Here she was, a year shy of three decades, walking into a crappy bar, close to the motel Sam was staying at. Mist had barely aged since that night in Kansas, she'd looked about seventeen at the time and now she looked to be about twenty. That night, she wore the very first outfit she'd ever bought on her own. A pair of dark blue jeans, a deep red tank top and a pair of black hiking boots.
Joshua had called her to heaven, three months ago to discuss something important. Usually, Guardians could meet their charge as soon as they have one. In the history of Guardians, Mist was the only one who'd never gotten to meet her charge face to face. Sam hadn't seen her since he was two, but when she'd gone to meet Joshua, he informed her that as soon as she returned, and came up with a suitable story, she could talk to Sam.
Mist returned the day before, got a few outfits that a hunter would have- and the weapons. The money was courtesy of a wallet she'd lifted from someone's pocket. She spent the rest of the day thinking of her story. She still hadn't come up with her whole life story yet, but she figured she'd wing it.
As she walked into the bar, her eyes scanned the place, looking for him as she walked to the bar. She could sense Sam was here, but she couldn't see him. Using her magic, Mist clouded herself from the humans in the bar. Clouding oneself wasn't like becoming invisible, you could still be seen by people but for the most part, people tended to not notice you. And later, if they tried, they wouldn't remember who you were, what your name was or even what you looked like.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket- another recent purchase. The man at the store who sold it to her explained how the contraption worked, all the things it could do and which apps did what. He called it a Smart Phone. But for the life of her she could understand why someone would want an app that farted when pressed it.
Keeping her eyes down, Mist let her power flood through the bar in search of Sam. From the phone, Mist could see her reflection, and it nearly made her drop the phone. Her normally green eyes were now glowing an eerie orange, like fire. In surprise, Mist reigned in her power as someone sat down a few seats from her.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?" She jumped at the sound of a southern twang, to see the bartender's concerned face as he wiped down the counter. She was still getting used to people being able to see her.
"Yeah, I'm fine," She said. She tried to skim through his mind but for some reason, she couldn't. he wasn't shutting her out, but the shield around his mind was stronger than others. This happened every once and a while, some people were just naturally born with a stronger mental shield. But just to be safe, Mist let her empathy feel him out. He was genuinely concerned about her which made her smile. He didn't know her but he was still concerned about her. Upon seeing her smile, he grinned, showing off a set of pearly whites.
"Alright ma'am. Just makin' sure." He said. His light blue eyes were kind and nonjudgmental as they searched her face. He had short, white-blond hair that was spiked up in a fohawk. He wasn't totally buff, but instead lean, not scrawny by any means. After slapping the rag he'd been using to wipe down the counter, he extended a hand.
"I'm Morgan."
She reached out and grasped his forearm. "Michelle." She smiled even more, if Gabriel could see her now; lying as smoothly as butter, he'd be proud. As she pulled her hand back, his smile never faltered, but something flashed in his eyes for a split second. She wasn't sure what it was, and acted like she hadn't seen it.
"Could I get you something?" He asked.
She wanted to try a beer, but decided against it, seeing as how it would only impair her judgment. "Just a mineral water."
He nodded once, and grabbed one from below the bar. He winked as he slid it to her. "Let me know if you need anything else."
She said she would and he gave her one more smile before turning around and going into the back. She returned her focus to finding Sam and took another look around the bar. Her eyes stopped on the man who'd sat down a few minutes ago, sitting a few bar stools away from her.
She stared hard for a few moments. Could that really be Sam?
He sat at the bar, completely oblivious to her, seeming more focused on the whiskey in his hand. She began to watch discreetly as he shifted in his seat.
When she'd left three months ago, Sam had been sleep-deprived, but determined. She knew he wouldn't rest until he got Dean back. So for weeks after Dean and Castiel were sent to purgatory, he began calling every number in Bobby's book, shaking every tree until no one answered his calls. He would travel from city to city, state to state, searching libraries for anything that would get him even an inch closer to opening the door. He had even limited himself to four hours of sleep every few days, and one meal a day. He'd had some stubble beginning to show because he couldn't bother with useless things like shaving.
She took in his profile, as she had thousands of times before, but this time, when she looked at him, she felt complete sorrow and guilt. Now, he had a full beard and his hair was just barely passing his shoulders, giving him a mountain-man persona. With such dark circles under his eyes, Mist could only assume that he'd cut his four hours if sleep into one. He'd lost some weight too, judging by the way his clothes were starting to bag.
Those brown, sometimes hazel, breathtaking eyes were glazed over but in them, there was a loss and fear that could be forever alone in the world. After losing his parents, then Jessica, Castiel, Bobby and now Dean; the one who had always been there by his side, no matter what, his whole life, was gone. Maybe forever. And the thought of being alone, truly alone, was what frightened him the most.
Taking a shaky breath, Mist took a sip of her water. How could this have happened? Who would've known that this would happen while she was gone? Joshua, her mind whispered. Joshua knew, and called her up there anyway, and told her Sam would be safe. Safe? Judging on the amount of alcohol in his system, she wouldn't be surprised if his body rejected his liver soon. She watched her charge run a hand through his brown hair, knock back the third glass of whiskey and got up from the bar.
That was when she sensed it. She looked around, no one new had come in but she felt their power. The air thickened inside the bar so quickly, even the humans felt it. Whoever this was, they weren't trying to hide how powerful they were, they were flaunting it.
Then, as if he felt it too, Sam stopped at the door and turned around, scoping the bar. Had she not been clouded, she would've been worried about him seeing her, but his eyes slid fright past her. Keeping a keen eye out around his surroundings, Sam left the bar.
"Poor guy." She jumped at the sound of Morgan's voice next to her as leaned on the bar.
Playing dumb, Mist decided to see what she'd missed out on over the past few months. "What happened to him?"
He shook his head. "Don't know. But he's come in here every night for….about two months. Always orders the same thing, doesn't talk to anyone, just sits there. I got him to talk once," He whistled low. "I think he's a few fries short of a happy meal if you get what I mean."
"Why do you say that?"
Morgan sighed. "He kept tellin' me how he was gonna break his brother and an angel outta hell."
She raised her eyebrows. "Wow, that's too bad." She looked over at the door and then back at Morgan. "He doesn't, drive like that, does he?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. But I've see him outside some hotel a few blocks away, so he might walk here."
She nodded sadly, said goodbye to Morgan and left after Sam. Once outside, Mist waited for a couple to cross the parking lot and go inside, then she took a good look around as she walked into the alley. All she needed to do was to find a place where no one could see her so she could shimmer out of there. She reached for her power and closed her eyes as felt pins and needles all over her body. Then, she felt her body launch forward. When she opened her eyes she stood in the parking lot of Sam's hotel.
A tingling feeling made its way down her spine as a dark cloud traveled past her and to the Impala. She frowned as it began to swirl around and take the shape of a man. Held in black ponytail, he had long, ebony black hair that came down to his waist. His gray eyes watched the night sky as the clouds parted. In the moon's dim light, his eyes seemed to glow an eerie silver, and his skin, in contrast to his black hair, appeared to glow as well. Other than the eyes, he could've passed for a human.
This was exactly what he wanted.
A Shade, she thought. This one started to walk towards Sam's door, making her heartbeat pound in her ears. This wasn't right. This wasn't how Shades hunted. Shades would get to know their victims, make them fall in love with them and when they did, The Shade would literally rip out their victim's heart and devour it. But Shades usually got to know their victims for at least six months, the patient ones waited years, before taking their hearts. But this one wasn't following the same pattern. She would've known if her charge was being tracked by a Shade.
Her eyes widened when he turned his head, looking around. She couldn't let this Shade get to Sam. This wasn't just any Shade; the tattoo of the triple crescent moon on his forehead told her that this was Morpheus, the very first Shade, the Alpha.
Mist had heard awful rumors about Morpheus. How he tortured his victims, and mercilessly play mind games with them; taking away their senses, plunging them into darkness, he'd create illusions of loved ones passed only to rip them apart. He wouldn't kill his victims, not until they begged for death to come, and even then, since he had the power to restore life, he'd bring them to the brink of death, only to bring them back, completely healed so he could start again. only when he got tired of them, would Morpheus kill them permanently. Other rumors about the ones he took as mates were worse.
She let herself become visible as she walked towards Sam's room. Using a small bit of her power, Mist kept her mind's eye on the Shade, while she looked straight ahead at Sam's door. As long as she used minimal magic while visible, Morpheus wouldn't be able to sense that she wasn't human- or how powerful she was. She knocked on the door and nervously awaited his answer.
Behind her, Mist could feel the Shade watching her in curiosity. Then he did something unexpected. He laughed. She could hear him clear as day, but to the normal human, which he thought she was, it sounded more like a groan traveling through the wind. The kind that could just be the wind, or maybe, just maybe, something else. Mist narrowed her eyes and looked from one side to the other, then behind her. He smirked as she made her eyes slide on past him.
Since her focus had been on the Shade behind her, that when the door opened behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to see her charge, wearing jeans and a wife beater, looking down at her.
He didn't even have time to wonder what was going on before she embraced him in a meaningful hug. His large hands patted her back awkwardly, as she held him. Pulling away, she rested her hands on his arms to steady herself and look into his eyes, his long brown hair framing the confusion.
"Hey Sam!" She said. "It's been a while, huh?" He narrowed his eyes at her. She was beginning to think he might shut the door in her face, when his frown erupted into a smile that hung crookedly from his face. Then she remembered he was drunk. She sighed and pushed him back into the room, coming in and closing the door behind her. "Drinking, Sammy, really?"
"It's Sam." A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Even through his drunken stupor, he made sure to correct her. She felt a small flicker of hope; if that still annoyed him, then the old Sam was still savable. Looking around, she saw a room that looked like a rock band had trashed. Empty whiskey bottles lined the bed and dozens of beer cans surrounded the trash can.
"Who're you?" Sam slurred, reaching into his bag and pulling out another whiskey bottle. He took off the cap and took a swig, not bothering with a glass. He motioned to her with the bottle, offering her some. She shook her head and he shrugged, taking one last drink before outing it down.
"Sam," She picked up an empty liquor bottle from the bed. "You've gotta stop this."
"Stop what?" He mumbled darkly, opening his dad's journal. Even though she'd been there when it happened, she still couldn't quite get her mind to accept the reality of just how badly Dean and Castiel's disappearance had affected him. He was so lost, he didn't even care that a total stranger, who could be any number of things, had walked right into his hotel room. He hadn't even tested her to see if she were something supernatural.
She tossed the bottle into the garbage and walked over to the table where Sam sat. she knelt down next to him, resting her hands on his knee. He didn't look away from the journal. She took his face in her hands and brought her lips to his forehead. A blindingly bright light filled the room as she let her power enter his system and detox him.
When her lips left his skin, Sam fell forward into her arms, unconscious. She channeled her magic into her strength so she could lift him to the bed. Once there, Sam would groan every now and then as her power cleaned him up. Through the Bond, Mist could feel how much her power hurt; it was like having acid poured into your blood and having it pump through your body. She went into the bathroom and got a cool, damp washcloth and then sat on the bed next him. She picked him up by the shoulders and lifted him onto her lap. She patted his face with the cloth as his temperature rose and his body began to shake. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her as the magic worked its way through his body, reversing all the damage he'd inflicted on himself over the past few months. She didn't leave his side all night.