Yes, my loyal readers this is a new story. The idea was plaguing me and I had to get it out there. These are two of my favorite shows ever and I had to merge the universes and see what would happen. I promise to try and update all 3 of my stories regularly! Hope you like this plot the same way I do!
.One.
New Orleans, Louisiana
Grace Demillo was late for work again. It was the third time that week and her boss was going to roast her alive. Waitressing at the dingy Paradise Cove was no picnic and Grace was exposed to rowdy drunks, cheap prostitutes, and pedophiles on a daily basis. It was a hard life for a girl fresh out of high school, but she'd left home to prove a point and she'd be damned if her parents ever discovered the overcrowded apartment building she rented or the provocative-ranging on vulgar-outfits she had to wear on her shifts.
In an effort to be late but not so late she'd be fired on the spot, Grace ducked through a maze of alleyways that made up the less glamorous part of cultural New Orleans. She was a half mile from the bar when she heard the footsteps. She turned to meet empty air and decided some stray cat had been lurking about. When the footsteps returned, however, Grace knew it was no cat following her. Fear paralyzed her body as the steps quickened accompanied by heavy breathing and hungry hisses.
Grace began running, knowing the next turn meant the fluorescent lights of the bar and relative safety among the numerous perverts and loners inside.
She hadn't taken another step when something jumped her from behind, the weight of the figure sending them to the floor. Her face broke her fall and she cried out as blood gushed from her nose and a cut on her forehead.
"Delicious." A hoarse whisper sounded from the nape of her neck and Grace was flipped onto her back where she got the first sight of her attacker.
"No, it can't be!" Grace screamed at the creature leering over her, fangs extended and eyes gleaming a crimson red.
"What's the matter, sweetling, never seen a vampire before?" the inhuman man chuckled as he lowered his sharp teeth into her neck.
She struggled feebly and realized this would be her grand ending: serving as a breathing blood bag for a vampire.
"Hey! Keep your fangs to yourself, creep!"
The voice was followed by a whiz of something through the air and suddenly an arrow was sticking out of the vampire's chest. Grace crawled away as the creature screeched in pain and fell back.
"Au revoir, bloodsucker." The same voice chirped and a girl with blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes appeared, machete in hand, to cut the vampire's head off.
Grace felt a scream rip through her but the next moment she had fainted, choosing unconsciousness as the coping method for what she'd seen.
"Nice." Dean praised his sister, who grinned, twirling her now clean machete in the air.
"Thanks, bro. Where were you guys, by the way? I considered waiting for you but the vamp was at her throat and then I thought to myself 'oh wait, you're twice the badass Dean and Sam are, you got this'."
"Cute." Sam walked forward to inspect the terrorized girl on the floor.
"I've told you how I feel about splitting up, Clarke. You should be with one of us at all times." Dean crossed his arms and she rolled her eyes.
"You know I can handle myself. I've saved your ass more times than I can count."
"And we've saved yours five times that."
Clarke looked at her boots to hide her chagrin. It was true, of course.
Clarke was an experienced demon hunter because her brothers had shaped her that way. She had been a newborn when her mother died in a brutal murder by a demon with a grudge against her father.
John Winchester had raised his children the best way he could, but his wife's passing scarred him forever and he grew reckless in his hunts until one night, the night of Clarke's high school prom, he went on a hunt and never returned. A fellow hunter called to inform them of their father's passing.
Clarke had been on the cusp of turning 18 when she learned she was an orphan. She had lost both her parents to the supernatural forces she'd been taught to conquer. She had tried to live a normal life-per Sam's insistence- but after her father died she knew it was impossible. After graduation she sat her brothers down and promptly declared she would be a full-time demon hunter like Dean and her father were.
Sam had protested. Loudly.
"You can't throw your life, your future, and your happiness away, Clarke!"
"Hunting is in my blood, Sam. It's meant to be my life."
"No, it isn't. I moved us to California to get away from it. We were good here."
Clarke gripped his hand in hers, fixing him with a poignant stare, willing him to understand.
"You wanted to shelter me, Sam, and I get it but what am I supposed to do? Take the full ride to Stanford and follow in your footsteps while Dean goes off hunting alone? We can't abandon our family, especially when we're all that's left. Dad's gone. Mom never had a chance to raise us. These three people in this room," she gestured between them "are what remains. We are the Winchesters. Our family legacy is in our hands. I refuse to let it go to waste."
Sam was shaking his head sadly but he didn't refute her words. Dean was regarding her with that pensive scrutiny he usually saved solely for Sam's speeches and she knew what he'd say before he spoke.
"Clarke's right. We need to continue the family business. Dad hunted to save lives and rid the world of evil. Now, it's up to us. Are you in, Sammy?"
Sam's brow was furrowed anxiously and Clarke's heart went out to him. He was the serious one, the mature brother even though Dean was the eldest. Sam hadn't gotten along with their father and his death had shaken all his beliefs, bringing regrets and insecurities to the surface. Still, Sam always did the right thing and he loved his brother and sister more than anything in the world.
"Fine. I guess we're doing this."
A year later, the three Winchesters had slayed vampires, vanquished spirits, taken out werewolves, and gone face to face with some of Satan's most trusted demon warriors. They were a powerful force as a team and the demon world knew it. They were feared in every black circle and whispered about by the monsters that skulked through the shadows. There was no doubt the Winchesters were on every demon hate list but at least their enemies kept a healthy dose of precaution with messing with them.
"What do we do with Sleeping Beauty here?" Dean asked and Clarke was brought back to the present.
"Burn the vamp remains and leave her there. She'll come to in less than fifteen minutes and think it was a dizzy spell or mild hallucination from fatigue or stress. The human mind will convince itself of anything in an attempt to appear sane." Clarke stated matter-of-factly.
"Those Psychology courses you're taking online seem to be worth their weight in dough." Dean said.
"That was my idea!" Sam beamed.
"Can we burn the dead thing and get out of here? I skipped lunch and my stomach is literally crying out for food." Clarke complained.
"That burger joint near the highway looked decent."
Clarke made a face at Sam's suggestion.
"When will we able to eat at a place that's more than decent?" she asked.
"Diners and mini marts too good for you, Princess?" Dean smirked and she glared at him.
"You know I loathe that nickname."
"Sure, but when some dude with rock star hair and dreamy eyes uses it on you, I'm sure you'll have no complaints."
"First off, even then I'll hate being stereotyped as some weak little princess. Second, when will any guy ever get a chance to use a pet name when you two scare off any member of the opposite sex who dares to breathe too close to me?"
"We're your brothers, Clarke. We only want what's best for you." Sam spoke gently and diplomatically but Dean was quick to add a less elegant answer.
"And if any street trash thinks he can touch a hair on my baby sister's head, he'll get exactly what's coming to him."
Clarke laughed.
"Just burn the thing, will you? I'm starved."
After an admittedly sucky dinner at the Grease-O-Rama Burger Stop, the Winchesters were back on the road heading north this time.
"Where to now?" Clarke asked, poking her head in between her brothers in the front seat.
"Mt. Weather, Virgina." Sam read from the newspaper in his lap.
"Isn't that a FEMA bunker for the government?"
"There is one in that area, but we're going to the centralized town area."
"There's a town there?"
"Population: 2,000."
"That's more than that ghost village in Kansas. Population: us three and a chupacabra."
Dean chuckled.
"That was a fun one."
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.
"This one won't be as entertaining, Dean, so listen up." Sam ordered and began summarizing their case. "There have been five deaths this week, one for each day of the week. Now, I've researched town records and it seems that every decade there are two weeks in this month of May where fourteen people are slaughtered."
"Fourteen?" Clarke whistled. "And no one's put the pieces together? Fourteen is like a quarter of the town." She exaggerated.
"10 years make things fuzzy for anyone who doesn't know what we know. Anyway, the killings are random, no specific victim, just citizens of Mt. Weather."
"A kill every day for two weeks?" Dean clarified and Sam nodded.
"Alright, so what are our working theories? Werewolf? They slaughter in masses." Clarke suggested.
"No, the moon contradicts the time stamp and the bodies haven't been mangled, they've been… mutilated."
"Sacrificially?"
"Possibly."
"It might be a particularly vindictive spirit. The town might be built on Indian lands or a cemetery." Dean put in.
"I didn't find any record of a cemetery or any tribes in the area, but records leave out certain things for a reason. There might be a blood history waiting to be uncovered." Sam agreed.
"What are our covers? Reporters? FBI agents? Tax collectors?"
"It's a longer stay than usual, Clarke, so I was thinking more potential buyers. There's an inn we can stay in near the center of the town and we'd have the opportunity to sniff around freely if we say we're interested in the area's history and residents."
"Smart." She complimented her brother and Sam gave her a thankful smile.
"The fake identification and papers for our purchases have our actual first names but the working surname will be Griffin."
"Dean Griffin? Sounds like a potential rapist." Dean muttered and Clarke giggled while Sam looked annoyed.
"You have a problem with the ID's, you go through the trouble of organizing them next time. Until then, shut up."
"Whatever. What are we doing first?" Dean asked Sam.
"The key players in the town are Mayor Jaha and Police Chief Kane. We can split up and meet at the Ark Inn afterwards. We'll arrive in Virginia by daytime and after checking into the room we need to get to it. A life hangs in the balance. The killings usually occur in the evening, so we have some hours to work this out."
"I'll go with Clarke and meet the police chief. You schmooze the mayor. I don't handle authority figures too well and this Jaha guy sounds like a dictator."
"You've never met the guy!"
"Yeah, but his name irks me. I can't explain it just do what I said!" Dean protested and Sam sighed in exasperation.
"You know you need to start acting your age. You're 26 not 6."
"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." He stuck his tongue out and Clarke giggled at his immaturity.
She hoped this Mt. Weather place had a good story. Their cases could get monotonous and though she knew the job was meant to save people, it was also their life and Clarke was barely an adult. She was young enough to do it for the adventure and sometimes her favorite part of the cases was seeing a new part of the country or meeting someone new. She'd had a few guys she could deem boyfriends but they weren't special enough to remember or keep in contact with. Maybe Mt. Weather, Virginia was hiding the man of her dreams.
She'd learned early on in life with the supernatural things she experienced that anything could happen, so why not love?