is anyone here interested in The Hobbit? ^^

I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS; JUST MY OC - AUBREY MILLIGAN - AND A QUARTER OF A QUARTER OF THIS PLOT.

It was Friday, and Aubrey just thought it was lucky that Sam and Dean hadn't left a day later; else she would have been unfortunate enough to have to visit Aiden on a weekend. She didn't think she was ready to meet the mother just yet. She was afraid she might pull a gun on her or something, and Aubrey was positive that neither Greg nor Aiden would take too kindly to that.

Like the angel Castiel had told her, she had to make them trust her. She couldn't exactly do that if she was holding a gun to the mother's chest.

At about 3 in the afternoon, Aubrey decided it was getting boring sitting around in the house all day playing poker with Bobby. She had to see Aiden. It had only been less than two weeks, and she was already getting restless. Without the boys troubling her with their constant bickering, nothing held her attention more than the Bishops.

Aubrey told Bobby that she was leaving, that she had to, and he grunted as a reply. He said, "Just make sure you're not scratching at his wall too, okay, kiddo?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

So she borrowed one of his cars—one of the better ones, because she didn't exactly want the Bishops to think that she was a homeless hillbilly—and headed into town, a small knife hidden beneath the hem of her jeans, just in case. It was hot out, but she wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt anyway because she was yet to gain back some fat.

First, she drove to the park where she'd met Aiden. Aubrey stayed there for a while, ten minutes at most, just pondering on whether it was fate, God, or pure coincidence that she saw him being bullied on the grass not a mile away from where she sat on Bobby's pick-up truck.

When she did drive off from there, she struggled to recall the rights and lefts Aiden had taken when she had "walked" him home. Needless to say, that day, Aubrey hadn't exactly paid attention to the street signs.

It took another half hour before she finally found a familiar name written on one of the street signs. "Freedom Street" it read, and Aubrey smiled at the sound of it. It was definitely the right street. The houses piled on either side of it were painted white, beige, blue, green, or yellow. What a good-looking neighbourhood, Aubrey thought to herself. But like everything else, tenants have their stories.

In the middle of that street, found wedged in-between two dull green houses, was a beige one. Like any of the other houses, it had a neatly-trimmed lawn in front and a grey roof. By the door and the garage door were two trashcans. Farthest down, just before the driveway met the sidewalk, was a red mailbox. Aubrey walked up to it and read the word "Bishops" which was painted white on it, and she was finally certain.

The street was silent, which wasn't to be expected considering it was in the middle of the day and children were supposed to be running up and down the sidewalks with water guns in their hands, or teenagers with basketballs. Instead, birds chirped and flew in and out of sight. Aside from that, there was no noise.

Above her, the sky was clear. Aubrey gazed at it for a moment longer, but she was already standing on the porch with her hands pulled into knuckles beside her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded once to herself, brought her hand up, and rang the doorbell.

Her knuckles turned white, her nails dug into her palms, as she waited for someone to answer the door. Why was she so nervous? As far as she knew, Aiden hadn't exactly hated her. Aubrey actually wanted to think that he liked her. It would make it easier for her to gain his trust.

Those thoughts were stopped in their tracks when the door flew open, creaking slightly as it revealed Greg Bishop, a surprised look on his face and several toy cars in his hands. Aubrey smiled slightly when he dropped one of them and had to bend down to pick it up. When he'd finally straightened up again, both of them had regained their composure.

"I thought you'd forgotten," he said.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

"It's been a week."

"More than a week, actually." She rubbed her neck, her eagerness getting the best of her as she subtly looked past him and into the house. "Is Aiden home?"

Greg raised his hands, giving her a better view of the cars between his fingers. There were seven in total. "What do you think?" He sighed, before stepping to the side, granting her entrance. "Come in," he said.

And she did—almost immediately but she restrained herself just enough to thank him. It was the first time she'd ever been inside the house, and she'd expected a lot less. Once she stepped through the door, there was a short hallway that branched off in three different directions. To the right and left, she only assumed they were the bedrooms (for there wasn't a second floor to their house), and to the middle was the living room; there was a large doorway where Aubrey could peek, and inside she saw Aiden flit into view, a toy airplane in his hands, before he ran out of sight again.

Aubrey smiled. She was still in the main hallway, and she turned her head to find the kitchen looming to her right. It was rather small, with a table fit for four or five people, a counter, and a fridge. She then looked to her left and found that it was the only room with a door closed. There was a sign on it too; it read: "For Aiden only" with what seemed to be a red crayon. The writing was messy and scribbled too. A child had written it.

She frowned, her hand unconsciously reaching for the doorknob when she heard something rattle to the floor beside her. Then she whirled around, barely keeping from pulling the knife out from her jeans when she saw that it was just Aiden.

He had dropped his airplane and was standing in the hallway with his hands at his sides and wide eyes. Aubrey forced out a smile. "Hey, Aiden," she said in a sing-songy voice.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, practically muttering.

"I came to visit you," she replied, doing that cheery-plastic-faced-neighbor act that she'd seen so many times with different people all over the country. (Yes, she'd met a lot of people. It was one of the things that came with being a hunter, really.) Of course, she wasn't lying. She worried about him more than was probably necessary.

Aiden frowned. He bent down to pick up his airplane, scooping it up into his arms before straightening up. "We're not friends," he said.

Aubrey almost laughed. She wasn't supposed to, obviously. The statement might have been offensive and hurtful to most people, and yes, she might have felt a slight ache in her chest hearing that, but she'd heard it from a boy not even half her age. (Not even half her height as well.) He looked so serious about it too, with his eyebrows furrowed together and a pout on his mouth.

It wasn't supposed to be funny. Aubrey knew that, but she grinned nevertheless.

Unfortunately, Greg didn't see this and immediately came to her (unheeded) rescue. "Aiden," he said to his son sternly. "Be nice."

Aiden's gaze turned to the man behind Aubrey, before turning sheepish. He ducked his head and murmured, "Sorry."

Despite the fact that he was probably even more serious than before, Aubrey couldn't help but chuckle that time. "Sorry," she said, biting her cheek. "It's fine. It's fine." She waved the apology away. "How are you?" she continued, still smirking.

That didn't seem to be the right thing to do.

Aiden's sheepishness turned to confusion, and Aubrey watched as that confusion turned to frustration. His pout turned into a scowl, and he crossed his arms, stomped his foot, and said, "Are you making fun of me?"

"No," Aubrey replied seriously, trying to keep her shoulders from shaking. She was still laughing inside.

Sometimes, her lack of professionalism got her into some deep shit.

Aiden seemed to buy it, though. His expression softened the slightest bit, and he dropped his arms. "Good…" he muttered, answering her previous question. His gaze flitted constantly from the floor to Aubrey, until finally he just gave up. He turned around and ran back to the living room. A few moments later (Aubrey counted), he reappeared running over the sofa with his plane raised high over his head, making whirring noises with his mouth.

For a while, Aubrey was content with just watching him play from the hallway, but eventually Greg—out of his apparent politeness—invited her to the kitchen for a drink. She supposed that by "a drink" he meant coffee or tea. She was thankful. She needed the caffeine, though some part of her craved for something stronger than coffee.

It seemed that there were only one or two closed doors in the house. Every other room had none, and Aubrey suspected that maybe it was for the parents to be able to see their child wherever he may be. At the right side of the kitchen was a large doorway that led directly to the living room. It was one of the simpler kitchens; a counter topped with jars and bottles, a plain white fridge, yellow-painted walls, and a small table in the middle with four chairs.

Aubrey pulled one of these out and angled it towards the living room before plopping down. She was vigilant not to slouch too low so she wouldn't impale herself; for the knife was still in the hemline of her jeans—sheathed, but she wanted to be careful.

She hadn't even touched down on her chair before Greg made his way to the counter. From the corner of her eye, Aubrey saw him put water in a kettle, place that kettle onto the stove, and take out two mugs. "Coffee or tea?" he asked.

"Coffee, please," Aubrey answered easily; though her full attention was currently on Aiden.

"Rough day so far, huh?" Greg chuckled.

She heard him turn on the stove. "Rough week." Not wanting to say anymore, she ran a hand over her face and rubbed her neck roughly. Thankfully, Greg got the message. They fell into a comfortable silence; one that Aubrey was forced to break because she didn't want to leave so soon.

"So, how has he been?" she said, not taking her eyes off the boy.

Greg looked up and said, "Same old same old." He wiped his hands on a towel by the sink before walking to where Aubrey sat. He pulled up a chair for himself and sat, only a little ways behind Aubrey; though she would have appreciated it more if she could see him without having to crane her neck. But she supposed that it wouldn't exactly be polite to call him out on it. She let it be.

"Have the kids been bullying him again?"

It was an honest question on her part. She assumed that at least one of Aiden's parents would have known that their son was being bullied outside the house.

She'd assumed wrong.

"What?" came Greg's answer. Aubrey cursed inwardly at herself—What the hell, Aubrey?!—before whipping her head around whilst biting the inside of her cheek. As soon as she saw the dark look on the man's face, she found out exactly how wrong her assumption was.

"You didn't know?" she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

Greg was silent for a few moments. His face held many expressions, foremost being anger. "I knew there was something," he ground out.

"That's how I met him," Aubrey explained further. "A bunch of kids were teasing him when I found him at the park. I shooed them off, of course, but…"

"Did you ask for their names?"

"No." Aubrey frowned. "I'm sorry, I should have—"

"It's fine," Greg interrupted her. He'd collapsed back onto his chair by then, his face in his hands. His shoulders deflated as a deep sigh escaped his mouth. "Dammit…"

"Aiden didn't tell you?" Aubrey asked, frowning deeper when he laughed humourlessly.

"Aiden doesn't tell me anything."

She turned her head to look at the boy playing in the living room. He'd then switched back to playing with his cars, bumping them into each other before gliding them across the upholstery, and then repeating the process. Aubrey smiled slightly, remembering when Sam and Dean used to do that as well while she sat in the sidelines watching them.

The kettle started whistling, and Greg stood up. "I'm the worst parent ever," she heard him mumble as he made his way to the stove. He twisted a knob, and the whistling stopped. As he poured the steaming hot water into the two separate mugs, Aubrey found herself thoughtlessly fiddling with her bracelet as she continued to watch Aiden from afar.

Her thoughts drifted back to a memory from her time in Purgatory.

She really didn't know how "the wall"—both hers and Sam's—worked. For her, she could remember tiny things on what happened, and some of the pain. Sam remembered none. Aubrey could remember nothing else of the words that were said in Purgatory (as she was sure Sam wasn't capable of as well), but there was one voice that she could still hear in her head, as clear as day:

"By the will of God, you will walk the Earth once more, not to suffer all these things twicefold, but that you may rebuild the species that has been lost. This is thine Father's will, and so it shall be done."

What was that supposed to mean?"Not to suffer all these things twicefold"—she thanked God for that. (It was his will anyway.)—"But that you may rebuild the species that has been lost."Phoenixes? Aubrey assumed that it was God the Son—Jesus—speaking, because he referred to God the Father as "Father".

Aubrey paused in her pondering, and frowned. What the fuck, Aubrey?

So, did Jesus mean Phoenixes?

If that was the case, she really couldn't see how she was supposed to rebuild the species. Children? Baby Phoenixes? Who the hell is supposed to be the father? Aiden?! Aubrey shuddered at the thought. He was a child! He hadn't even reached adolescence yet. Did Jesus really expect her to…?

Jesus, that's gross. Aubrey glanced up through her lashes and glared, the image of angels peering down at her with smug faces. At the thought of angels, her mind wandered—as it always did—to Castiel.

She hadn't seen him in days, which was a time considerably less than what she was used to. But she couldn't help but wonder what was happening upstairs. Was he fighting? Or was it the calm before the storm, and was he looking down at her right now? Or was he watching over Sam and Dean instead?

Greg held out a steaming hot mug of coffee in front of Aubrey's face, snapping her out of her reverie. She accepted it gratefully. It was already warm inside the house, and the mug in her hands was too hot even to her liking. Of course, she didn't get burned. Her palms remained the way they were.

But the growing heat reminded her too much of what she had to endure not a month ago, and she ended up placing the mug on the table behind her. She'd pick it up again when it was cool enough.

Meanwhile, Greg had sat back down behind her. She turned her head and read his face for a short while, frowning at his obvious frustration. "Are you mad at him?" she asked.

"I can never be mad at him," he replied. "It's just…" He sighed, rubbing his face distressfully. "I wish he'd talk to me more. He's been quiet for so long, just playing with his toys as soon as he gets home that I've gotten the impression that he's the one who's mad at me."

"He's not mad at you," Aubrey quickly put in. To that, Greg raised his head and nodded at her direction, a glimmer of thankfulness in his eye. Aubrey nodded back before turning her attention back to the boy in the living room. "Is it true then?"

"Is what true?"

"He told me that he got hit by a car a few weeks ago, and that he's supposed to be dead." Aubrey frowned at her own words, but continued nevertheless. "Is all that true?"

There was a second of silence, which became several seconds, which became a moment, which became a minute. By then, Aubrey had already been tempted twice to look behind her at the middle-aged man, but before she could, he spoke. Finally. But Aubrey had to admit, his words made her stomach drop.

"Yes," he said. "They're true."

"How do you know?" Aubrey asked, taking the initiative to turn her chair around so that she could face him without having to crane her neck. "Were you there?"

Greg nodded. "A few days before the funeral, Aiden woke up in the morgue screaming his lungs out. The coroner told us that the wounds and broken bones that he'd gotten from the accident were all gone." Then his face turned even grimmer, and a deep crease appeared on his brow. "Aiden had taken a fall from his bike when he was 3 years old. He got this scar on his right knee as remembrance. It's not there anymore."

Aubrey did her best to act surprised, but she really wasn't. The flames of Purgatory healed Phoenixes of every wound, every scar, and every injury they'd ever gotten— as well as cleaned their soul. But just to act the part, she put on a deep frown and said, "But how?"

"No one can explain it." He shook his head. "We live in a small town. Word spreads quickly around here. In the span of three days, almost everyone knew. I didn't know that people had been teasing my son until now."

For a while, Aubrey was silent. She let his words sink in, pondering them deeply. It wasn't a small town. Not at all. Didn't Greg know that, or was he just trying to convince himself that his son wasn't as big a freak as everyone thought he was?

Carefully observing the man who was staring down at his hands, she asked, "And what do you think?"

At that, Greg raised his head. His face was a mixture of emotions: anger, confusion, and profound sadness. "I think that my son is supposed to be dead." His voice was blank and monotone and it made Aubrey worry. But what he said next wiped all anxiety clean from her mind. "I also think that God gave him back to me for a reason. And I don't know what that reason is, but I intend to find out."

They wiped her anxiety clean out, and surprised her. She stared at him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes and trying to find the slightest hint of a lie on his face, but there was none. Afterwards, she snatched her mug of coffee off the table top and took a large gulp (even though it was still hot).

Already feeling the caffeine course through her veins, she smiled widely at him and said, "Good." It was then and only then that she noticed a cross dangling from his neck. It glistened in the light of the kitchen bulb. Aubrey stared at it with newfound veneration—not for the religion itself, but for the devotee.

reviews please? :( :)