Chapter 1

No Rubbing Required

A/N: I can't believe I'm writing this. Supernatural is a roller coaster of a crap show and an amazing show that makes me want to cry and have vivid dreams of a certain Winchester. Either way, I've been forced by my unwanted love for this shit-show to tackle a story. Here we go.


"So this ring was like...Aladdin's lamp?"

The curator chuckled at Dean's question, "Only by rumor. According to his journal, Nathaniel Commons spent his spare time studying the occult. He swore to some other believers that he could make the perfect servant based off the original story of the Genie in the Lamp, and they say he succeeded."

Sam was a little confused, "He succeeded?"

"So says rumor...and his journal." She stopped at a door with a plain sign that read 'archives'. "When the ring was stolen we took the journal off display."

The brothers looked to each other knowingly as she pulled down a metal box. When she opened it, it was lined in velvet and a black, leather-bound book set nestled inside. "Here it is."

"Do you mind if we take it into evidence?"

"Of course not. We're sure it'll be safer with you guys."

"Thank you, we'll take it from here then."

When she left the Winchesters shed their FBI facade. Dean looked disbelievingly at his little brother, "Why do you keep dragging me to museums?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Hey, it's not my fault ghosts hang around old dusty jewelry."

"This better not be another angry girlfriend."

"I doubt it really. Why would a ghost break a glass case?"

The older brother huffed as he tucked the smallish leather book away in his trench coat. "Here's hoping it's some nut job just trying to get a payday."


"I didn't see a book."

"What do you mean you didn't see it?"

"I searched the place. It wasn't on display, it wasn't in the archives..."

The man in the high backed chair held up his hand. Stopping the younger who shifted nervously and shoved his hands in his denim pockets. "Should have grabbed it the first time... You had a simple job."

The younger chuckled, "I mean, it's just a book right? I'll still get paid for nabbing the ring?"

"One would think. I don't need it to use this." He lent forward and put his elbows on the large desk. The desk lamp glinted off the item between his fingers. A gold signet ring. "It's a...family heirloom. Maybe I'll just get someone better suited to get the book. She's connected to it after all."

"Um...she?"

The ring was on his finger when he grinned slightly and kissed it, "Come here."

The young man took a step forward until he felt a presence at his back.

The woman who brushed passed him looked thoroughly disgusted with being summoned. Her pouted lips were turned in a grimace, her green eyes were narrowed. She was taller than your average woman with caramel skin and a lion's mane of curls. She approached the desk, "Where did you get that?"

"My great great grandfather would have left it to me. But he didn't know I existed."

"Liar-"

"Ah ah." He held up a hand again then pointed over her shoulder, "Kill him."

She didn't miss this. The way she was forced out of her body, But never out of her head. She could think about the wrongness of what she was doing, how it made her feel. But her body would always move on it's own. Doing whatever she'd been told.

The young man had heard the order and turned to run, but her hands were at the side of his face and the thought of her snapping his neck didn't come as fast as the actual action.

"Now, go get the book."


"Alright I got a picture."

Sam picked up his computer and moved over to the edge of the motel bed where his brother sat. Dean handed his brother the yellowed image.

"It's a servant." the younger eyed the image. The woman in the photo was a blend of so many emotions; even captured and frozen here. She stood with her shoulders up, the dress she wore was fine, but not too fine. Her curly hair was pulled back from her face, twisted away and tied under a white scarf. Her eyes were cast down mostly but the brightness of them was still visible in the colorless photo. She was standing alone outside a splendid house.

"Check out the back."

He turned the paper over in his large hands, "Anna." there was nothing else, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Her name comes up a lot in the book. She was this Nathaniel guy's maid, apparently his favorite."

Sam got where this was going, "This is her. The genie."

"Got me."

The new voice made the brothers shoot up from their seated positions. The woman took a deep breath and held out a caramel hand, "I only came for the journal. Give it to me and I'll leave."

"You're Anna?"

She looked severely impatient, "I don't go by that name anymore. Give me the book."

"I don't care what name you go by." Dean reached for his gun with his free hand, the other clenching the journal. "You're not getting this book."

Her head cocked slightly to one side, "So intent on protecting that book but couldn't protect my ring from that imposter?"

"Imposter?" Sam asked.

She flexed the fingers of her outstretched hand and the book flew from Dean's hold. She took a step back as Dean pointed his gun at her. "Yes, imposter."

"Dean, please..."

The older hesitated, gun still up, "Did you not steal the ring?"

"The fake great grandson of my Nathaniel hired a mortal to do it."

"Why are you telling us this?"

"My new master wasn't smart enough to tell me not to. I have to do what I'm told," she waggled the leather-bound journal at them, "but I wanted nothing more to do with my ring's existence."

"What is he planning to do with it?"

Sam was doing most of the talking, but an angsty and gun pointing Dean was pulling her focus. He rocked slightly where he stood and his expression exuded mistrust, he gun wavered in a way that showed his struggle with just wanting to shoot her. The woman continued to watch him but answered the younger brother, "I don't know."

"Can you find out? I mean, if you're on our side-"

"Hold it Sam." Dean started, "No one said she was on our side."

The woman flicked through the book, noticing her picture was missing. She saw it just there, on one of the beds and sighed. Gesturing it over to her like she did the book. After gazing at her own face, then turning it over to the back, she offered it to Sam.

He hesitated in taking it but did eventually remove it from her slim fingers.

"Dammit!" The older kicked over the nearest chair as the woman disappeared from the room.

Sam just looked at the back of the picture. The name Anna had been crossed out with one neat line, interesting because she never picked up a pen, and was replaced with, "Chelsea."


"Two men had the book?"

Chelsea nodded, "Hunters."

Matthew Warren didn't want this news. He figured the theft would attract average police force, not hunters. The ring was just a story to most. That's how it and the book ended up in a small occult museum anyway; and how it stayed there for as long as it had. History saw Nathaniel Commons as a rich man with too much time on his hands who tortured a mutt housemaid named Anna.

"What do they know?"

It was a question she didn't have to answer. Not a direct order like the next thing he uttered which forced an eye-roll from her, "Answer the question."

"They know of Nathaniel. They know who I am and what I'm called now."

"Did you tell them that? Answer me."

"Yes."

He slapped her and it hardly turned her head, "Why?"

She shrugged, another question she didn't have to answer. But she chose to, "Because you're an imposter, a thief, and a murderer."

"This ring is my birthright!"

Anger didn't suit his face. Meaning he didn't look the part of someone who descended from an aristocratic witch. His dark hair curled in awkward directions, his glasses sat somewhat crooked on his nose, and his overall stance and posture just screamed average and unimportant. He didn't match the splendor around him.

As compared to Chelsea who stood tall and straight, shoulders back, green gaze cast down her nose just so. The way Nathaniel taught her to carry herself when he wanted to show her off to his other rich and magical friends. The man himself was very well groomed for the eighteen hundreds, slicked back dark hair and strong grey eyes. A broad chest and elegant yet menacing aura. He was a vision and the maid on his arm became a weapon and most trusted companion.

He would have told her of a lover or fathered child.

"I would know of a child fathered by Nathaniel. Your precious ancestor doesn't exist."

"Oh?" He moved the grand desk in the room, trying to calm himself. He took off his glasses and smoothed back his hair. Just there, she saw him, her Nathaniel, "How do you think I came to learn about you?"

"I don't really care."

"Sit."

Chelsea did as she was told on a small leather tuft and Matthew sat in his high-backed leather chair. He gazed at the ring as he talked, "The women in my family resented you. Meager witches in the face of his great servant. His genie. Our great great grandmother was denied her status as the mother of his child as he denied even sleeping with her!" he chuckled dryly, "Never able to prove it until I was born; the first male."

"You look like him." Chelsea admitted, "Too much like him..."

"So you've noticed. I do clean up quite nicely."

"Why now? Why not properly lay claim to the ring...to me?"

"Because there's no time. Something is coming. And I need all the power possible to protect myself. I needed you."


"What the hell do you expect to find with just a name, Sam?"

The younger turned away from his computer for a moment, "I have to try Dean. Chelsea is a weapon, this guy, he wants her for a reason." he hesitated, "Maybe to fight off the darkness somehow."

"She can't be that powerful."

"How would you know?"

The brothers jumped and Dean fumbled for his gun again as the woman appeared at the other side of the small motel room table. Sam stood up, knocking over his chair, "You came back."

"I was told to."

"What?"

"I was told to kill you. My master can't have hunters after him while he prepares for whatever is coming."

"What? Wait, I thought you said he was an impostor."

She sighed, "I was wrong."

Sam didn't get much time to decipher her change in stance and her dropped gaze as a bullet snapped her head backward and she hit the floor, hard. "Dean!"

"What? She said she was here to kill us." He walked over to the body and shrugged, "See, not so powerful after all."