Roxi's phone buzzed twice on the bedside table, the notification alerting her of a new voicemail. It was so surprisingly aggressive that it clanged against the rotund, faux-gold lamp, creating a hollow sound that woke her from a sweaty embrace.

"Fuck," she murmured, blindly slapping her hand against the short table, trying not to move and wake the sleeping man next to her. To her dismay, Dean slept lightly, and as she turned her body away from him, he awoke with a gasp.

"What is it," Dean croaked, his eyes still heavily lidded and his hair adorably tousled from their evening together.

"My sister called me four times." She groaned, the brief silence filled by a harsh voice in the digital message. "I'm late to meet them for our yearly trip to Salem."

Dean grumbled, turning over to the other side of the bed, burying his face under a pillow. Still, Roxi could make out, "fuckin' witches' from underneath the down feathers. She punched him in the ass.

"Hey." He scolded, rubbing his sheet-covered bottom playfully. In truth, she didn't hit him as hard as she could have. Dean had trained with her and knew that she was one of the toughest sparring partners around. "What's in Salem, anyway?"

Roxi was already pulling on jeans, pulling out a plaid shirt and replacing it with a dress and red thong from the floor, shoving them haphazardly into her maroon backpack. She belted her jeans before pulling on a shirt, giving Dean a reverse striptease of her padded red bra. "Yearly festival. Jayna likes to get up on the latest tarot spreads and see some friends. It's fun. It always ends with this full moon celebration." She tied her pink plaid shirt around her waist, and leaned down to kiss him. "You can come, if you want. I know how much you loOove witchy stuff."

He tried to twine his hand through her thick dark curls, holding her to him for a longer kiss. She pushed his chest back, breaking them apart with a head tilt that said, I don't have time for you.

He scoffed. "Whatever babe. Just don't call me crying when you open a portal to a demon you can't control!"

"Talking boards aren't dangerous when used correctly, Dean!" Roxi sang, slamming shut the door to their hotel room.

"Roxanne Ophelia DeLuci. You are so fucking late, kiddo."

As Roxi skipped down her dorm steps, she saw her sister leaning up against her blue Caprice, its engine chugging faithfully. Stella's arms were crossed, tapping her black combat boots against the uneven pavement. This week her hair was dyed bright bleach blonde, an attempt to dye out the cranberry hair she had during the fall. Since she always opted for DIY rather than a professional salon job, the pink was only faded, making her head look like a swirl of faded cotton candy. It made her seem less intimidating than usual. Roxi giggled at her bossy older sister, flipping her long, damp curls over her shoulder.

"Where in the fuck were you? I called at least ten times this morning."

"Sorry, Stel. I wanted to shower after I woke up. And then I had to pack, because I forgot to last night." Stella scoffed, knowing her sister was somehow lying to her by the higher pitch of her voice but Roxi kept talking, "Besides, it's not that long of a drive." She shrugged, widening her gorgeous brown eyes in an attempt for mercy. It usually worked. Today, it didn't.

Stella ignored the fib in favor of coaxing her sister into the car. She didn't need a confrontation before a three hour drive.

"We still have to pick up Jayna, and we were supposed to do that two hours ago. I had to beg her over the phone not to do a pendulum reading to find you. Now her juju is all thrown off." At juju, Stella made an almost arachnid movement with her fingers. She climbed into her car, making a waving gesture to her little sister to do the same.

Roxi scooted into the car, stowing her backpack under her passenger seat, after storing her duffel bag and a satchel full of hunting gear in Stella's trunk.

"That's a lot of stuff for a few days in Salem." Stella remarked, her own belongings isolated to a small overnight bag and backpack (for her research/hunting things of course).

Roxi put in her earbuds already cranked loud with EDM music, "I just want to be prepared for anything." She bopped her head to the bass, watching the city streets turn into manicured suburbia.

"We always are," Stella said, preparing herself for the road ahead.

Jayna sauntered out of her small home and down her walkway, adorned in her favorite monarch butterfly shawl and dark skirt, allowing her oldest niece carry her suitcase for her. Her hands were full of the black and golden eyed cat she called Zeke and her bag full of psychic tools.

"Hey, I thought black cats were bad luck," Roxi called, her arms folded over the open car window.

Jayna shook her head, her short brown hair moving like water over her shoulders. "Only if you don't understand them, my darling. On the contrary, it's good luck for us to bring Zeke along to our Salem gathering. Black cats are the most faithful companion and protectors of psychics like me." She slipped into the backseat silently. "I'm sure Zeke would be honored to look after my girls as well."

The small Chevy shook with Stella's slam of the trunk. She sat back in the driver's seat, and cracked her neck before starting the car.

"Aaaaand we're off," Stella exclaimed, attempting to imitate a racecar announcer's voice.

"To unpathed waters, undreamed shores." Jayna sighed, stroking the ears of her shadowcat. "Stella?"

"A Winter's Tale." She replied, without missing a beat. "Though I prefer the stage direction, 'Exit, pursued by a bear'." Roxi laughed and replaced her earbuds.

Stella shook her head at her sister's snub of her music. But she knew her aunt would appreciate, "I made us a Salem-witch themed playlist for our drive. It's a little too short for the drive but it'll keep us from using the shoddy radio for as long as possible."

She inserted a CD in the drive and turned the dial, with Fleetwood Mac's Rhiannon starting to croon through the speakers. Stella sang along, trying to remember as many of the lyrics as possible.

Jayna hummed from the back, scratching the ears of her cat and letting herself melt into the warmth of the backseat.