People hide things from other people, people kill to stop killing, people become monsters to stop monsters. Humans are strange, contradictory and mal adjusted. So distant in they're own minds, worried about their own conclusions and consequences that they forget to look out the window, to either see a horde of zombies, a slur of shapeshifters or a gang of ghouls. That's why it's so easy, you see, to hide the truth from a race so numb to the world around them. Keep them in a cell of human emotion and show them a goal, and they'll form their own blinkers to the Supernatural. How else would we have gotten so far?
It's the humans that are crazy, not the monsters.
The young woman with the close cropped dark brown messy hair shut the lid onto the pen with a satisfying click, inaudible to the bustling bar around her. She shut her notebook forcefully and put it back in her leather bag fastened with loops around buttons and slung it onto her shoulder. She looked up from the table she'd sat at and looked around the room, a group of scumbag middle aged men were gathered around the pool table, laughing smugly and chugging down their poison. Two younger men sat opposite eachother, arguing the toss over a piece of paper in front of them. An array of people, of both genders sat at the bar, including an elderly man who's face was held in his hands and a young pretty woman arguing loudly on her phone which earned nasty looks from the others around her. She looked up at the security camera in the corner then smirked, she put that there, a couple of years ago now. It was a good night.
The woman stood up pulled her red plaid shirt forwards a little then walked confidently over to the bar. The bartender nodded at her to speak.
"Straight up Jack please." She asked, pulling a fiver out of her pocket, the bartender nodded then walked away.
"Hey baby." a low gruff voice sneered in her ear as a heavily weight pressed against her body, pushing her stomach against the side of the bar as rough blackened hands stroked up her body. She blinked then slammed her elbow into his jaw, roundhouse kicked him in the stomach as he bent over to clutch his stomach she grabbed his ears with a hard slap then kneed him in the chin knocking his heavy weight backwards with a loud thump onto the carpet. The bewildered rough looking large man scratched the back of his head.
"What the fuck?!" He spluttered. Then the woman pulled a gun out of the back of her green low hang trousers and aimed it with two hands at his head. The man cowered back, backing up against the side of an empty table. The room silenced.
"That's not how you treat people, jackass." She snarled, keeping the gun steady. "Now get up." She said taking a step forward and swaggering her hips. "Get out." She said and the man stumbled to his feet, the woman grabbed his collar and kept him in a hold with the gun pointed to his head. His eyes were wide and frightened as sweat dripped down the side of his fat head. She lowered her voice. "And if you ever, EVER. Hurt anyone again, regardless of gender. I will kill you." She warned harshly then let him go and pushed him forward, he tripped over and fell onto the floor then scrabbled to his feet and ran out of the bar.
She casually tucked the gun back into her jeans, then walked back to the bar, all eyes on her and picked up the drink she ordered and took it in one, then put a finger up to the barman to order another. He jolted into action and served it up quickly, she put the fiver on the desk as the sound in the room started to bubble up again, and slid it towards the bartender. As she took a sip from the drink, the bartender returned with the change and she put it in the charity collection pot next to her.
A few weeks later in south Michigan the woman was sat on a bench, with her faithful notepad on her lap, looking out into the sea. It was a gloomy day, the sea was rough and cold. The spray bountifully breathed onto her as the waves crashed against the sea wall, she looked along the pier, at the bars preventing people from slipping into the abyss below. Without thought she saw herself standing on the top bar and letting herself fall. She clenched her jaw then shook the thought away, looking back down at her notepad just in time to see a droplet fall on it, moving the new ink around and distorting the letters. She looked up then shut the notepad and tucked it quickly into her bag just as the rain started to pour. She stood and started to walk.
After an hour of walking and being soaked she found the local cemetery with a large black car parked outside, she walked to the back of it and inspected it. Chevrolet Impala, she then looked into the window and saw no one was inside. She smiled then brought out her pocket knife and unlocked the car's back door and dived in, pulling the door shut with her foot. She relocked the door then laid down on the back seat. Very comfortable in comparison with the usual bus shelter asphalt. The gentle sound of rain on metal soothed the woman into a deep sleep as she slid her eyes shut and curled up into a foetal position.
The car horn screamed loudly and the woman sat up, pulling the gun out of her back pocket and pointed at the closest moving thing. Which happened to be a thirty year old man with close cropped hair, who didn't flinch at the sight of the gun.
"My car, out." He demanded, and her lips whispered into a smile as she looked over his clothes.
"Hunter." She said simply, keeping the gun in place. He tilted his head slightly.
"Excuse me?" He said as the woman noticed the taller man standing behind him.
"You're a hunter." She repeated, her smiling growing as she put the gun back into her jeans. "You were in that bar, both of you, there was an acheri in town."
"You're still in my car." He commented resentfully as her smile fell.
"It's still here isn't it?" She retorted.
"You couldn't have stolen her even if you tried, I wired her up myself." The man said proudly.
"You left the spare keys in the glove pocket asshat." She replied, and his eyes involuntarily got wider.
"Dean." The other man said in a pained tone, Dean turned around at him then turned back to the woman.
"Out." He ordered.
"No." She replied, leaning forward. "What's up with you buddy?" She asked in a genuinely sympathetic tone.
"Why do you care?" Dean replied childishly.
"I left you your car. I could have stolen it, easily, but I didn't. He needs help and I need out. So drive." She ordered and Dean tensed his jaw, holding onto eye contact, then turned around to the other man.
"Get in Sammy, we're taking her with us." He said resentfully and the taller man walked around the car and got in the passenger seat. Dean turned back to give her a cold stare, then sat in himself and started up the engine. The woman sat forward slightly and looked over Sammy, to see what was wrong. He was holding a bloodstained hand onto his right arm, a gash could be seen coming out either side of his hand and bleeding heavily. She leant back in her seat and took her belt off almost silently. She leant forward again and tried to put the belt around his upper arm.
"Hey! What are you doing to him?!" Dean yelled.
"Tourniquet, he's bleeding like hell." She retorted and Sammy looked up at her and she glanced at him then tightened her belt around his upper arm. Sammy tried to take his hand off the wound to hold the belt but she shook her head.
"I got it, it's alright." She said pulling it a little tighter as Dean looked over. "How far's the destination?" She asked "We got about two hours before this gets dangerous." She commented and Sammy and Dean exchanged glances.
"Half an hour." Dean replied after a pause.
"Are you the chick from the bar?" Sammy asked, speaking up.
"Which one?" She replied and Sammy paused.
"Columbus." Sammy replied
"Which one in Columbus?" She replied without hesitation.
"Uhh...some guy pushed you up against the bar and you almost shot him." Dean cut in.
"That's me." She replied, glancing at Dean.
"Nice moves there." Sam commented and the woman smirked.
"Thanks." She replied.
"So who are you?" Sam asked after a small pause.
"Lisbeth Salander." She responded with an inside smile, Sam thought for a moment.
"That's a character from a book." He replied and Dean glanced at her in the mirror, she half smiled.
"Oh God, you poor souls, you weren't expecting an honest answer, were you?" She said and they fell silent. A few minutes passed then Dean spoke up.
"Sammy you doin alright?" He asked in a low voice.
"Yeah I'm doin' fine." He replied and Dean pursed his lips. "When you said you need out, what did you mean?" Dean asked cautiously.
"You want the heartbreaking truth or a bullshit lie?" She replied, not looking at him.
"The truth." Dean replied before Sam got a chance.
"I'm on the run, and I don't have anywhere to stay." She stated.
"Was that the truth?" Dean asked.
"Do you want it to be?" She replied and Dean shut his mouth.
The rest of the car journey was silent, aside from the intermittent reassurance from Sam to Dean.
Dean pulled up the car outside what looked like an underground world war two bunker.
"This better not be a piss stop." She commented and the brothers ignored her. "Sammy-"
"It's Sam." He corrected.
"Sam, hold the belt in place, I'm gonna come round and help you out." She stated and Dean glanced suspiciously at her. She got out of the car quickly, picking up her bag. Dean got out to watch, make sure she was actually helping. She opened Sam's door and took the end of the belt for him. She helped him up, and raised an eyebrow when she saw his full height. "Fuck you're tall." She commented, using her free hand to shut the door. Sam didn't respond. Dean opened the door to the bunker and held the door open for them both.
"Okay how'd you two junkies land a place like this?" She commented, walking down the steps to the main lounge area.
"Men of Letter's old place." Dean replied, looking over Sam's wound as he sat down. She passed the end of the belt to Dean then rummaged through her bag and found a small zipped up green bag. She opened it and pulled out a syringe. Before they had time to question she injected him with half the dose in the syringe, capped it, then as she put it away Sam asked.
"What the hell was that?"
"Anaesthetic." She replied, then he suddenly looked very relieved. "The fun's not over yet mate. She said then pulled out surgical thread and a stitch needle, then inspected the wound carefully.
"What gave you that?" She asked, pulling a scalpel out of her small bag and prodding into the wound. Lifting out solid dirt and gunk.
"Wraith, you know their lil straw things in their wrists." Sam replied, his movements softening as the anaesthetic took over. She nodded then pulled a lighter out of her pocket, clicked it then ran the end of the needle through it. She then proceeded to hook the thread around the end of it and sow him up as carefully as possible. Tying each knot with precision. She wrapped the excess thread up and put it back in her small bag. She used the lighter on the needle again, then put it back in the bag. Then pulled out a small bottle and set it on the table, grabbing the end of the belt with her free hand. "Go get a towel." She ordered and Dean stood immediately and ran to get one, he returned with it, handed it to her then sat down beside Sam once more, taking the belt back. She poured some of the liquid across the wound then quickly wiped it off with the towel, then stood and dampened the towel in the sink, jogged back and wiped away all the dried blood.
"Dean, release the tourniquet for a second then tighten it back up." She ordered and he followed her orders. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a large clear ziplock bag with bandages and wound muslins inside. She folded the muslin accordingly then got Sam to hold it in place while she wound the bandage around his arm then tucked in the end.
"Thanks." He replied.
"Yeah whatever, in return I'm staying here for the night." She said without emotion and the brothers exchanged glances. "Let me guess. Two bedrooms, both double beds and you're about to insist upon me sleeping on the couch?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Dean looked down and blushed, and Sam looked uncomfortable. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a coin.
"Call it, loser has to share with me." She said.
"Heads." Dean called as the coin flipped, she glanced at it then smiled at him.
"Lucky you." She said slipping it back into her pocket without showing them, Dean rolled his eyes and sighed quietly, mouthing "fuck you" to Sam, who smiled in forced pitifulness.
"Most people assume we're gay." Sam commented abruptly.
"Obviously not, you're brothers." She replied quickly.
"How do you know?" Dean asked.
"You both share a very rare type of iris, one that can only be shared between bloodline, either that or one of you is the others father, but that's quite unlikely given your age. Your shared idiolect would take a long time to form and would have been established in early childhood. Which again suggests your brothers rather than lovers." She replied, glancing between the two.
"Alright Sherlock, anything else you can tell about us?" Dean tried.
"Just from your face I can see depression, self-loathing and a harsh lifestyle." She said speaking directly to Dean. "You had a military like father, and a distant mother. She probably died when you were young, as I can see by Sam's lips." She said now sharing glances between the two. "You're overcompensating." She said to Dean. "And you don't think you're good enough." She said to Sam, and the brothers looked exposed and uneasy.
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Dean retorted, since anger was his primary defence. She turned calmly to him.
"I don't look anymore." She replied simply and Dean's anger retracted as she crossed her arms, then glanced down at her watch then turned to Dean, he nodded singularly then walked down the hall.
"Night Sam." She said then, followed closely behind Dean. He opened the door to his room and looked nervously around.
"Dude I'm not gonna judge you for what you have in your room, quit worrying." She stated and he seemed more at ease. She slung her bag onto the floor and took her jacket off, showing her hairy underarms and forearms. He frowned then took his own jacket off.
"You think people like me get to shave that often?" She sneered and he looked apologetic, as she grabbed the bottom of her vest and lifted it over her head, showing her bare chest. Dean looked a little taken aback.
"You not gonna...?" He said, trailing off then making a face.
"Turn away if you're embarrassed." She commented, less harshly than her previous comments.
"No, it's fine. Just uh...full on." He replied and took his shirt off to show his bare chest and hairy arms.
"It's a shame that these should be viewed differently." She commented, gesturing to their naked chests. "Why the fuck should I have to shave?" She muttered, looking away from him and taking off her shoes then slinging her jeans off to show her hairy legs and red lacy pants. Dean was watching her intently, she caught his eye.
"You like watching chicks take their clothes off?" She asked, before he could respond she spoke again. "Of course you fucking do, everyone does." She stated then got into bed, facing away from him. He took his jeans and shoes off then slipped in next to her and gently, slowly placed a hand on her waist. She suddenly turned round to face him and he retracted his hand quickly and held them up.
"Sorry." He spluttered, she softened her glare then smirked.
"That's strange, I had you down as dominant. I guess I can get things wrong." She commented and Dean's eyes remained fixed on her.
"Hit the light." She ordered, as he turned round slightly to turn of the bedside lamp she shuffled forward, he turned off the light, when he turned back, he couldn't see anything, but she was close. He could feel her breath on his skin. He waited in apprehension then she laughed quietly and turned back around, grabbed his hand and put it around her waist. He moved forward to press his body against hers. She blushed a little as Dean held her close, then smiled cutely in the dark. She'd missed this.
When Dean woke, at 8:15, the first thing he noticed was the coldness. She wasn't there anymore. His heart sank a little until a scent caught him by surprise, one that he hadn't experienced for a long time. Pancakes. He sat up a little and smiled, shaking his head. This woman was full of surprises. He put his dressing gown on then sauntered into the kitchen.
"Morning princess." She said sarcastically, Dean looked over at her, she was fully dressed in a different outfit, this time she was wearing low slung camo shorts with a black thong poking out, a white sports bra and colourful socks.
"You're making pancakes?" Dean said.
"No shit." She replied as she flipped one. She put the pan back on the hob and glanced over to him.
"For me, if you want some, I made extra batter in the fridge. Cook them yourself." She stated slipping the pancake masterfully onto a plate. I9t covered the plate completely and was very thin in comparison to what Dean was used to, or rather...not used to.
"Are you English?" He asked opening the fridge. She smiled as she sprinkled sugar onto the rolled up pancake.
"Just because I make English pancakes, you assume I'm English?" She said then forked some into her mouth.
"Not logical enough for you?" Dean tried, getting the extra pancake batter out of the fridge. She didn't reply.
"Last time I was here, we didn't have eggs." He mumbled, slopping pancake batter into the pan.
"The keys are back in your pocket." She replied and he looked confused for a moment.
"The nearest town is 40 miles away, what time did you get up?" He asked, gingerly flipping the pancake. He smiled like a child when it landed the right way up, he glanced over at her for a reaction but she wasn't looking. His smile diminished quickly.
"I waited for your REM cycle to be at it's height, which took an excessively long time, then left. It must have been at about 6. Took your car and, got a few things." She replied, licking her lips then placing her knife and fork next to eachother.
"When you say got, what do you mean?" Dean asked as Sam walked in, sleepily. She saw the opportunity and took it.
"How's your arm?" She asked walking up to him as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. He looked past her at Dean.
"Uh it's fine, pancakes?" He said looking back at her confused. "We don't have any eggs." He commented, and she smirked.
"I'm gonna shower, no peeking." She said and turned her back to them.
"You didn't answer my question." Dean stated. She stopped walking and clenched her jaw.
"Why should I? You already have." She replied and walked away.
"Do you always speak in riddles?" He called at her.
"Generally? Yes." She replied.
Half an hour later she quietly stepped out leaving the shower on and the light, quickly wrapped a towel around her and tip toed back to Dean's room, she shoved it open quickly and Dean panicked, dropping her bag on the floor. Her emotion didn't changed as she turned around and walked back out again. Dean scrambled after her as she calmly walked back to the shower to turn it off.
"It's not what it looks like." He asserted grabbing her shoulder. She stopped walking, flicked his hand, he retracted and she carried on.
"It's exactly what it looks like." She said calmly turning the shower off then turning to face him.
"Did you read it?" She continued.
"What?"
"Did you read it?" She repeated louder, crossing her arms.
"No? There was nothing to read." He replied looking genuinely confused.
"Excellent. Though please don't sniff my pants." She said sternly. His eyes widened with fear, she mirrored almost instantly. "Jesus I was joking. Holy crap I shared a bed with a panty sniffer." She said anxiously. She shuffled past him nervously as he blushed into his hands.
"Hang on...which pair?" She asked, turning back to him, he looked up, his face truly beetrooted. "The red ones?" She said, suppressing a smile. His head nodded slightly, looking puppy like.
"Did you like them?" She asked and he stared at her. She walked aggressively towards him and he backed against the wall, however before he made contact with it, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him forwards, so they were millimetres from eachother.
"Answer me." She hissed.
"Yeah." He murmured.
"Loud and clear, boy." She said, glaring into him.
"Yes, ma'am." He replied, making eye contact once. His breathing scattered as she continued her penetrative stare. Without blinking she smoothed her hands across his crotch, he involuntarily breathed a little harder. He nervously moved a hand towards her, she glanced down and grabbed it with her free hand, took his other hand and slapped them against the wall above his head. His chest pushed out slightly as he sighed again, she went on tip toes and put her lips against his neck, not pressing down, just gently resting, she dragged them against him and he furrowed his eyebrows as she massaged him more, feeling him harden.
"Did you like that?" She whispered, biting gently onto his thumping neck. He moaned and breathed "Yes." Into the air. She took a step back from him, putting her hands on her hips, wiping her face of all emotion, he looked confused.
"I'll bear that in mind next time I threaten you." She said, raising an eyebrow then turned to walk.
"Follow me." She ordered and he complied, walking slightly oddly given his lower mechanics had changed. He followed her into his room and shut the door behind him. Thinking this was his chance he started to take his clothes of, unbuttoning his shirt as she rummaged through her bag.
"Not sure why you're bothering with your shirt." She said, picking up something from her bag, that Dean couldn't see. He started to undo his belt instead and as his jeans dropped she turned to face him. His erection was pushing through, she glanced at it and looked unimpressed. Then took the red panties he'd smelled from behind her back and presented them to him.
"Punishment. Don't go through my shit, and don't sniff my pants." She said.
"You want me to..."
"Wear them." She finished for him and he raised his eyebrows as his dick jumped in his boxers. He stepped out of his jeans then leaned forward slightly, she pulled them back and he frowned.
"Put them on here in front of me." She said. "It's not like you haven't worn women's underwear before." She added quietly and his eyes widened with fear as he froze. "Chop chop we ain't got all day." She said, and he snapped out of it. He grabbed the top of his boxers and slowly started to pull them down. She watched closely as the black fuzz peeked out of the top, he blushed under her stare as he lowered the fabric over his throbbing flushed dick. She nodded approvingly at it, as Dean looked up at her to see her reaction. He frowned for a second then she caught his eye and handed over the panties still smiling.
"You sadistic or something?" He asked, noting her smile at his embarrassment, as he stood wearing a half unbuttoned plaid shirt fonding a pair of bright red lacey thong panties in his big masculine hands.
"In some ways." She replied, as he put his feet in and slowly pulled them up.
"What ways?" He asked, readjusting himself in the tight fabric.
"I'm sexually sadistic, I thought that much was obvious. Perfect for a masochistic submissive bondage and toy lover, like you." She replied smoothly. He looked up at her, freezing again.
"How could you possibly even guess at any of that?" He asked, going to pick up his jeans. She kicked his hand gently and he looked up at her. She shook her head then twirled her finger.
He rolled his eyes then slowly turned around to show her his ass in the panties. It was a beautiful ass, so she stepped forward put a hand on it gently and felt it for a moment, then slapped it hard. He moaned uncontrollably, tensing up his shoulders and arching his back slightly.
"That's how." She said simply then grabbed his hip and turned him to face her. He glared into her with a hint of tears in his eyes.
"You're a little bitch." He said through gritted teeth, she leant towards him slightly.
"And you love it." She whispered softly. When she pulled back to gauge him, he still had a hint of a smirk on his face. She took a step back then looked him up and down.
"You actually look pretty hot in that." She commented as he picked up his jeans.
"Thanks." He said quietly, glancing at her, then a smile flashed across his lips. "Since you chose mine, can I choose yours?" he said, gesturing to his crotch as he slid the jeans on.
"Sure." She replied then crouched to look into her bag.
"I acquired these today." She said and put 4 pairs of panties on the bed. One black lacey thong with silk ruffles, one turquoise and black open crotch pair, one shiny wet look weather shorts type panties, and one black and red bowed low cut thong.
"Son of a bitch." Dean commented.
"Should we get your brother in to help decide?" She asked cheekily.
"Get your brother in to do what?" Sam said walking in, he saw Dean shirtless and the woman only in a towel and double took at the sight on the bed. He looked very uncomfortable. The woman knocked her head back slightly and he cautiously walked over to the bed.
"Which ones?" She asked as he saw them, his eyebrows shot up and he blinked several times. He coughed then scratched the back of his neck squinting slightly.
"Uh. I don't...aren't they uncomfortable?" Sam asked looking up at her. She glanced at Dean who glared at her and shook his head slightly.
"Do you wanna try some on?" She asked suppressing a Dean related smirk. Sam laughed uneasily.
"Nah I'm good, I'll pass thankyou." He replied and she smiled at him
"Hey I just realised, I never got your name." Sam said as she picked up the black and red bowed low cut thong.
"There's a reason, I'm not just being rude." She said then slipped the pants on underneath the towel. "People called me Sam because those are my initials and well, they couldn't be bothered or were uncomfortable with my full name, but since we've already got a Sam, my name is Scorpeia Angelo Maharishii." She said with a hint of a Japanese accent on her last name.
"So you're Japanese." Sam said and she nodded.
"Born and raised." She said then looked at Dean who's face was etched with racial confusion. "I swear if you go all Mean Girls on me and ask me why I'm white, so help me I will kick your ass." She said and he raised his arms in surrender, then turned to pick up his shirt.
"Hey I got to finish getting dressed, so..." She said and Sam turned to walk out the door.
"See you two in a bit." He called and shut the door behind him.
She turned to face Dean.
"So, Scorpeia, pretty name. Let's see those pants on you." He said quietly, she cocked an eyebrow and half smiled at him.
"Thanks. Your time will come." She said then turned around to find some clothes in her bag. She picked out a black sports bra and a sleeveless shirt with extra armhole fabric cut out so that the side of her body was visible and a black bar of her bra is visible. "I hope you realise," She began, picking out her camo pants. "Sam was listening outside for the majority of that, so he knows already what you're wearing." She said and Dean looked terrified, then confused.
"How do you know?"
"Couldn't you hear his breathing? And the distinctive sound of skin against denim, he was trying to be quiet." She replied.