AN: Hello all! Ready for a new chapter? Get ready for some Lila Bray POV because the majority of this chapter is told from her point of view. And wow, I love this girl so much. I need to write more teen!Bray. Speaking of, I'd really love some feedback for this chapter because like I said: it's mostly told from Bray's POV and I'd like to know if you're enjoying the characterization of her. Is this what you thought she'd be like as an adult? Or not?
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rabbit Hole
Written by Becks Rylynn
Part Two
''We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.''
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She is no Chris Halliwell, but she understands why one might think that.
In all honesty, she's just a girl who went to sleep one night, received a ghostly message from her distressed and very, very dead grandfather about history changing, and then got sent hurtling through the rabbit hole to fix things by someone upstairs, because history changing fucked up their plans and messed with fate and all of that bullshit. No biggie. She figures it's really just the plight of a Winchester, always having to go back in time to save your parents from Glenn Close psycho angels and cocky rakshasa bastards who pick terrible locations for last minute lodgings.
Lila Bray Winchester is just that. A Winchester. Doomed to some pretty darn bad luck every now and then, but no matter what, she continues to get right back up and keep on truckin'. It is simply the Winchester way. Never give up on family.
She pops back into the house, tucking the flyer for the Halloween party into her back pocket. She barely even manages to get two steps before Dad is popping up out of nowhere and she is practically running into his chest. No, wait. Dean. It's Dean, she reminds herself. Not Dad. Not in this world. He's staring at her with a distrustful frown, head tilted down towards her. She suspects that getting him to trust her is going to be the real hurdle. His trust issues are, like, legendary. Her mom, especially when it comes to hunters, is even worse.
There is a reason why the number one preferred plan was to save the world without letting him see her. This is going to be extremely tricky.
''What are you doing?'' Dean asks, hands on his hips.
''Getting some fresh air,'' she lies easily.
He stares down at her flatly.
She bounces nervously. ''So,'' she says, looking around his shoulder. ''Was that your wife?''
The tension in his shoulders loosens somewhat and she can breathe easy. The attention is officially off of her. It figures referring to Mom as 2010 Dad's wife would distract him. This is long before Mom finally gives in and lets him put a ring on her finger. ''Close enough,'' he eventually says casually.
She screws her face up in confusion, even though she knows exactly what that means. ''What does that mean?''
Dean squirms uncomfortably. (Bray wants to laugh so badly right now.) ''It means...'' He stops to think about it, but almost instantly snaps out of it, shaking his head. ''That's none of your business, Mary. You don't know me well enough to - ''
''Hey,'' she holds her hands up. ''I'm not judging.''
He rolls his eyes and steps forwards to grab her arm for the second time today, leading her into the kitchen. ''Move it or lose it, Nancy Drew. We don't have time for this.''
Her mother - Ruby, damn it! Ruby! - is in the midst of tearing open bags of Halloween candy and dumping them in a bowl when they enter the kitchen. She looks wary when she lifts her eyes, studying Bray like she's looking for faults, which is exactly what she is doing, if Bray knows her mother (and she totally does). There's almost something like curiosity coloring Ruby's eyes as she looks Bray up and down.
When Dean spots all of the candy spilled out on the counter, there's a brief look of drooling glory, which he then quickly shakes off. ''Ruby,'' he says, letting go of Bray's arm, gently pushing her forwards. ''Mary. Mary, Ruby. Everybody cool?''
In an effort to be cheerful, Bray puts on her sweetest smile and waves. ''Hi!''
Ruby steps back and folds her arms over her chest. She doesn't say a word. Unconsciously, more out of discomfort than anything else, Bray does the same. Dean looks in between them for several seconds, eyes Ruby's stance, from the crossed arms to the one leg jutted out in that unmistakably Ruby way, to the best badass look she can muster up at the moment, and then he swings his gaze to Bray (''Mary'') and her nearly identical stance. Finally, his eyes land on Bray, staring at her with ever so slightly widened eyes and a jaw that has slackened in surprise. Noticing the mirror like situation that is happening right now and that could potentially be a dead giveaway, Bray quickly unfolds and drops her arms, snapping out a quick and overly defensive, ''What?''
Dean doesn't answer right away; too busy staring at her like he's just seen her for the first time. But then he shakes the dumbfounded expression off his face and replaces it with his steely hunting face. ''Nothin'.''
Ruby resumes fiddling with the candy. ''Okay, so what's the plan?'' She looks up at Dean. ''You do have a plan, right, Rambo? I want to get this crap over with.''
''Oh.'' Bray plucks the flyer out of her pocket, hoping her excitedly helpful look is convincing enough for Ruby. ''Somebody gave me one of these earlier.'' Not technically a lie. She hands it over to Dean, halting him in his desperate attempts to stealthily sneak a piece of candy away from the bowl Ruby is watching like a hawk.
''A Halloween party,'' he deadpans. ''Okay. ...So?''
''So, it's at Mikail's Pub,'' Bray points out. ''The same place where all of the women disappeared from.''
''You really think he's gonna be stupid enough to go back there now that he knows we're after him?''
She has to resist the urge to smirk. ''I really, really do.''
''All right,'' Ruby pipes up. She crumples up an empty candy bag and turns around to toss it in the trash. ''So we crash the party and - '' she spins around and slaps Dean's hand away from the candy, then turns to slap Bray's hand away '' - grab him before he can get another girl.'' She sends them both a warning glare and heaves the bowl into her arms, locking it away in the pantry and then leaning back against the doors. ''That shouldn't be too - ''
''Or.''
Both Bray and Ruby sigh.
That would be his I've got a brilliant idea, so don't fuck it up regardless of how kamikaze it may seem to you voice. Usually his brilliant ideas are terrifying.
''We could give him exactly what he wants.''
''...Our heads on a platter?'' Bray suggests. ''I don't like that plan.''
''No.'' Dean drops the flyer onto the counter, an excited glint in his eyes. ''A woman. He likes women with attitude. Ones who'll fight back, call him names, let him know they're better than him before he eats them. Dude's twisted. So...let's give him the best bitchiest chick in the world.'' That one's really not that hard to decode. Slowly, Dean and Bray shift their attention to Ruby.
She looks back and forth between them and then it sinks in. ''Oh,'' she wrinkles her nose. ''You guys suck. I have to be bait?''
''Hot and bitchy bait,'' Dean corrects. ''You think you can pull that off there, sweetheart?''
''Go screw - ''
''I think she'll be fine,'' Bray interjects.
Ruby groans loudly, but eventually complies, stalking out of the room to ''go search for my best whore clothes.''
Dean smiles softly, snatching the flyer off the counter, looking like he's studying it for clues. ''I'll be right back,'' he murmurs distractedly. ''I'm gonna go call a friend.'' He tosses Bray a mini candy bar that he has apparently pulled out of thin air (his sticky fingers are out of control) and unwraps the other one for himself. ''Don't go anywhere,'' he throws her a look over his shoulder. ''Mary.''
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6:37 pm, Dean and Ruby's House
Bobby Singer is immortal.
That is the conclusion Bray has come to since his arrival. It's the only explanation as to why early sixties Bobby looks exactly the same as early eighties Bobby. Sure, eighty four year old Bobby may have white hair and he may look a little more...frail-ish (not frail exactly, but frail-ish)than he does right now, but everything else is largely the same. Same gruff no-nonsense attitude, same baseball cap, same beard, same voice. It's all the same. It's freaky. It really is.
Yet another conclusion she has come to is that he probably (okay, definitely) thinks she is some sort of creeper.
Look, it's not her fault that he doesn't age and it's fascinating, all right? Anyone would find it fascinating. Besides, she wasn't staring that much. ...She doesn't think.
At a quarter to seven, she is sitting impatiently in the living room waiting for her mother to get ready and for her father to come back from taking mini-her around the block in a quick trick or treat session. As she's sitting there, the memories are being imprinted into her mind. God, that Alice in Wonderland costume is uncomfortable. She keeps tripping on it and Daddy keeps having to pick her up and carry her, even though she is almost two years old and she loves to run.
Oh, ow.
She just tripped on her costume and fell.
(There is something about this that makes her want to laugh. She's not quite sure what it is, but she can feel giggles beginning to creep up in her throat. It's weirdly unnerving to have memories just implant themselves in her brain and she laughs when she's nervous.)
She heaves an impatient huff and looks at the clock. Honestly, what is taking Mom so long? Damn it! No! Dean and Ruby! They're Dean and Ruby here! Not Mom and Dad. She is really going to have to start remembering that if she doesn't want to blow her cover. She looks at the clock again. She supposes it's not that big of a deal. The Halloween party at Mikail's doesn't start until 7:30 and her mother is definitely going to want to be fashionably late in order to make a big entrance to get the rakshasa on the hook faster.
The problem is that Alex doesn't have a whole lot of patience stored up in all that testosterone and Mommy Issues-riddled brain of his and he's getting majorly antsy. Therefore he is blowing up her 2010 cell phone (as surprising as this may sound, cellular devices are not all that different in the future; apparently you can only do so much with technology before you've done it all...) with texts that range from inquiring to stressed to frustrated and all the way to bored, which leads to dirty.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket and when she opens the latest text and reads it, she lets out a startled ''eep'' sound and blushes deeply. There are instant tingles in places. And she's sitting in a room with her surrogate grandfather, so it's awkward and uncomfortable. She excuses herself quickly, ducking into the kitchen and pressing speed dial. ''Cut it out,'' she demands harshly when he answers.
''Oh, so you don't want me to do that thing with my fingers?''
''You're an ass.''
She can practically hear him smirk. ''Well, it's a good thing you love me despite all of my numerous flaws, huh, babe?''
''Stop sexting me while my grandfather is in the room. It's fuckin' creepy.''
''Go in a different room.''
''You want me to lock myself in another room in my parent's house with my mother and grandfather in the house just so I can sext you?''
''All right, it sounds weird when you say it.''
And then she ends the call, slipping her phone back into her pocket and sticking her nose up in the air decisively. Pervert.
The doorbell rings for about the hundredth time (already! and it's only a quarter to seven!) and saves her from having to drag herself back into the living room to make forced small talk with Bobby. Forgetting for a moment that she does not belong here, she strides casually out into the foyer and grabs the bowl of candy by the door, swinging it open with ease. Instead of being greeted by yet another Lady Gaga or Edward Cullen, she finds herself staring down at...herself. Itsty Bitsy Lila Bray stares up at her, looking cheerful and oddly pleased with herself despite the dried tears on her chubby cheeks from the face plant, tiny pumpkin candy bucket held tightly in her hands like a treasure of utmost importance.
Dean, crouched beside the world's smallest Alice in Wonderland, looks slightly startled. ''Oh,'' he says. ''Mary. ...Okay, you'll do.''
Full sized Bray blinks. ''...Thanks ever so.''
Dean focuses all of his attention back on the toddler, smiling widely. ''Okay, sugar, let's give this one more try. Say it like we practiced.''
Mini-me looks up at her future self and says plainly, big grin on her face. ''Candy.'' She thrusts out her bucket, looking immensely proud of herself. ''I want candy.''
Dean makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh and covers his face with his hands.
Bray - the taller one - shrugs. ''Eh, I think that's good enough.'' And then she gives herself an entire handful of candy because she thinks she deserves it. (Yeah, it's getting confusing. She's going to have to come up with a nickname to call the teeny her.)
''Now what do you say, sugar?''
Sugar (all right then, that'll work) glows. ''More!''
He groans and hangs his head. ''For God's sake.''
Suddenly, Bray has a memory of doing that shtick at every house on the block and getting extra candy almost every time because of the adorableness factor. Clearly, she inherited her con artist abilities from both of her parents combined.
''Thank you, Lila Bray,'' Dean explains, scooping his daughter and her candy into his arms. ''We say thank you to the nice lady.''
''No!''
''No.'' He sighs. ''Of course no. You are a real piece of work, aren't you?''
''...No?''
''Uh-huh. Come on, Alice.'' He gently untangles the bucket of candy from her tiny fingers and steps over the threshold. ''Time to come home from Wonderland.''
Bray - again: the taller one - snickers lightly and shuts the door behind them, putting the candy bowl back down. Naturally, as soon as she does, the doorbell rings again. After she hands out candy to Harry Potter, Justin Bieber, a dinosaur and, for some reason, a box of Kleenex, she heads back into the living room where Sugar is happily licking away at a red lollipop her father is holding for her. Wow, she was quite the little diva, wasn't she? She flicks her hair over her shoulder. Thank God she's matured. (...Right...)
''Tomorrow,'' Dean says, propping his feet up on the coffee table as Sugar cuddles into his chest. ''You're only going to eat fruit and vegetables.'' And then he adds in a mumble, ''Guarantee your gramps is gonna eat all of your candy tonight anyway.''
''I heard that,'' Bobby grumbles. ''Idjit.''
And Bray has to look away from Dean and Sugar, swallowing thickly. She really misses her dad. She and Alex haven't even been gone a week, but it feels like she hasn't seen her father in forever. Her anxiety is beginning to act up, stress levels rising considerably as the inevitable big fight with the monster of the week draws closer and closer. Ironically, monsters are usually the only things that don't fill her up to the brim with anxiety, but this one is different. If she doesn't stop history from changing with one fatal mistake, she will never see her dad again and that's a whole lotta pressure for a girl with major stress and anxiety issues to deal with.
''Ruby!'' Dean calls out, jerking Bray out of her thoughts before she can give herself a panic attack. ''You ready yet?''
''Two minutes!''
''Are you sure you know what you're doing?'' Bobby asks gruffly.
In response, Dean sends him the look. ''Do you even have to ask that?''
''Just be careful,'' Bobby orders, leveling Dean with a steady stare. He shoots a somewhat cautious look in Bray's direction. ''All of you.''
''Don't worry,'' Dean assures him. ''We'll be fine. If you ask me, you're the one who's going to need all the luck he can get. You're the one who has to watch Little Miss Wonderland over there.''
On cue, Sugar, who has slid off the couch and snatched up her loot, dumps out all of her candy onto the floor. When Bobby winces lightly, Dean laughs. The little girl stares down at her pile of candy and painstakingly picks up three pieces of candy, incredibly focused on her newest task. She wanders over to Bobby first and hands him a piece, which he takes, looking bemused and slightly touched all at the same time. Then she hands one to her dad, who makes a huge deal out of the simple gesture, praising her like she has just turned wine into water, exclaiming in a booming voice, ''Oh, thank you, sugar! How'd you know these were my favourite?''
Fighting off an incredibly illogical burst of jealousy, Bray crosses her arms, tries not to pout and tunes it out. She passes the time by staring longingly at the stairs, waiting impatiently for her mother to come down the stairs so they can get this shit over with. But then there's a tug on her shirt and her attention is pulled back to perfect little mini-me who gets all of Dad's attention and...and she must be really messed up to be jealous of herself. Sugar stares up at her intently. All of a sudden, Bray is about eighty five-ish percent sure that Alice over there knows exactly who she is.
''What?'' She eventually spits out awkwardly. Yeah, she's not great with kids, in case that wasn't obvious. She has no idea how to talk to them or how to act around them. Alex is super with kids because he has amazing levels of patience. Her? Not so much. Even with her little cousins, everything is all awkward and uncomfortable and...bad. It's a character flaw. She's learned to accept it. Sugar offers her a piece of candy. ''Oh...'' Bray isn't sure how one can make accepting a piece of candy awkward, but she's sure she does. ''I, uh...um, thank you?''
Sugar stays right where she is.
''I... What? Do you want a tip or something?'' She turns panicked, desperate eyes to her dad. ''What do I do?''
Dean looks like he's about thirty seconds away from bursting into laughter. ''You're not a people person, are you, Mare?''
''I'm not good with kids, okay?''
A bark of laughter escapes his lips. ''Hey, sugar,'' he crooks a finger at his daughter. ''Come sit with dad.'' Bray lets out a sigh of relief as Sugar toddles away to climb up onto the sofa next to her daddy, peering up at him questioningly as if she doesn't understand how anyone could be that uncomfortable around her. (No, really, that's precisely what she's thinking. Bray knows that.) ''It's okay,'' Dean assures her, rubbing her back. ''Mary's just not fun.''
''Hey!''
''Okay!'' Hurried footsteps on the stairs sound as Ruby sprints down the stairs, voice floating over to them before they catch sight of her. ''I'm ready. How do I look?'' All eyes shift to Ruby and nobody says a word, because nobody knows what to say. Well, that's not exactly true. Dean does choke on his Snickers bar. Loudly. Sugar grins and giggles as she looks over the back of the couch.
Bray opens her mouth to say something along the lines of, You have no idea how disturbing this is for me, but wisely snaps her jaw shut at the last minute and rethinks her reaction. Eventually, she settles for a quiet, stunned, ''Holy Jesus fuck'' instead. Out of all of the things that are unsettling about this little vacation to the past of hers, this is totally at the top of the list.
Her mother's - and this would be the part where Bray is all too aware that yes, this is her mother - costume, which Bray can only assume is some sort of sexy angel, consists of a barely there, skin tight white dress that looks like it's freaking painted on, skyscraper white heels that Bray would never be able to walk in and some sort of halo thingamabob that looks like it's made out of tinsel. Basically, it's a costume that Uncle Cas would take extreme offense to. As he should. It looks nothing like a real angel. Suppose that's kind of the point, though.
Sugar is the one to break the silence at last, clapping her hands and squealing out a cry of, ''Mommy's pretty!''
''Ruby, you're wearing a band aid,'' Bobby deadpans. ''How is this going to be practical?''
Ruby smoothes out invisible wrinkles on her dress and Dean lets loose some sort of odd squeaking sound that makes Bray uncomfortable. ''I can make it work.''
''How can you breathe in that thing?'' Bray asks incredulously.
''Breathing is not the point of Halloween.'' Ruby puts one hand on her hip and sends them all that narrowed eyed look of hers that always used to mean you're grounded to Bray and Connor. ''Look, you want me to get this guy's attention, right? I'm bait, remember? I'm just making sure I look the part.'' She eyes Dean closely, who still hasn't said a word, jaw practically unhinged. ''And why are you suddenly so quiet?''
''It's...not very realistic,'' he finally sputters out, breathlessly.
She smirks wryly. ''Well, I thought about wearing a crooked tie and a dirty trench coat, but I didn't think that would be very sexy. Do you?''
He doesn't answer immediately. ''I'm just...gonna need a minute to...formulate sentences and...'' He rakes his eyes over her and sucks in a breath. ''...You know...say words - wow. Wow. You look...I wanna...'' He trails off in a slight chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. ''There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but our kid's in the room.''
Bobby huffs, most likely thinking something like I'm surrounded by horny idjits. Give me strength.
Bray wrinkles her nose in disgust. ''Yes, please remember your kid is in the room.''
For a brief moment in time, Ruby almost looks like she's seconds away from blushing, eyes still on Dean.
Bray fights the urge to roll her eyes. Well, it's nice to know her parents still eye fuck just as much in the past as they do in the future. ''All right!'' She claps her hands together, jarring Dean and Ruby out of their eye sex. ''Who's ready to get this show on the road?'' She places herself conveniently in between them. ''Let's go kill ourselves a freaky ass monster.''
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8:19 pm, Mikail's Pub
Seduction is a lot like hunting. The two games are closely related, woven by the same threads. It's a con. And maybe it's not something to be proud of, but Ruby is well aware that she and Dean could most definitely maintain an incredibly healthy lifestyle financially if they chose to go into the business of con artistry. Dean has spent his entire life doing it and Ruby may be a mother and a spouse-like person, but she is still a demon and manipulative is still in the job description.
She's not expecting to have any problems with running a con on Mr. I-Like-To-Eat-Girls-And-Not-In-The-Fun-Way. Simple game of seduction. Nothing fancy. She knows this play by heart.
After the party has been in full swing for about forty five minutes, she struts into the bar, peels off her jacket, and instantly feels eyes on her. She smirks. She had forgotten how good it feels to be admired.
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8:45 pm, Warehouse
''Dude, you have got to unclench.''
In the dark, empty warehouse that smells absolutely awful, Bray swears she can hear her father grit his teeth in frustration at her flippant remark. Absently twirling the brass knife in her hand, she sits on the grimy and dirty cold floor, watching as he stares out the window intently, focused on the only slightly obstructed view of Mikail's. ''What time is it?'' He barks out impatiently, just as she opens her mouth to say something to him.
She swallows a groan of exasperation and falls back, lying flat on her back and staring up at the gross stains on the ceiling. ''8:46, Dean. Exactly two minutes after the last time you asked. Can you please try to calm down?''
He licks his lips, something she knows he does when he's feeling anxious. Hey, she has a bone to pick with the universe. How come she didn't inherit that trait? When her father's stressed or anxious, he either licks or chews on his lips. When she's stressed or anxious, she has big massive, sometimes debilitating panic attacks. Now that's just not fair. ''I don't like her being in there alone,'' he says simply, seemingly ignoring her request.
''Alone?'' She sniffs. ''It's an overcrowded Halloween party at a popular bar. She's hardly alone. Also,'' she frowns, arching an eyebrow. ''Also. This is your plan.''
He smiles a humorless smile, a surefire sign that he is now beginning to do that thing where he beats himself up over putting her in the possible line of fire. ''Well, now the regret's sinkin' in.''
She heaves herself back into a sitting position. ''Well, tell it to fuck off,'' she monotones. ''We don't have time for self-recrimination. And might I point out that this is Ruby we're talking about? The real life equivalent of Angel: The Vampire With a Soul. Except she's not a vampire, she's a demon, but... You know, same idea.''
He turns to look at her.
She shrugs. ''What? You think her name doesn't get around hunting circles?'' She points a warning finger in his direction. ''And I was serious about the whole calming down thing. I can feel your anxiety and it's really stressing me out. Just so you know, I'm prone to panic attacks.''
A small huff of dry laughter escapes his lips and he turns his gaze to her once again. ''Ever think maybe you're in the wrong line of work?''
''You know,'' she ducks her head with a soft smile. ''Hunting doesn't damage everyone, Dean.''
''I just want to know you're not doing this for the wrong reasons,'' he tells her quietly, meeting her eyes the second she looks up at him.
''Why? Why do you care?''
''You're too young for this, Mary,'' he spits out at her, and maybe it's her imagination, but she thinks she detects a hint of desperation in his voice. ''You said that this is a legacy thing for you,'' he adds, ''and I'm not sure that's a good reason to want this life. There is no good reason to want this life. I...'' He breaks off in a sigh, wincing lightly, ducking his head. ''I knew this girl once and she could've had a great life. A safe, normal life, but she didn't. She didn't because she chose to become a hunter, to become one of us. She wanted it. And why? Because of some twisted sense of family 'cause her father was a hunter. And do you know what happened to her, Mary? She died.'' His shoulders twitch upwards in some odd version of a shrug. ''Maybe I just don't want to see that happen to anyone else.''
Not hard to figure out who he's talking about there. Bray gets to her feet and takes a step towards him, trying to figure out how to have this conversation without revealing her true identity. ''Dean...'' She pauses and gives him a thin, sad smile. She may not remember much about the Harvelle women, but she remembers that her family loved them both and that's more than enough to let her know that they were good people. ''I am not Jo Harvelle. I'm just not. And believe me when I say that I know how dangerous it can be, but trust me...I know what I'm doing.''
He continues to stare at her, disbelief evident on his features. She doesn't even know why she's trying. Her father has made his views on hunting perfectly clear. When she was thirteen and she told him she wanted to learn how to hunt properly, he threatened to lock her in her room and she didn't talk to him for a week. When she moved out at eighteen, right after she graduated and let him know that she was going to be taking a year off before she started college and yes, she was going to be hunting whether he approved or not, they got in a big blowout fight, their similar personalities clashing violently until it ended in her bawling her eyes out and him storming out of her unfurnished apartment, door slamming behind him. She didn't speak to her father for a whole month after that fight. It was hell. In the four months that have passed since said fight, her dad has begrudgingly accepted that he can't change her mind. If she wants hunting in her life, he can't make her stop. He's still not happy about it, but at least he's talking to her. Faced with this man, she's learning that it could have been way worse. There is no way that this version of her father would have ever accepted her choices. He actually would have made good on his threat to tie her up and lock her in her room.
''It's not like hunting is all I have,'' she blurts out. ''I don't know what you think my life is like, but I actually have one aside from hunting. I have a job and everything. Next year I'll be starting college. I plan on becoming a nurse. I'm only taking a year off to...'' She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ''Get my jollies out.''
''Good,'' he responds stiffly. He pushes away from the window, eyes locked on her. She's getting a little uncomfortable. That would be his decoding face and she's starting to get really scared that if he continues to try and read her like an open book, he'll be able to see all of her secrets. He'll be able to see who she really is. And she can't have that. She just can't. It would be a liability. ''If you've got everything all fuckin' planned out, then why are you even wasting your time with this shit? Do you really need it that badly?''
Honestly? Yes. She does. There is a big part of her that just needs it. She needs the adrenaline and hell, even the fear. She loves the as-normal-as-it-can-get life her parents have worked their asses off trying to give her, she really does. But hunting is just part of her. It's in her genetic makeup. It's who she is. She's not planning on doing it forever, she doesn't want to do it forever, but she needs the little glimpses that she gets. It's important to her. She needs the taste of ash and blood. It's the way she's wired. Her cousins may not want any part of this life, but her and Connor... Despite what their parents say, they were built for this. (Connor especially, but that's a whole 'nother story...)
''Yes,'' she answers honestly. ''I do.''
''Why?''
She turns her back to him and bites her lip. ''It's in my blood,'' she says quietly. ''It's part of who I am.'' She spins around to face him and smiles widely, eyes twinkling. ''And that's not a bad thing, Dean. Really, it's not. Have a little faith in people. Some hunters are perfectly happy and content with their lives. What's wrong with that?'' She laughs a little, shaking her head. ''Faith, Dean. Remember that.''
He scoffs and looks away from her, going back to staring out the window.
She rolls her eyes. Tough egg to crack. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, taking her attention away from her father and his stubbornness. Turning away, she fishes her phone out and skims the new text from Alex. Sam and the Campbell Clan are taken care of. They're leaving town. I'm heading to you.
She frowns and looks over her shoulder. She texts back, No. Stay where you are. I'll call you when it's all over. She turns her phone off without waiting for a reply and takes a deep calming breath to quell her rising nerves.
''Okay,'' Dean pipes up, voice tight and rough. ''I see 'em. They're...'' He tilts his head to the side and leans a little closer to the window, nearly pressing his nose right up against the disgustingly filthy glass. ''Hey, Mary?''
Bray clears her throat. ''Hmm?''
''Ruby went over the plan with you too, didn't she?
''Um, yeah. Why?''
''Did she mention anything about playing drunk? ...Or drugged?''
Her heart drops. (Awesome. Come to save her dad, get her mom date raped. Super.) ''No.''
Dean instantly pushes off the wall and spins on his heel, unsheathing his own brass knife faster than she thought possible. ''Something's wrong. He's done something to her.'' He stalks towards the door, looking positively murderous and she hurries after him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Well, there goes the plan. The heavy metal door clangs open, alerting them to another, darker, way more sinister presence. Dean grabs Bray around the waist and pulls her out of sight, covering her mouth with his hand. Safely out of sight, he practically squishes her into him while he peers cautiously around the corner, just enough to see the rakshasa.
He's wearing the same human disguise he was wearing earlier, just an average looking man that no one would take a second look at because he doesn't look dangerous. In the doorway, Ruby is leaning heavily against the doorframe, trying to hold herself up. The rakshasa looks beyond baffled, staring at her closely with narrowed eyes. The guy honestly looks confused. Shrugging it off, he grasps her wrists and talks over her slurred protests, struggling to keep her in his hold. ''You're a strong little thing, aren't you?'' He gets out through his teeth as he lifts her into his arms. ''Gonna have to do something about that.''
Dean tenses noticeably, entire body going rigid and stiff with rage. Bray's pretty sure her heartbeat is going way too fast. (She really hopes she doesn't have a panic attack. That would be the worst timing in the world.)
Whistling to himself like some deranged host holding the world's worst (and creepiest) party, the rakshasa slowly and deliberately makes his way up the stairs, Ruby all but lifeless in his arms.
''This doesn't make any sense,'' Dean mutters to himself once the rakshasa has disappeared. He removes his hand from over Bray's mouth, still staring up the stairs. He's looking kind of deranged himself right now, eyes wild with panic. ''Why would he - ''
''Dean.'' A sudden and awful thought has just occurred to Bray, curling in the pit of her stomach like poison. ''How sure are you that all he did to those women was use them as a food source?''
Dean looks at her, blinks, and then blows whatever is left of the plan to bits. He shoves past her with grumbled profanity that she's not comfortable repeating and races up the stairs, drawing his gun. She chases after him, knife clenched tightly in her hand.
''How are you not unconscious yet?'' The rakshasa is hissing angrily. ''I gave you enough GHB to knock out an elephant.'' The sound of a palm slapping against skin echoes, followed by him yelping in pain. And then they hear the sound of something hard and heavy hitting a skull and everything goes quiet.
Bray swallows down the bile creeping up her throat and tries to remind herself that this is Mom we're talking about. She'll be fine. Roofies and head trauma can't touch her. Not in this time period.
Dean thunders down the hallway and boots in the door, abandoning all plans and every stealthy bone in his body to save Ruby. Bray supposes she really should have seen that one coming. Inside of the dusty, dark room, Ruby is now definitely down for the count, lying unconscious on the rakshasa's deflated mattress, bleeding from the wound on her forehead. The rakshasa, one hand creeping up her bare leg, whirls around. Dean fires a shot. The bullet that embeds itself right between the rakshasa's eyes is not enough to kill it, but it surely startles the creature, sending it staggering backwards, away from Ruby. It lets loose a ripping snarl and disappears, effectively turning invisible and making it that much more difficult for the people who are trying to kill it. Dean doesn't appear to give a rat's ass about the plan, rushing towards Ruby.
Dean has his back to the open space, attention on Ruby, but Bray's eyes are peeled for anything that could tell her where the monster is. Which is precisely how she notices the crowbar going straight for her father's head. ''Dean!'' He spins around and catches the crowbar before it can bash his skull in. Bray dives forwards, fully intending to stab the bastard, but unfortunately it's really hard to kill something you can't see. An unseen hand wraps around her throat before she can do anything. The crowbar falls to the ground. Another icy cold hand locks around her wrist and twists until she can't hold onto her knife anymore, small noise of pain slipping past her lips. The hands push and she goes backwards, stumbling into the wall.
Dean takes a swing, but only gets air. ''Where the fuck did it go?'' He gets out through clenched teeth.
As if responding to Dean's tense question, the rakshasa's hands tangle in Bray's hair and she feels herself being lifted and thrown through the air. She lands in a crumpled heap on the floor, pain shooting through every part of her. That is gonna hurt like a motherfucking bitch tomorrow. This is certainly not going according to plan, now is it? Perhaps it's time for a new plan. She has to blink to clear her vision, trying to shrug it off because now her father's all alone and she can't have that. She rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself onto her hands and knees, crawling towards her knife.
Dean, fingers curled around the crowbar, eyes darting around the room wildly, takes a swing the second he hears the quiet shuffle of feet and by some miracle, it connects. The rakshasa, unseen but fortunately not unheard, grunts in pain. Running on pure instinct and adrenaline, Bray follows the sound and lunges forwards with the knife. Blood drips to the floor. It's not a fatal wound, just a mere slash wound in what feels like the abdomen area, a nice scar to go along with the scratch marks on his cheek from her mother, but it's something. A step in the right direction.
All goes silent.
Dean has hastily discarded the crowbar by now, opting to brandish his own brass knife instead. Bray doesn't like this. It's the not knowing that's the worst. This is why there aren't any blind hunters out there. You need to be able to see your prey to hunt it. As of right now, the roles seem to have changed. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, her father stumbles forwards like he's been pushed. His instinct is to whip around and swing his knife, receiving nothing in reward. He groans loudly and doubles over, curling into himself like he's been punched in the gut. She tries to intervene - She tries so hard, but she can't see it. She doesn't know where it is and all that she gets in return is a backhanded slap.
She goes to the ground, seeing stars. The unmistakable sound of a knife clattering to the ground cuts through the fog and the ringing in her ears. She moans, putting a hand to her aching head. When she lifts her eyes, vision blurred, she sees her father stagger. His knife is on the floor and she doesn't know what happened to hers, but she doesn't see it. And then it happens. She sees him over her father's shoulder, flickering in and out of visibility. The rakshasa has a demented looking grin on his face and her knife in his hand and he is going straight for her father.
Lila Bray Winchester is many things, but one of the things that stand out about her is that she is a Daddy's Girl. All the way. She loves her mother; she can talk to her for hours at a time about nothing and everything, but Connor is the one who gravitates towards their mother like it's just in his nature. It's the way things are, the way they have always been. Connor is a Mama's Boy and Bray is a Daddy's Girl. Her father is the center of her universe and the glue that keeps her together. When she was little, she thought he hung the goddamn moon and put the stars in the sky for her. She didn't know much when she was little, but she knew he was all hers. He belonged to her. He painted all the pictures, wrote all the songs, told every story, made the sun come out. He chased the monsters away (literally and figuratively), he helped her breathe her way through every panic attack she has ever had, and when she was a little girl (in fact about two years from now) he promised her that ''no matter what - no matter what, sugar - you will always have me. Are you hearin' me, Lila Bray? Are you listening? Always.''
''I gave birth to her,'' Mom has always told him, ''but you have her heart in your eyes. There is nobody in the world who can fuck with that.''
And she is not now nor will she ever be ready to see what a world without him and that promise looks like, so she reacts. It's instinct. Human nature. This is her dad.
He hung the fuckin' moon, remember?
''No!'' Her voice is a shrill and beyond petrified sounding scream and before she even has a chance to think any of this through, she's on her feet and she's reacting. She uses all of her strength and throws all her weight into shoving her father out of the way so hard he goes to the ground and she takes his place. ...It's not at all like how it's described in the movies, you know. It doesn't happen in slow motion, her life does not flash before her eyes, and there is no white light. There's just a burst of white hot agony and then she feels something warm dripping down her stomach and staining her shirt. When she looks down, there's a knife sticking out of her abdomen. She should be more surprised that this is the way things turned out. But she's not.
The plight of a Winchester, she remembers. The Winchester way.
The rakshasa pulls the knife out of her stomach with a satisfied sounding smile and someone whimpers. She thinks it might be her, but it sounds so far away. At first, there's a burning, searing kind of pain that defies description and on a scale of one to ten, it's about a trillion, and then comes the worst nausea she has ever felt in her life and then more pain. Her shaking hands are covered in blood and an ugly cold begins to spread throughout her body. But she saved her dad. She saved everyone. (She saved her brother.) A small smile flickers on her lips.
The monster standing before her begins to make an odd sort of gasping noise. When she raises her eyes, the tip of a knife is poking out of its throat and blood is running out of its mouth. Whoa. Did she do that? She didn't do that, did she? Did Dad? The body slumps to the ground and she lets out a relieved cry when she sees her savior, tears spilling down her cheeks.
And Alex is there to catch her when she falls.
end part two
AN: Yeah... Holy cliffhanger, Batman! Sorry about that. I'm a bad person. Don't forget to leave me your thoughts on teen!Bray. I think the only time I ever wrote her was for 'Tell me my name' and that wasn't really her, that was AU!Bray and she was completely and totally messed up. This is the real Bray. Is she likeable enough for you guys? (...Because now I kinda wanna write more of her...)