A/N: Hey, guys! This is my first multi-chapter SPN fic. The idea came to me randomly about a week ago, since I really love Krissy and wanted to explore her character a bit more. This initial chapter is a bit of that: character development, setting up the scene. Fluff, in essence, as it's fun to write. The plot will pick up next chapter, and another character will be introduced, which will break it off of canon. However, it won't be AU, not quite. Simply canon with a tiny twist in minor characters.
I'm not the fastest at updating, and I apologize about that. I've rated this T because of the fact that my characters always end up swearing pretty heavily at some point in time or another. Obviously, I don't own Supernatural.
I hope you enjoy!
I : Incurable
They say time heals all wounds, but they're wrong.
Krissy lay upon her bed, staring up at the ceiling. A pre-calculus textbook was open flat beside her —test tomorrow, but what did she care? What could she care? It had been one month already, and nothing had happened. She still dreamed about her family ripped to pieces. She still dreamed of Victor putting that gun to his head.
But those dreams were infrequent. They weren't the ones that dominated her mind, the ones that had her dreading sleep.
In those, she found the monsters that had hurt her family, and she tore them apart. Little by little. So violent, so bloody. She enjoyed those dreams, and that was why they scared her.
She was itching for a hunt.
Krissy rolled over and tried to study the formulas once more. But imaginary numbers were just that, imaginary, and she was thinking of very real, very tangible things. It didn't matter that most people didn't believe in monsters; they were still corporeal, more than any imaginary numbers would ever be.
She'd been good the past month. Listened to Dean's advice, kept her promise that she'd made to him. She wanted to make him proud; he was the closest thing to a father she had left. She'd already gone through two father figures — why did she still cling to the hope that one might actually survive? And that that one might be Dean Winchester, for God's sake? Dean had already died too many times, and one day, he would die for good.
What then?
Krissy didn't like to think about that.
She just wished she could make Dean proud some other way than this.
She hated all of it. She hated AP Physics and pre-calculus finals and ten-page reports on King Lear. She hated this semblance of a normal life when it was plain she, Josephine, and Aiden would never be normal. They couldn't be, not after all they'd seen and done.
And couldn't stop doing.
Krissy's machete hadn't left its box the entire month, but she had touched it a few times. Thought about lifting it out and just looking for some vampires. Seeing their blood as they died.
She always stopped herself, hearing Dean's voice in her head. Seeing Sam and everything he had lost.
She kept telling herself she was making the right choice.
Was she?
Krissy fell asleep on top of the math textbook, still in day clothes, and she dreamt of vampires' heads rolling.
xxxxxx
"You've got food? Clothes? Gas money? Are you ready for those finals?"
"Yes, Garth," Josephine said placatingly. She smiled a little. "We're fine, don't worry."
Garth still had to take one last sweep of the house, making sure they were safe. That was why Krissy liked him: he cared.
She just couldn't like him too much. Liking people made it too complicated. She already had Josephine, Aiden, and Dean to worry about, and maybe even Sam. She did not need to add another.
"All right, then," Garth said. "I'll be off, you idjits."
"Bye, Garth."
"See you."
"Sayonara."
He left.
Krissy thought for a moment she might throw herself at him and beg him to take her with him. She wanted to hunt, and he was a hunter. She could help him; she actually knew what she was doing. But she kept quiet, because she could feel Aiden's gaze.
She still didn't understand Garth's fondness of the word "idjits." His voice wasn't quite right for it, and he never used it in the perfect context ... not that she knew what the perfect context was. She was always meaning to ask him, but, somehow, she never got around to it.
Idjits.
Huh.
Josephine locked the door after Garth was gone. "He hovers a bit, don't you think?"
"He comes once a week, Jos." Krissy found herself defending the elder hunter. It was in her nature. She definitely did not have a hero complex, but she always seemed to stick up for anyone and everyone, so long as they were good and human.
"He's fine by me if he doesn't start telling us what to do," Aiden put in. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded. He was in that phase of pretending he was oh-so-amazing. Sometimes, it had Krissy wanting to punch him. Well, most of the time. The other small percentage of the time, she wanted to tell him he was adorable.
She only ever carried out the first.
They all made their way back into the kitchen nook where they did most of their homework. Or, rather, said they would do homework. Only Josephine ever seemed to get anything school-related done.
Aiden would just ramble on and maybe draw a bit, then complain that he needed to stretch his legs. He wouldn't come back to finish the homework he'd never even started. And Krissy? She opened her books and stared blankly at the pages, then just started to read something else. Action novels might actually teach her useful fight maneuvers; whether or not split infinitives were okay, on the other hand, would do her no good.
At the moment, it was her history textbook open.
Four score and seven years ago...
Good God, she'd read over that speech so many times, and her mind still refused to make enough out of it that she could formulate into a report. Instead, she let her eyes wander. To Josephine.
Her friend was writing furiously on a heavy piece of paper.
College application, no doubt.
Krissy had seen her search history: Stanford, Harvard, Yale, MIT, all the way to the state colleges. Josephine seemed to be leaning towards Harvard, but she was looking at them all, even the local community colleges.
Yeah, that was just like Josephine.
Out of the three of them, Josephine was the one who wanted to put the hunting life behind them the most. She was constantly studying or reminding them to study. She talked about boyfriends, settling down, PhDs in medicine, and maybe kids someday. Nowhere did hunting fit into that equation.
Which Krissy didn't understand. She herself always wanted to hunt, was always thinking about it. To her, it wasn't just a hobby, it was a deeply ingrained instinct. She had to try hard to fight it. And she couldn't just forget it all and pretend everything was A-okay.
Once you know, you can't unknow.
"Whose turn is it to make dinner?" Aiden asked out of the blue, slamming his textbook shut.
"If you're so eager, go ahead," Krissy told him. Truth be told, he wasn't an amazing cook, but he loved it. He always looked so happy when playing around with food, and so she always let him take her turn for that reason.
Well, that and she was an abysmal cook. She could make toast and ramen. And so was the extent of her cooking skills.
Okay, she could butter the toast, too, on a good day. Mac 'n' cheese if her life depended on it. Thank God it never did.
She didn't have to worry, because Aiden immediately went to go pantry-diving, looking for something creative to turn into something that should not by any means be edible but always was.
Meanwhile, Krissy cleared her throat at Josephine. "How's the application going?"
Josephine dropped her pen and stared. "You—"
"Good luck with Harvard, though I know you can do it."
"Krissy, how do you know?" Josephine was horrified, scrambling to cover up her writing. "I didn't—"
"Learn to clear your history," Krissy said. "Computer safety 101."
Josephine was too taut to laugh. Instead, she sighed ever so slightly. "Are you mad about it?"
"No. Just disappointed you'll be leaving, is all."
In truth, Krissy was a little angry. She, Josephine, and Aiden made the perfect hunting trio. She herself had the drive and the leadership skills; Josephine was smart and good at research and lore; and Aiden was the tactician, brilliant at strategizing. (Probably only half of that talent was natural. Krissy suspected he'd learnt the rest of it from video games.)
It didn't matter why. It just meant that the only future Krissy could see was one that involved dead monsters and all three of them together.
Just like she had told Dean, she didn't like the circumstances that brought them together, but it all did feel right.
They sat in silence for the next few moments, after which Aiden brought three plates of enchiladas. In tomato sauce.
"Is this supposed to be...?" Josephine trailed off, picking apart the concoction with her fork.
"Enchilada marinara?" Krissy grinned at him. "That's a new one."
"Just try it. It's amazing."
Aiden certainly didn't lack self-confidence.
But Krissy took a bite all the same, and, surprisingly, it was good. Really good. She frowned at the plate. "This should not be edible."
"You're faulting it for being exquisite? God, Krissy, don't judge. You know, coexist and all that? Just because it's awesome and you're not doesn't mean you need to hate it. Tolerance, man." Aiden smirked.
"It's an enchilada in marinara sauce, idiot, and it actually tastes good. Goes against the laws of science. I am not going to coexist with that." Krissy chucked a roll at him. A sweet Hawaiian one, in fact.
This meal was a Frankenstein of the last of their pantry. Someone would have to go to the store soon.
"So, where did you get your inspiration for this?" Josephine asked in a mild tone, breaking up the beginnings of what would soon turn into a food fight.
"It's called 'there was the stuff for an enchilada, but not enchilada sauce?'" Aiden answered her like a question.
"Was there spaghetti?"
"There was penne."
"Why didn't you make that?"
"Because I felt like enchiladas! Dude, you are no fun whatsoever. None at all, I tell you."
Amid all that, Krissy had an idea. Their moods were lightened; she might stand a chance of convincing them. She knew always to propose ideas when their mouths were full of good food and they were laughing.
"Hey, do you guys want to hunt sometime?"
Aiden and Josephine's argument stopped dead. They both stared. Josephine carefully set down her silverware; Aiden's fork paused halfway to his mouth.
"Hunt?" he repeated.
"Yeah, hunt. You know, kill evil things that go bump in the night?"
Josephine said, "No."
"But—" Krissy began.
"Absolutely not. We are living a normal life here, Krissy. Dean and Sam gave us a good chance, probably the last we'll ever get. We can't waste it."
"I don't want a normal life, Jos. I want to hunt."
Josephine scowled and stood. "No, Krissy. It's dangerous and it hasn't gotten us anywhere in the past. Just forget about it."
"Can you forget about it?" Krissy knew that statement was the first brick on a long, treacherous road. Did she want to continue paving it? None of them wanted to think about what had happened before.
"With time, I might," Josephine said through tight, annoyed lips.
Krissy shook her head. "No, you won't. You never will. You still think about it as much as you did a month ago. Admit it."
"I don't want to have to anymore! That's the whole point!" Josephine's control evaporated in that moment.
"I'm going, then. With or without you. I am going on a hunt and you have no authority to stop me. Don't tell me age, because it's one year. And we are a team. So if you don't want in, don't come. But don't be surprised if you find me researching."
Josephine walked away without another word, frustration written in every line of her body.
Aiden was left at the table, pushing around the pieces of his enchilada marinara. "So, hunting?"
"Yeah," Krissy said, softer this time.
He smiled a little. "A hunt wouldn't be so bad."
"So you'll come?" She reminded herself not to get her hopes up.
"I don't know, Kris. Part of me wants to. The other part tells me there is no way in hell I am picking up a machete ever again. I kinda want normal, sometimes. I've got friends at school and a chance at a scholarship. If I don't mess this up..."
"Please, Aiden." Krissy was desperate. The aching for a hunt was stronger than ever, and she needed to sate her thirst. She couldn't hold out much longer, promise to Dean or no. "It wouldn't be full time. We'd still go to school. I'm just itching to kill a monster. Maybe once a week? That's less often than your soccer practice."
He grinned at that. "Maybe."
"Come on."
Giving her a glare, he said, "Okay."
Krissy stood and hugged him and, instead of thanking him, said, "You should make enchilada marinara again."
xxxxxx
"Blood completely drained, puncture wounds ... this is too easy."
"Vampires are easy."
Aiden sat at Krissy's desk, scrolling through obituaries. Krissy did the same sprawled out on her bed.
It was depressing work. Often she found herself deflating and sinking into the plush blue pillows. She loved her room. Victor had bought her everything she wanted for it, and while those memories left a bitter taste in her mouth, the place was still nice. Neutral blue-and-green comforter, colors not too bright or accusatory. A modern styled desk and bedframe. Pillows so soft and squishy they could almost be blankets if you stretched them out enough. A bookcase lining one wall. Action novels. Krissy did not do romance. No, sir.
Yeah, she loved her room.
Even when she'd lived with her dad, her room hadn't been quite right. They never had the money for her to have this kind of design freedom. She made do with a poster or two, then, to take care of the individuality aspect. Now, she could do whatever she wanted, because there was no one to tell her she couldn't.
The perks of having no guardian.
On the other hand, it was terrible, and Krissy found herself thinking about that side of things so much more.
She had memories of death. She knew how to shoot a gun and how to use a machete, like no sixteen-year-old should. She had already gone through two father figures. Now she had no one for advice. Sometimes she wanted someone to yell at her so she would know she didn't have to be in control all the time. Most kids got two more years than she had of figuring out how to make their own choices. And most kids' parents still yelled at them even after they turned eighteen.
Krissy? She had none of that. Just friends and a whole lot of freedom.
And freedom could be just as stifling as restriction at times.
"So, there's an obvious werewolf here," Aiden said, slicing into the silence that had formed.
"Obvious? Nope. Too easy. I want a challenge."
"Oka-ay, Ms. Picky. How about a skin walker?"
"Please."
"You find a hunt, then, if you're so hard to please!"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
Aiden and Krissy were two parts of a brilliant trio. They were. But, somehow, spats like this always seemed to happen. It was inevitable with two teenagers, especially when both were so smart and confident.
"All right, how about this?" Krissy asked. "Looks like there's some sort of ghost at work here. We'd have to do some research, and then it would be just a simple salt-and-burn. Simple, but not easy. And it's different than normal."
"If it satisfies Your Majesty over there—"
"Shut your face before I rip it off."
"Whoa, there. Save that enthusiasm for the hunt."
Krissy threw a pillow at him.
Idiot.
xxxxxx
The school day was somewhat more painful than usual, due to the fact that Josephine was pissed, to say it briefly.
She didn't say anything that wasn't necessary, and when she did talk, her words weren't cruel. But Krissy could feel the disapproval that came off her in waves.
At the end of the day, after seven boring hours of class, Krissy hoped her friend might be softened up a bit. With normal friends and tests galore, maybe Josephine would be a little more willing...?
She, Krissy, and Aiden met at Roger's old car after the last bell. Krissy decided to get straight to the point.
"You don't want to hunt at all?"
All her hopes had been false, because Josephine nearly blew steam out her ears.
"What the hell, Krissy?"
Krissy found herself backing up a step involuntarily.
"I do. God knows I do. I want it, too. But I can't do it, because I know the moment I touch a weapon I'll be sucked up into that black hole again. I've got a chance, and I'm going to take it. I can't let myself ruin my life, not when I've got other options." Now there was a vulnerability in Josephine's tone that they didn't often hear.
"How do you know it would ruin it?"
"Name one hunter that's old and happy. Name one that has friends and lives around people. Name one that is neither senile nor violent and has a family."
"Well."
"Exactly. You can't. I want a family and I don't want to be dead or crazy by the time I'm fifty. Hunting will do that to me, so I'm not going to let it. Do you get that?"
Finally, Krissy did. She wouldn't bother Josephine any more.
But she was still going on that hunt.
She and Aiden sat on the floor in her room, discussing tactics about how to get information.
"Dude, no," Aiden said vehemently. "You are too short to be FBI."
"And you're too cocky."
"Like that Dean guy you love so much isn't? Geez."
"Whatever. Uh, journalists for the school newspaper, then?" That was something more like their age, right?
Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, and there's an obit section in the school newspaper that needs to know about odd sounds and sights in the vic's house."
"Well—"
"I still say cousins."
Krissy saw the logic in that, though she'd been hoping for something more professional. However, she knew when to stand down. She had to, being the daughter of a hunter and the friend of Josephine. "Fine. Cousins it is."
"All right. We go interrogate that landlady tomorrow, then. You gonna make it that long, with your hunting withdrawals and all?"
Krissy knew it was a joke, but it wasn't all that funny. She wanted a hunt, and she wanted it bad.