A.N.- And I'm back again with a new story in a new fandom. I've hit Sherlock, Jurassic Park, FMA, and now I'm ready for SPN. Oh boy. Let's start this off first: I know I won't be able to match with the writers of SPN, but I'm going to do my best to try. Please let me know if I get a detail wrong or someone gets too OOC so I can check if I meant to write it that way on purpose.
Be prepared for a very skewed plotline. It will vaguely follow/ mimic the show, but then it might jump off a cliff into fandom hell. Anyway, here goes nothing.
Enjoy!
Wayward, Ch. 1
"So. A demon."
"No, Dean. A luwaloola, they're not like demons. They still hate salt but their eyes don't turn black."
"Yeah yeah, and less 'eye activity', whatever that means. Got it." The man clapped his companion on the shoulder, ignoring the difference in height. He pulled a sawed-off shotgun from the trunk of a black 67 Impala and flipped it in his hands nonchalantly.
"What do you say, Sam?" He asked, jerking his head towards the greasy diner they'd parked at. "Let's go hunt some monsters." He started through the parking lot to the front doors and almost had his hand on the handle when his brother called him back.
"Dean!" Sam said. "You can't just walk into a diner with a shotgun. Have some class." Dean huffed and exchanged the gun for a pack of table salt. He waved it mockingly in Sam's face and pocketed it.
"Alright, we'll do it your way." He conceded sassily.
The diner wasn't completely empty, but it wasn't bustling with patrons, either. A fair number of people dotted the seats in the booths or along the soda counter.
"Hello! Just seat yourselves anywhere you'd like." A perky waitress chirped. Sam and Dean scanned the diner completely before sliding into an empty booth and sitting across from each other.
"See anyone?" Sam asked lowly. Dean frowned and reached for a laminated menu.
"No, not yet. What do you think about ordering some pie?" He asked. Sam shook his head in disagreement and kept throwing discreet looks at the staff and customers. The waitress took their drink orders and swept away, and Sam was just beginning to get interested in the menu when things went wrong.
"Sammy, over your shoulder." Dean murmured, nodding his head towards the back of the restaurant. Sam turned nonchalantly to the side and made a show of looking at the flavors of ice cream written on a chalkboard but discreetly scanned the booths behind him out of the corner of his eye.
There were four booths leading to the back wall. Two were empty, and one held a giggly high school couple flirting with each other all the way by the back. The booth between the couple and the empty booth held one woman. She had a cup of coffee in front of her and a menu splayed on the table. She traced her finger over the menu and frowned, then slid her hand across the table top until it found her coffee cup.
Her eyes stared blankly ahead of her the whole time.
"Is that our monster?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.
"Only one way to find out." He said, "Your time to shine, go chat her up." Sam gave him a venomous look before he slid out of the booth and walked to the woman's table.
"Can I join you?" He asked, noting how her head was cocked towards him.
"Uh sure." She said after a moment of hesitation. Sam could feel his brother's eyes on his back as he took a seat across from the woman. There was something strange about the way she looked at him, it made him uncomfortable and edgy. She'd look right at him, but Sam felt like she was looking through him, instead.
"So… do you come here often?" He asked. The woman laughed.
"Out of all the lousy pick-up lines you chose that one?" She asked.
"It wasn't a pick up line." Sam answered curtly. The woman made a disbelieving noise and smiled, throwing a blank look to the menu on the table. Her eyes flickered shut and then opened again, Sam frowned and Dean coughed loudly and pointedly.
"Are you all done with your coffee, Miss?" The perky waitress asked.
"Yes I am, thank you." The woman said. The waitress took the nearly full cup of coffee and whisked it away to the kitchen. Dean slid into the booth beside Sam, pushing his brother over a little bit.
"Hey," He said. The woman tilted her head and gave him the same unfocused look she'd given Sam.
"And they've multiplied." She said. "Am I surrounded?"
"That sure seems to be the case." Dean answered courteously, although his face belied his tone. Sam slowly reached for the container of salt on the table and slid it between his hands on the table absentmindedly. Dean watched the salt shaker slide back and forth twice before he misunderstood the signal,
This is our monster.
Dean nodded and pulled the packet of salt from his pocket. The woman tilted her head when the wrapper made a crinkling sound and frowned.
"What's that?"
"Sorry princess." Dean said, tearing open the packet and tossing the contents across the table and onto the woman. She started when the salt made contact with her skin but didn't start screaming or smoking like normal monsters. The woman scraped up a sample of the salt and rubbed it between her fingers. She looked between the both of them with obvious disdain. Her lip curled and Sam leaned over to Dean.
"She blinked when we threw the salt." He whispered, "When she flinched."
"Are you kidding me?" The woman said. "I can't believe that you'd just-"
"Is everything okay here, Miss?" The waitress asked, but her smile was replaced with a frown.
"No, it's not. These two men threw salt on me for no reason at all." The woman snapped. She turned and glared at the waitress, but still had the same glazed look in her eyes. The waitress stepped forward.
"I'm sorry, would you like me to escort them out?" She asked.
"Yes. Please." Dean threw Sam an awkward sideways glance.
"Yeah we found our monster alright." He muttered. "Shit." The waitress's eyes narrowed and a guttural hiss ripped from her throat. Her fingers elongated into claws and her jaw stretched outwards and downwards. The other customers and staff in the diner screamed and bolted from their seats, and the waitress did nothing to stop them. The woman made no move to flee, her eyes were wide and unmoving, and Sam guessed that if he had to run past a shapeshifting diner waitress to get to the door he'd stay still, too.
"What are you waiting for, lady? Move!" Dean barked as he sprang from the booth and lunged for the salt shaker on the table.
"Sam run for the shotgun!" He shouted. Sam jumped from the booth and did his best to sprint to the door; but the waitress's claws clamped onto his shoulders and threw him backwards. The claws sank through his jacket and pricked his skin, but the waitress let him go when Dean flung the open container of table salt at the waitress.
"Go Sam!" He shouted as the luwaloola turned on him. He slid his feet apart and raised his hands to his face. The next table with a salt shaker was too far away, so he was prepared to make a stand. The monster hissed and sprang forward with too much strength for just the petite waitress's body. The luwaloola was heavier than it looked, too. It hit Dean with the force of a bodybuilder and knocked him to the ground. His head cracked against the linoleum floor and his vision jarred for a second, but he still had enough wits about himself to fit the luwaloola's throat between his thumb and forefinger and lock his elbows to hold the monster at bay. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see the woman he'd mistakenly thrown salt at cowering under the table with her hands over her head and her eyes tightly shut. The luwaloola's hand reached around and snagged Dean's throat. The claws couldn't slice his neck open, but the creature could still apply enough pressure to leave him breathless with the part of its hand that wasn't made of razor sharp claws.
"Lady go! Get out!" He choked, but she shook her head furiously and hunkered down even further. A loud shotgun blast made her shriek as the luwaloola disintegrated on top of Dean, leaving him covered in powdery ash. Sam pumped the shotgun in his arms again for good measure, then dropped it to help his brother up.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Yeah," Dean answered hoarsely, "A little wheezy but I'm fine." He strode back to the booth they'd originally been seated in to pick up his belongings and then grabbed the shotgun. Sam peered underneath the second booth.
"You can come out now." He said. The woman opened her eyes and froze, making Sam uncomfortable with her distant gaze. She looked like she was listening for something.
"Sam come on. The police can deal with her; we don't have time to make friends under diner tables." Dean said, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and scowling.
"Dean I think she's blind." Sam said quietly.
"I am." The woman said from under the table. "Go away; I'll come out when everything's quiet."
"That's our cue Sammy, let's go." Dean said insistently. "The police will be out here soon, and I'm not playing FBI Agent White today." Sam reached under the table and gently touched the woman's shoulder, but she shoved his hand away.
"What did you do?" She asked shakily, "Where is everyone?"
"The luwaloola is dead." Dean said impatiently, "Everyone else ran for the hills."
"The what?" Sam sighed.
"A monster." He explained. "We hunt them for a living." Dean threw his hands up and groaned.
"Way to drop the ball, Sammy. Go ahead and tell all, why don't you?" He said sarcastically. A soft grinding sound slid through the diner like a whisper; Sam and Dean didn't hear it, but the woman did.
"What was that?" She asked, her voice rising higher with every word.
"There's nothing there." Dean said, getting more anxious to leave by the second.
"No I heard it. Something is there!" She protested. The dust the luwaloola had deposited onto Dean fluttered to the ground and began to solidify. Dean saw the monster out of the corner of his eye and swung the shotgun around to deliver another shot, but the monster caught the barrel of the gun and wrenched it from his hands.
"Sam! We're gonna need holy water for this one!" Dean said, taking a large step backwards to avoid a swipe from the luwaloola's claws.
"Sam!" He repeated. Dean ducked under another the claws and tacked the monster around the legs. It lashed out as they toppled backwards and sliced cleanly through Dean's jacket, but didn't hit his skin.
"Stay here." Sam told the woman, not checking to see if she listened before he snatched a glass of what he hoped was water and upended a salt shaker into it to buy time. He tossed the drink onto the luwaloola and onto Dean. His brother spluttered.
"This is Sprite mixed with salt, Sam!"
Sam ignored him.
The luwaloola stumbled backwards as its face steamed from the soda and salt cocktail. The distraction gave Sam enough time to grab Dean's fallen jacket, pull a small silver flask of holy water out, and splash it onto the monster. The luwaloola shrieked and recoiled, so he doused it again. On the third go the luwaloola gave a guttural hiss and dissolved into a puddle of soggy ashes. Dean scuffed his foot through the sludgy remains to scatter the monster for good.
"So it was a Jesus juice monster." He mused, "I thought the holy water applied to demons."
"That's a good question for Bobby." Sam said, returning to the woman under the table.
"Can we take you somewhere safe?" He asked her. "We can't leave you hunched under a table." She leaned away from him.
"No."
"What if we promise to explain to you?" Sam urged, "You're probably curious."
"Sam does it really matter?" Dean complained, grabbing his jacket and shaking it violently to free it of any ashes.
"A little bit." Sam retorted, he stood up with a sigh and backed away from the table in defeat; and the woman came crawling out. She used the edge of the table to hoist herself up and steady herself, and she directed her gaze somewhere past Sam and Dean's shoulders.
She wasn't very tall, and she looked pretty unimpressive dressed in a purple shirt with jeans and tennis shoes. She had dark hair and light brown skin capped off by pleasant but unfocused brown eyes. Dean noticed that she kept her feet planted firmly apart like for balance and inclined her head towards the biggest noise in the room, which was him and Sam.
The woman brushed herself off and tucked her hair behind her ear, then pulled a white collapsible sight cane from the booth behind her. She flicked it expertly so it elongated until it tapped the floor; making sure to keep her stick between her and the two strangers. Sam glanced at Dean and ignored the impatient look his brother gave him.
"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is Dean. We're-"
"Brothers, I know. I heard you talking to each other. What are your real names?" She asked cautiously.
"He told you. We're the Winchesters." Dean said gruffly. She made a disbelieving noise.
"No you're not. Those are book characters. Are you serial killers or something?" She asked. Dean's eyes reached for the ceiling out of exasperation.
"Don't tell me you've read the Supernatural books." He complained. The woman didn't answer him, she tapped her stick ahead of her pointedly and ducked past them with surprising accuracy.
"Aliases or not. Stay away from me." She said quickly, sidling to the door but keeping her head partially cocked in the Winchesters' direction. She knocked the front door to the diner open with her hip and pulled out a phone from her pocket.
"Wake up." She said into the screen. The device beeped to life.
"Hello, Jolene." A mechanical voice said. "Request?"
"Dial 911." She said.
"Look- Jolene. Don't call the police." Dean warned her, noting how her head turned to him when he successfully said her name. "It's not gonna be pretty and I bet they're already on their way." He was grateful that she couldn't recognize his and Sam's faces from the various wanted posters they'd acquired as they traveled the country. It kept her from panicking and trying to beat them both with her sight cane.
"Look, that monster was real. We hunt them for a living to keep people safe." Sam interceded, trying to convince Jolene to pocket her phone.
"So you're deranged." She concluded. "I'll tell the operator." Dean stepped forward and she immediately backed away through the door.
"I said stay away from me." Jolene repeated forcefully. She hesitated before executing the call, standing awkwardly with the number waiting on her phone and one foot still inside the diner.
"And you threw salt on me because-?" She asked. Dean closed his eyes and Sam fought the urge to groan.
"It's standard. Salt, holy water, iron, crosses-"
"Kept in the back of a black 67 Impala, I'll bet."
"Yeah, actually." Dean snapped. "Leave the car out of it." Jolene blinked, stuck between running to safety and calling the police and the curious urge to interrogate the men in front of her. A siren tinged the air and slowly grew louder as its source grew nearer. Dean pressed his lips together.
"Great. Sam, let's go. We don't have time for this." He said shortly. His brother nodded, and they quickly gathered their things and moved towards the door. Jolene quickly moved aside to let them pass, leaning away when they walked too close. The siren multiplied and grew even louder. Jolene could estimate that the police were only a few streets away, at best.
She could hear the doors of a car opening and slamming, and what sounded like a trunk opening as Sam and Dean stowed their weapons. The sirens grew even louder until they were almost deafening, and Jolene didn't hear Sam step up beside her until he said "come with me" and grabbed her arm. She dropped her cane and struggled, trying to aim a good punch or blow at his face or even his groin, but he gently pushed her across the parking lot until she tripped and stumbled into the backseat of a car. The door slammed behind her and she instinctively kicked to try and break one of the windows.
"Hey! Sit down and buckle up." Dean growled at her. "And stop kicking my car." The vehicle sprang forward, making Jolene roll against the backseat as the car sped along the road. She could tell that they were driving away from the sirens by the way the harsh noises faded away. She wondered briefly if she could throw the door open roll out, and make it to the bus stop she frequented that was only a little ways away from the diner.
Dean's furious driving speed quelled that idea quickly.
It only took a few minutes before he pulled the car into a parking lot and gently- almost lovingly- put it in park.
"You didn't have to go that fast." Sam said, checking the backseat and the road outside of the parking lot. "They wouldn't have caught up with us."
"Damn right." Dean answered, spinning around to look at Jolene in the backseat.
"Thanks for riding with Winchester Airlines, please stay seated and listen to my brother for a minute before you run away." He said in a nasally imitation of a flight attendant.
"Let me out." Jolene demanded. "Now." She slid her hands across the door to try and find the lock.
"Johanna," Sam said.
"Jolene."
"I'm sorry I grabbed you. We just couldn't let you talk to the police." He said. "Normally there aren't any civilians around when we hunt, and if you told the police what happened they'd institutionalize you, so this is a rarity."
"Consider yourself a VIP." Dean intoned with a small grin. Sam gave him a pained look and turned back to Jolene. She found the car lock and pulled it up, then kicked the door open and ran.
"Hey!" Dean was out of the car before she'd even taken a few steps. "Jolene wait!" He shouted. She stopped when she was halfway across the parking lot, and from the sound of his voice she could tell that he hadn't even made any effort to follow her.
"Look, if you'd slow down and listen it'd be much appreciated." He called. "We're not going to hurt you, we just needed to get you away from the police and explain a little bit of stuff so if you are interrogated you don't get us in trouble or get yourself committed to the nuthouse." Jolene frowned, and Dean looked back at Sam before he continued.
"But you know, shouting life stories across a parking lot doesn't count as bonding. If you'd come back that'd be great." He said, stepping back towards the car and Sam. Jolene weighed the situation, then slowly crept back towards the brothers. She kept a safe distance from them, but folded her arms and waited.
"So let's start over again. I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean. I wanted to be a lawyer, he drives an Impala, and we hunt monsters for a living." Sam reiterated. Jolene kept her arms crossed and still maintained a healthy distance.
"I'm Jolene Murphy. I'm a librarian for a living." She said finally. Dean looked to his brother and wriggled his eyebrows, but Sam ignored him.
"So you've read the Supernatural books?" Sam asked.
"Do I look like I read books?" Jolene deadpanned. He made a panicked sound and rubbed his arm.
"No, sorry. I meant do you-"
"It's fine," Jolene interrupted him. "I listened to them on audio. Some of my friends recommended them to me so I got through the first couple."
"How many did you get through?" Dean asked.
"Wendigo." His face twitched in disgust.
"Ugh, Wendigo."
"Yeah, then I kind of dropped it." She said. Sam shrugged, but winced when he realized she couldn't see it.
"I wouldn't blame you. For a little while things got ridiculous." He conceded.
"But hey, you know our whole backstory; so there's no need to spew it back up and rehash old times." Dean said, giving a sarcastic thumbs up. "That's half the convo finished, damn we're on a roll!"
"You really expect me to believe the whole killing monsters part? For all I know you could be just really dedicated fans to a crap fandom." Jolene said, "Maybe you were doing some elaborate roleplay at the diner. I don't- I don't know!" She added out of frustration.
"Hey, respect the books." Dean said, "Those are pretty much documentations of our lives."
"We can't really offer you any proof without hunting another monster." Sam said, "And between you and me I don't really want to right now."
"But we can promise you that things do go bump in the night and that there are things like angels, demons, and ghosts et-cetera, et-cetera." Dean smiled tightly at Jolene's confused expression. "Yeah, sleep tight."
"Take me back into town." She said after a moment of silence. Sam regarded her for a second.
"You're not going to tell the police or cause any trouble?" She laughed once.
"They wouldn't believe me, I don't even believe you all the way. And it's not like I can see and memorize your car's plates." She waved her hand in front of her face for emphasis. Sam looked to Dean, who leaned on the cab of the Impala and shrugged nonchalantly.
"Yeah, we'll take you back into town." He conceded when Sam didn't provide an immediate answer. He drummed his hands on the cab roof before climbing back into his car. Sam waited for Jolene to walk all the way back over to him and then opened the door to the front seat for her. When she got closer he could hear her making high pitched clicking noises, almost like creaks, as she approached. She maneuvered very dexterously around him and opened the door to the backseat and climbed in. Sam climbed in the front and Dean put the Impala into gear.
"Hey, those clicking noises you were making- what were they?" Sam asked. Jolene leaned forward to "look" at him.
"Echolocation." She said simply.
"What, you mean like bats?" Dean asked. Jolene shrugged and leaned back in her seat.
"Kind of, but for human ears. Only a few blind people can do it properly, but you make high pitched clicks or squeaks to navigate around and listen for the echo. It was pioneered by a guy named Daniel Kush or something like that." She explained. "I use it along with my cane and my speech program on my phone." Dean made an amused humming noise in the back of his throat.
"So how long have you been blind? –If you don't mind me asking." He said. Sam gave him an appalled look and Jolene scratched her neck.
"Since birth. No tragic explosions or chemicals in my eyes. No superhero story. Ever since I can remember I've been seeing gray." She said.
"Gray?" Sam asked, "I thought you just saw plain black." Jolene barked a laugh.
"No way, I see gray. And sometimes those colorful spots you guys sometimes see when you close your eyes. I'm not trapped in the dark." She answered.
"Poetic and touching." Dean observed, "We're back in town." He pulled to a stop in front of the public library and put the Impala into park. "Nice meeting you, Miss Mursey-"
"Murphy."
"Yeah, and maybe if you're lucky you'll never have to see the likes of us again." He finished, chuckling a little at his unintentional joke while Sam groaned. Jolene rolled her eyes and left the car. After a second of hesitation she spun back around to face the Winchesters.
"Thank you for saving my life in the diner," She said, "And thanks for the ride back into town." Dean gave her a two-fingered salute from his temple and Sam grinned before they both opted for verbal responses.
"Sure thing."
"No problem."
"And in the unlikely event you guys ever stop by Ellington again, feel free to." Jolene added. "We have books galore on supernatural stuff and things you'd probably find fascinating."
"You never want to see us again, believe-you-me." Dean said before turning up the Impala's radio to blare old classic rock while he pulled away from the curb. Jolene took a second to orient herself using the sound of the library's air conditioning unit and then set off for the bus stop that would take her home.
A.N.- Well, it kind of petered off into obscurity at the end; (apologies for that) BUT I have this whole thing under control. (Just kidding I have no idea what I'm doing this is literally going to be pieced together from small bits I've written. Help me God.) Reviews, help, criticism, advice (especially for something as big as SPN) is welcome!
Thank you.