Okay, third chapter. This one is mainly backstory, we get to see a little more of Wendy's history, and Gabriel will appear in this chapter as well. We're slowly starting to get into the plot now. I'm thinking maybe one more chapter and then Wendy will be meeting Sam and Dean.
I also want to let you guys know that this is a slow burn. Gabriel and Wendy are both clearly attracted to one another (and not just in the physical sense either), but Gabriel will be holding back for a while, and Wendy's never been in love before so we'll stumble along with her.
I haven't had a chance to really check this over for mistakes because I wanted to get this posted, so please ignore them.

Warning: This chapter may trigger some people. It's by no means graphic, but I felt I should put a warning here anyway.

Chapter Three

"The scientists of today think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."
-Nikola Tesla

Chapter Quote: "Wow . . ."

1991 Shreveport, Louisiana

"We need to do something, Malcolm!" Katherine stressed as she stood before her husband, arms folded tightly across her chest and looking down at the dining table where Malcolm Dawson's hunched over form was sat with his head cradled in his hands. "She's not sleeping," Kathy continued on in a harsh whisper, brushing her dark corkscrew curls from her face in annoyance as they fell into her eyes once again; she was kicking herself for cutting it so short. "Telling me that the voices in her head are keeping her up. It's not normal – she told me that Ryan Hiddstien likes to touch his daughter. Wendolyn is five years old, Malcolm! She shouldn't know about any of that—that stuff!"

It was creepy in all honesty. Creepy how Wendy knew things she shouldn't. Creepy how she told Kathy that people glowed – most were blue, some purple, other's black, and on rare occasions a white gold. Creepy how Kathy would wake in the middle of the and find her step-daughter wandering around the house in the dark humming whatever little tune that struck her fancy at the dead of night. Creepy how Wendy told her that voices whispered to her at all times, that they were hard to ignore; telling her secrets that Wendy tended to blurt out loud. Kathy had seen plenty of horror movies, and it took everything in her whenever she found Wendy roaming not to start reciting from the bible or pegging the book at the child. It was hard because Kathy loved that girl like she was her own, but by the Lord did Wendy scare the shit out of her at times.

"What do'ya want me t' do, Kathy?" Malcolm fired back, running a hand through his short blonde hair before lifting his head up to glare at his second wife. He was just as worried as she was, couldn't understand where his little girl was getting all this information from about their neighbours and friends; and to find out that some of it was true merely three hours beforehand with two police officers coming to their door to question his child about Ryan Hiddstien (and to see if he had harmed Wendy in any way) was terrifying to Malcolm; especially when his five year old went into great detail about how much the disturbed man liked to think about doing those things to a child – how often he did it. How Lily would cry afterwards, how her friend didn't like it – was scared and confused.

"I don't know," Kathy replied while pulling out the dining chair and sat down with a heavy sigh, resting her hand upon Malcolm's. They were both in shock, Ryan had been a friend – Wendy had stayed with them every so often and Kathy would continually shiver violently, stomach rolling whenever she thought about how much time Wendy spent with the man and his family; thinking about how it could of easily have been her step-daughter. "I just know she needs help . . . she's dead on her feet, honey."

"I know," Malcolm rubbed at his face tiredly then turned his gaze to Kathy, steel blue eyes meeting chocolate brown. "Maybe I can find one of those kid shrinks or somethin'."

"Can I hav'ah yohgurt?" Wendy's tiny voice startled the both of them. They both turned to find the small girl in the doorway holding the nasty looking orange cat that was too big to be held; it had a sour look on its face as if it were silently judging the married couple while a rumbling purr escaped his furry form once Wendy scratched his face. Why they allowed the stray to stay was beyond Kathy, but Wendy had been very convincing and had too easily persuaded her parents into letting her keep it.

"Of course you can, baby." Kathy smiled and stood from her seat.

They needed to get help. Kathy needed to get Wendy help, because doing nothing wasn't the solution.

Wendy sat across from Gabriel, hands folded neatly on the table as she watched him take a pull on the straw of the chocolate milkshake he had just ordered, her own strawberry one sitting untouched in front of her. Lunch had gone well, at least that was her opinion on it, aside from the fact that Gabriel was outright ignoring her attempts to pry information out of him; smoothly shifting the conversation in a completely different direction without her noticing for a time. She was being polite about her prying too, not once did she attempt to brush her skin against his own to try and establish a link, not that she would do that – she'd feel too guilty if she did; would probably apologise repeatedly for doing it, she felt like apologising now for even contemplating it.

"What's on your mind, sunshine?" Gabriel broke the silence between the two with his question, raising a brow as he took a long slurp from the straw. Wendy couldn't help but narrow her silver eyes at the being before her. She was certain that he knew what was on her mind.

Wendy let her irritation go as she finally sipped at her own strawberry milkshake. She flicked her eyes up and met Gabriel's gaze head on. "I've seen other's glow like y' do, not'ah lot – just'ah few." She stated softly, keeping her eyes locked on his, refusing to let him go. When she didn't get a response from him (not that she thought she would), Wendy wanted to keep pestering him; like a pesky tiny fly, buzzing around near his ears – the annoying hum gradually grating on his nerves until he told her what she wanted to know.

Her mind took hold of the idea and began to wander off, twisting and twirling about Mr. Glowy and what he could possibly be. Perhaps he was a faerie, did faeries even glow? Wendy had never had the privilege of meeting one – maybe if she were to seek one out she could question it about Gabriel, but then that seemed a little shady to go behind his back like that. A thought suddenly flashed into her mind, like lightening striking her brain, she vaguely wondered if a light bulb appeared above her head and if Gabriel had noticed such a thing (a quick glance up only showed her that he was firmly invested in his milkshake) – but the thought! What was it again? It had strolled away in her musings, no, wait, there it was; could Gabriel hurt her and could she hurt him if it came to that? It was a logical thing to wonder about, so logical that Wendy didn't know why she hadn't thought about it before. But first she'd have to figure out what he was; from there it would be rather simple to find out what could harm him – not that she would want to.

Wendy blinked and her eyes became focused again, fixating again on Gabriel who watched her almost attentively, "Would it hurt if I hit y'?"

Gabriel gave a surprised little chuckle, lips stretching as he regarded her with what she thought were fond eyes. "Questions, questions," but Gabriel didn't look annoyed, just amused, like he was waiting for her to straight up and ask him bluntly instead of tip toeing around it like she was earlier. "Nope, probably not the best idea though."

Wendy's head titled to right just a little, "Why?" She inquired, blinking owlishly. "Y' gonna' hit me back?" The blonde gave him a once over, raking her eyes up and down his form. He didn't look like he could be dangerous or frightening, though there was something there, lingering just below the surface remaining doormat, that felt dangerous; powerful – and when pushed would undoubtedly show itself. Wendy could see it in the way he moved, the way he held himself, he tried to cover it with flirting and jokes, but it was still there. "Have y' ever, y'know . . . killed anyone?"

Gabriel threw his head back as he outright laughed. He chortled for a good minute, and when he recovered he only grinned at Wendy, a glint in his eye – and Wendy had her answer; yes he had and no, she still wasn't scared. Gabriel's straw made that little chocking noise that informed him that the milkshake-y goodness was gone, he frowned down at the tall glass and then took a peek at her own; he pulled Wendy's milkshake towards himself and took a long pull from the straw, making Wendy purse her lips in mild annoyance with furrowed eyebrows.

"Listen sunshine," he slid the half full glass back in front of her. "I'm only here to check up on ya'."

Wendy immediately frowned at his words. "I . . ." She trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Why on earth would this unknown ever need to check up on her? "I don't understand."

Gabriel eyed the blonde for a few seconds, his eyes becoming squinty as if he were assessing her. His eyebrows rose after a moment as he finally came to some sort of conclusion. "Wow . . ." He dragged the word out and left it hanging in the air for a bit while sucking on his molar; looking mildly annoyed. "You really don't remember do'ya? Thought it might've clicked once the whole 'Gigi' thing came up. Unless witchy granny decided to go extreme . . ." He trailed off, muttering the last part.

"I still don't—"

"You and I, we know each other." Gabriel cut in querulously, leaning forward on the table and Wendy felt the need to do the same; drawn to him once again, like a moth to a flame. The air around them suddenly becoming tense and serious, making Wendy's skin prickle at the energy that shimmered and shivered around the both of them. "Think about it, how much do you remember from the loony-bin they dumped you in?"

Wendy sucked in a sharp breath, trying to swallow around the lump that formed in her throat. That was something she didn't want to think of, but it was something he couldn't possibly know either – unless they did know each other. Her palms began to sweat as panic started to set in. She barely remembered the hospital, she knew she didn't like it, knew that whatever memories she did have she didn't like thinking about them. Knew that the smell of antiseptic conjured up memories she wanted to forget, knew needles terrified her, and doctor's made her uncomfortable. But mostly that time was blank; those days were mainly black holes of history she couldn't recall – Grams wouldn't do that, not unless something bad happened. Did something bad happen? Now that was all Wendy could thank about, what was so bad that Grams had to plant walls up inside her mind to keep her from remembering? She didn't think she wanted to know.

A large warm hand encased her small boned one and squeezed. Anxious silver eyes met concerned gold.

"We met at tha' hospital." Wendy spoke quietly, a crease forming between thick brows. It wasn't a question, a statement because it was obvious, but she felt the need to have it said aloud.

Gabriel pulled a face, making a see-saw motion with his other hand and shrugged. "Semantics."

"Why would Gra—"

"Don't freak out about it, granny met well, just didn't think she'd do such a thorough job, y'know?" No, she didn't know. Gabriel frowned and chewed at his bottom lip. "They locked you up and threw away the key, seeing me and my fantastic self wasn't doing you any favours. I guess she just got rid of me altogether."

"Okay, but y' were there? Why?"

"I don't think I'm the right guy who should be answering your questions."

"Y' definitely are tha' right guy t' be answerin' my questions." Wendy commented, disliking his evasion. "Why were y' there?"

"Because we know each other."

"That doesn' tell me anythin'."

"I know."

Wendy huffed. Fine, he didn't have to tell her. She would ask Grams, surely she would confess to the memory block she placed upon Wendy's mind, not that Grams could really get away with lying to her anyway. Besides, Wendy wasn't a child anymore; granted she didn't want to remember anything horrible – just wanted to know why Grams saw such an extreme as necessary. Because it was extreme, to go into someone's mind and pick and pull at the pieces you wanted there and the ones you wanted to be locked away; Wendy saw it as a violation.

"What are y'?" Wendy suddenly questioned instead, wanting to turn away from her thoughts.

"Rude," Gabriel commented on her inquiry in an exasperated tone and a roll of his eyes. "You're smart, you figure it out."

"Well, how am I supposed t' do that when y' haven't given any clues?" Wendy shot back at him, irritated by his glibness.

Gabriel raised his brow, "You didn't need clues before." He responded snottily, seeming more annoyed by the fact that he had been wiped from her memory then he had let on before. The man across from her resembled a sulking child in that moment, glaring at the tall glass in front of his person with a tiny pout of his face.

Wendy forced herself not to smile at his display.

Then she remembered. Burnt gold wings ruffle slightly before settling.

"Y' wings."

Her statement silenced the air between them, and seriousness crept back onto Gabriel's face. He said they were real, she remembered – that's what he said, she heard it. Wendy was expecting him to deny having wings, ready to have him call her crazy for even suggesting such a thing; to tell her it was all in her head – her mind playing tricks again, but she remembered, remembered that he said they were real. But her shoulders tensed anyway, prepared to have Gabriel cut her with sharp words by a silver tongue.

Gabriel ran his tongue along the top row of teeth, "Yep," he said popping the 'P'.

"Are y' fae?" Wendy rushed the question, leaning back towards Gabriel, hands lying flat on top of the small table. She could see him strutting along freely in a meadow with those wings of his trailing him, the sun shining down; making his hair glow in the sunlight with a flower crown placed upon his head. She liked that image and now wanted to go to the florist and buy a bunch of flowers to weave together for him. Perhaps some daises and lavender, magnolias were nice too.

"What?" Gabriel scoffed, his voice bringing her back to the present and she watched his nose wrinkle up like he smelt something bad, while his mouth pulled down into a frown. "I'm a little insulted."

"Oh." Her flower crown day dreams were dashed.

Maybe.

"Guess again, sunshine." Gabriel prompted her, grinning boyishly. "I've got plenty of time."

1993, Shreveport, Louisiana

It was dark, which was understandable because it's always dark at night, especially when you don't turn on the lights; but Wendy didn't want to wake her parents so she kept them off. She should be sleeping, but she couldn't sleep – she had pills to help, but they didn't help. Nothing helped the voices or the feelings – they weren't hers! She wanted them to go away; she wanted everyone around her to keep them locked away inside themselves!

But they didn't, so she stayed awake. It wasn't so bad she supposed – it was quieter at night, because the majority of people were sleeping, so there was some peace for her.

Wendy was currently in the nursery watching baby Miranda sleep. Miranda was still little and couldn't play yet, but Wendy was content with just patiently waiting for her sister to grow up. Wendy thought Miranda was the prettiest little person she had ever seen; she had the same mocha skin tone as Kathy and the same curly hair, but she had her daddy's eyes – Kathy said that they would most likely get darker, but that was okay because Miranda would be just as pretty.

The small blonde girl liked to watch her sister sleep, liked to hold her hand and watch her sisters dreams dance in her mind. Miranda mostly dreamed in colours – faces would pop in every now again, sometimes objects, but mostly colour. It was pretty and calming, and Wendy felt that way until she didn't – because now there was something there that shouldn't be there.

Wendy blinked her eyes, coming out of the haze of the dream and let go of the six month old's hand. Something was wrong, it didn't feel right. It felt dark, and cold, and scary; but Wendy had never been frightened of the dark. There was something there, in the room, Wendy didn't like it – wanted it to leave. She turned away from the cot her sister slept in, her silver gaze meeting an eerie yellow. It was a man, and he grinned at her. He was a man shrouded in black; too dark that it shadowed his features, consumed his very being.

"Y' not allowed t' be in here." Wendy told the man, standing in front of her tiny sister, keeping her voice down so she didn't wake the baby. He felt twisted and pulled, wrong – so very, very wrong; made her skin crawl standing so close to him.

"That's right, but I've got business to attend to." His voice was raspy, attempting to be kind, but he was no such thing. The man was annoyed, Wendy could tell, she could always tell. "You best get to bed."

"No." Wendy lifted her chin just a little in defiance; she wouldn't leave. He was scary, and wicked – and dark. "Go away."

The man took a step closer and crouched down to her level, his alarmingly yellow eyes narrowed; lips pulled back in a snarl. "You listen to me you little brat, you go back to bed or I'll slice mummy and daddy up real good." He gave her a menacing grin after finishing his threat.

The little girl didn't like that – that was naughty. He was naughty, naughty like Lily's daddy. She could feel it, she could hear it – his voice echoing in her mind about how much he would enjoy tearing her annoying self apart. And she knew he would do it, could see how he would do it. To have Kathy lie above Miranda and burst into flames – skin melting and burning as she screamed silently; face twisted in agony. How he would adore causing her family pain – silently pleading for Wendy to ignore him, to continue to defy him; to give him a reason to sink the blade he held in his hand deep into her belly and twist. Wendy decided he was bad. A bad man, who had come to give Randie something. Wendy didn't know what he wanted to give her little sister, but knew that it wasn't anything good.

Wendy leveled her gaze at the man unblinkingly and made him crumple to the ground, his knees thudding against the carpeted floor as he withered in the pain she created; the pain she bestowed upon him, watching him thrash violently on the carpet and gurgling on saliva. Veins straining and rising under the skin of his neck as his back arched uncomfortably on the ground.

"Go away an' don't come back. Ever." Her command resonated inside his mind, burrowing deep and planting itself there, and then she watched him vanish in a blink. Gone without a trace.

The door swiftly opened and Kathy stopped short at the sight of Wendy standing in front of the cot. "Wendy, baby." Kathy eyed the little girl. "What are you doing in here? What are you doing up?"

"I was watchin' Randie sleep." Wendy replied easily, quietly as to not wake her sister. "I told tha' man t' go away."

"Man, what man?" Kathy gasped and stumbled into the room, grasping Wendy's shoulders checking her over for any injuries. "Are you okay?"

"He wanted t' hurt me, hurt you an' daddy." Wendy informed her. "But I made him leave, he won't be back."

"Are you sure you saw a man?" Kathy questioned the little girl sceptically. "Maybe you were sleep walking?"

"I wasn't sleepin'."

Kathy swallowed hard, looked around the room before her eyes fell back onto her step-daughter. "Honey, stay with your sister, I'm gonna' wake up daddy."

FIVE MONTHS LATER

"So Wendy, you saw a man in your sister's room?" The lady doctor, who insisted that Wendy call her Sara asked her as soon as her daddy left the room and they settled on the floor of the office colouring with a pack of crayons upon the coffee table. Wendy had decided on drawing her house with herself and her daddy, and Kathy, and Randie – and Nancy too! It was a bright drawing, each one of the figures surrounded in blues, except for Nancy because his was a blue green and Wendy because she purple.

"Mhmm," Wendy hummed her reply as she finished up the final touches of Kathy's curly hair, tongue poking out of the side of her lips in concentration.

"And what did this man want?" Sara asked as she pushed her bright purple cat eye glasses further up her nose, giving Wendy a kind smile when the girl looked up from her drawing. Wendy liked her glasses, wanted a pair of her own also, but Wendy wanted them to be pink and sparkly – so sparkly you could see them from space; have the astronauts think there was a star on earth.

"He wanted t' give somethin' t' Randie, then he wanted t' hurt Kathy." Wendy stated it like it was obvious. "I like y' glasses, do'ya think daddy would let me have glasses?"

Sara looked startled for a moment, eyes widening before she cleared her throat; startled because the little girl hadn't opened up to any of her previous psychologists like this. In fact Wendy had only started seeing this woman for three weeks. "If you couldn't see properly without them, I'm sure he would." Sara paused for a moment, watching the little girl nod thoughtfully then went back to colouring. "Why would this man hurt Kathy?"

"Because he could." Wendy gazed back at the woman, making Sara shift in discomfort. The little girl broke the eye contact, feeling a little bad for making the woman feel uncomfortable.

Sara cleared at throat again, "And what did this man want to do to Kathy?"

Wendy didn't answer for a while, content to start another picture, this one consisting mainly of black with just a hint of yellow. Wendy didn't want to answer, she knew that it would alarm Sara a little, but she had promised her daddy that she would cooperate with the lady. And Sara was nice, she made Wendy feel calm because Sara was quieter than most people, her words weren't slimy like the other doctors. After twenty minutes of silence, Sara didn't expect a reply – thought she had pushed the subject enough for one day.

"He wanted t' burn her." Wendy stated blankly as she looked up from her drawing. "On the ceilin'. It was gonna' be bright, an' hot. Like'ah oven." Sara waited patiently for Wendy to finish her somewhat rambling answer. "But I made him go away. I didn't like him."

The session ended shortly after that and Wendy was made to play in the quiet corner of the office while her daddy and Kathy spoke with the Doctor Sara. Wendy wasn't bothered about that, she liked the toys that had been provided for her, little hotwheels cars in various different colours and some plastic horses was enough to help her imagination start flowing.

"This is only my sixth session with your daughter, but she has gone through five other psychologists within five months, that's a warning sign, Mr. Dawson." Sara spoke firmly, but quietly enough as to not disturb the girl whom happily made car noises as she moved a tiny truck around a horse.

"I'm sorry?" Kathy spoke up, frowning at the woman who sat behind her big oak desk. "'Warning sign'? What the hell does that mean?"

"Wendy isn't stable. Her previous doctors mention this again and again. Yet they did nothing, probably couldn't figure out how to help your daughter so passed her off." Sara tried to explain, irritated with the couple in front of her. "She sees things, hears things. She has a very vivid imagination, too vivid I fear – she doesn't seem to know what's real and what's not. In previous sessions and the one today we've discussed the man inside your other daughters' room; a man with yellow eyes, a man, who once told to leave just disappeared from sight."

"But, what about knowin' thangs about people?" This time it was her daddy that spoke, clutching onto Kathy's hand like a life line.

"Wendy is observant, unusually so for a child, but not unheard of. The conclusion I've come to is that she observes something happening that not many others would notice, and her voices fill in the blanks." Sara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Looking over her documents and notes from her previous psychologist's and interacting with her these last few weeks . . . I'm sorry, but I believe your daughter is a sufferer of very early-onset schizophrenia."

"What? No." Malcolm all but demanded, leg bouncing up and down on the fall; ready to jump up at a moments notice and football carry his daughter out of the office. "How can y' be sure?"

"I know it's a lot to take in Mr. Dawson, but the symptoms are clear. I'm having a hard time understanding why your previous doctors didn't tell you." Sara mumbled, she was uncomfortable and didn't like giving bad news. Sara didn't like seeing children struggle when they shouldn't have to. "I believe your daughter is suffering specifically from hallucinations – these usually involve seeing or hearing things that don't exist. Yet for your daughter they are as real as you and I. I've caught her on more than one occasion telling the voices to be quiet."

"Okay . . . then, then what do we do?" Kathy questioned with a shaky voice, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue the doctor handed her. Is it safe for her to be around Miranda? Kathy immediately shut the thought down, guilt drowning her and weighing in the pit of her stomach. Wendy wouldn't do anything to hurt her baby sister.

"I'm going to refer you admission to Brentwood Hospital. I know Doctor Larsher and he'll help your daughter in any way he can." Sara gave the couple an encouraging smile as she began to type up the referral to send to the hospital.

"I don't want t' put my kid in tha' crazy house." Malcolm growled, agitated beyond belief. Daddy wasn't happy with the doctor, Wendy didn't understand why though; she was telling him what she believed to be the truth. But Wendy didn't understand half the stuff they were talking about; talking like what she could do was bad. Maybe it was though, she didn't like the voices most times, and people's colours and words sometimes glowed too brightly. She knew people didn't like it when she told a secret she wasn't supposed to know – maybe it was bad.

"I know it seems that way Mr. Dawson, but it is imperative we get to the bottom of this." Doctor Sara clarified, pushing her glasses up once more. "They can run tests, and if I'm correct – help you find the right medication for your daughter to help with her hallucinations."

"Y' know Gigi." Wendy strode into the kitchen and snatched the kettle from the stove, filled it with water and lit it once it was back in its rightful place. Her voice held no emotion, just detachment, a true tell of her anger that rolled off her person in crashing waves as she tried not to project her emotions onto her grandmother.

Gabriel had dropped her off out the front of the old farmhouse in a sky blue 1965 Coupe DeVille Cadillac that he seemed overly attached to. He didn't say much, probably realising she was mad – and she was. Thinking it over in the silence of the car on the way back home gave her time to build her anger. Gabriel was someone she knew from before, someone who cared enough about her well being to check in on her every now and again, and her grandmother took that relationship from her by taking her memories. Wendy relented that Eleanor may have had her reasons, but it still stung.

Eleanor sighed heavily, took the reading glasses off of her nose to rub at her right temple. "Yes." It was all she said before she closed the old dusty book she was reading.

"I told y' about him an' y' said nothin'." Wendy grabbed a yellow mug from the top cabinet and began making herself her usual peppermint tea, her hands shaking slightly in her aggravated state.

"I know."

"Y' put ah block on my mind."

"I know." Grams pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Y' took away my memories."

"I know!" Grams snapped and threw her glass down on the small kitchen table.

"I know y'know." Wendy spoke quietly, tensely. "Y' did it without permission, four years of my life are missin' because y' took them."

"I did what I thought was best, Wendolyn!" Grams hissed standing from her seat and whirling around to face her granddaughter. "Y' were so young, an' t' have those memories – those thoughts, an' feelin's 'round y' all tha' time . . . those memories were gonna' kill ya'."

Wendy closed her eyes tightly. Perhaps Grams was right about that. What memories she did keep weren't pleasant, they still surfaced in her mind on the days her walls were weak and she couldn't focus on keeping them down and everyone else out. She breathed in deeply, before exhaling.

"Were y' gonna' tell me?" Wendy questioned softly as she opened her eyes at the sound of the kettle whistling, taking it off the heat to make her tea.

"Of course I was." Grams sighed and rubbed at her forehead. The older woman couldn't believe how quickly time flew. She always thought that she would be more prepared for when the truth came out (of course she also thought that she would be the one to tell Wendy). Always thought she would know the right words to say to her granddaughter. But she didn't, she never had a clue. "Would y' like me t' tell y' now?"

"No," Wendy shook her head, dark blonde curls falling messily down her back. She felt too tired and drained for the discussion any more. Wendy only wanted to sleep now, sleep off her anger and come back to the topic at a later time. They had more important things to worry about then her silly memories; it could wait. "Not yet . . . not any time soon."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell y'," Grams placed a small wrinkled hand on her shoulder, Wendy noticed the finely woven bracelet around her grandmother's wrist with a strange pendant she had never seen before. "But I'm not sorry I did it."

A lot of jumping around in this chapter. This is only half of the chapter I had written out, but I didn't want to keep jumping around from past to present so I divided it into two.
Tell me what you think, and if you're feelin' kind leave me a review.
Seriously, they make me write quicker.