AN: Hello everyone! This is a new story and the first one that I've written, so please be gentle with me. I used to be against having characters be with OC's, but then this little gem popped into my mind and I wasn't exactly comfortable matching either one of the Winchester men with the women that have been in the show. They just didn't seem to match up correctly with where I wanted this story to go. So, I have decided to create Scarlet Blackwood. I would give you a description of her, but I think I'll let the story take care of that. I will be putting a childhood scene here, but I will not be doing little kid talk because it's difficult for me. Review, please!
Summary: I've known Dean Winchester nearly my entire life. I was his best friend until he was four and I was three. I saw him the day before his mother died; the week that his dad took him and Sam away. I never even got to say goodbye. Since that day, I've seen him exactly five times. Three out of five of those times, he never even saw me. Once, he glanced my way, but I don't think it really registered in his mind that it was me. The fifth and final time he looked right at me. And he smiled. That was when he was probably around eighteen and I was seventeen. I couldn't speak to him any of those times though because my father was there. He's a hunter and he doesn't want to associate with "normal" people. Since I was little he's been teaching me the ropes of the profession and I've lost all of my friends. But one thing in my life has remained constant; my feelings for Dean Winchester.
Disclaimer: As much as I love the characters of this series, I do not own any of them. Scarlet's mine, though, so don't even think about taking her. ;)
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Chapter 1
November 1st, 1983
I was sitting on the swing at the park across the street from my house. My legs couldn't reach the ground no matter how hard I tried. I also couldn't swing on my own; my daddy does that for me. I'm pretty sure that Mommy would have done that, but she died when I was just six months old. A fire, I think. Ever since then, my daddy has been the one who had to take me to the park and push me on the swing. Or when he was working, which is often, I would be taken to the park by some grumpy old lady. They were never fun, they just complained about their 'old bones' and sat on the park bench. They never pushed me like I wanted them to. Whenever I asked politely and even said please, they still said no.
I sighed. Today was one of those days where I just sat on the swing, trying to figure out how to swing myself. No one has ever actually taught me. They just push and push; never quite letting me know how to do it myself. As hard as I try to mimic the kids on the other swings, I just can't quite get it right. There are also some kids that always ask me why I just sit here not doing anything. There are rude ones that try to push me off so they can swing, but I don't let them. This is my swing. I even have my initials etched on the bottom of it. Daddy did that for me. For some reason, just showing that to the others makes them go away and not ask again.
With my head hanging down, I just once more to pump my legs like the kids next to me. I feel the swing rock slightly back and forward, but not as high as the others. I put more power behind my kicks and all of a sudden, I fly forward. I squeal like the young three year old that I am. I finally did it! I can swing all by myself! I laugh and laugh. But then I notice something. I'm still swinging, but I'm not pumping my legs anymore.
I try and twist to see over my shoulder, but I can't see because my hair is in the way. Twisting farther, I feel my balance start to shift and I'm falling. I slip out of the swing and land on my butt on the mulch. It doesn't hurt because I wasn't too high up.
I look behind my swing and smile. I should've known. Of course I can't swing by myself, but he is the next best thing. Standing there, holding the swing from coming back and hitting me, is Dean Winchester. My best friend. I laugh to myself and think, and one day we'll get married and have so many babies to take care of.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement at the bench where Mrs. Young is sitting. I look over to see Mrs. Winchester sit down next to my babysitter and they strike up conversation. I shake my head and laugh. Mrs. Young is the most boring person I know, so I'm not entirely sure why Mrs. Winchester would want to talk to her.
I shriek when someone starts to tickle my neck. Of course, I know who it is because only a handful of people know that I'm ticklish there. Okay, that's a lie; everyone knows that I'm ticklish there. Pushing Dean's hand away, I turn to look at him. I always laugh at how polar opposites we are from one another. He has deep, emerald eyes with light brown hair and I have light brown, almost amber eyes with hair so black it almost looks purple in the sunlight.
"Hey, Scar." That's Dean's nickname for me. I've heard from Daddy that only one other person has ever called me that. My mommy used to before she died. He doesn't let anyone else call me that, but with Dean, he doesn't seem to mind. Maybe it's because he's a kid, like me, or because he just doesn't necessarily care. Whichever, I'm glad because I like it when Dean calls me that.
"Hey, D." That's my nickname for him. Just his initial. D. It's simplistic and it fits him. Maybe when we're older I'll call him by his full name, but for now, it doesn't matter.
I hit him on the arm as hard as I could. For a three year old, that's not hard at all. I know it didn't hurt him, but he acts as if I just broke his arm in three different places. I giggle, but then I remember that I'm mad and make a frowny face.
Laughing, Dean asks "What was that for?! I didn't do anything!" He keeps rubbing his arm as if it still hurts. I snort, as if.
"You pushed me when I was swinging! I thought that I was doing all by myself! But no, Dean Winchester had to come and push me. Gosh, I just wanted to learn how to do it myself!" At first, I was teasing, but I can admit that I am genuinely upset that I can't swing myself.
Dean's face sobered. He scrambles to stand up and when he does, he reaches down for my hand. "Well, you wanna learn how to swing? Then I'll show you."
I look at him in awe. The sun is positioned directly behind him, making his body dark, but his hair shine. His green eyes sparkle with childish happiness and I can't help but smile. I can safely tell you right now that I like Dean Winchester. I like, like Dean. He's my first crush and my only one right now. Reaching up, I grasp his hand and he leads me to my swing.
I sit down and he positions himself behind me. I can feel him start to push the swing back and forth.
"Okay, Scar, when I have you a little higher, I want you to start swinging your legs back and forth." I do just as he tells me. I start to swing my legs forward and backward as fast and as hard as I could. I can immediately tell that I'm doing it wrong.
"Hang on, Scar. I wanna show you how to do it. I'll tell you what I do and when I do it." He stops the swing and I climb down. I want to cry, but I don't want to show Dean any weakness. He clambers onto the swing and he starts to effortlessly pump his legs. Soon enough, he's swinging as high as the kids that are being pushed by their parents and the ones that can swing themselves.
Slowing down, he stops swinging his legs and turns to look at me. "It's all about timing, Scar. When you start to swing forward, pump your legs back. When you're swinging backwards, pump your legs forward. Also, move your arms the same way your legs are going, it gives you more power. Take it slow too. I can promise you, you'll be swinging like a pro in no time." He hops off the swing and stands behind me again while I climb onto the swing.
I put my hands on the chains and I wait until Dean gives me a little push. As I swing forward, I pull the chain toward me and swing my legs back. I hear Dean move out of my way as I swing backward. I do the exact opposite when I go back. I start to swing higher and higher. Soon, I feel as if I can touch the heavens and see the angels. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I'm as happy as can be.
I slow down and stop the swing. I jump off and run towards Dean as fast I can. I hug him tight and start to scream, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Over and over again until he finally pushes me away.
He just smiles down at me and says, "You're welcome. You're a natural, Scar."
For the next half hour, we run around the playground, playing and laughing. We play until we both hear, "Honey, time to go home." Stopping in our tracks, we turn to look and see Mrs. Young and Mrs. Winchester standing and waiting for us. I frown. I guess it's time for us to go.
We walk over to them and I turn to Dean. "See you tomorrow?" I ask hopefully.
Dean looks over at his mother and she replies, "Sorry, honey, but we have plans tomorrow. We'll see if we have time to come here the day after that, okay?" Dean and I jump up and down yelling, "Yay, yay, yay!"
Settling down, I give Dean a hug and say goodbye. I grab onto Mrs. Young's hand as we near the street, but I don't check both ways. I just keep my eyes on Dean and his mother. I see Dean doing the same thing, not paying attention to where he's walking, just watching me and Mrs. Young. When I reach my house, the front door closing behind me severs the connection between Dean's and my eyes.
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Waiting for two days seemed like forever. Finally the sun rose on November 3rd, and I shot out of bed like a bullet. I ran down the stairs, nearly skidding into the kitchen. I squeal in delight when I see Daddy sitting at the kitchen table. I run full speed toward him, only slowing down when his posture registers in my mind. There's something wrong. Now walking timidly, I reach him and start to climb onto his lap. His hands are covering his eyes, but his arms have spread wide to accommodate me.
Grabbing onto his arms, I try to pry his hands away from his eyes. At first, he doesn't budge, but after whining a bit, he relents and lets me pull his hands away from his eyes. I frown as I see his eyes are red rimmed. He's been crying. I can tell. There's definitely something wrong, Daddy never cries. "What's wrong, Daddy?"
He tries to smile, but it never reaches his eyes. This is strange to me, whenever he smiles at me, his eyes always sparkle and they crinkle at the corners, but now there's no sign of either. His voice cracks as he tries to say, "Nothing important, honey." He finally manages to squeeze it out, but then he shakes his head and tries once more. "Do you remember Mrs. Winchester, baby? Dean's mommy?"
I nod my head vigorously and say, "Yes! I saw her two days ago and I'm going to see her and Dean again today at the park! She said so! They'll be there!" I try and scramble down to get ready to go to the park, but Daddy holds on to me tighter.
I look at him and I see that his eyes have closed. "No, honey, you won't see them today at the park."
Immediately I start to protest. "Daddy, I wanna go! I wanna see Dean!" I continue to whine until Daddy stops me.
"Sweetie, you're not going to see Dean at the park today. He's not really going out anywhere right now. Honey, Mrs. Winchester went to Heaven last night. She passed away in a fire."
My eyes widened. "She went to Heaven? Where Mommy is?"
Daddy smiled. "Yes, honey. Where Mommy is." I couldn't quite wrap my brain around it. I had just seen her two days ago. She was fine and now I'll never see her again. I start to cry because it all reminds me of when I think that I'll never see my mommy again.
A short while later after I've stopped crying, I look to Daddy and ask, "Can I go see Dean wherever he is? I wanna give him a hug and talk to him." I expect him to be agreeable, but then I see his expression become sadder.
"No, honey. I can't take you to see Dean right now. I don't know where he is. His daddy took him and his little brother away earlier this morning. They left, sweetie and I'm not sure if they're coming back."
Everything went black then and I can't remember what happened in the days that followed.
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July 13th, 1987
As I'm sitting in the mall food court with Dad, I look over his shoulder and see Dean sitting in a booth with his younger brother, Sammy.
"Dad, look! It's Sam and Dean. I'm going to go say hi!" I move to get out of my chair, but Dad grabs my hand.
"No, Scarlet. Leave them be. You know what I say about talking to 'normal' people. I won't allow it. Besides, we have to leave soon if we're going to make it to Missouri by tomorrow. I'll teach you how to take care of a spirit." Dad lets go of my hand and returns to his meal.
Looking back toward the booth that I saw Sam and Dean in, I find it now empty.
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February 6th, 1989
Once again, I see Dean.
I'm with another one of my babysitters because Dad doesn't want me to be with him on this case. Apparently, this one is too dangerous. I don't quite understand why because he's taught me all I need to know about how to shoot, clean, and take care of a gun. I can't go with him and I guess I also need to be watched.
I'm just sitting on a bench on the side of the road and see Dean with his brother and father talking to some woman who appears to be crying. I'm not sure how they know her, but I feel jealous when I see Dean talking to a girl that's around his age.
I shake my head. I know better. Dad would be furious if I were to march over there and punch her in her dainty little button nose. That would ever me knife sharpening and gun cleaning for months!
So, I stay where I'm sitting. I silently watch Dean and his family until they leave.
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September 27th, 1989
I saw him again. But the same thing happened. I saw him, he didn't see me. I couldn't speak to him, so I didn't even try to get his attention. It would've been worse this time because Dad's sitting right next to me. I sigh. If I were to keep this up, I'd never speak to Dean Winchester again.
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May 4th, 1993
I'm at the grocery store when I see him again. He's in the cereal aisle, holding a box of Lucky Charms. I notice that Sam is standing right next to him, looking around. As if he's keeping watch for something. I scowl. It reminds me too much of when my father makes me do the same thing when we're out on a hunt.
As I'm reminiscing, I didn't notice that Sam's eyes came to rest on me. He frowns and taps Dean on the shoulder. I turn away as Dean's notice falls on me. I secretly hope that he'll come to talk to me, but when I look back, I just see Dean talking to Sam.
I am close enough to hear if I try hard enough. And tried hard I did. Straining my ears, I hear Dean tell Sam, "Don't worry about her, Sammy, she's nothing special."
I freeze. It feels like my heart has been crushed, my lungs squeezed, and my stomach cramped. It hurt to hear him say that. After all of this time, I still like Dean Winchester. No, I tell myself, you've fallen in love with him. You keep having dreams of him and you love him. You love Dean Winchester.
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December 12th, 1997
I'm at the mall with some friends from school, looking for supplies for our project. It's due as part of our final. I'm talking with one of the girls, when I hear the others giggling and whispering about a cute boy that's staring over at us.
Following their gaze, I meet the eyes of Dean Winchester. He's watching me and I watch him in return. I notice that his eyes have aged. Not in the literal way, the metaphorical way. As if he's seen pain and suffering. I can relate to that. A handful of hunts would do that to you.
I see recognition blaze in his eyes and he smiles at me. Without conscious thought, my lips lift to mirror his. In the background I can hear the girls whispering and pointing at me and Dean, but I pay them no mind. I only have eyes for Dean Winchester, which has become the normal.
We keep our eyes on each other until I see John, Dean's dad, walk up to him and look at me. Dean turns to John and they seem to be arguing until Dean's shoulders hunch over. John walks away with Sam in tow.
I continue to watch Dean until he meets my eyes once again. Now there's an apology in them. I take a step forward, but stop when Dean turns and walks in the direction John and Sam left in.
I watch Dean's retreating back as the girls start to push my shoulders and ask for details about 'the hot guy with the rocking body.' Dean may be those things, but he's more to me than that. He's Dean Winchester, the boy who taught me how to swing.
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February 21st, 2008
I wish I could say I knew why I was arrested. I wish I could say that I didn't do anything wrong, but with the profession comes the illegal. I am currently in a jail cell in a police station that resides in Monument, Colorado.
I was in my motel room when I heard a knock on my door. Opening it, I wished I could close it straight away, but that's difficult when there's a steel-toed boot blocking the way.
"Can I help you, Agent?" You heard me right. There's a FBI agent standing in the doorway of my room. I just know that this won't end up well for me.
The agent smirks and says, "I believe you can. I'm Agent Henriksen and I want to ask you a few questions." He stand there patiently with his foot still planted firmly against the doorframe.
I nod cautiously and turn to glance into my room. There are no guns or knives in sight, so I open the door wider to let Agent Henriksen inside. He steps into the room and looks around. I see his eyes land on my duffle bag in the corner, but doesn't make a move toward it. This is all fine and dandy because I know my rights. Without a warrant, he can't touch anything on the inside of that bag.
He takes a seat on the couch and I take a seat on the armchair across from him. "Where to begin?" He seems to ask himself. "Do you travel a lot, Miss…?" I realize belatedly that he's asking for my name, so I reply, "Yes, I do. My name is Violet Underwood."
"I see, Miss Underwood. Do you know, perhaps, what happened in St. Louis about two years ago?" Agent Henriksen is watching my reaction very closely, as to determine if I'm telling the truth or not.
"No, I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. I'm positive that a lot happened in St. Louis that year." That was a complete and utter lie because I knew exactly what happened there. Something that had to do with Dean. I heard that he killed several people before he was shot in the heart.
"Well, I want to know if you know someone by the name of Dean Winchester. Or you may know his brother, Samuel Winchester." Again, he's watching my face very closely. I have to tread lightly.
"No, I'm sorry, Agent. I don't know who you're talking about." Liar, all you think about is finding Sam and Dean. You know you don't believe that he's dead. I keep my eyes trained on the FBI agent, because I know he's looking for a chink in my armor.
Henriksen stands and walks around my room until he's directly behind me with his hands on the chair. I feel him lean over and he whispers in my ear. "Well, Scarlet Blackwood, I believe it's illegal to lie to a FBI agent." I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Stand up." I do as he says. "Scarlet Blackwood, you're under arrest."
That is how I found myself in a jail cell, banging my head off the bars behind me.
Out of nowhere, I heard some loud voices. I stretch to try and see what's happening when I hear the doors to the cell block swing open. I turn my head away so the newcomers can't see my face. I hear Henriksen say, "Well, Dean. Sam. It looks like we finally found you."
I freeze. It's Sam and Dean. I knew it! I knew he was okay! I allow myself a moment of happiness. Then I hear Henriksen's voice again. "Say hello, Scarlet. I know you know who they are."
I can faintly hear a quiet gasp, but don't need to ask how it might have been. I knew it was Dean. It can only ever be Dean in my mind. I turn myself around to face Henriksen and the Winchesters. I look towards Henriksen and smirk. "Thanks for bringing me some friends, Victor. I was getting a little lonely." I see anger, along with confusion pass across his face. He never told me his first name, but my hearing has become sharper with hunting in dark places.
"Don't be smart with me, Scarlet. Your entire future is held in my hands." He smirked right back, as if that was meant to be something threatening.
My expression doesn't change. "Well, then I'm dead." I deadpan. I hear some chuckles coming from my left. I know they're from the boys, so I don't need to look.
Henriksen stalks over to my cell and leans on the bars. "I'll put you in jail for the rest of your life if you're not careful." I laugh quietly. He's still trying to be threatening.
I move my hands from behind my back, having taken them out of the handcuffs a while ago. Reaching forward, I poke Henriksen on the nose and say, "Boop!"
Springing away from the bars, Henriksen turns on his heel and leaves the room, the two other officers following closely behind him.
A few minutes later, I'm still watching the doors.
I hear my name come from my left. "Scar." It comes out slightly breathless, almost disbelieving.
Sighing, I turn and meet Dean's eyes. "Hi, D."
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AN: This is the end of Chapter One! Please review!