(I do not own TES or Supernatural, nor do I make any money from this. The fanfiction that follows is for my own enjoyment and to better myself as a writer.)

A/N: Story progression! Yay!

Not nearly as much as I'd like, though.

Many thanks to everyone who favorited and followed, and a big thanks to my first reviewer, Chocoluv99! I appreciate your enthusiasm, and hope that I don't disappoint.

Onward!


"There was... one other thing," the good doctor murmured to the two men following him as they came to what appeared to be a storage room of sorts. All sorts of things that probably did not belong near any of the patients in this place occupied a few neat rows of white boxes that sat on two plain shelves.

Knives, matches and at least a dozen crumpled cigarette packages were among these things- the larger or more messy items were across from this, either covered with a plastic sheet or, in the case of what appeared to be the exploded remains of a once proud paint set, wrapped in layers of clear garbage bags. (These sported notes stating whether they were to be thrown away, or if they had some further usefulness still.)

One box- well, two really- sat apart from all of this rabble. They contained items that could not be seen from the men's vantage point at the door. The thing that drew attention to these specific items was very difficult to miss: a long box, one that most probably housed a poster set of some kind at one point, sat atop the other box lengthwise. It was wrapped in garish orange tape with the word 'HAZARD' plastered across it like some sort of miniature crime scene.

The doctor cleared his throat and glanced at the box briefly, then returned his attention to the FBI agents again. "This... thing should probably go with you as well. It was with her when she arrived at the hospital, and she fought tooth and nail to get it back after she woke up-"

"-woke up?" agent Spengler interrupted. "She was unconscious when she arrived?"

"She had suffered a concussion and quite a bit of strain, none of which we know the cause of. She had to be operated on as soon as she came in for lacerations and broken bones. She shouldn't have been able to talk after that much anesthesia- let alone up and running around, screaming about 'elves'."

Agent Venkman opened his mouth to ask about the last part, but the doctor continued obliviously. "After the security guards sedated her and they began making preparations to transport her here, I gathered her belongings and tried my best to find some form of identification. My colleague and I had been there during the scuffle and agreed that we should try to find out what we could before the government covered anything up. He was the one who picked up the scroll and opened it..."

The doctor trailed off, his shoulders shaking as he shuddered. The two agents craned to see the box again- scrolls, as they had learned over time, usually meant either very good things or extremely bad ones. This one was fairly obvious.

"What... happened to the other guy?" Agent Venkman was getting the feeling that he really didn't want to know, but they needed to know regardless.

The doctor took a moment to compose himself, then slowly trudged over to the box and lifted it gingerly, holding it out to the men. After a second's hesitation, Spengler took it. He handled the thing like a live grenade.

"There was a flash- I didn't see from where because I had turned away- and a lot of screaming. When the thing shut itself and he dropped it, his eyes had turned nearly white and he would not stop repeating 'No' over and over again. After I calmed him down, we found that he had lost all sight in both of his eyes and had become... unhinged. He speaks nothing but some strange language of gibberish now that I have never encountered before and doesn't seem to recognize any of our voices here- not even his wife could get through to him.

After all of that," the doctor concluded, "I want nothing more than to wash my hands of this. Richard's mind is not going to recover- we can all see it. I will not endanger anyone else with that... thing... and if that means never knowing the truth about the girl or the scroll, then I can live with that."


The trio exited the room of a patient that the agents had asked to see, the two of them casting nervous glances backward as they thought of the implications that had arisen in the short time that they had been here so far.

"Well?" the older of the two whispered roughly.

The other shook his head. "I don't know, Dean- it wasn't any language that I've ever heard before."

"Shit, you're kidding me. You're a living encyclopedia, Sammy. How the hell-"

"This wasn't anything that I've ever read or heard. Not even from anything that we've hunted. Listen, Dean, I've got it recorded- we'll let Bobby hear it. If he hasn't heard of it-"

"... then it's just some crazy asshole after all," the older of the two brothers finished with a huff. He was not happy about this in the least; they had been expecting a quick investigation here, not... whatever this even was.

Seriously- since when were they handed everything that they needed on a silver platter? Something wasn't right.

"What about this girl, then-?" Sam pressed. "What do you thing she is?"

"I dunno, but whatever it is it probably isn't kosher- especially given the damn equipment that it was packing." True, the story about the scroll had thrown them both off, but it had been clear that the girl was after it. That, they decided, couldn't be good. She was probably a demon or a witch-

- or she could just be some kid in a hospital nightie, curled up in the corner of a room.

This was exactly what was revealed to them as the heavy door opened onto the room. She was small- maybe five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Olive hued eyes, heavy with the effects of a mild sedative, glared from beneath short, messy hair that barely came to her ears. She looked for all the world like one of the elves that she had been ranting about or something- her petite figure didn't stop her from giving them a look that suggested bodily harm to the first person to touch her, though.

Both brothers were on their immediate guard- cute was never a good sign.

"This is where we have been keeping her. It was a bit difficult to work out exactly how to confine her safely and humanely, but she has not tried her little... fire trick since the hospital-"

"I said that I was sorry, you n'wah," the girl muttered venomously. She even sounded out of it; any fireballs that she tossed would probably have sailed right over their heads with her in this state.

The doctor shook his head and sighed. "She is, as you can see, a bit out of it. We thought that that would be best for you to transport her-"

"-whoa, whoa, transport? Now? I thought that you would give us a day to prepare or something."

The doctor recoiled slightly from the elder brother. "We cannot continue putting our other patients at risk. I understand that you people like to take these things slowly, but-"

"-but nothing. We don't have the time for-"

"Never mind him, we'll make sure that she's out of here today."

Both the doctor and the not-agent turned on Sam, one pleased, the other decidedly not. Sam pulled his brother off to the side slightly. "It's not like we can just leave her here- we have a perfect opportunity to get these people away from the danger, and I think that we should take it."

Dean tried multiple times to argue this point with his sibling, but eventually relented. "Fine," he grunted. "She rides in the back, though, and keeps those cuffs on the whole time. And the scroll and that other crap goes in the trunk- we can't risk her getting to it and doing God-knows-what."

Dean didn't miss how she scowled when he mentioned the scroll; obviously, she didn't like the idea of being separated from her little toy. "If she burns my baby," he growled to Sam, "I'm going to kick your ass."

"Capitol!" the doctor exclaimed, making the girl flinch. "I'll get another round of sedative and we will help you get her to your- ah, car? Van? What have you." The man was considerably more cheerful not that he knew that this ordeal was nearly over. "My assistant brought the box and the scroll to the front desk while you interviewed Richard earlier. You can get them on your way out-"

"Let me out of these bindings and I will go with you of my own volition."

The sharp tone, albeit a little slurred, caught the attention of everyone else in the room. The girl was sitting up a bit more now, straining her eyes to see them properly through the double vision that had been caused by whatever poison they had given her earlier.

This had been the most direct statement that the doctor had heard from the girl since her arrival here, and he was nervous as to what this meant. Was she awake enough to use that fire trick again? Would she try to run if they listened to her?

Then again, even in her impaired state, she had done all that she could to cooperate since the moment she sobered up at the hospital and realized that she had been tossing fireballs at innocent bystanders. Perhaps...

"Absolutely not," Dean ground out. "Doc, get the tranq, will you?"

Well, that settled that.

As the doctor scurried out the door, Sam glared at his brother. The girl slumped back against the wall, slightly disheartened. "Worth a shot," she said with a half-shrug.

"So..." Sam began, now that the three of them were alone. "Fireballs, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Leave it to me to find the one place more anti-magic than Skyrim. It's bloody brilliant." She sighed, then sat up again. " In order: No, I did not mean to hurt them, though that is no excuse. Yes, I can use magic. Yes, I thought that I was being held captive by elves. No, this is NOT the first time that I have heard any of these questions today."

Sam could do nothing but blink for a few seconds. As soon as he recovered, his brow furrowed. "So then, magic is nothing new to you. Have you been able to use it long?"

"Well, only for most of my life," she said, as if it should be obvious. "I wouldn't be a very good breton if I couldn't, would I?"

Dean scoffed. "Breton- you mean those weird crackers?"

The girl was caught off guard by this. "What-?"

The rather unhelpful interrogation was interrupted as the door opened again and the doctor entered, holding a plastic package containing a sterile needle and a small, brown glass bottle.

"One more thing," Sam said quickly as the doctor prepared the needle. "What is your name?"

The girl considered giving the two a false name for a second, but decided against this. What was the point anymore? It's not like she was very recognizable.

"Valera," she said through gritted teeth as the now somewhat familiar sting of a needle pierced her upper arm. "Valera of Wayrest."