their part, though I couldn't blame them for it. Humans weren't elves. They couldn't see in the dark like we could.
I peered through the crack and listened to them talk.
"So, you sure this stuff is… human… er… brain?" asked the voice of the brother I had deemed 'blondie' earlier that day but who was really called Dean.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from laughing. That was pretty much what I had said when I had a forensic scientist I knew test this stuff the first time I had ever come across a goblin.
"That's what the lab tests said and I had the tech rerun it just to make sure," said my Dream Man, Sam.
"Ugh! And here I thought we'd seen everything!" came the elder's sarcastic reply.
I breathed back a snort.
"What do you think this thing is? I've never heard of a demon or a ghost doing this and there's no EMF or anything like it," remarked the younger one.
"I've never seen it before. Think your dream girl might have an idea?" the older one asked.
I blinked. I hadn't expected to be brought up in the conversation. It made sense for Sam to talk about me to Dean, though. Neither of us had actually given our names to each other in our dream meetings and the only reason why I had gone looking for it now was because he decided to stick his nose in my case. I winced at that thought. The homicide detectives were beginning to rub off on me.
"Dean, you know I can't actually contact her at will, don't you?" the younger asked.
Thud! I winced at the sound. They were moving things around and ruining the crime scene! Not that it made much of a difference. Gibbs was already working with my aunt to get this covered up and make up a murderer, but still! There were a few things that should never happen in the history of law and tampering with potential evidence was one of them!
"Yeah I know, but she's this elf-thing, right? You'd think she'd know something about these guys!" Dean Winchester insisted.
"She might, and she's a female elf, looks humanoid and everything. Personally, I think you'd like her," Sam Winchester muttered that last bit.
"What was that?"
"You heard me!"
"Bitch!"
"Jerk!"
"Real mature Sammy!"
"Huh, you'd know, wouldn't you?" came Sam Winchester's retort.
I pulled a face. They were worse than Vincenzo and Lazaro on a good day!
A smirk spread its way across my face. There was one way to shut them up and I'd have a lot of fun doing it, too. I knocked on the partially open door.
Silence.
"Dude, you sure you didn't pick up any readings?" Sam Winchester asked.
"Positive," replied a confused and wary Dean.
"Then what the hell was that?"
"Damned if I know!"
This time I really did roll my eyes. They needed to host a talk show. Or write parody fiction. Either one would make them millions.
"Dean and Sam Winchester, open the door! I know you're in there!" I called.
Silence again. I was trying not to burst out laughing.
Finally, it was Sam who apparently had the courage to open the door and meet my gaze. I didn't know if he could see my eyes very well, but I could see his and they were as breathtaking as they were this morning. It was weird, seeing him outside of my head dressed in normal clothes.
He blinked, "You're that consultant from earlier."
I smiled.
"Wait, you mean that chick one of the detectives was bragging about?" Dean Winchester asked from behind his brother.
"Yeah and I managed to sneak up on you two twice. I'd suggest working on your stealth skills if you actually want to continue your little hunting career," I said.
I couldn't see Dean's face, but Sam was openly gaping at me. I didn't blame him. Not everyone knew that the supernatural existed let alone human hunters. To think that even human hunters didn't know elves existed. Should be interesting.
"You know," Sam finally said in a breathy tone that told me he had been holding his breath without even realizing it.
I nodded, "I know a lot more than you boys ever will. Including things concerning this case. Gibbs is having me take care of it, so I suggest you two leave and hunt a good ghost, or something that won't liquefy your brains if it manages to possess you."
Dean, surprisingly, managed to find his voice first.
"Hold on, you expect us to let you handle this on your own?" he asked.
I gave the appearance of thinking a moment before replying, "Yeah, pretty much."
"But we don't know what this thing is," Sam pointed out.
"I actually do know what it is," I said pointedly, "and I happen to be a professional where hunting dangerous creatures are concerned. You guys grasp at straws half the time, then proceed to bumble on crime scenes and disturbing them. This is something beyond you, trust me, and it'll take special measures to fix."
Sam looked offended. It was actually kind of cute. Well, it was absolutely adorable, as much as I hated to admit it.
"Yeah isn't that the point of us?" Dean asked me.
I shrugged, "Not in this circumstance. Trust me, you guys are in danger around this thing. Better to let me handle it."
"And why would we do that?" Dean Winchester asked in an extremely condescending tone.
I didn't blame them for asking. They didn't know what I was and they didn't know what I could do. For all they knew, I was a hunter that worked with the police and had access to things that they didn't. My status amongst the law enforcement wouldn't make me any more qualified to take this thing out than they were.
"I have special powers and abilities that you two lack," I replied after a moment's hesitation.
Telling them I wasn't human probably wouldn't go over very well no matter how well acquainted Sam Winchester was with my actual elven appearance. It was better to just make them believe that this was something only I could do based on a special innate power I was born with.
Come to think of it, Sam, at least, could probably access that same power. After all, he wouldn't be able to access my dreams if he didn't have any elven blood in his lineage. Which probably meant that Dean Winchester was likely to be a wizard as well.
Had I still been a huntress, I would have pursued this thesis. Since I wasn't, I refrained from getting too involved. It was part of the reason why I wanted them out of my hair so badly.
"That's bullshit," Dean deadpanned.
I smiled, "I can also get the Feds to drop your murder charges and have your files classified."
My aunt normally did this for most human hunters without inducting them into the system. Sometimes she did this without them even knowing the moment she got wind of it. Dean's Federal record was fairly new and, while I knew she probably already knew about his record, she probably hadn't the time to deal with it. There were other things that I knew she was worried about like keeping the elven Council of Nobles off my and other members of my family's backs. Sad, isn't it?
Anyway, with me being an ex OLIMPUS hunter I had authority to order the Feds to drop the price on Dean's head. All that would take was a call to the Secretary of Defense.
I could see the hopeful look in Sam's eyes and knew he was about to ask if it was actually possible when Dean voiced his opinion.
"I don't believe you. The government doesn't know a thing about us or what we do," he said.
I smirked, "You'd be surprised. Trust me, it's better that I don't let you two get involved. Now shoo! Or I'll make you."
Sam was staring at me again. His expression was unreadable, but I knew he was still trying to figure out where he had seen me before. I hadn't changed too much of my elven appearance and knew that I looked familiar to him.
Kind of sad that, even then, I could read him easily.
I wasn't sure if he reached a decision or not, but Sam Winchester suddenly grabbed his brother's arm. Dean looked over at him about to say something, but caught the expression that I hadn't seen before. My eyes narrowed. I might not have known the expression, but it was obvious that something was up.
"If it makes you happy," Sam said, "we'll go."
"Right," Dean added, "Yeah, okay, just get my record clean and we'll be fine."
Sam stepped past me first, being the closest brother near the door. Our eyes met one last time before he dragged Dean out and something seemed to flicker in those green depths. Before I could properly gauge, he looked away from me and the two left the room. I waited silently while listening to their loud footsteps treading down the hall and to the front door. When the door slammed shut I sagged against the doorframe of the room and let out a relieved breath. Thank the Lord that hadn't escalated to what I hoped it wouldn't!
I was about to turn to leaven when my eyes caught the gleaming golden orbs of two white wolves hovering in the distance. My teeth grazed my bottom lip and my entire body froze, like it didn't quite know what to do with itself.
My eyes blinked several times, hoping that the wolves would leave me alone, but it was for naught. They remained to silently watch me in an almost mocking fashion. The moon shown on their gleaming coats, making them appear ethereal and otherworldly. Just like their mistress; just like me.
Angry, tired, and wanting to run as far away as a possibly could, I whirled around on my heels and stomped out of the house.
Sam and Dean were already gone by the time I left.
The next day I was caught up in the case, trying to figure out where the Goblin was hiding next. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it already had its next victim. All that I had to do was search out a potential troublemaker and fry the thing inside its host. By this point in time, the host body would be dead, I knew that much, just to make way for the being of the Goblin. It was a horrible way to die, but it happened because Goblins weren't a ghost or a demon, they had bodies and those bodies liked to inhabit other bodies; like a parasite.
This, of course, made them one thousand times harder to kill.
It took looking into the house's security footage and realizing that the Goblin most likely possessed a friend confronting the person the Goblin took over when the body began to show signs of decay. I finally found out who the next host was after hours upon hours of watching boring house footage and then set out to plan the perfect way to kill it. I couldn't kill the Goblin in the host. While the host might already have been dead the Goblin would just vacate the body the moment I stabbed it. No, I was going to need something else, a way to trap it and dispose of it without too much hassle.
My apartment was the next destination. I had acquired many different materials and books over my century long existence (yes you read that right) and I made certain that the general content of each book was memorized. That way I could remember where something was when I needed to look something up. Elves had bored days too, sometimes bored months. It was amazing how much one could get done when they had absolutely nothing to do.
I took down a book titled The Encyclopedia of Grade B Demons, Creatures, and Monsters by Professor Laurel Moruni, my mentor. I checked the last date the book updated itself and nodded. Good, it was the latest it could possibly be!
You might be wondering about the book updating itself. Well, elves tend to mix magic and technology for things ranging from mundane appliances to important things like information books and weapons. The books, once added to by the original author, updated themselves to include the latest bit of information. This happens as often as the author makes the update. Sometimes, if there are several authors, there are several updates a year. Professor Moruni updates her books once a year on December 20th and leaves the rest of the world with the most thoroughly researched bit of current information that we could possibly get our hands on. In recent years, the elder elf (oh yeah, she's old… older than dirt… literally) had a lot of time on her hands for research and made the most of it by focusing on at least fifty research topics a month.
I wasn't kidding when I said elves didn't need that many hours of sleep. She, not being like me, only slept three hours every other day.
And I, along with others like me, were able to benefit from her knowledge.
There was a huge section about Goblins in the middle of the book. I read through it and ticking off the bits and pieces of information I already knew and compared it to some of the new entrees. Goblins were a migratory race. They were also a bit partial to people with pale skin. I'm not talking about people who are Caucasian, I actually mean people who are abnormally pale no matter their ethnic background. From what I read of the similar case files that were related to the one I was working, the last few victims ranged from Asian to albino African American.
The best way to kill a Goblin was to throw vinegar on it's original form. I thought back to all of the empty cans of pepper spray bottles I had in the back of my kitchen cabinets. They could work.
I was on fire that night, sneaking into the house the Goblin currently occupied with its new host. I didn't end up doing this sort of thing all the time, no matter how many supernatural attacks happened in Dallas (not as many as you'd think). The spray cans were hidden in my jacket and I carried three elven knives strapped to both of my arms and hip. I wore a jean jacket and, while it showcased the elven knife strapped to my right hip, it completely hid the two on my left and right arms. If I had still been a huntress, I wouldn't be wearing jeans, a tank top, and a jean jacket. No, I would have worn the uniform assigned to high-level hunters. Yeah, I was, still am, that good.
The two-bedroom cottage house was quiet and dark save for the glowing light in one of what I assumed to be a bedroom. I proceeded with caution round the side of the house to the back fence to open the gate latch. Immediately I was hit with the smell of decaying meat and days old blood and I held back a violent cough. One of the things I didn't like about being an elf was the sad fact that I could smell the rotting decay of flesh far easier than I really wanted to. I found the source of the smell a little ways into the backyard. A dog. Dead dog.
My chest constricted and I had to will myself to focus on the assignment at hand and not dwell on the fact that a dead Golden Retriever lay on the ground in a bloody, mangled, mess. I liked animals a lot, even if I ate them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Canine anything tended to be my favorite type and seeing a dead one at that moment was heart breaking for me.
However, this did fill me with righteous anger all directed towards my quarry. Kill innocent dogs? Son of a bitch was going down!
Thankfully I was met with French doors instead of sliding glass ones. It made breaking into them a lot easier and less noisy. I knelt down and placed my hand on the lock, getting the feel of the grooves and nitches that made up the inside of the keyhole. When that was done I placed my hand on the cement padio and concentrated. When I was done I had a makeshift key ready-made for me to unlock the door.
To my immense satisfaction, I was in.
I was short for an elf. My father was what my people categorized as an Eduna, or forest elf. My mother had been a Rhune, or light elf. The Eduna were shorter than most other elves, skin pale but not stark white, and tended to look more - how should I put this? – not like stick figures? That sounded right. Due to this, we tended to be lighter on our feet and better at stealth. I had the, I guess advantage would be the right word, of being part Rhune, so my body was annoyingly thin too. Even when I looked like an elf I always hated it. It made skulking on rooftops a challenge, but I could swim and run rather well. My cousin had always been jealous.
Being small and thin had its perks, though, especially when I was trying to remain inconspicuous. It made moving through a small, dark, house ten times easier.
Or so I thought at the time until I was hit on the back of the head from behind.
I face planted into the hallway, jarred for a moment and slightly breathless from the fall. A hand grabbed by braided hair and pulled me off the ground.
"I was wondering when they'd send one of you after me. Unfortunately for you, a witch can't do much against a Goblin," breathed a cracked voice obviously in the process of decaying.
I winced as the Goblin dragged me into a sitting position by my long braid. Well, guess the element of surprise was futile, but that didn't mean all was lost. I stared straight ahead and fought the impulse to turn around and look at it. Apparently the Goblin needed a new host and the thing thought I was mostly human. Hilarious, and it would work in my favor.
Then the front door flew open.
"Hey, douchebag!"
There was a gunshot and the thing let go of my hair while I was showered in… salt? Oh good grief salt didn't kill Goblins!
I turned around to face the door and saw the Winchester brothers enter the house, shotguns raised and pointed at the Goblin. It was one of those moments where I fervently wished that it wasn't illegal to murder someone. Morons!
"What the hell are you two doing here?" I asked angrily.
"Saving your ass apparently, the thing looked like it was about to stab you in the neck," Dean Winchester said.
Oh, well, I definitely hadn't known that.
The Goblin snarled and started towards the Winchester brothers. I took out the knife at my hip and stabbed the thing in the side. It screamed and backhanded me across my face. I was dazed, again, for a second, but I was aware enough to hear Sam get thrown across the room.
"Sam!" Dean yelled before the Goblin went after him.
I stood up, managed to get my bearings, and lunged for the Goblin punching Dean on the floor. The knife that was still in my hand was raised and I plunged the blade into the back of its head. The creature ripped itself out of the walking corpse and reshaped into a shriveled, demented, old man.
It turned to me with a snarl that morphed into absolute terror, but I didn't register the expression. All I knew was that something terrified it enough to distract it. I took out a spray can of vinegar I prepared earlier and unleashed the mix into the Goblin's face. It screamed, broke out into boils as the vinegar dribbled down its skin, and then exploded.
I grimaced while wiping some of the slime off my shirt. Just as disgusting as I remembered.
I glanced down at Dean and moved to help him up when he backed away from me and scooted against the wall.
"What the hell are you?" he asked, his voice shaky.
I looked down and frowned. My skin was glowing slightly. Well damn! Damn, damn, damn! I forgot to reapply the rhune that kept me looking human!
"Dean, its okay, I know her," Sam grunted from behind me.
Dean's alarmed blue eyes shifted from myself to his brother. I looked behind me and noticed Sam was struggling to get up and sported that kicked puppy look I knew him best for.
I closed my eyes. Apparently, no matter how much one tries to avoid something, if its supposed to happen, it will. Me and Sam meeting in our dreams once a week whether we wanted to or not? Gonna happen. Sam and I finally meeting face to face no matter how much I didn't want to? Fate's a bitch. Literally and figuratively.
My eyes opened again and met Dean's who now had his gun back in his hands and was pointing it at me. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. I stared up the barrel at him, frowning.
"What do you want with my brother?" he more demanded than asked.
"Nothing, he's the one who gets into my head, not me," I informed him.
Dean glanced over me at Sam.
"It's true," Sam said.
He glanced back at me, "Why didn't you tell us who you were?"
I sent him a look, "Why do you think?"
"What are you?" he asked, clearly not perturbed by my irritation.
"I'm an elf," I said, "You know, Lord of the Rings, Tolkien? Those kinds, except I can actually use magic."
"Bullshit, elves don't exist," Dean said.
At least he had conviction.
"You're staring at one right now. Sam told you what I was, didn't he?" I asked.
Dean glanced back at Sam for a moment before returning his gaze to mine.
"Didn't believe it," he spat.
"Dean, put the gun down, she's not gonna hurt us. She hunts the same things we do," Sam reasoned.
"How do we know it's not a front, Sam? For all we know, she could be working with the same people dad's after!" Dean said.
"She's not, Dean, just put the gun down and let's talk about this."
Dean was on edge, body ridged to the point where he was practically shaking. I remained calm, took a deep breath, and decided to play the one card I knew would at least get his attention.
"I worked with your dad once. His name is John Winchester. It was six years ago, before I left OLIMPUS, that's the hunters organization my people, the elves, set up after World War II," I smirked here, "my aunt's the head and came up with the idea after attending the first Directors meeting in the US executive cabinet."
"You're not in our dad's journal," Dean pointed out.
"I told him not to write about me. OLIMPUS hunters like to remain a secret from humans, even you lot. We try to help you out as best we can, but right now they're stretched pretty thin. The world is our jurisdiction, you see," I said.
"And you're not part of them anymore?" Dean asked.
"Not formally, no."
He finally lowered his gun, but still didn't relax, "Six years ago… Sammy weren't we in Alaska six years ago? Anchorage?"
"Yeah," Sam said and I could hear the faint tremors of betrayal in his voice.
Dean began pacing the room and I moved to lean against the wall. That blow to the back of my head was starting to throb and I felt dizzy. I met Sam's gaze and abruptly looked away. No, he definitely wasn't happy with me.
Finally, the older Winchester seemed to come to some sort of conclusion when he came to a stop and let out a long, drawn out, sigh. With a shake of his head, he turned back to me.
"I take it that, since my dad hasn't killed you, he trusts you?"
I nodded, remaining silent. Dean sighed again and turned to his brother.
"We're taking her with us," he said.
I blinked, shocked and very much outraged, and Sam's expression mirrored my feelings.
"What?" he asked.
Dean crossed his arms, "You wanna find dad, Sam? She's it. If she is what she says she is and has an organization at her back, she might be able to find him and convince him to let us help. Besides, I don't trust her and I want to keep an eye on her. So she's coming with us, got it?"
I wanted to argue, I wanted to yell at them, I wanted to tell Sam to just leave Dallas and not involve me in something I obviously didn't want. But, I knew that one wrong word, one sign of hostility, would set them both off against me, so I remained silent.
Sam glanced at me and our eyes met again. His lips pursed. Well, he was definitely not happy with me, but I knew where his opinion would turn.
"Okay, I want to find dad, so… yeah. We'll take her," he said and I knew that wasn't the only reason why he wanted me along.
Sam Winchester had questions and he wanted answers. Taking me along would give him access to those answers, some of which I didn't have.
"Alright," I agreed knowing that if they did decide to kill me I would have to fight back and I really didn't want that, "give me three days. I don't want to just disappear of the face of the earth. I have obligations I need to meet. Please," I added that last part because Dean Winchester looked like he was about to protest.
Dean still looked like he was about to tell me to fuck off, but Sam, as angry with me as he was, seemed to be more understanding.
"Let her, Dean. We don't need to add to your record," he said.
"Which I actually can get cleared," I pointed out.
That seemed to perk the older one up a bit, but he still shook his head. Obviously he didn't trust that I could actually do it. I let him believe it, for the moment, but I was convinced that I could eventually wear him down.
"Okay, three days, but we get to stay with you. It'll be cheaper for us and Sammy here won't feel so bad about credit card fraud," Dean said in a faux cheery voice.
It meant I was on thin ice and that I had better prove to him that I was trustworthy. I knew, from the way Sam wasn't looking at me, that the younger Winchester trusted me to not go on a killing spree. That didn't mean he was happy with me, though, and I knew that I was going to have to face his ire the next day.
I followed them out of the house after leaving a text to Gibbs about the Goblin and the body. Silently, I bid farewell to the smidge of normalcy I had managed to cling to for five years.
"Sam and Dean Winchester? Are ya sure?" Detective Rachel Gibbs asked when I finished explaining everything to her.
I nodded and clasped my hands behind my back. Everyone knew who these two were, unfortunately.
"Dean Winchester was framed by a shapeshifter in St. Louis," I explained.
She nodded, "No, I believe you, Davis. I'm just surprised that they don't seem to trust you if their daddy knew ya."
"I think Sam knows I'm not evil, but Dean still thinks I'm a sort of witch," I said with a smile.
Gibbs smirked, "If that boy don't like witches, then don't take 'im to OLIMPUS."
I laughed, "I won't."
There was a pregnant pause shared between us. Neither knew what to say. I did know, from the way Detective Gibbs shifted in her seat and stared down at her paper-ridden desk that she was looking for a way to word how she felt without sounding too sappy. I understood because I faced the same problem. Gibbs and I were a lot alike. It was why she liked me so much.
"You sure ya don't want me to vouch for ya to them kids?" she finally asked.
I nodded, "No, I'll go with them. Dean'll probably think I'm controlling you or something."
She snorted, "At least their daddy taught them how ta be cautious. Go easy on them Davis; especially the younger one. I think he likes you."
"Yeah, probably not so much. Sam Winchester was… er… Dream Guy," I said awkwardly.
Gibbs fixed me with a stare before shaking her head, "Good lord, you can't get a break can ya. Granted ya should 'a told him."
"I know."
She sighed, "Well, we're gonna miss you. I'll let the professor know what happened when she gets back from Panama. Go get ready for your road trip."
And that had been my last conversation with Detective Rachel Gibbs. I regretted it. I liked the woman. I liked the Dallas PD. I liked solving murders, normal murders, and I definitely liked catching criminals. With the Winchesters, I would still be doing it, but the danger factor would sky rocket. Besides, it was back to hunting for me, apparently, and I hadn't wanted to go back full time. Of course, I was a freelance huntress now.
My aunt, Artemis, knew. I emailed her shortly after I made the boys comfortable in the living room. She agreed that maybe the Winchesters taking me along would be a good thing and offered to erase Dean's Federal record. I told her not to since Dean hadn't given consent and we left it at that.
When I returned to my apartment, I went to the front office to tell them that I was moving out and the furniture was for the next tenant to do what they pleased. The boys were still asleep in the living room when I arrived on my floor. I went about packing everything in my suitcase, fit to hold everything from my clothes, to books, to my various assortment of weapons. I packed everything I knew I would need.
I was about to sort through my refrigerator when Sam walked into the kitchen/dining room looking slightly bedraggled. I picked up the coffee I bought for him and Dean from Starbucks and handed him one of the cups.
"Good morning, he-who-walks-in-dreams," I said brightly.
He rewarded my joke with a half-hearted laugh. I smiled sadly and sat down across from him with my own half-drunk mocha clutched in my hand. We sat together silently and I waited for him to voice what he'd been wanting to ask me since last night.
"You know, coffee won't change anything, right?" he asked.
I shrugged and waited for him to continue.
"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" he asked.
I sighed, "Because I'm trying to live a normal life among humans; as far away from the supernatural as I possibly can. You represent what I've been trying to get away from for five years."
"You still should have told me. I've been trying to contact you on my own for so long, and then when I do meet you, you just pretended that I didn't exist," he was quiet, but I could tell that he was trying not to yell.
"I didn't do what I did to hurt you, Sam, I'm sorry," I muttered after taking a sip of my coffee.
He gave a bitter laugh, "The funny thing is that I know you didn't, but it still hurt me anyway."
My eyes fluttered closed for a second before opening again and meeting Sam's gaze.
"I know," I muttered.
He sighed and looked away from me, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Any food left or have you thrown it out?" he asked.
The turn of the conversation to a safer, neutral, topic relieved me. I hadn't really wanted to delve into the whole reason behind me trying to keep my distance from them.
"I have bacon, eggs, fruit, yogurt, and three types of juice," I said, ticking off the list on my fingers.
He was silent for a moment. The way his brows slanted down slightly told me that he was weighing his options. His eyebrows lifted and his lips parted slightly when he came to a conclusion
"Do you have spinach?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"I could go for an omelet, if that's okay," he said.
I stood up and padded towards the refrigerator.
"Okay, do you know what Dean would like?" I asked.
A small chuckle reached my ears and I smiled behind the refrigerator door. I managed to get something positive out of him.
"Dean likes a lot of bacon, but I think he'll go for the omelet if you put bacon in it," he suggested.
"Alright," I conceded.
We weren't okay, not by a long shot, but he seemed to tolerate me for the moment. I was fine with that.
Like it? Hate it? DESPISE IT? Have questions? Review and let me know!