Hey guys, so I've made a tumblr for updates and stuff, so follow .com for info and news about new chapters.

Ok!

Without further ado;


JOB 1: THE VIGILANTE


Steve's Movin' Groovin' Motel

St Marriane's Township, Illinois

November 1st, 2005


"Do we know where it'll strike next?" Liz asked as they sat around the motel, changed into the traditional jacket and jeans that most hunters donned.

The day had passed; slow and boring. The lack of the ghosts activity was disconcerting, the lack of information, the lack of someone appropriately guilty to have the Spirit hanging over their conscience. Lunch had been burgers, much to May's dismay, and breakfast had been slightly stale salted nuts that Hugh had pulled out from the bottom of his bag.

So far, a typical day.

"There have been six unsolved murders in this town over the past 50 years. I'm going to say that the ghost has accounted for half of them, the head trauma, the strangling and the gunshot wounds," Hugh relayed, yet again, shifting through all the material Bobby had given them, again.

"Looks like we'll have to solve this one the really-sort-of-difficult-way." Liz pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. "Ready to head to the library, May?"

May stuffed the gun down the back of her jeans. "I was born ready."

Hugh frowned. "You're taking a gun to a library?"

May widened her eyes. "Haven't you heard? There's a psycho ghost running around."

Liz rolled her eyes.

They opened the door, and before they could leave, Hugh cleared his throat. "So uh, what am I supposed to do?"

May shared a look with Liz. "I dunno, Hugh. Go hustle some pool or something."

Hugh frowned. "No thanks. Hustling pool is for people who suck at fraud."

Liz sighed. "Fine. But if you come with us, and get us kicked out again, I have the cordially allowed permission to kick your ass."

Hugh shrugged on his jacket and just smiled, walking out the door.


Albury, Washington State

May 5th, 1988

(17 years ago)


After the accident, Lizzy, May and Hugh had gone to live with their uncle. Richard was a removed man, who preferred late night television to phone calls and a pair of ruffian dogs in exchange for a spouse and kids. Rick had been their fathers brother, having had very little contact with his nieces and nephew ever since the two greatly disagreed on a Matter of Great Importance. But Jeff hadn't thought of revising his Will, and the legal guardianship of his three children, and so, when the time came, Rick welcomed them, gruffly and with no small amount of shyness, to his home.

The year between the funeral and the Discovery was the worst in May's memory. Rick had seemed oddly distant for a few weeks after their moving, sometimes leaving for the entire night. School had been awful. Rick had lived on the other side of the state to them, and transferring was inevitable, but that didn't mean May had to like it.

A year passed and she made not one friend. Lizzy started school, and Hugh moved up a year, and still the Winters were a family very few people really knew.

May walked home one Friday in November. Josie Fisher's mom had offered to drive them, but she had refused for herself when doing a mental calculation of how much alone time she would get if she let only Hugh and Lizzy take the vacant seats, begging a deep desire for exercise.

The leaves were a crisp brown in the trees, trailing along the ground, crouching in corners and gathering in piles where raked up on the grass. Winter was near, and the cold wind that rushed through with a vehemence, chilling the slightly-too-thin nine year old to the very bone.

It was times like these that May allowed herself to think of things that she felt a typical girl of her age would think about. She thought about the newest pair of shoes that she'd seen Louise Johnstone wearing, or the new song that Max Irons had been singing all through English, and then most of the way through Math. She thought of the way her hair looked when curled, in comparison to when it fell straight after she had washed it, and the small curls that seemed to pop up around the top of her temple.

And she gladly entertained these thoughts, for they were a shield that kept the dark ones at bay. Even the happy memories were stabs of pain that ricocheted with agonising accuracy. Pinball's of fire and sinister darkness that seemed rocks that hurtled towards the ocean. Everyone spoke of the widely entertained fact that after a death, the bad memories fade and all that you are left with is the good, and the ones worth remembering, but no one told you that those were the ones that hurt the most.

May dragged her feet the last ten feet to her house, considering backtracking as she made it to the door and then running away when she pressed the doorbell. She looked mournfully back and regretfully forward, not realising, that if she tried, a simple glance to the driveway would have given the curious discovery of a large black car, that a more learned person might call a '67 Impala.

Hugh opened the door, and May walked in through, smiling briefly at him, making to walk through.

"We've got people over," Hugh told her, standing back as she took her shoes off and closed the door.

"Wait, what?" May asked, glancing down the hallway into the kitchen, where two deep voices could be heard. Her eyes turned wide. "Who?"

Hugh shrugged. "This guy who Rick said was his friend. He brought his sons as well. They're ok."

May dumped her bag by the door, with a half-hearted promise that she'd collect it and take it upstairs to the room she shared with Liz eventually, and walked with Hugh down the hall.

"Why are they just ok?" May asked, whispering a little.

Hugh sniffed a bit. "Dean isn't very good at sharing."

They came into the kitchen and May saw the man that was sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a beer and a smile.

He turned to her, his smile growing in size in a way of greeting. "Hello, you must be May. Very pleased to meet you. I'm John."

May smiled in her hesitant, unsure, I-don't-really-know-you smile. "Pleased to meet you as well. Good afternoon, Rick."

"Hey, May," Rick said, nodding at her. "Hugh, why don't you take both of you 'round to the back where the boys and Liz are?"

"Sure thing," Hugh said. "C'mon, May."

"Sure was nice meeting you, May," John called as they walked out the back door.

"You too!" She called back, almost too far away for it to sound sincere.

"Did Josie Fishers's mom drive you home ok?" May asked, as she and Hugh walked around the clothe lines to where the large grassy area was, perfect for picnics or mock wars.

"Yeah," was Hugh's non-committal grunt. "Josie's mom smells a lot like oranges."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

Hugh frowned. "Good question. I'm gonna say bad."

May wrinkled her nose. "Like when you get oranges on your fingers?"

"Exactly then."

They walked across the grass to where Liz sat, two boys across from her, each controlling a tiny figurine.

The older boy, who must have been about her age, looked up and nodded at them as they approached. The other, a boy who must have been Liz's age with a shock of unruly brown hair, jumped up to meet them.

"Hi," he said, smiling and sticking out his hand. "I'm Sammy."

"Nice to meet you," May said, smiling a small, uncertain smile and shaking his hand. "I'm May."

"I'm Dean," the boy who was still sitting down said, who had hair a few shades lighter than his brothers and eyes a more intense green. "Dean Winchester."

"Good to meet you, too," May said, sitting down next to Liz who was controlling a tiny horse. "Hey, Liz."

"Hiya, May," Liz said, not turning her head, eyes fixed on the tiny stallion in her grasp. "Josie Fishers's mom sure smells like oranges."

Hugh turned, grinning. "That's what I said!"

Sammy had sat down next to Dean. "Nice oranges or bad oranges?"

Liz looked up. "Oh, bad, not nice at all."

"Like when you get orange juice on your hands," Hugh explained. "And it takes forever to wash it off."

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "Not as bad as when you spill water on cheese, though."

"Is that a really bad smell?" May asked. "Does the smell really change at all?"

Dean wrinkled up his nose. "Well, not really, except Sandy Plankton told me when we were living in New York that it did and he's never wrong."

"Maybe we should try it out," Hugh suggested. "Let's just hope nothing explodes."

"Don't be silly," Liz said. "Cheese can't explode."

"It could if you put it inside an explosion."

Liz frowned and turned to Sammy. "Sammy, could cheese explode?"

The young boy frowned. "Hmm. Well, I don't see why. Or why not."

May grinned and tried to stop herself from giggling. She locked eyes with Dean, who was smiling for the first time since she'd met him, which, admittedly, wasn't a very long time ago.

At that moment, Ian and Ruff decided to make an entrance, spinning through the game and knocking the pieces over.

Hugh laughed in a sort of strangled victory and leapt at them, tackling Ruff into a tackle and rolling over in the dirt.

Liz looked at the ruin of her game as if she was about to cry. "Hugh!"

Ian came over and licked her in the face, but, glaring, she pushed him away. "You ruin everything!"

"Hey, come on, it's not so bad," May said, a little desperately. She couldn't stand it when Liz cried. She righted a couple of the toys. "Look, they're still fine. We'll just set it up again."

"Hey, it's ok," Sammy said, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. "I'll help too."

May caught Dean casting her an odd look, a sort of empathetic soldiers glance. She had seen the body language, the eyes that watched his younger brothers back at a near constant rate. She had remembered how her eyes rarely left her siblings, that if they fell over, it was her that should have caught them. If it was them that was crying, it was her fault for letting something into their lives that was so awful that it elicited tears. She shot him a small smile and returned to helping Lizzy set up everything that she had knocked over.

Dean sat back on his heels when the four had finished, with Hugh's whoops of excitement from playing with the two dogs signifying the fifth of their party. Ian cautiously moved away and started padding through the other children, eyes wide and excited, tail wagging from side to side. Liz was shyly thanking Sammy and Dean for their help when Ian lay down next to the younger Winchester boy. Sam started, then, as if on instinct, stretched out his hand and rubbed the dogs stomach.

May watched, a small smile flickering at the corners of her lips. "I think he likes you, Sam."

Sam looked up, torn between apprehension and exhilaration. "Really?"

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean said worriedly, who looked as if he would jump in any moment he thought the situation was getting too out of hand. "Not all dogs are nice."

Hugh came over, panting, and planted himself down between May and Dean. "Ian's really nice though. And he loves kids, or at least that's what uncle Rick said."

Sammy smiled. "Good. He's super soft."

Liz moved over and started rubbing Ian's stomach as well. May regarded privately that the dog looked as if he was in heaven. "Yeah. May and me washed him last Monday. Didn't we May?"

"Yeah," May said, hugging her knees to her chest to try and push away the ache that sometimes appeared out of the blue. "Yeah we did."


Dean and May were the only ones awake when Rick and John told them that they were going out. Liz had fallen asleep in her bed the moment her head had touched the pillow, and Hugh, after running around the house and burning off the cordial he'd drunk when eating dinner, was almost asleep when May had come in to say goodnight. Sam was curled up on a blow-up mattress in the spare room, his breathing deep and calm.

"Will you be coming back?" May had asked, scared of what might happen without her uncle in the dark of their house.

Rick chuckled and ruffled her hair, their relationship still too awkward for a hug. "Of course."

John had been a bit shorter with his son. "Remember the rules, Dean."

Dean looked up, solemn. "Yes sir."

"Go to bed at 9:00 at the latest," Rick called back, as he and John walked out the door. "And stay safe!"

May and Dean watched the door as it slammed from the other side of the hall, both flinching at the loud bang. The stood, frozen with a reluctance to make the situation any more awkward and then at the overwhelming fear of what could loom in the shadows that seemed ever larger without the safety of their guardians.

May spoke first, a little tentative. "So, you wanna watch some tv?"

Dean looked over and nodded. "Yeah, definitely. You got colour?"

May lead him to the living room. "Nah. Rick says that we might next year though."

They sat down on the couch, and after looking through soap opera after reality show, they decided to settle on a talent show.

"So where do you live?" May asked, passing a bowl of ships down the couch.

Dean shrugged. "Nowhere, not really."

May frowned. "But where do you go to school?"

Dean swallowed his mouthful. "Well, Dad says that we'll be going to your school because he's doing a job here."

May blinked. "Oh."

"..."

"..."

"So what does your dad do?" the words fell awkward and broken from May's lips.

Dean looked at her carefully. "Uh, well, he does what Rick does."

May frowned, confused. "A mechanic?"

Dean looked a little disappointed. "Yeah. A mechanic."

"Oh, nice," May mumbled, resting her head back on the pillow of the couch and tucking her legs under herself. "Seems kind of dangerous, though. Once he broke his arm."

Dean looked cautious, a little too cautious, as he continued. "Yeah. Dad once had to get stitches."

May winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's still got the scars."

She started fiddling with a pillow. "So why are you here again? And where are you staying?"

Dean frowned. "Didn't Rick tell you? We're staying here, or so my dad says. Some couple has a real...uh, Lamborghini problem."

"What colour is lamborghini?" May asked. "Is it like a type of blue, or...?"

Dean looked at her, flabergasted. "How...just...what?"

May gave him a look.

Dean gave May a look.

They had a bit of a frown off.

They jumped, nearly out of their skin, when footsteps, as if the claws on a dog but so much louder, echoed down the hall.

May sank into the couch and held the pillow in front of her chest, breathing heavily, eyes darting from the moving pictures on the TV screen to the rest of the room, all the lights on, every shadow within the realm of possibility eradicated. She glanced over at Dean, who was doing almost the exact opposite. He jumped onto his feet, face set, and picked up a candlestick from a cabinet near where they were sitting.

The footsteps stopped.

And then came the telltale sound of feet on the carpet of the stairs.

The blood drained from May's face. She shared a horrified look with her male counterpart, grabbed the nearest hard thing she could, which was the mini statue of some ancient god, and, steeling her nerves and biting down on her tongue, moved out through the door, to the stairs, Dean following her.

At the first step, Dean gestured that he should take the lead.

May shook her head, mind elsewhere, eyes blazing.

"Hugh and Liz are up there," she whispered to him. "I can't let anything happen to them."

Before Dean could hiss something back she was up the stairs, sweat gathering on her palms, her hands having trouble grasping the slick figurine, she ran up them, swift and practiced.

Dean headed straight for the guest room, swinging the door open, looking back at May and shaking his head, a exalting a mixture of relief and concern.

May tried not to cry as she peeled back the door from the room she slept in, the one she shared with Liz. All she saw was the slow rise and fall of her sisters chest, and moonlight that streamed through the unchecked window.

May shook her head at Dean, who was moving onto Hugh's room.

She met him there as the door slowly opened.

May forced herself to stifle a scream.

The creature was hideous.

And it had its giant teeth positioned over her brothers head.

"Cuco," Dean muttered, stumbling back, eyes wide. "Son of a bitch."

May was too petrified to scold his language. She was too numb to even register that he'd said anything at all.

Monsters were real.

It was taller than her uncle, and twice as wide, humanoid facial features curving around massive teeth that pouted out like trunks, and burning red eyes that seized the sight of her as soon as she had entered.

They stood like that for a while, the young, scared girl and the salivating, gruesome beast.

A grey hide and a snarling nose, a hand full of claws and feet that scratched the floor. A body of disfiguration and a stare of absolute starvation. These would be the food of her nightmares for weeks.

But she had found herself then. She found herself when she saw how close it had been for her brother. She saw how close his death had been, how she'd have to hold her sisters hand again as they sat in a church full of people they didn't really know, wearing black clothes they didn't really own.

She found herself, and she stared right back at it. "Leave him alone!"

She held up the figurine as it growled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising up. All this and she hadn't noticed Dean disappearing, streaking off through the house, desperately looking through his dads things, hoping, praying, that not everything had been left in the Impala tonight.

His hunched over, shoulders rolling, a mountain of muscle and strength. She swallowed and bent her knees and separated her feet, remembering once, from somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, her dad warning her that if she was going to land a punch, she'd best be standing properly. May wasn't fighting with her fists, and she wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to be standing, but the warmth and the laughter from the memory was the first of her parents that hadn't hurt in a year, and that light gave her strength.

It walked forward, a heavy huff, as if a lizard on sand.

May resisted the urge to close her eyes and cry.

She ducked as it came forward, sliding between its legs on the cheap carpet, a burn scorching up her leg.

The monster turned and swiped at her with its claw, emitting little more than a growl. May wondered whether it could make more noise than that, or it didn't regard her as something to yell at.

Either way, she didn't have enough time for deliberations.

The claw cut at the skin of her stomach as she jumped back, hitting the ground hard as the blood steeped through her shirt.

She gasped and crawled back, grasping her stomach and crying out when her hands came back sticky with blood. A foot clamped down on her legs and another on her arm, forcing her to lie back on the floor. It's mouth opened, a fountain of noxious breath released onto her and she was too petrified to cough.

Here she would die, in a dark room, with eyes as red as the fires of hell fixated on her beating heart and gasping lungs. Her end would come soon, so she believed. And she found herself not wanting to die. A curious experience.

Gunshots were louder than May would have thought.

A bang, one that rattled her ears and startled her so much that she lay on the ground for a good few minutes after the monster had been shaken off her, rang throughout the house.

"Pure iron, you Son of Bitch," Dean called, shooting it three more times in a rapid succession. "Try waking up from this one in the morning."

"May?" the frightened, sleepy voice of her brother called as he was shaken from his sleep. "May?"

The Cuco still didn't roar, but its teeth gnashed together and its claws grabbed at its side, where thick black blood was leaking through onto the carpet.

May pulled herself up and moved over to the foot of the bed, trying not to go into shock as she planted her hands firmly on her wound.

She looked over at Hugh, who was looking at the Cuco with utter horror.

She tried to smile. "It's ok." The swallowed a sob. "It's ok, I won't let it get you."

Dean clicked more bullets into the gun, an eerie practiced grace controlling his features.

"See you in hell," he muttered, the bullets ripping through the air, the iron finally making itself felt, the creature arching it's back in agony, its soundlessness even more eerie than usual.

And it crumbled, disappearing as a sweep of dust that ran along the ground, collapsing in a heap, a mound of ashes where this monster once stood.

May bit her lip to avoid calling out in pain as she stood up, her hands were red with her own blood, and she avoided that thought with all her might, worrying that, with everything, she'd faint.

"Is it...gone?" Hugh asked, his voice was small.

Dean walked over and kicked the dust. "Yeah, I think so. Dad always said iron would─"

"You said your Dad was a mechanic," May accused, tears welling up in her eyes. You'd told me everything was normal, you'd let met believe that everything was fine. She couldn't bring herself to utter the words she so desperatley wanted to.

Dean looked as if he understood. And he looked as if he feared the accusations she didn't say. And May wondered if Sammy knew. And she wondered how long Dean had known. And then she allowed herself less than a peep at what would have happened if he hadn't known...

No. No.

She couldn't let herself think like that.

Hugh was ok, Liz was ok. Dean was apologetic, Sammy was safe. She was verging on hysterical.

"Shit, May!" Dean rushed over, looking at her stomach. "You're bleeding!"

May was barely keeping herself ordered. "I know."

"C'mon, Dad'll have some bandages in his stuff," Dean tugged on her arm, looking up from the scratch. He turned to Hugh. "Get us some water, could you?"

Hugh blinked, swallowed, and nodded, giving May a determined glance.

It seemed that he understood that she would do anything to keep him safe. And he needed her to know, even if for just a moment, that he would return the favour.

May and Rick and Hugh sat in the living room until the morning light that night.

Liz and Sammy had been disorientated and easily confused into believing nightmares over reality.

Rick told the two older ones all he dared.

May's scratches weren't serious, they wouldn't even scar. But she ran her hand over them, tears in her eyes nonetheless.

Just because they wouldn't scar meant that she wouldn't remember them.

The three jagged crosses that ran over the front of her stomach.

Signifying the end of her innocence, for the second time.

And they wouldn't even scar.


The Public Library

St Marianne's Township, Illinois

1st November, 2005

(Present Day)


After the travesty that was their research up to that point, May, Liz and Hugh decided to look at more recent episodes.

"Wait, wait, here," May stopped scrolling and went back up to where Liz was pointing. "Hit and Run."

"Douglas Stream, 24...hey same age as me, that's sort of soul-searchy and creepy," he smiled at Liz and May who were beyond exasperated. "Anyway. Apprenticeship with the local mechanic...killed the 29th of October. Police are asking for witnesses to come forward."

Liz frowned and tapped a few keys, trying to get the updated story.

May tilted back in her chair, yawned and stretched. "I seriously hope this is our guy. I refuse to sit through another solved murder case."

"People think that you're a psychopath," Hugh told her.

"People are correct that you're insane."

Hugh gave her a look. "That's an insult to insults."

"You're an insult to insults."

"God, May, how am I ever going to get over that?"

Liz glared, her gaze not shifting from the computer. "Can you both shut up?"

Hugh and May didn't say anything for a record of three seconds.

"We really need our own computer," May muttered, shooting a shifty looking guy a look. "Even Gordon has his own laptop."

"Wait, even Gordon has a laptop now?" Hugh asked, dismayed. "Damn it. I wanted to at least beat him."

"Well it isn't the '90's," Liz muttered.

"Why haven't we gotten one yet?" May looked accusingly at Hugh.

"Hey," he said. "We have to wait for the next one to come out, it's supposed to be way better."

"You could say that about everything for years," May said, groaning. "I think we all know what the next family shopping trip will be."

"Sounds like fun," Liz said. "But I've found something funner─"

"That's not a word," May reprimanded instinctively.

Liz, confused; "What?"

"Funner."

Liz gave her best 'I don't care' look. "Whatever. Anyway, Douglas's murder hasn't been solved, well, as of the Newspaper on Monday."

"Got any family?" May pulled her seat forward next to Liz's and in front of the screen.

"His parents and sister, Lauren all live together," Liz relayed. "East St Marianne's Township."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to pay them a visit," May said, smirking and tapping the FBI badge she'd been fidgeting with.


The Booth Household,

5 Fountain Place, St Marriane's Township

1st November, 2005


"What do you understand happened on the night of October 29th?" May asked, tapping her pen on her notepad.

Lauren took a deep breath. "Doug was out running, he'd told his girlfriend that he needed some air. Then, while he was out, a car came around and hit him. The only witness said that it looked like the car was going after him, but the police found lots of drink in this guys system, so they said that they have to deal with his evidence with a great deal of scrutiny. Then they drove off, the witness stating that they'd sped, and that they'd been..." she grimaced. "laughing."

May nodded. "So, tell us about your brother."

"Doug was a good guy. He didn't have any enemies, everyone liked him," Lauren had her hands gathered on her lap as they sat in the family home. "He was going to marry his girlfriend this Winter, and he was doing well in his apprenticeship."

Tears filled her eyes. One snaked down and caught onto her lip.

"He didn't deserve to die."

"Of course he didn't," Liz said kindly, her heart breaking, as it did for every weeping family they visited. "But are you sure that there was no one who'd have a reason to kill him?"

Lauren shook her head. "He was perfect, he was a great big brother. That'd why I was handing out the flyers. I thought that maybe someone..."

She looked at her hands.

"Who do you think killed him?" May asked. "You must have at least a suspicion..."

"Anything," Hugh said, looking at her firmly.

Lauren bit her lip, but shook her head. "Sorry. I've been so...distracted the past few days. The funeral's tomorrow, we just got the go ahead from the Coroner's office the other day..."

"That's fine," Liz said, softly, comfortingly. "Please, mourn your brother. We don't have any other questions."

"But if you do think of something," May added, a sharper contrast to Liz's lilting tones. She handed a business card over to Lauren. "Call us."


Roy's Diner

St Marriane's Township, Illinois

November 1st, 2005


Hugh picked at his salad. The diner was busier at night, and May, Liz and he had decided to leave the rest of the interviews for the next day, exhausted as it was with all that they had done so far.

"This is dumb, I hate salad," he complained, loudly.

"You're dumb," May muttered, looking as if she took it as a personal offense.

"You're both ridiculous," Liz stated, already finished her salad, and was relaxing her elbows on the table.

"I'm going to ask again why this is necessary," Hugh said, making a face as he pulled out an unnaturally long and soggy piece of green from his plate.

"Because if we die before the age of 30, I don't want it to be because of High Cholesterol," May told them, in a voice that understood repetition.

"That's dumb," Hugh said, throwing his fork into the bowl. "I don't even think this is salad."

"Can you please stop calling things 'dumb'?" Liz asked, exasperated.

"No."

"Uh, yes!"

"Make me."

"Let's take this outside and I will."

"Ok!" May interjected. "Let's not have too much fun with the death threats."

"I am getting better at them," Liz said, taking a swig of her beer.

May frowned. "I don't think that's a good thing."

"I do," Hugh said. "I mean, it's a creative outlet, isn't it?"

"I didn't even use the words 'kill' or 'maim' this time."

Hugh grinned and ruffled the top of her head. "Good for you, little baby sister. You know what all the English teachers said, 'show not tell'."

"I got an A on that report."

"I have the weirdest family," May told them, and herself.

"But you love us," Hugh said, in a stupid, irritating, glare eliciting voice.

"No."

"But─"

"No."

"May c'mo─"

"No."

"Can we go back to the motel now?" Liz pleaded.

May gave her a look.

Liz gave her a look back.

Hugh gave another look.

There was a weird sort of not-silence at their table for a good half a minute.

Then, eyes watering, grins on their faces, they paid, walked out to the car and even May agreed that the next time they came, it'd be a huge batch of fries, the greasier the better.

If only the bravado and happiness of that evening, could have been carried into the night.