So a while back, I saw the movie Blair Witch Project, and I loved it, which is saying something because I am not a horror fan. Anyway, I thought that it deserved a fic, but you don't have to have seen the movie to understand this. This fic actually involved research and fact checking. I feel like a real hunter! Story& Chapter titles from Fall Out Boy song, Centuries.

May 26, 1902.

Spring was beautiful in America. Phillip's old home was always cold, he'd always dreamt about leaving home, so when he heard about some woman offering jobs on a farm in Indiana, he'd jumped at the opportunity.

After an overly cramped boat ride, and hours or walking and horse backing meshed together, he'd finally arrived.

The farm was gorgeous. Flowers sprouted along the lawn, and trees swayed smoothly in the breeze, almost like a graceful dance. Phillip used to enjoy climbing trees as a child, but one harsh tumble from one left him with both a scar, and no desire to ever climb again.

While he subconsciously reached for the scar on his back, he felt a sudden yet gentle hand touch his shoulder. He turned around to see a young woman in front of him.

"Are you Phillip?" She asked.

Phillip's English wasn't the greatest, so he chose just to nod, rather than humiliate himself.

Her eyes brightened excitedly, and she smiled at him. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping. We can deal with your duties at a later time."

Nodding again, Phillip trudged behind her, dragging what was left of his belongings with him. He began developing a small pain in the pit of his stomach, but he dismissed it as the nerves of being someplace so foreign to him.

As he neared a small shed the feeling grew, but it wasn't quite as strong as the smell. It was revolting, but the woman was continuing forward, seemingly oblivious the stench.

Part of him wanted to turn and run, but he was unable to stop himself from following.

It wasn't much later that he had regretted that decision. By the time he entered the shed, he felt something crash into the back of his head, and he was out cold before he hit the floor.

Her victim looked so peaceful as he slept. Isn't that what he came to America for? Peace? She only wished to give it to him. But, there cannot be peace without suffering.

While her victim slept, she tore his clothing from him, and studied him. What stood out the most was a wide scar on his back, healed long ago, but its effects still obviously lingered. Nothing was permanent, nothing but scars. This man came here for something permanent, did he not? All she does is help the lost and restless.

Curiously, she traced a knife along his backside, and slowly slid the point through the scar, until the man twitched and let out a pained moan. She had a lot of work to do before he could find his peace.

Let the suffering begin.

Now

"No. Freaking. Way." Dean said in a mix of awe and disbelief from behind the Impala's wheel."

"I know." Sam agreed. "Murders in Blair Indiana's woods. This is just too real to be a coincidence."

"I won't deny the movie's awesomeness, but there's no way any of that crap was true. Witches ain't gonna snap a few twigs if they want you dead. They just take you out."

"I don't even know if it is a witch, Dean. A lot of stuff could have pulled off what she- it did. Remember what happens when there's two victims instead of just one?"

"Yeah, she makes one of them face the wall while she kills the other."

"That narrows it down. Not everything can control people's actions. Ghosts, demons-"

"Witches." Dean added.

"Why are you so stuck on witches?"

"Cuz we don't know how to take on witches, unless you feel like scouring the woods for an altar."

"Not knowing how to deal with them won't make it not a witch."

"Lotta negatives there, Sammy."

"It's 'Sam.'" He protested with a huff. "But my point still stands."

"Fine, maybe it's a witch. Guess you'll have to do some research."

"And what exactly are you gonna be doing?"

"I'm the people person. I'm gonna ask around town to see what the locals know."

Sam scoffed, and pulled a classic Sam Winchester bitchface. "Meaning you're gonna find a hot chick, pretend you're some bigshot reporter investigating the murders, and get her number?"

Dean made a mock hurt face. "Course not, Sammy." He smirked. "This time I'm going with FBI agent, and I'll be getting a lot more than her number."

Sam groaned. "You're gross, Dean."

"Least I'm not a bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean couldn't help but smile at their classic banter. Even though it had been a while since Sam had got back from Stanford, it still made him smile every time it happened. "So, run me through the vics again."

The sound of paper crinkling accompanied ACDC blasting though the speakers as Sam pulled out the newspaper. His eyes hurriedly skimmed the paper, and he began his synopsis. "Taylor Markell. Found by some hikers in the woods, appeared to have missing teeth, and fingernails."

Dean had been a hunter for a very long time. He's seen a lot of crap, but that? That was just plain nasty.

Sam continued, "Few days later a couple was found, only thing the vics had in common were missing teeth and-"

"Fingernails. Yeah, I remember." Dean cringed. "Nothing else in common?"

Sam shook his head, his bangs swaying across his forehead, just shy of falling in front of his eyes. "Different ages, two were guys, one was a girl. So far all they got is that they were found right by the woods."

"Woods usually equals Wendigo, but there's too much- body left for it to be one."

"My thoughts exactly." Sam concurred.

"Shifter?" Dean suggested, not taking his bright green eyes off the road. The Impala purred as it zoomed down the pavement. "They're pretty torture friendly."

Despite the slightly humouress oxymoron, Sam couldn't bring himself to smile and he deadpanned, "Shifters can't control people though."

"It could if it drugged them."

"No traces of drugs in the vics systems."

Back and forth they went, spit-balling theories, crossing potential monsters off their list, until their options had been narrowed down to demon, ghost, or actual witch, much to Dean's dismay.

"We gotta narrow it down more than this. We can't start the hunt until we know what we'll be up against."

"Okay, how bout this: Killings have all been going down at night, right?"

"Right." Sam confirmed.

"So, during the day we can scope out the forest and look for sulfur. If we don't find it, we can scratch demon off the list."

"We can't search an entire forest in a day while trying to find traces of sulfur. We'll get lost. Or go crazy and kill each other."

Dean's face feigned offense. "You doubt my tracking skills?"

"Wendigo, Dean." Sam reminded him.

The memory of waking up chained in a cave popped into Dean's head, and he winced. "Okay, you got me there. What do you suggest?"

Sam's hand ran through his too long hair, too long according to Dean anyway, in thought. "Well, demons sometimes cause electrical storms or crop failures. Don't see any of those, so, maybe we can cross demons off?"

"Good enough for me. So, how we gonna find out if it's a ghost or witch?"

Sam huffed out and leaned back in his seat, the car's leather squeaking underneath his weight. "Find candidates I guess."

Dean groaned. "That could take a while, Sammy."

"We don't have a whole lot of other options."

There was a moment of semi-silence as Dean grumbled in frustration. "Alright, but I don't like it."

Sam scoffed. "Welcome to our life."

November 18, 1904.

Nobody understood. They all called her crazy, but they just didn't understand. Times were hard, money was hard to come by. It's not her fault that people are willing to pay you for a lost life.

Money had more value than "love." She didn't believe in love, but money? Money was hard to deny. Her husband was the first to go. He was so very confused, didn't understand why she was hurting him. He always was a rather slow one.

Still not enough though, she needed more money. Eventually, she realized that her children were parasites of her happiness, sucking away everything she had. They simply had to go. Poor things, they never knew their greater purpose.

Odd though, man after man had gone missing by her hand, and nobody cared, but children? Suddenly the world wanted to point fingers. She didn't like fingers being pointed. They didn't point fingers without their fingernails, now did they?

Everyone still continued to accuse. She was going to be hunted, so she had to hide.

Why did beautiful women have it easier? It wasn't fair. She was larger than the rest of them, she didn't have gently curled blond hair. Her face was harsh, her eyes were cold. She didn't smile. Ugly women didn't get to smile, what did they have to smile about?

How she despised pretty women. As she hid from the pointing fingers, a woman passed her by and smiled at her, unaware of all she had done. But that's when she realized, she should be allowed to smile too.

The woman didn't stand a chance. Her opponent was much bigger, much stronger than she was, she was out before she even knew what happened.

Another victim had been subdued, she pried open her victim's mouth, and yanked a tooth right from her gums. Still unconscious, the woman only cried out in her state, a lone tear slipping past her eyes.

"Not so pretty now, are you?"

The woman never awoke. Maybe she never would again. Taking all her teeth out was the simple part. Putting them into her own mouth is where it got difficult, but she managed.

With her brand new teeth, she smiled.

Sorry about the slightly confusing pronouns at the end there, but "she" is going to be kept a secret for a while longer. If you're confused, feel free to tell me. I'd hate for you to miss out on something due to my failure to explain. If you're enjoying, drop a review, and I'll see y'all soon with the next chapter. Everything is all plotted out, I just gotta put it into words. Wish me luck!