It Wasn't Supposed to Happen

Sam and Dean didn't linger five seconds longer than they had to, before they were gone and taking Andrea with them. And Marissa was left alone again, with images of the future dotting her sight. She'd tried her best to get away but it just hadn't been enough. Or maybe she hadn't tried hard enough, she wasn't entirely sure. But in the end it didn't really matter because soon enough she could sense Richard on the outskirts of her range and she had no way to escape him this time. Usually she would move, but it required help and this time she didn't have any. Packing up everything and moving took too much time and she was so well established here, with enough personal connections that she didn't really want to leave everything behind. And Marissa was tired. So, so tired of running all the time…

She waited at home, knowing Andrea wouldn't be calling her anytime soon, knowing the Winchesters would forget about her if they could and that in precisely three hours Richard would show up on her doorstep and haul her into his car and drive off to Illinois. Sometimes she couldn't escape her own future and she hated it, just a little. She at least got to help other people, have an edge over some things… It was a gift and it was a curse and some days were worse than others. She'd been running for a year, had one close call and now this. It wasn't fair, then again nothing hardly was.

She spent her last three hours wandering around her house peacefully, doing whatever crossed her mind as she enjoyed her last hours of freedom. She stood still, arms folded over her chest as she watched Richard get out of his far too fancy car. The red thing gleamed painfully in the bright light, some sort of too expensive sports model that had little practical use aside from speeding. Marissa knew those debts would be huge. Not to mention the ones he'd have from gambling all the time and he would take her and she could be his pretty little sister, the ultimate trump card in every game.

He opened the door and smirked at her, "Hey sis, how ya been?"

"Fine," she replied numbly.

Richard chuckled, "It's been what, two years? And this is the cold greeting I get? C'mon Mari I know you haven't lost your heart yet."

"Leave me alone."

"Oh sissy, you don't mean that do you?" he walked over to her, his five eleven height suddenly not as menacing as it used to be.

His height alone wasn't fearsome, but he himself still was. She still remembered everything he had done, vividly. Marissa doubted she would ever be able to forget the wounds, but compared to Sam's fearsome towering height and his cold snappish anger, Richard didn't look as dangerous as she knew him to be.

"Y-yes," she fumbled for the words, trying to not be intimidated by him. (

"Hm, freedom's been kind yeah?"

She nodded mutely. He reached out, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her forwards, hauling her outside to his car. She didn't try to fight back, knowing it would have been futile and that it would have resulted in worse for her. She wasn't Richard's sister, especially not when she was with him, she was just a tool, just the trump card to be used and manipulated.

She was eleven when Richard became her legal guardian. He'd gotten so deeply indebted to the wrong people that they killed her parents and left her with a half-brother to watch out for her. But he had never been particularly good with that stuff. And he knew about her powers, but not the extent of them and her hell didn't start until he realized it. Whenever he went out to play, he took Marissa along with him. She was his good luck, so he claimed.

She buckled herself in, leaning against the car door as Richard started driving. If he was in a good mood, things weren't too bad. But he was usually in a bad one, and he didn't get over it so easily. Bruises weren't always that hard to cover up, and the excuses came easier with time. If she tried to avoid it, things only got worse because she couldn't avoid him forever.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here so easily, you left a clear trail all the way to you. It was simple to track you down this time. Did you miss me?"

"Not really, no," she murmured.

He glared at her, "I'm in some serious trouble here Marissa so whatever you think is so important in your life clearly isn't. I could die because of this!"

She kept silent, nodding, pretending she believed him. She knew better than that, she knew that it was his fault for gambling but she also knew that he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. At one time she'd begged him to stop, to get help and she couldn't remember much after that. Her pleas didn't mean anything whatsoever and she was resigned to that fact.

"I'm sorry I ran away," she stated in an almost robotic sounding voice. Slowly already she was separating emotion out of this situation.

"You better be! I could've been killed."

Marissa didn't reply, fearful that whatever she could have said would have made the effect only that much worse. She pursed her lips together tightly, wishing she didn't have to be here. It was a long, silent drive. Richard hated music of any kind, except maybe the blues but those were tainted memories and she refused to linger on them.

"You didn't go out and screw around did you?" he grumbled roughly.

Marissa cringed, "No," she mumbled, trying to avoid his attention, wishing this was all over already.

"Good, good."

He had never believed in her and it was growing increasingly difficult to earn his trust, not that she expected it after running off, but it was part of the reason why she had fled. She had never meant to wind up under his care, guardianship, again. Her intention had been to keep running for the rest of her life and pray that he would forget about her. But that only held true so long as she never met the Winchesters, even though she had suspected she would.

Richard reached over, flicking the radio on and blues music started to filter through the car. Marissa tensed immediately, eyes wide and glancing over at her brother worriedly.

The scent was clean, too clean, almost as though it was tinged with disinfectant which contrasted sharply with the pine freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror. The odor slammed into her suddenly; the future was full of blood…

Abruptly the car swerved onto the shoulder of the highway, gravel crunching under the tires and dust streaming behind the vehicle as it kept driving onwards as though possessed. Marissa blinked back the stars when her head had collided against the window in the sudden movement. She looked over at her brother, noticing his eyes were a strange blackish color when they'd always been brown before.

"Richard…?"

His slap wasn't quite unexpected, it wasn't as though he hadn't hurt her before, but the strength behind this was different and more menacing than ever before, as much as the oddly coordinated movement was while his eyes remained on the dirt path he was driving down. A whimper passed her lips as she numbly rested her hand against her stinging cheek.

"We are going to Minnesota dearest sister," the chilling tone to his voice was eerie and reminiscent of what she'd seen the Winchesters deal with.

"W-why?"

"Because that's where Tartarus's Gate will be opened." He paused, looking over at her and waved his hand in front of her eyes, hypnotic black eyes staring into her skull.

A beautiful blue rose bloomed in front of her mind's eye, something she saw but wasn't there physically before her. When the petals reached their full extent, stretching out to take the moon's light, darkness slammed into her mind and with an agonized cry she clutched her head. As each petal fell, they turned to a rusty red color and dried up. And suddenly, Marissa could no longer see the present and there was no connection to the Winchesters. For the first time in her life, her thoughts were hers alone and she didn't know what was going to happen to her.

Pain flared through her mind, white hot pokers stabbing every time she blinked as her sight slowly dimmed. The blues music cut out abruptly, and the dirt path was replaced by smooth pavement. Marissa groaned weakly, clutching her head, eyes drifting shut against her will, head resting against her shoulder as she fell into a wonderland she'd never experienced before.

X

I woke up with a start, stretching. I noticed Dean's eyes on me through the rear-view mirror and smirked at him. "Like what you see or something?"

"You're not as ugly as I first thought."

"I kinda thought you'd realized that already, what with how you've been watching me so closely I thought for sure you'd noticed…"

"Your attitude isn't quite that disarming," he retorted dryly.

"Sorry, I prefer to wit my men over, it's not my fault if they don't get it," I grinned at him.

A reluctant snort of laughter escaped him. "You are not funny."

"Oh I am, I'm cute and funny."

"And arrogant."

"No, just vain and aware of it."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look back at me. "Seriously?"

"What?" I asked, trying to be innocent, playfulness tugging at my smile, giving it an easy to discredit edge.

"You've been really boring lately. I thought you only got to be some fun when you were angry."

"No, not necessarily. I haven't exactly felt at ease or welcome. And I still don't quite feel like I fit, but I do feel a little more at ease and today's just a good day."

"Uh huh…"

"It's very true you know."

"No, I wouldn't know. I don't know you."

I shifted slightly and caught the look he directed at me. "But you're thinking you'd like to."

"I'm a guy and I'm not blind."

"Like your brother?" I asked, more for the sake of curiosity than anything.

"He just chooses not to look, I suppose."

"Or does that other… Woman…? Are they-?"

"No!" he snapped quickly. I wasn't sure if he was offended at the fact that I was asking if his little brother was sleeping with a demon, or if he was trying to hide the fact that little Sammy was.

"Sorry," I murmured, not quite sure if I meant it. Curiosity had its limits of what answers I could achieve. "So do you want to get a bite while Sam investigates? That's where he is right?"

"Yeah, but he'll be back shortly."

"There's a diner ten steps away, please?" I let a pleading note enter my voice, looking at him hopefully. "He'll know we'd be there. And it's not like we have to watch him."

I knew that he had to be hungry; it'd been at least four hours since we had last taken a break and even longer since we had made a stop for food. Sam had been all gung ho to get here and get this case over and done with. It didn't seem like there were any connections to whatever demon he was obsessed with hunting, which I knew was Lilith, but they'd been careful to keep that information hidden from me. And because she wasn't involved, Sam just wanted to get this over and done with.

"Oh fine." It was only supposed to be a five minute interview, not the half an hour one it had turned into.

The recently deceased had apparently been rising from their graves. If they had died within the last year they could be revived. Dean seemed a little on edge lately and Sam was rushed and busy and didn't seem to even notice it. I knew that Dean had been saved from Hell by the angels and that there was a price of some sort that he was expected to pay at least for the angels. As far as the demons' interest in this went, Dean needed to be removed from the equation yet again and that was what my role was.

Dean needed to be removed so that Ruby could more easily influence Sam and get him to kill Lilith in order to release Lucifer from Hell. Lilith had sent Ruby on this quest over a year ago and only at the start of this one had I been involved in this quest. No one else knew; no one else could know. They would be too much of a liability if any other hunter caught wind of what was going on, our jobs could become impossible. I had the advantage of being a human, but that would only take me so far.

We got out of the Impala and started towards the diner, comfortable silence resting between us.

"Did you get tired of waiting for me or something?" Sam called as he effortlessly caught up to us.

"Well yeah, sorta. It's been half an hour and I'm starving!"

"I was getting some good feedback, but food would be awesome," he added with

a sheepish smile.

"And anyways, we figured you would've known where we'd gone off to," Dean gestured to the diner as we entered it.

"This isn't your guy's way of having a date is it?" apprehension drowned his voice out.

"No!" we both replied quickly. It would have been nice if I had thought of that earlier, but I had been more concerned with actually eating than I was with romancing him and starting a relationship in order to kill him.

"Good."

We went to a table by the window and sat down, a perky blonde waitress jogging up to us, her eyes immediately on Dean. I glanced at her, briefly wondering why I was so easy to dismiss. If she wanted tips from women, she wasn't going to be getting any from me. For all she knew, I could have been with Dean. Maybe it was in the seating arrangements that made it seem like we weren't together, or our body language I wasn't sure.

"So what can I get for you?" she briefly spared a glance at Sam and me.

"A bacon cheeseburger, onion rings and a coffee," Dean said, giving her a flirtatious smile.

"A BLT and a tossed salad, glass of water please," Sam replied absently, his laptop on the table as he started researching deeper into the case. Well, that's what I was assuming anyways.

Her gaze rested briefly on me as she scrawled down what Sam had ordered. "I'll have a…" I paused, considering what I was in the mood for, "beef dip and a coke."

She wrote it down, turned and strutted off, Dean's eyes following her. I rolled my eyes, refusing to draw any further attention to myself by doing something as petty as crushing his foot or elbowing him despite how I wanted to. I was definitely feeling better today.

"So what did Mrs. Hartley have to say Sammy?"

"Not much," he paused, frowning at his screen and lowered it enough to see us. "Just that her husband's grave wasn't the only one to be desecrated in the last week. Apparently two weeks ago there was a terrible crash between a car and a minivan; the van's occupants were hurt, but they came out alive. The driver, a young man who's identity wasn't made public, was in a coma for a few hours before he died. Two days after his burial, his grave was robbed of the body."

I frowned, "That's serious disturbing. Not hunter work, that's for sure."

"We cover our tracks better than that, even the rookies," Dean retorted a little impatiently.

"I just meant…"

"No, there's something else at work here, that's for sure," Sam said confidently.

"What goes around stealing bodies?"

"The Body Snatcher?" Dean snickered.

Sam and I shared similar expressions of cluelessness as we looked at Dean. He sighed and didn't bother to try and explain his reference of unknown origins. The waitress came back, delivering our drinks with a peppy smile at Dean that made me want to strangle her before she skipped off. Literally, skipped off. I glared after her, debating the merits of beating her up and reluctantly decided that I wanted to eat more than I wanted to pulverize her, but it was a close call.

I glared at my coke for a minute before taking a drink of it, letting the sugar roll over my tongue, enjoying the taste. I stared at the dark liquid, watching the bubbles build up and pop, the scent washing over me and allowing myself to calm down a little.

"Are you addicted to sugar?" Dean smirked, watching me speculatively.

"No," I replied curtly, sipping on my sugar loaded drink.

"Really? It does kinda look like you're being revived by it," Sam observed, smiling slightly.

"I like my sugar and caffeine okay?" I growled at them, holding my drink protectively.

They both laughed at that, Sam shook his head. "That stuff's way too full of sugar for me –drink as much as you want of it."

Dean looked at my drink and started to reach for it, but stopped when the waitress returned with our dinner and I couldn't help but wonder if she'd put a rush on it or something because of Dean? She served each of us our meals and I caught her put something into his coat pocket with a flashy grin and a wink before walking off, her hips swaying as Dean watched. I noticed where his eyes were going because I was watching him. And Sam was watching me. I turned my attention to my sandwich and the hot gravy waiting for me, glancing at Sam's ice water.

Dean pulled out the card which she had presumably written her number on and smirked arrogantly, like it was such a big deal. He could check me out and not make any moves although it seemed like he might have wanted to, and somehow that irritated me more than anything else. I snatched an ice cube from Sam's water when he was reading something online and yanked the shirt collar closest to his skin away and dropped the cube down it as he tried to say something about saving it for the bedroom.

He squeaked. Literally squeaked, sort of effeminate sounding and Sam looked up just in time to see Dean's body spasm, jerking as the ice cube slid down his torso. He yanked his shirts away and swatted the considerably smaller offending ice cube from his body and fixed me with a fierce glower.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Because I could!" I growled, aggressively shoving my sandwich into the dip, slopping gravy over the edges.

Sam snorted under his breath and Dean glared at him too. "Something funny Francis?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

I wolfed down my sandwich, still irked by Dean's behavior and his cluelessness. Sam didn't even try to explain it to Dean and we all ate in silence. Paid the bill, and headed out to the Impala. I claimed the backseat as I knew it was my spot and we headed back to the motel.

X

Dean checked into the motel, getting one room with two beds and another adjoining one. He went back outside to grab his duffel, still irritated at Andrea. She made no sense. He had made no advancements on her, and checked her out on occasion. He had eyes! Was he just not supposed to look or something? He was grumbling under his breath as he headed back inside and heard Sam shout out in surprise.

Dean raced into the room, half expecting to find a demon or angel about to attack Sam but froze when he saw nothing. He tucked his gun away, not even aware of when he'd pulled it out. He looked around the room, and finally noticed what it was that had his brother's attention. The little psychic, Marissa, was laying on what would have been Dean's bed, bloodied and bruised and unmoving.

The wall beside her adorned with vile words written in blood. And based on the bloodstains her clothes had, he guessed that it was her own blood.

Don't look into death,

Death's eyes burn red,

And the gate shall be opened.

Psychic's power like a prophetess,

Not protected by heavenly warriors.

Traitor's soul burned black,

Desiring what no one wants.

Tartarus's Gate will be opened again.

I feel much more inclined to write if I get reviews; they spur me to write faster and I just love to get feedback and know what my readers think.

I have been intending to bring Andrea's humor back for awhile and I was actually expecting it to be a little harder than it was; it'll likely stick around much longer now though.

Thank you for reading, please share your thoughts, and have a great day!