One
"This is a song…about a witch." – Fleetwood Mac
Dean Winchester sighed, loudly, and for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a row.
"I offered to drive." Sam casually reminded him, flipping through old and yellowed newspaper articles and leather-bound books in the Impala's passenger seat. Once again, he was stuck researching while Dean zoned out for a few hours upon staring at an open road.
It hardly seemed fair.
"She's got a leak," Dean explained. "I don't want anybody else touching her until I figure it out."
"More like you don't want to actually do the hard job for once."
"I did do the hard job!" Dean motioned to the articles, swerving a little to avoid a pothole in the road. Sam nervously eyed the road for him, in the meantime.
"Lifting a few boxes so that I could access this stuff doesn't count, Dean."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Dean muttered. "We got anything yet?"
"Nothing yet on successful portals that doesn't require impossible ingredients," Sam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Considering Cas has been MIA for the past few days, I'd say we're kind of on hold until further notice."
Dean sighed again. Fifty-one, this time.
Not that Sam was counting or anything…
"Look," Sam replied. "I'm worried about mom and Jack too, but we've kind of hit a dead end here Dean."
"I know." Dean replied, tensely, and Sam could tell he was sick of not hearing any answers. Jack and Mary had been missing in the other world for about a month now and Dean and Sam had been helpless to find a way to reach them.
"In the meantime," Sam announced. "I saw we try and find out why people are turning up dead in Salem."
"Easy answer there." Dean scoffed.
"Just because it's Salem, Massachusetts Dean-."
"Trust me Sam," Dean shook his head. "If that town wasn't known for one thing and one thing only, maybe then I'd change my tune. Meanwhile, I'm just going to assume that this hunt is nothing more than "double, double toil and trouble" are hard at work charming and cursing people."
"I sure hope you're right." Sam replied, looking out the window to his right. The trees passed by quickly, blurs of green leaves and brown bark.
Sam suddenly felt claustrophobic and looked away, back at the open road, as Dean drove on.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
Rhiannon Graves stepped out from the floor of her front porch. Tiny droplets of rain had begun to fall from the darkening clouds above. The temperature had dropped. It was no longer warm and the faded tank top she wore no longer provided her the same comfort it had earlier.
She gazed up at the sky, shivering, and encircling her arms around her midsection. It was almost five o' clock. On a normal day, she'd have to have dinner on the table by then.
It hadn't been a normal day in a very long time.
"Come on…" she muttered. Pacing back and forth and wanting so badly to curl up in the blankets on her bed. She'd close her eyes and forget about this whole nightmare.
If only she had run away like she'd planned at eight years old.
The wind suddenly wrapped around her like a blanket. Wispy, swirls of gray matter from the clouds above brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She shivered again, this time feeling chilled to the bone, and then turned to face the source.
He never appeared in the same form twice. That much, she'd come to notice. He always came at the same time, without fail. Never late and never early. It must have finally turned five o' clock.
If it was still normal days that filled her time, her grandmother would have flayed her alive for not having dinner on the table.
"Did you finally decide who you want next?" Rhiannon asked, bitterly.
If she had known years ago, what she was getting herself into, she'd have thrown away every spell book she'd ever been given.
"Patience, child." The man spoke, despite having no open mouth. He allowed his mind to do all his talking for him.
"I've had nothing, but patience, for eleven years now," she protested. Her voice cracked ever so slightly, and she cursed herself. It wasn't good to show fear around this man. Even though, he could hardly be considered one at all.
"Hasn't this gone on long enough?!"
She felt her throat constricting. He could easily snap it in half if he wanted to, but for some reason he continued to keep her alive.
"It ends when I say it ends," the man appeared in front of her, suddenly. Closer than before, but still never invading too much of her space. There was a coldness which surrounded him and spread through the air like a bad virus.
"Your mother was weak," he continued. "Much weaker than you. Both in mind and in ability. You, my dear, have power beyond your wildest dreams."
He touched her chin, lifting it up so that she looked into his lifeless gray eyes.
"You just simply haven't allowed me to show you how to harness all of it."
"Do I look stupid to you?" Rhiannon jerked her head away, feeling invaded by his touch. A chill spread down her spine, and she tried to focus her attention on what little sun had decided to peek through the darkened clouds.
"Quite the opposite," he stared at her, as a wolf would its prey. "As I stated before."
"Just give me a name!" Rhiannon exclaimed.
"Marlene Adams." The man said.
Sweet old Marlene Adams from up the street. The same old woman who'd bandaged Rhiannon's knee when she'd fallen off her bike when she was seven. The old woman who left baskets of warm cookies on doorsteps around Christmastime.
Oh, Rhiannon was truly going to hell for this one…
"Fine," she said. "Can I go make dinner now?"
"Don't forget this," the man handed her a small vial, glistening, despite the dimming light. It sent an icy like burn straight through Rhiannon's fingers. Rhiannon swallowed hard and clenched her hand around it.
"She needs it to stay afloat, after all."
Rhiannon nodded, and the man stepped back. He turned to face the tree nearby and then slipped through it as though it were nothing, but an illusion, and he was gone. Rhiannon sighed and gripped the vial tightly in her fist, holding it close to her chest, and walking inside.
-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-
The house was dusty. The walls and countertops were covered in various knick-knacks of all walks of life. Some of which would be tough to explain to any normal person who ever came in the house, something Rhiannon did not partake in…having many friends. A tea kettle whistled, signaling the end to its boiling, and Rhiannon walked over to it and emptied the hot water into an awaiting mug. The stove beeped, signaling the food was done.
Rhiannon took a tea bag and dipped it into the mug, letting the aroma rise off the rim of the mug, and she popped the cork on the vial He had given her. Lower level demons were tricky little bastards, but they came in handy sometimes.
In such times as keeping her mother alive until she could figure something out.
The light from inside the vial was so warm, so pure, it was hard to believe it was made by something from the underworld. Rhiannon always felt nauseous after handling it. Wanting to chuck the vial far into the woods behind her house instead of using it.
"Mom," Rhiannon rubbed an older woman's shoulder. The woman sat in a wheelchair, pulled up to the dining room table, and she shuddered a little with the contact. "Here's your tea."
The woman stared straight forward, stone faced and stoically, never saying a word or so much as twitching a finger.
"I hope you like it this time," Rhiannon swallowed hard and sat down in front of her, assisting the woman in drinking. "I added that extra something again."
Her mother, once again, said nothing and required a great deal of assistance in finishing the mug of tea. Rhiannon brought the food, placing the plate on a fold up table near where her mother sat and feeding it to her bit by bit.
Each bit disappearing like Rhiannon's own life would day by day every day she played this game.
It was a necessary evil though and this would all be over soon.
Hopefully…
Read and Review!
A/N: I hope you're enjoying Rhiannon's character so far, my dear readers! I know I didn't have any ideas for any fics for a very long time. In fact, I never thought I would again, the way my life has been going for the past few years. Honestly though, I'm just glad to be back, even if it is just for this story…for the time being. Quarantine has helped me in ways (creatively) that I never thought it would.
Until next chapter!