A/N

Hi, everybody,

Starting with this chapter, there will be bonus material in a separate story. Since this story is only from Keigh's point of view, you can read extras from other characters' points of view. Look for Story of Keigh: Bonus Material to see Keigh's encounter with the Trickster from a different point of view.

There may be spoilers.

Entry 14

I woke up in what I thought was my room. I sat up and turned on the lamp on my dresser and nearly screamed. The Trickster was standing there in my bedroom.

"Good morning, Keigh."

"W-what are you doing in my room?" I asked, kinda shakily. He looked annoyed.

"Fine. We're not in your bedroom." He snapped his fingers, and the room dissolved. I was lying on a pallet in an empty warehouse. "I'm just trying to make your flight as comfortable as possible."

"Cut the crap, Trickster," I grumbled. "I need sugar."

"Finally, a complaint I can sympathize with," he pontificated. "You won't believe how long it's been since I heard from a girl after my own heart, like you." He smiled and snapped his fingers again, and the warehouse was now a candy warehouse. I grabbed a bag of Skittles and tore it open.

"So, what are you doing in not-my-bedroom?" I asked, mimicking his style to see what would happen. It can be a good measure of somebody's ego and/or self-esteem. The Trickster immediately got a stupid grin on his face and started acting ridiculous- clear symptoms of an inflated ego.

"I'm so glad you asked that, Keigh," he said, in his best snake-oil-salesman style. "As you may be aware, your father has requested that I- assist you in relocating yourself and protecting sensitive information about your identity. I'm here to make sure your ride into a new life is as smooth as possible."

"Wow," I mocked. "That was some good baloney. How long did you spend practicing that speech?"

"I'm naturally eloquent," he preened. I threw aside the empty bag of Skittles and grabbed a package of Reese's Pieces. Hey, if I have to start a completely new life in a totally unfamiliar place, I might as well make the most of it.

"Of course you are," I smiled. "Did your Mommy tell you that?"

"I don't have a Mommy, and Daddy never says anything."

The Trickster made a fake pouty face, but I could see that he was masking some real misery.

"Well, hey, then, we ought to be able to get along," I said quickly, before he could start crying or yelling. "I never knew my mother, and Dad's pretty okay sometimes, but he can be a little distant, so I totally get it."

He looked at me shrewdly. "I will be checking up on you regularly, so it's entirely possible that you may see me around. Just look for candy wrappers."

He cleared his throat and waved his hand between our faces to get my attention. "Now, you have an eentsy-weentsy crush on our Deany-poo, yes?"

I blushed and ducked my head. "You're not supposed to know about that."

"Dean likes babies. Maybe we should get you one, you know? Like a child actor."

"I'm not so sure that's a good-" He snapped his fingers, and an adorable baby was in his arms.

"Aw, look, he's so cute," I said. "Can I hold him?"

"Sure," said the Trickster, smirking.

"How am I going to take care of him, Trickster?"

He made a face. "Yeah, about that, you can call me Loki. That is one of my names. You'll have help with the baby."

"Loki, huh? Shall I name him Tom, just for you?" I reached out to take Tommy, and Loki carefully eased him into my arms.

"Wah," said Tommy, reaching towards my face.

"What kind of help?" I asked, still looking at Tommy.

"I'm taking you to a family that supports the hunting community. They know the Winchesters a little bit, so you'll have to stay low profile, but they won't freak out if you know too much. You'll need a new identity, of course, and preferably a new appearance."

I wasn't really listening. I was too busy rocking Tommy. Surprisingly, Loki didn't seem to care that I was completely ignoring him.

"What do you want me to look like?" I asked. "What does he want me to look like, Tommy?"

"A little younger would be preferable," said Loki. "You look like a twenty-year-old, but you act like a teenager."

"Well, I'm five," I admitted. "Go figure."

"At least you're a few years older than your hypothetical child," he said. I laughed. Tommy squealed.

"So how old is Tommy?"

"Five minutes? A few thousand years? Meh, we'll go with seven months."

"Loki," I complained, giggling. "Aw, he's so little. Look at his little fingernails, Loki."

Loki sighed.

"Sorry," I said. "What were you saying?"

"You need to change your appearance. Your father tells me you have some shapeshifting abilities. Ideally, you want to look different enough that facial recognition software will not recognize you as the same person, and also you would ideally look a little younger than you do, maybe around seventeen or eighteen."

"Okay," I said. "I'll need a mirror so I can see what I look like. Then I won't forget and shift back to my original appearance."

"Sure," said Loki. A crib with baby toys and a blanket appeared behind him, and I reluctantly set Tommy down.

We spent a while fussing with my appearance. I didn't like anything that didn't look like how I usually look.

"Can't I just get a wig?" I complained.

"Consider yourself lucky. You won't have to go through all the camera dodging usually associated with staying low."

At least changing my face wasn't too difficult. I gave myself hazel eyes instead of brown, made my nose a little shorter, and gave myself dimples. Then I changed them to blue. I played with the shade for a few minutes.

"Can I please at least keep my hair the same?" I had multi-tone brown hair, somewhere between kinky and tightly curly, sliding from darker brown than my dad's hair at the top to light brown at the bottom. It looked really cute with my new blue eyes. I didn't want to give it up.

"Maybe. It would make it easier for your dad to find you. That has both positives and negatives."

"Dad can find me anyway. You're sending me to Hunters, right?"

"Hunter support. Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Bill Harvelle died hunting, so they don't hunt."

I was impressed. Loki had probably found the safest people for me to be around. They wouldn't be scared if I was weird, and wouldn't try to kill me unless I was really weird.

"Dad can find me."

"Does Crowley keep photographs of you?"

"Yes. And they would have my hair. But, Trickster, I like my hair. It's my hair."

"I can see that," said Loki. "Unfortunately, so will Lucifer."

I popped back and forth between my original appearance and my new one, trying to get used to it. In between, I was black smoke. Loki saw it and freaked out.

"Leviathan?" he gasped, backing up. He picked up Tommy and tried to run away from me. I let him get away, then sat on the pallet and cried. The crib and the candy were gone.

"Dad," I sobbed, "come get me."

Crowley appeared. At first, he was scowling, but then he saw me crying and softened.

"Keigh, what happened?" he asked.

I morphed back to my original appearance.

"He found out I'm a Leviathan and ran off. I can't do it, Dad. I don't belong with normal people. I just want to go home."

"Loki is not normal people. I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I didn't tell him about your mother. This is my fault, Keigh."

"Yeah, it's your fault, but not because you didn't tell him. You shouldn't have tried to send me away. I'm not ready. I can't act like a human."

"You didn't even know you had to," Crowley argued. "Stop your bloody whining. It's my fault, and we're going home."

"But if Lucifer's going to kill everybody-"

"It's not like Lilith is on the last seal. We can take five bloody minutes! Are you coming home now, or not?" he shouted.

I wasn't ready for screaming. I turned into black smoke and fled the building. I just wanted to be anywhere else. I didn't think about where I would go, so I was mildly surprised to find myself at Bobby's house.

Bobby was home, and came into the room when he heard me land.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"Don't ask," I said. "Everybody's scared of me."

"That's ridiculous," said Bobby.

I sniffed. "Yeah, whatever. You're not half Leviathan."

"Come into the kitchen and let me get you some coffee. Or something stronger, if you'd prefer."

"Nah. I think I'm still underage. I'll take the coffee, though. Bobby, I mean, Mr. Singer, how come you're not screaming and running?"

"Bobby is fine. Stop being ridiculous and come have some coffee. You need to calm down, or you're going to have a heart attack."

I shrugged and went into the kitchen. I explained what happened over coffee. I basically told Bobby everything, including why my Dad wanted me to lay low for a while. He just listened.

"And then I came here. I didn't really think about where I was going. Dad is going to be mad- he's already stressing out about me, and then I just ran off who knows where…"

"And now this Trickster guy thinks you're a Leviathan. That could be trouble," said Bobby.

"I guess I really botched it, didn't I?"

"This isn't your fault, Keigh."

"Yeah? Whose fault is it?" I asked, starting to raise my voice.

"Sometimes things like this are nobody's fault," said Bobby. "Sometimes all you can do is make the best of a bad situation. So that's what we're going to do."

"Okay," I said. "What are we going to do?"

"I want you to talk to the Winchesters when they come back. They're out investigating a wishing well that seems to be the real deal. It's a pretty easy case, and I think they'll probably finish up soon. If I send Dean a message saying I have pie, they'll come right over as soon as they finish this case."

I shook my head furiously. "I can't talk to Dean Winchester," I said. Then I realized I needed a reason. "I went back in time once and met him when he and Sam were kids. I'll mess up the time stream."

"No, you won't. Not if it's their past, and your past. That's a real lousy excuse, Keigh. Now tell me the real reason you don't want to talk to Sam and Dean."

I sighed and buried my face in my sleeve. "IhaveacrushonDean."

"I think you should give it a try. The Winchesters may be able to help you. If you think Hunters are wild cards, Sam and Dean are wild cards squared. I'll explain to them that you're not a monster-"

"Then you'll be lying," I growled. "There's a reason everybody is scared of me. I'm scary." I realized the kitchen was shaking and tried to slow myself down. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to yell in your house."

"I think you're more afraid of yourself than anybody else is of you," said Bobby.

I dug my fingernails into my palms. "Fine," I whispered. "I'll talk to your stupid Winchesters. I should check on my dad. I'll be back with a toothbrush in half an hour."

"You don't have to stay over if you don't want to," said Bobby. "I can always call you if the boys show up."

I nodded and disappeared.