Successors of the Ancients
Summary:
My name is Alexandria Caitlin Winslow. I am twenty-seven years old. I own an underground bar in Seattle, Washington. I've been told I'm stubborn, sarcastic and that I have a habit of pissing people off.
Of course, I'm not exactly normal. See, if I was normal, there wouldn't be a story to tell. If I was normal, I would never have become involved with the Winchester brothers. I wouldn't have thrown myself into Purgatory, of all places, to save a previously mis-guided angel. I wouldn't be a target, made out by some wack-job with a power trip. So, before reading, here are some key factors.
1.) I hate witches. Absolutely loathe them.
2.) I can grant intended people a second chance at life.
3.) I died when I was eighteen years old.
4.) I am the Successor to the power of a Pagan Goddess.
Did I mention I hate witches?
Author's Note:
Since at the start of this story, there isn't really much information on what is happening to Cas in Purgatory, so I am using creative licencing to come up with my own plot and run with it. The beginning of this story shines a rather bad look on Wiccan beliefs, but that is not really my own opinion, as I believe everyone has their own right to believe in whatever the hell they wish. So, if any Wiccan believers become offended by my insults toward the 'Mother Goddess' please bear in mind that this is a fictional story and as such my original, fictional character kind of has a blunt, straight-forward take-no-nonsence attitude and has a mind of her own. If you are offended by this, I suggest you take whatever flaming response you are going to fling at me and shove it up your ass. You've had a fair warning. Hell, my original character insults every religion. So, no offense to any believers. Don't like, don't read. Flames will receive a big 'Up Your's' and be ignored.
On another note, all of my information is based off of Roman and Greek Mythology, facts taken from Wiki (and my three years of studying Latin as a second language). So bear in mind, my facts are checked out and I've taken some...liberties of changing some things.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. All of the chapter titles are also Song Titles or Lyrics, which disclaimers will be used at the end of each chapter.
Chapter One
Tendencies
'Now it's time to meet your maker, hear the tolling of the bell
Fuckin' kill you again when I see you in hell'
"Lexi!"
The shout of my name and the hands shaking my form pulls me from my slumber, the visage of deep blue eyes fading into the far reaches of my subconscious as my eyes open. Seeing the frantic gleam in the normally stubborn brown eyes I pull myself upright and shake myself from the incomprehensible images. Quickly looking over the frazzled red-head standing at the side of my bed, I shove out of the bed and race to my closet.
"What's going on?" I demand as I begin to slip my legs into a pair of black jeans.
Melody Blaines, a friend of mine for the past five years, reaches forward and yanks a Ramones t-shirt off of a hanger, "The pub is on fire!"
Pulling the shirt over my tank top, I wrap a knitted scarf around my neck loosely before slipping on my black leather duster jacket. Following after the racing Melody, I stumble as I quickly shove my feet into a pair of untied combat boots and the slamming of the door sounds through the halls of the complex.
Arriving at the slowly dying flames, my heart jumps into my throat at the sight of the charred remains of what had once been my bar. Caitlin's Pub had been underground and hadn't been very popular, but it was a safe haven to my regulars. The shouts and commands of emergency rescue service officers seems muted, distorted as though my head is beneath water. Seeing the remains of Caitlin's Pub lying dismembered on the ground, tension fills my very core at the perfectly intact symbol. They symbol had once resided within the crescent of the 'C' in the pub's name. It acted as a beacon to those who knew what it represented, and it warded off those who misunderstood. It symbolized a new beginning.
"You bitch!" My gaze pulls away from the destruction and a resounding smack echoes in the air, my face snapping off to the side, a sharp sting spreading across my left cheek, "I told her not to hang around you and your freak show bar. I warned her not to get involved with people like you! Now look what happened! I hope you all burn in fucking Hell!"
The distraught, young woman is pulled away from the scene by uniformed officers. Ignoring Melody as she voices her concern, I turn my focus back on the symbol. The large outer ring encasing three 'T' like facets, the facets encasing a small circle at the very symbol. Seeing it untarnished, completely untouched by the flames that destroyed the rest of the establishment, anger slowly rages within my heart.
"I spoke to the EMT's. They said that all of the customers escaped safely and without any injuries," Melody's somber voice pauses briefly, "They said it was because Roger and Amelia stayed behind to make sure everyone made it out safely. They saved everyone."
"Let's go," I say, breaking the several minutes of silence that fell over us, "I'll walk you home."
Giving into the temptation of my need for nicotine, I walk with Melody as we make our way down the street. Arriving at her quaint, studio apartment, I pause on the stoop.
"Lexi," I blink, glancing up at my friend, not realizing I had been standing there for a while, "I'm sorry this had to happen."
"Don't be sorry for me," I murmur gently, giving her a weak smile, "Do me, and my sanity, a favor and...uh...lock up your door and windows. I need to go clear my head."
"Hey, Lexi," I really had only made it a few steps before Melody calls out to me, "You know this isn't your fault. The authorities said it was a leaky gas line."
I grunt, not making any promises, and I continue on my way back to the charred remains of the pub. The emergency vehicles and police cars were gone, leaving the forms of two men standing at what had once been my personal home away from home. Not wanting to attract unwanted attention, I pull my hood up over my head and watch in silence as they the shortest of the two men picks up the perfectly untarnished symbol. Carefully, I step closer, curious as to who they are and what they want.
"I'm telling you, Sam. This has witchy written all over it," the shortest of the two men states to the other, "A leaky gas line would toast everything. This symbol is kind of proof that this happens to be just in our area of expertise."
Hunters. I know Hunters when I hear them. Hell, I'm sure I've been shot at enough to know I should avoid people like them. Instead, I watch as the taller man, Sam, takes the symbol into his own hands.
"Well, you're right about one thing, Dean. I've seen this symbol before. Something witch related, but I can't be sure."
"It's Wiccan," I state curtly, watching as both men tense and whirl around to face me, "It's a symbol of their 'Mother Goddess'."
"Who the hell are you?" the Dean-guy demands, obviously uncomfortable by being caught unaware.
Staring blankly at them, I respond, "Alexandria Winslow. I owned the place." I raise my gloved hands defensively as they tense up, "I'm not a witch, or Wiccan, for that matter. I...studied symbols and ancient runic tiles. The symbol is a representation of new beginnings, a second chance at life."
"I'm sorry for your loss," the tallest of the two, Sam, states sympathetically.
Shaking my head, I look away from the two, "It isn't me that should receive such condolences. Look, I know what you two are, and I know you are going to track down and go after the witches responsible."
"If you're leading up to an offer of your services, we're going to respond with a big no," Dean retorts, his tone serious, despite his sarcastic words.
Seeing the two share a look before turning to walk away, I slip my hands into the pockets of my jacket, "So, you know where the coven is then?"
"Tch. Are you saying you do?" Dean snarks with irritation.
"Twenty-two-oh-four W. Cyprus Drive," I answer without hesitation, the two of them turning to look at me curiously, "After receiving over twenty threatening letters for the past year and a half, I figured it would be in my best interest to know who I'm being threatened by. Know thy enemy and all that shit." The uncertainty in their gazes causes me to take a step toward them, "Look, I'm not going to beg. I was planning on paying them a visit anyway, so whether I go with you or not doesn't bother me. Those bloody witches killed two innocent people."
A moment of traded whispers passes and Dean lets out a groan before pointing to me, "Fine, but if Sam and I tell you to get out, you do your best and follow that order."
Giving him a mocking salute, I follow them to a black '67 Chevy Impala. I may not know much about cars, or the mechanics of one, but I know a beauty when I see it. Sliding into the back seat, I turn my gaze out of the window. My reflection in the window stares back at me and for a split second my reflected green-grey eyes hazes over blue before turning back to their usual color. My leather-coated fingers rub at the bridge of my nose, a sense of discomfort filling me as I realize my dreams are starting to pull to the front of my mind.
"So, Alex-"
"Lexi," I say, correcting Sam.
"Right, Lexi. What did you do to piss off an entire coven of Wiccan witches?" Sam questions.
I snort, mildly amused by his question, "I hope you don't expect me to give you the entire bleeding list of reasons they might have? This isn't my first time dealing with their type, and I'm sure it won't be my last."
"What's with the accent?" Dean asks, changing the subject.
"I spent the first eighteen years of my life in England," I reply easily, before the car comes to a stop.
I follow the guys out of the car and they immediately head to their trunk. Ignoring them as they plan to sneak in, I approach the front door of the two-story house. Paying no mind to Dean's gruff shout of 'Hey!', my hand lands on the door knob seconds before a larger hand grabs onto my wrist.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean hisses.
Giving him a blank stare, I quirk an eyebrow, "They're witches. I don't think they're worried about people breaking and entering."
To prove my theory, I twist the knob and push. Sure enough, the front door opens and I give him a pointed look before stepping into the house. Moving throughout the house, I follow the two down the steps leading to the basement and roll my eyes at the stereotypical location. My eyes slide shut briefly as a familiar hum travels over my nerves and I inwardly smile when I realize these witches really are pathetic.
"Ah, Winslow," a sultry voice greets as we step closer to the single woman sitting in a chair.
Seeing nine other members of this little coven, I level my gaze on the beautiful brunette, "Winters. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'm sure even you can figure out why I'm here."
"I did give you fair warning. You've ignored every single one," Caroline Winters states, a sadistic grin on her painted lips.
I smirk at the memory of the most recent death threat sent to me, "Not all of them. I thought my recent response was well-deserved."
"You are quite amusing for a human. If you weren't so insulting to our Mother Goddess, I'd offer you a place within my coven," Caroline replies.
"Yeah, that would never happen."
Caroline pushes herself to her feet, her hands flinging out and I watch as Dean and Sam are slammed into the nearest wall, kept there by an invisible force, "Let me guess. You and your two body guards are here to try and kill me?"
"Trust me. It won't take much effort to do so," I snap in response, my gloved hands clenching into fists, "and they aren't body guards. In fact, they make it a business in killing people like you."
"Oh? You sided with a pair of Hunters?" she hisses the word as though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, "As if I have anything to fear from three weak humans."
I smirk, pulling my hands out of my pockets, slowly stripping them off, "Funny thing about that last statement," Curiosity flickers in her eyes as I shove my gloves back into my pockets and splay my hands out in front of me, palms facing her. Looking over the black ink covering the near-decade old scars on the back of my hands, I giggle, "I never said anything about being completely human."
Before anyone can respond, I slap my palms together, lacing my fingers together. Shouts of surprise fills the room as Caroline is hoisted off of her feet by an invisible force, her coven members following in line. Looking up at the ten coven members bound a few feet off of the ground, a humorless chuckle leaving my lips.
"What in the Goddess's name is this? You're no witch!" Caroline sneers, choking as my hands tighten their grip on each other.
"I take that as a compliment," I reply in mild amusement, "Now. I'm sure you remember my response to your last threat. I told you if you ever followed through with your threat I would string you up and send every single one of you to stand before the Gates of Hell."
"No one has the power to banish people to Hell, except for powerful demons."
Pulling my hands apart, satisfaction fills me as screams of agony pierces through the room, small cuts appearing on their bodies, "I assure you, Winters," I turn the back of my hands to face her, seeing her eyes widen, "I am no demon."
"T-That's impossible..."
"Nothing is impossible, Winters. You are right about one thing. I can't banish you into Hell," I turn my hand, palms facing each other and I press them together once more, watching them sigh in relief. "I do, however, have the power to guide the way."
"You're the Cros-"
Caroline's shout cuts off as I quickly pull my hands away from each other. The invisible wires stringing each of them up reacts accordingly. Limbs sever from bodies. Blood paints the walls and floors as the invisible wires cleaves through their bodies at different angles. I shudder inwardly at the sight as I stare at the fallen corpses, two solid thuds behind me signals the releasing of the power binding Dean and Sam to the walls.
"What the hell was that?!" Dean demands, "You said you aren't a witch."
"I'm not," I assure him, reaching into my pockets to fish out my gloves, "I am what you would call a-"
A sharp pain pierces through my head and I feel my knees buckle. My fingers dig into the concrete floor as the sudden pain travels through my body, and I bite down on my bottom lip as I fight back the urge to scream in agony. Looking up, the two Hunters appear blurry before me, darkness swirling at the edges of my vision.
"Are you al-"
The question cuts off as I let out a sickening cough, red painting the floor between my hands. Groaning at the sudden sense of vertigo attacking me, my mind darkens significantly before shutting down completely.
Blue. Pain. Torment. Soul-less. Empty. Laughter. Hatred. A vendetta.
Blue.
Blue.
Blue.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Shooting upright in the bed, I instinctively roll over and land in a crouch on the floor. Blinking away the shadows of my subconscious, I look up at the faces of Dean and Sam. Sighing in relief, I pull myself up to my feet and stretch out the tension along my muscles.
"Sorry," I muse, running my bare fingers through my mess of bangs, and I pause, raising my hand in front of my face, "Ugh...I feel naked."
"Want to explain why a Wiccan symbol is etched on the back of your hand?" Dean demands, "Or maybe why that witch almost refered to you being associated with the Crossroads?"
Finally clearing my vision, I realise the shortest of the two Hunters held a gun in his hand, not aimed at me, but it remained at the ready. Just in case, I assume. Sighing, I sit back on the crappy motel bed and look up at the ceiling for a brief moment.
"I'm human, mostly. I just happen to be gifted," I turn my gaze on the two men staring at me, "I had been completely normal, living in England, and attending school. When I was eighteen, almost nine years ago, I was kidnapped by a coven of witches, not so different than the one's we just encountered. They said I was the perfect object for sacrifice."
"What happened?" Sam asks gently.
"I died," Both of them tense, "I died that night and ended up somewhere between life and death. It was there that I met her."
"Her?"
"The Goddess who governs over the Crossroads," I ignore the widening of their eyes, "The Wiccans refer to her as their 'Mother Goddess'."
"And?" Dean continues after I pause, fishing for more information.
I look at them both, "And she was pissed."
Author's Note: Chapter title 'Tendencies' and Lyrics used to explain the use of it as the title is owned by Hollywood Undead (Seriously, an awesome group).
Please note, that the next chapter will most likely be longer due to the explanation of Lexi's abilities and her personal issues against Wiccan beliefs. Again, I have nothing against anyone who practices or follows the religion, or any religion for that matter. It just works in with the story, which will be explained in the next chapter.
Please leave a review. I do take the time to respond to each reviewer. Let me know what you think so far and if you see something that isn't right, please let me know as I enjoy working to better my writing skills.
Next Time:
Chapter Two- Backfire 'Throw my heart in the well of wishing, pay my toll just to move on, ask myself to please forgive me, all my innocence is gone'