Thank you to my wonderful reviewers; chaiteawalnuts, SilverD15, Fanfiction20XX, and my Guest reviewer.
So fourth chapter! I decided to introduce Sam and Dean into this chapter, its light though and not a real meeting so to say. But I really like this chapter, it was a little uncomfortable to write, but I'm really happy with the outcome and I hope you guys are too.
If you're feelin' kind, leave me a review.

Warning: this is a definite trigger chapter (not graphic).

Chapter Four

"You never know what lurks just beneath the surface of my fragile sanity."
- Ashly Lorenzana

Chapter Quote: "It's jus' so nice that y'all came out t' see her. I see her in church every Sunday; she's such'ah sweet o'l thang."

"Are you excited to see your parent's tomorrow, Wendolyn?" Doctor Larsher asked from the armchair he was sat in, pen poised over a notepad; waiting patiently for the child's answer.

Wendy sat on her small bed opposite the man, who was of average height with his auburn hair slicked back away from his face. Doctor Larsher was a neat and tidy man, in life and in appearance; liked his face to be shaved, his hair to be cut short and out of his eyes. He also liked matching socks and creaseless shirts. And he was handsome and nice, at the least that's what some of the other staff at the hospital thought.

But he wasn't nice.

It was a mask. A mask he wore well. A mask he showed his colleagues and wife—his son and daughter. He wasn't nice to Wendy, not always—he was nice when he wanted something, nice when he was going to be mean. Say pretty words, give her presents to play with, and then he would turn mean—it would take a while, but it would come; it always did.

"Wendolyn, I asked you a question." Doctor Larsher spoke, breaking the silence in the room after ten minutes of quiet; making Wendy stop her fiddling with the soft plush toy that oddly resembled Nancy; a toy he had given her five minutes after walking into Wendy's small room. "It's only polite to answer."

The seven year old was having a bit of a hard time focusing, which made it difficult to even move her mouth to make words come out; everything was muted from the new pills Doctor Larsher insisted were good for her; adamant that Wendy take the tiny blue pills after she made him feel queasy when he placed his hand on her thigh during their last meeting; that was the fifth time he had done so over ten sessions, and each time she had made him feel like he would vomit. The pills made her sleepy, made the voices fuzzy and hard to hear; made the feelings of others fade in and out—making them too much to ignore at times, but then disappeared completely at others. She didn't like the pills, but was made to take them; the nurses always made her take them even when she said she didn't want to.

"They're not gonna' come." Wendy answered softly and went back to fiddling with the toy cat, pulling lightly at the fluffy ears.

"What makes you say that?" Doctor Larsher was suddenly beside her on the tiny springy bed, sitting too close for her liking, but she hadn't noticed his movement due to her current state. He reached out and plucked the soft toy from her hands. She wanted it back, wanted to have something to cuddle again; the toy cat had made her feel safe for the last few minutes. A hand appeared on her thigh once more, running up then back down to her knee slowly—again and again, dark brown eyes locked onto Wendy's face as he watched her squirm in discomfort. After a moment his lips twitched upwards, eyes lighting up as he came to realise something.

"Because they never do." Wendy's unfocused gaze watched his hand make its path up and down her thigh in morbid fascination, all the while wishing for him to stop.

"Well, if that does happen we'll be doing more tests tomorrow instead." She gave a slow blink at his words, not being able to fully process or understand them in her current state. "Nothing to worry about, it'll be fun." He gave her what was supposed to be a charming smile and moved his hand higher, leaning too close; lingering at the waist band of her pants. She wanted to push away from him, but couldn't find the energy to do so. "But for now, I want you to be a good girl and do something for me."

Wendy sat upright in her bed, breathing heavily—sweat making her sticky with her bed sheets gluing themselves to her skin. The sun was just starting to rise; peeking in through the sheer purple curtains and slowly lighting the room up. Nancy was curled down at the corner of the mattress, eyes trained on the struggling blonde and watching as Wendy inhaled deeply, exhaled—inhaled again, stomach rolling around inside herself; then flung the covers off her body, hearing the hiss from the familiar, but darting for the tiny ensuite to hurl all the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl; grimacing at the regurgitated roast chicken from dinner the night before. Gagging and coughing ensued as her body tried to remove every bit of sustenance from her person. She tried to shake the blurry memory turned nightmare away from her brain, squeezing her eyes tight as if that would help to shove the images from her mind—it didn't, of course it didn't. The phantom touch that lingered on her thighs made her skin prickle unpleasantly, like thousands of ants crawling across her flesh.

The feeling had Wendy scratching at her thighs, nails dragging against the surface and causing red welts to appear. Tears stained her cheeks while her breathing became short. She wanted the feeling to leave; to go. Go, go, go. The blonde pulled her hands away from her legs and dove for the shower, turning the knobs until the water was scalding and ripped the clothes off of her body to jump right underneath the spray. Wendy sobbed hysterically—tears mixing with the water as she gripped the hair at her scalp; praying to anyone, anything that would listen, to make it go away as her skin turned red under the burning water; thighs stinging as the scorching liquid caressed the welts there.

Wendy didn't know how long she stayed in the shower, only that her fingers and toes were wrinkled when she decided it was time to leave her haven. Before she knew it, she was dressed and staring at her reflection in the mirror, the doppelgänger didn't show her distress—save for the dark circles under her eyes. Autopilot Wendy had dressed her in a soft pink maxi skirt that covered the scratch marks she had bestowed upon herself and a white long-sleeved button up blouse that hid her chest from unwanted eyes.

Tired and drained was all she felt. Apart of her wanted to curl up into a ball and hid under the covers of her bed until the world swallowed her up. Another apart just wanted to forget the dream and the first hour of this morning never happened. Pile all of it into a little box and set it on fire, and watch the flames lick away at the wickedness that was her known memories. Maybe today was the day to find a too tall building—see how high she wanted to be before she fell.

No, no, no. Wendy shooed the thoughts away (ignoring them completely) from her mind before making her way downstairs after slipping on her flats, stroking Nancy's head upon her descent without looking up, knowing he would be perched upon the railing at the bottom waiting for her like he was every morning since they lived here, along with feeling his annoyance at Grams for accidently stepping on his tail before leaving to have breakfast with Clair Sesston—replaying the incident over and over again in his mind, coming to the decision to break the tall slim green vase in the lounge room.

"Don't do it." Wendy reprimanded the familiar blearily. "She'll get y' with tha' hose again." Nancy flicked his ear in acknowledgement, but didn't change his mind about breaking the vase, deciding it was worth it.

Wendy shuffled into the kitchen and took the shopping list that was stuck to the fridge with a pair of cartoon angel wings. A distraction, distractions were good—a distraction was needed. Nancy weaved through her legs, nuzzling his face against her foot and gave her shin a small head butt.

"I'll be back, later." Wendy told her furry friend. "Don't be breakin' nothin'." Nancy retaliated with a hiss and darted out of the kitchen, set on his vengeance no matter what she said. Humming a small tune to herself, she turned away from the fridge, list in hand with the bullet point stars evenly spaced on the paper.

The market would be the place to go today, Wendy decided; for today was a lovely day—a day that was meant to be spent outside underneath the sun and soaking up the vitamin D; not being cooped up inside like a hermit thinking about things she didn't want to think about. Today's weather was Wendy's favourite type of weather—sunny, but chilly; a little warm in the sun though still cool enough for sleeves or a jacket. She wandered towards the front door, placing the cream coloured sun hat upon her head, snagging her keys from the hallway table, and positioning the yellow sunglasses upon her nose.

Wendy called a goodbye to her familiar, the only response she received was the sound of something smashing and Nancy feeling immensely pleased with himself. Sighing heavily, she decided to ignore it and deal with the mess when she got back, hopefully before Grams returned and began chasing Nancy through the house with the hose again.

Red Stick Farmers Market was about a thirty minute bus ride give or take, but Wendy didn't mind the drive because she quite liked watching the scenery pass her by. Danny often questioned her on why she just didn't get her license, but the constant hammering against the walls around her mind made it difficult to focus on not running someone over; and also the fact that she was terrified that she would for some reason sneeze dramatically, crash and die—the fear was there and she didn't know why.

There were many interesting people on the bus, some were residents of St. Francisville, others were just passing through but all were heading somewhere different. Wendy was always a little unnerved by the fact that everyone around her was constantly within their own mind and thinking a million secret thoughts that battered against her walls daily; their internal struggles just like her own and everyone else—these people around her weren't just faces meant to fill up the world around her, there was a lot more to people then most could ever actually know. Like how the bus driver worked two jobs to help support his working wife and sick son, whom was suffering from leukemia—trying to make ends meet while also paying for the expensive hospital bills they were hit with monthly. And the little old man with his polished wooden cane and bouquet of daises was on his way to visit was late wife's grave; a beautiful woman with striking red hair in her youth and a sunny personality, he spun her around the dance floor to a fast paced beat watching her shriek in laughter—his memories making Wendy smile while she looked out the window.

Wendy knew that no one would be getting off the bus with her, not because she read their minds, but because she was the only one who carried canvas bags with her. She was sitting next to a woman who had long green hair, obviously dyed, but pretty and stood out against her caramel skin—the woman was reading a book on physiology, and had her brow scrunched up while she re-read the same sentence on the page again and again, frustration radiated from her which had her finally closing the book with a snap.

"I like y' hair." Wendy told her, breaking the silence, causing the woman to jump and turn towards the blonde; who gave the woman a dreamy smile. "Mermaid hair."

"Thanks." The woman looked a little confused, wondering why Wendy was even attempting at a conversation.

"Are y' studin'?" Wendy asked and gestured to the book the woman had placed back into her big red handbag.

"Tryin' t'." Mermaid Girl replied, scoffing a little while running her fingers to a temple to try and stop the oncoming headache. "I've got'ah test comin' up an' studin' for it is'ah bitch."

"Well, I think you'll do jus' fine, try not t' worry 'bout it too much." Wendy gave another dreamy smile and decided to lend the woman a helping hand by sending a spark of confidence straight at her, like an arrow that aimed true, visibly watching as Mermaid Girl put her shoulders back and straightened in her seat. "Lettin' somethin' like studin' an' tests drag y' down, an' stress y' out won't do'ya any good . . . an' always remember that even if y' mess up, dogs on tha' street will still tug on their owners when they see y' walk on by 'cause they wanna' say 'hello'." Mermaid girl just laughed, shaking her head as a happy easy smile lit up her pretty face and they talked until Wendy departed the bus with a smile and wave.

Wendy loved the markets. There was something calm about it even though she was surrounded by others thoughts and emotions. The sense of community was a little overwhelming, but not unpleasantly so, besides she rarely ran into anyone she knew whenever she did come to buy her fruit and vegetables, and she supposed that was a plus because she didn't have stares burning into the back of her head or thoughts jabbing Wendy's mind about their opinions of her.

"Fancy meeting you here." The familiar voice sounded from beside Wendy as she stood in front of a stall selling large tubs of natural honey. She gave a little jolt, almost dropping the tub of honey she held in her hands upon the pavement.

Wendy turned and met golden eyes. "Are y' stalkin' me?" she enquired innocently enough, head cocking to the right like a bird. Gabriel only shrugged and took the honey from her hands after she paid the man who ran the stall, giving the pair a strange look at Wendy's comment before turning to help another. "What're y' doin' here?"

"It's a nice day, why not spend it outside?" He said rhetorically, flicking down the sunglasses that were upon his head so they sat on his nose instead to shade his eyes.

"Wanna' do tha' groceries with me?" Wendy chirped while walking over towards the strawberries—smiling at the older woman who sat on a fold out chair, fanning her face with a piece of paper. Gabriel hummed in agreement to the blonde's question while trailing behind with a confident swagger, and taking the canvas bag from Wendy once she had placed the strawberries and honey within it; she didn't fight him on it, happy to accept the help.

Wendy had been doing research on mythical creatures with wings since Gabriel and herself had last spoke, and there were a lot of interesting options; though Wendy was focusing on gods, gods who specifically had wings—and Loki wasn't one of them. Loki was a Norse god and a trickster, she wondered why he would give her that name because it wasn't a truth, but it wasn't a lie either; which was beyond frustrating. Wendy wanted to poke him until he told her.

Maybe she wasn't met to know. Maybe Grams taking her memories was a gift from the universe, telling her that it was better to forget, better to let Gabriel's secrets remain secrets—even from her. And if that was the case, than she wouldn't push it; didn't really see the point if it was only going to cause her nothing but pain. Wendy could live with not knowing, her curiosity be damned, but if the time came for her to know his secrets; then she would accept that too.

Wendy winced a little at the sudden pain that came across her shin, stopping short on the crowded pathway. A hand gently wrapped around her bicep, holding her up when she stumbled to a small bench on the side behind a smoothie van.

"You alright?" Gabriel asked quietly, eyebrows furrowed as he came to sit beside her, placing the few groceries they had collected at his feet.

Wendy didn't answer right away, frowning down at her shin before a sudden wave of pain pulsed from the area. A sob escaped her lips and further off in the distance a little boy cried out.

"It hurts. It hurts real bad." Wendy bawled ridiculously, panic rising inside herself, hands shaking from a shot of adrenaline that coursed through her body. She knew what was happening, channelling wasn't anything new to her, but it came on suddenly without warning because she wasn't focusing as well as she should have been, her walls already weakened after her morning's emotional volatility. She felt incompetent, useless; unable to even block a scraped knee. It was embarrassing to have Gabriel or anyone witness the pitiful display of what most people assumed as lunacy.

Wendy wiped at her face free of tears and took a breath, calming herself enough to fight through the pain that wasn't her own. The little boy who had somehow hurt himself was crying so loud he could be heard from where they were sitting, it was easy to lock in on him once knowing his location—and when she had him, she took the pain away; absorbed it inside herself with her brow creased in concentration, shin aching as she did, but in doing so she was able to calm him and finally ease him off to sleep—Wendy finally let go of his pain.

"That happen often?" The glowing being next to her questioned, he sat close—not too close to make her uncomfortable, just close enough to offer her solace.

"No," Wendy responded in a mumble, scratching at the inside of her wrist to give her something else to focus on instead of the impending anxiety that began to rise inside of her at the thought of Gabriel thinking (just like everyone else did) that she was cracked, whittled, broken; like a too chipped tea cup—could still drink from, but too damaged to really enjoy the hot beverage inside.

"Wanna' Kiss?" Gabriel asked abruptly, prying her fingers from her skin; rubbing the abused flesh with his thumb. Wendy took a deep breath, frowning down at the thumb that ran up and down the inside of her wrist, realising what he had asked.

"Pardon?"

"Don't get too excited," Gabriel smirked as he took a Hershey's Kiss from his pocket and placed it into her hand. Wendy's fingers curled around the sweet treat, bestowing him with a breathy laugh and a dreamy smile.

"I love these." She said softly, giving him a small happy smile.

"I know."

They spent the next hour and a half dawdling around the market, talking about this and that. It was easy, easier than anyone else she had spent time with due to the fact that she didn't need her wards up—because whatever Gabriel was, he had the ability to shield her mind and body from those around them. To Wendy, that was a gift; pure and selfless. For that hour and a half she didn't have the weight of her own shields crashing down on her as she tried to keep herself free from everyone else. That added another clue to what he really was—what kind of individual had that kind of power to not only block Wendy and keep doing so, but to also shield her from the relentlessness of her everyday life as well?

Someone with power, that was obvious. But who and what was the thing that stumped Wendy.

Gabriel had offered to take her home again, wouldn't let her ride the bus home with all the groceries she was carrying. He didn't really give her a choice, taking the few bags she held and the multiple ones he had, and placed them in the boot of the Cadillac. The drive back was relaxed; casual. Gabriel didn't mind her ramblings, didn't smile out of politeness but out of genuine pleasure of speaking with her; he didn't cut her off, always let her finish what she was saying before he gave his own input. That was refreshing.

He cut the engine when they reached the old farmhouse, dust from the dirt driveway coming to a rest before he spoke. "I'll be gone for a while."

"Oh," was what escaped Wendy's mouth. That was sudden, unexpected most definitely. She believed that in the short time of knowing him that they had become acquainted, dare she say she even thought of Gabriel as a friend. "Well . . ." She continued kindly. "It was nice meetin' y' again, Gigi."

"Yeah." The faint reply seemed to echo in the small space of the car. He perked up; expression becoming almost sly. "I'll see you soon, Wendolyn." Gabriel purred her name, seemingly to roll each syllable off his tongue effortlessly, the low tones caressing her very essence and she had to suppress the shiver that threatened to overcome her body. The feeling was foreign, and she couldn't tell if she liked it or not.

Wendy wrinkled her nose, distorting the freckles that were scattered there. "Do'ya hav'ta say it like that?"

Gabriel shrugged, tapping a beat she didn't know on the steering wheel. "I like the way it sounds."

Wendy looked out at her home that stood in the sunshine; sunlight reflecting off the windows like it was ablaze. She built her walls up brick by brick, easier to do now that she hadn't needed to have it up for the duration of their time together. She turned back to Mr. Glow-y to find that he was already observing her. "Don't be'ah stranger, Gigi."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sunshine." Gabriel retorted, words painted in swirling yellows with a grin lighting up his face as he did so. Wendy gave the Mystery Man a swift peck on the cheek, feeling his cheek twitch with a smile before she jumped out of the car, watching as he gave her a wave and drove off into the distance, travelling to wherever he was travelling to.

Disappoint rushed through her and she gave a heavy weighted sigh. I didn't get tha' bags. As soon as the words popped into her mind, the groceries appeared beside her feet. Wendy gave the bags a disapproving look, toeing them with her foot; when they didn't attack she picked them up from the porch. What tha' heck are ya'?

A loud yowl broke into her thoughts, followed by crashing and banging.

"Get back here y' stupid cat!" Grams' shout shook the house.

Wendy heaved another sigh.

It had been one week and two days since her goodbye with Gabriel, and one more murder had been discovered; this time in Shreveport. Another person savagely ripped open. It was a woman—her name was Maria Rogers, a single mother of three and now her children didn't have a mother, because she was senselessly taken from them. Her face had been plastered all over the news and papers. People were more outraged and sympathetic because she was the only one out of all the murders to leave children behind.

Wendy toyed with the talisman that sat at the base of her neck. The small bronze ornament was a celtic knot that had every cloaking spell cast upon it and was dipped into every masking potion both Eleanor and Wendy came across. And it had worked, Grams couldn't find Wendy's magical signature once she put the pierce of jewellery on; it was a relief, a weight lifted from both of their shoulders now—though the fear of the Valtushard still lingered.

It seemed like today was going to be a bad day. The diner was understaffed and busy. Both Clare and Bec were out sick, Riley was at a funeral, Jamie was visiting a sick relative; so Joyce and Wendy were trying to power work through the lunch rush. It was a bad day because Wendy wasn't all there. The walls that held her mind together were like goo, letting everyone seep into her skin, her mind, her body—almost taking over completely at some points to bring her to a standstill in the middle of the floor, thankfully she had Joyce watching her and coming over to give her a pinch to jerk her out of the daze.

Wendy kept messing up the orders, forgetting what table had what, who wanted which. She brushed against three people in the space of an hour; the stabbing pain against her temple was caused by the consumption of too many memories all at once. In that short hour, the blonde learnt that Michael Russell whom was the towns head Surgeon, just so happened to have a drug addiction (heroin to be specific) and gained all his medical knowledge he had acquired in his forty years of practice. Lisa Russell, the surgeon's wife, was having an affair with their nanny; both were planning on running away together and getting married. Lisa didn't like her life, it was too much for her to handle; being married to the head doctor of the only hospital came with too much social stress for her to cope with any more. Her husband loved his drugs more, so she was going to take her children and run.

Last was Adam Murphy. He very much wanted to have sex with Wendy. Adam had been with multiple men and women, his sexual encounters now running rampant in Wendy's head. He wasn't dangerous—just a little sleazy, flirty; he wasn't bad looking either, just wasn't what she was looking for because Wendy was attracted to intelligence. Not that book smart type of intelligence. Wendy didn't care if a person went to college or how much money they made because of it; she liked intelligent conversations that made her think about life.

Gold eyes flashed in her mind, and Wendy threw the thought away; not giving herself any time to consider it.

"Excuse me, waitress?" A husky voice called her to attention, snapping her away from the memory of sowing a man's chest back up after doing heart surgery. Wendy looked down at her hands, still being able the see her latex gloves covered in blood; she blinked the vision away.

The blonde waitress swung around, her long ponytail following the movement, and observed the two men who sat in one of the booths. Wendy had never seen their faces before. Immediately she dove into their minds, gauging what she wanted to know with ease.

Samuel and Dean Winchester.

Hunters.

One thing in particular was different about these men though. They were darker; the blue that normally surrounded other humans had grown darker in the both of them—Deans middle was a deep shade of blue whereas Sam's centre was pitch black fading out to a dusty blue. That was definitely something Wendy had never seen before. The two were dressed casually enough, similar with flannel and semi heavy jackets, so that meant they didn't want any attention on them. But it would happen anyway, small towns were just like that, they would have people eyeballing them for the rest of their stay. They were also looking for the Valtushard, just like the other hunter from a few weeks back.

They were looking for Grams.

The knowledge had Wendy standing straighter, judging the two as she stepped closer. The man with the short cinnamon coloured hair and scruff on his jaw, Dean, noticed the movement, though he took the sign as her interest in him; she supposed that was okay, better that then him knowing she knew what they were up to. The other, Samuel, had longer hair, pretty and slightly darker with sideburns gracing the sides of his face; Wendy wondered if she'd be able to braid his hair, possibly weave flowers into as well.

A hand waved in front of her eyes, bringing her back to the here and now, Wendy frowned once she realised she stood before them, then blinked at the one named Dean. His eyes were green, so so green, as green as the clovers that graced Grams' flower bed or like the immaculate lawn of Mr. and Mrs. Mckinnon who watered it every single day without fail, even when they had that drought two years back, theirs was the only green lawn in the whole town.

"You alright there?" Dean asked with a crease brow as he handed the menu to the blonde.

"Y' have tha' greenest eyes ta' ever green." Wendy spoke without thought, the words tumbling from her mouth even though she didn't give her consent.

Dean gave a little chuckle, eye brows raised with a charming smile. "Never heard that pickup line before."

"It wasn't'ah pickup line. I said what I saw, an' I saw what I said." Wendy explained, giving a little nod to herself, she didn't miss the look the brother's shared with each other, but she was listening to the nagging thoughts of pie coming from the eldest. "We have apple-pie. I'll get'ah slice for y'." She hummed quietly under her breath, tuning in to the thoughts of a burger and eggs benedict, writing it quickly down of the notepad then turned away—the two hunters no longer holding her attention anymore.

Wendy placed their orders with Marco while she went about her business dealing with customers who wanted to be a nuisance, all the while keeping tabs on the two hunters sitting at table number five (the same table Gabriel sat himself in the first time, but not the first time, they met). They were both thinking she was weird, that was okay because most people thought that, but they were also discussing if Wendy was the right person to question about Grams. Dean argued that weird people always gave away more info, Sam retaliated that they'd be better off asking someone who knew the majority of the town's people; like a doctor or the minister.

"Hey, babygirl!" Marco called for Wendy from the order window. Her eyes fluttered as they came back into focus, becoming aware of Marco's slight irritation and concern at her, and Mr. Perkins judgmental gaze. Wendy made her way over toward the order window and faced her employer. "Called your name three times, Wendy. You alright?"

Wendy gave Marco a dreamy smile, "Jus' so much goin' on, they're all chirpin' away like early mornin' birds."

"Right," He eyed her carefully, running his dark gaze up and down her figure as if he could physically see if she were about to have a meltdown or not. "You need a break, you tell me yeah? Orders up, babygirl." Wendy nodded swiftly, grabbing the orders for the hunters and getting away from Marco quick smart before he put her in a time out.

"Here y' go." The blonde girl placed the plates on to the small table, two in front of Dean and one before Sam.

"How did you . . ." Samuel trailed off, his expression one of puzzlement. "We didn't order."

"I'm'ma good guesser." Wendy replied cheerily, the cheer being somewhat forced.

"Okay." Dean shrugged while a grin lit up his face as he picked the burger up from the plate and took the biggest damn bite Wendy had ever seen someone take; chewing away happily. "We're actually lookin' for someone." He spoke around a mouth full of food. "Family member."

"Oh, yea?" Wendy gave him a sugar sweet smile, making her mouth do something other than straight out calling him a liar.

"Yeah," This time it was Samuel, his pretty hair falling into his eyes, and Wendy fought the urge to brush it away. "Our great-aunt. We haven't seen her in years, but our father passed and we couldn't reach her so we decided to drive out here." There was truth in the words of their father passing and Wendy felt a little sad for them, but they still wanted Grams and she wasn't going to be swayed into being truthful because of a sad story.

"Her name's Eleanor Barrois, you know her?" Dean's cheeks were puffed up with burger. Wendy wrinkled her nose a little, he looked like a chipmunk; albeit a gruff and scruffy one, but still a furry little critter altogether (just with less fur).

"Well I sure do!" She sung, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It's jus' so nice that y'all came out t' see her. I see her in church every Sunday; she's such'ah sweet o'l thang." Wendy felt a little guilty for lying, but it was necessary. Grams would grumble at Wendy calling her old if she ever found out.

"You know where she lives?"

"'Course I do, silly." Wendy replied, clasping her hands together in front of her person. "She lives outta' town, pass Alexander Creek on Forest Glen Lane. Don't drive too fast or ya'll miss tha' turn off." Hopefully it'd take them awhile to figure out she lied. Mr. Jones was the only person aside from his budgie that lived on Forest Glen Lane. Wendy and Eleanor lived in the opposite direction, twenty minutes away from town on acreage and far enough away from neighbours that they couldn't converse easily. Soon as she was done with them Wendy was going to call home to give Grams a head up.

And so she began to weave a few thoughts into their minds to keep them occupied for a while before she got back to the farmhouse. Let them bicker back and forth a little, have them go around in circles and miss the turn off for the address she gave them before they gave in a asked another person.

"I hope y'all find tha' house okay."

Fun Facts:

- Brentwood Hospital is an actual hospital in Shreveport. Though there is no one there by the name of Dr. Larsher nor does it have a bad reputation, I just felt it would be more believable to use actual places.

- St. Francisville is a town within Lousianna with a population of 1,712.

- Red Stick Markets is a farmers market in Baton Rouge.

- Wendy's powers do show as signs of very early onset schizophrenia; and is why I chose that particular mental disorder.

- Wendolyn was named after Wendy from Peter Pan (one of my favourite childhood movies).

I can't wait to develop Wendy's relationships with Sam and Dean!
- 13teen xx