Thank you so much to my reviewers chaiteawalnuts, akagami hime chan, Eslynn, and Guest Reviewer! I can't tell you how much it means to have your feedback. I appreciate it so much.
So this chapter gets things rolling between Wendy, Sam and Dean. I tried to make them as awkward and stilted as possible without making the whole thing stale. I don't know if I've achieved that though. It took me four times of writing this chapter out to get it where I wanted it, but I still don't think it's quite right yet. So please, tell me what you think (be kind, I'm soft). I also didn't want it to seem like the brothers were warming to Wendy too quickly; especially Dean.
There is dialogue from the show towards the second part of the chapter-specifically season four, episode two; this is episode where I've started the beginning of Wendy's story.
I haven't checked this over yet! Mind the mistakes!
If you're feelin' kind, leave me a review!
Chapter Five
"I never lie," I said offhand. "At least not to those I don't love."
- Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat.
Chapter Quote: "Not dirty leaf water."
Wendy stared hard (almost glaring, really) at the black Impala that was parked in front of her home for a good five minutes, lost in her own thoughts. It was a nice car, some might even call it beautiful, but Wendy didn't really know all that much about vehicles. What she did know was that the Winchesters were here and she knew that Grams was here as well.
She could sense the three of them currently having some sort of hostile conversation in the living room, and Wendy would have alerted Eleanor to her presence if it weren't for the fact that the young blonde couldn't access her grandmother's mind nor could she really grasp any of Grams' emotions—they were still there, just softer somehow, but it wasn't due to the older woman merely blocking her either. No, there was something else at work here and Wendy began to grow more frustrated at her grandmother for once again keeping secrets.
Wendy gave one final last shove against the shield that surrounded Eleanor, but it didn't budge and only succeeded in making her mind spin. She narrowed her eyes at the car as she stood on wobbly legs and half-heartedly considered setting the car on fire—it wouldn't be too hard to do. Would actually be quite easy. And if the brothers were a threat, if they got violent and decided to flee; well, there wouldn't be a car to help them do that now would there? They'd have to escape on foot, and it was certainly much easier to track when your prey was on legs instead of wheels. Though, Wendy supposed it wouldn't be very difficult to break their minds if they decided on a more aggressive action.
The car would be left alone.
A frown tugged at her lips, the reflection in the passenger window of the Impala mirrored the facial movement. Wendy didn't like thinking like that. Didn't really like to hurt people and was never one for violence—there was a but though—but sometimes, sometimes violence was needed to protect those she loves; there was no doubt in Wendy's mind that she would stop anyone looking to hurt someone she cared about.
In all honesty, the blonde thought it would have taken the Winchesters a little longer to figure out that they had been played. It was her fault for underestimating the two, though they were annoyed that they had been led on a wild goose chase for a few hours, but there was no harm done so Wendy figured they wouldn't come at her with pointy things.
The sunlight beamed down upon her small form, reflecting off the windows of the house and the car, and sweat to gather on her brow. Wiping the perspiration away with the back of her hand, she slid her silver gaze from the Impala and towards the front door, moving silently—the faded cowboy boots that donned her feet carrying her towards the required destination. The house key slid into the brass lock soundlessly, turning it slowly so the bolt glided back without the resounding click. Slipping through the gap she created was effortless, pulling her key from the lock and closing the door behind her were all simple, easy steps to not being caught. So easy, that Wendy was almost positive that one of the brothers would jump out from behind the tiny pot plant beside the staircase and scare her, but that was ridiculous—the plant was overly small to hide behind and if such a thing were to happen they would undoubtedly knock over the plant, and that would leave Wendy feeling just a little bit vexed since she had been trying to keep the little thing alive for a few weeks now. Plus they would look absurd trying to hide their large frames behind such a tiny plant, as if she wouldn't notice. The image made Wendy give a soft laugh before she gasped quietly and covered her mouth with both hands. When her sudden noise didn't alert the other beings in the house, she relaxed a little, her hands falling back to her sides. Such a silly thought.
Moving towards the living room was trouble-free, knowing just where to step to avoid the creaks of her old home before coming to a stop inside the door frame and taking in the scene before her. Wendy had a clear view of Grams whom sat ever so elegantly upon the lounge like a queen with the two brothers both standing opposite Eleanor, backs towards Wendy and not noticing her presence as she stood a foot or two away. But Grams saw Wendy the moment she appeared, her gaze flicking over towards the young Valkaras before resting back on the boys. The brothers didn't miss a thing though and had moved quickly, backs facing the wall with the timeworn stone fireplace so both Eleanor and Wendy were in their sights; guns raised and ready to defend.
Wendy had never seen a gun before. Well, that was silly. Of course she had seen a gun before; she just hadn't seen a gun in front of her and pointed at her face before today. Wendy wondered if they were so on edge because Grams hadn't offered them any beverages. Perhaps things would've gone smoother with a hot cup of tea and some biscuits before starting in on interrogating her poor grandmother. Not the Eleanor Barrois couldn't take care of herself—but Wendy considered it a little rude to question someone when niceties hadn't been placed.
"I told y' we were expectin' guests Grams, an' y' didn't make tea." Wendy reprimanded lightly, edging into the room slowly as to not startle the two men with fire arms and came to a stop when Nancy was suddenly weaving through her legs before plonking himself down in front of her feet, hissing agitatedly at the two strangers.
The older brother grimaced at the cranky feline then quickly flashed his eyes back up to Wendy. "You. I knew you were fishy."
Wendy frowned at the lie, "Oh, y' did not Dean Winchester." She reprimanded him like she would a child; huffing a little at his indignant tone while placing her small hands on her hips, watching in absentminded interest as both of the strangers seemed to tense at her words. Her mind moved onto other things as the room grew silent, eyes falling on the window that had a perfect view of the back of the house and the tree that stood there dropping its leaves every fall, making Wendy have the displeasure of raking them up every day. She wasn't very fond of trees, they're so tall and arrogant—which reminded her of the two intruders in her home.
"How did you—?"
The tiny blonde cut Samuel off before he begun, becoming tired of the unnecessary tension in the room that was pounding against her mind—the swirl of aggressive annoyance shook her form, taking every ounce of restraint to not instinctively absorb the emotion within herself. "Ya'll are gonna' put those on tha' floor," Wendy gestured at the guns they both held, observing the two as she let the surge of her own clam and sleepiness overcome them; looking like toddlers coming down from a sugar high as they unsteadily placed the weapons on the floor. "Very good. Kick 'em away." They completed the command with half-lidded eyes and sluggish movements. Wendy yielded her persuasion over them once the guns slide beneath the buffet; seeing their expressions turn from sleepiness to infuriation.
Wendy rubbed her eyes tiredly as she surprisingly successfully pushed their emotions down.
"What did you do?" Dean took a menacing step towards the blonde, to only be stopped by Nancy who gave a madden yowl. Dean's mouth twisted in displeasure, but he didn't make a move to continue towards Wendy again.
"My granddaughter has ah peculiar set of talents." Grams cut in from her position on the lounge, her eyes assessing Wendy's frazzled appearance.
"Tea?" Wendy inquired out of the blue and gave the two brothers a dreamy smile, watching on as their faces twisted in confusion.
"We just—we just had guns aimed at you." Samuel frowned at the girl, completely bemused by her reaction to their current predicament. He side eyed Dean who was gave his sibling a similar look.
Wendy liked the fact that they could communicate with a single glance, their thoughts clanging around in her mind—something that they clearly didn't need to be able to convey what they wanted to say with only eye contact.
Is she in shock?
I told you, witches are crazy.
"Mhmm, so tea?" Wendy cut into their non-verbal conversation.
"Uh—yeah?" I dunno'. Tea? Why tea? Do you want tea, Dean? Samuel shot Dean a questioning look, who only shrugged in retaliation; still giving Wendy the stink eye. "Yes." The younger brother gave her a tight, slightly uncomfortable smile with a small nod of his head.
"Good." Wendy turned on her heel, a bounce in her step as she left the three other occupants to their own devices.
Dean didn't want any dirty leaf water from the tiny crazy blonde. He was sitting on the lounge opposite Eleanor with Sam beside him after the older woman welcomed them to take a seat, he had half a mind to follow after the waitress to make sure she didn't poison anything she offered them or come back with some kind of weapon. Dean was still pissed about driving around for hours on end looking for the one and only Eleanor Barrois on the words of the chirpy blonde the brothers had met earlier that day. He should have known, should have fucking known that they were being played. In hindsight it was blatantly obvious, the waitress knew what they wanted to order without asking—that was a giveaway if he ever saw one. Hell, the mind game even reminded him of the goddamn trickster that seemed to slip through their fingers at every encounter, and for a brief moment Dean suspected the Pagan god was at play.
The young witch appeared without warning beside Sam, and Dean fought the smile that threatened to show as his brother flinched a little at her abrupt presence. She carried with her a wooden tray that held four steaming mugs and a plate of biscuits, placing the beverages in front of each person. Dean frowned down at the mug as he collected it from the large coffee table, bringing it under his nose to sniff at the liquid.
"Coffee," Wacko informed him with a wistful grin, making Dean look up at her with a scowl. "Not dirty leaf water." For a second he wondered if he had said that out loud, but if he had Sam would've given him his bitch face.
"That's creepy, blondie." Dean commented before he took a tentative sip, the bitter taste of the coffee—just the way he liked it; black with one sugar—revealed nothing threatening.What the hell. He grabbed two biscuits and gave them a sniff too before deeming them safe enough to eat.
"So I've been told." Blondie gave Dean another stoner grin which had him scrunching up his face at her.
"We're hunting a witch and Bobby said you might be able to help us." Sam began, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leant forward with hunched shoulders, though he made no move to touch his tea or the food.
"Y' mean ah' Valtushard." Eleanor corrected giving the two brothers a stern look. "Try not t' throw her in with tha' rest of us, honey."
"Whatever." Dean sounded off. "The fact is we have a crazy S. O. B. running around killing people."
"I've never once enjoyed ah' fact, but that is true. I feel like they're tha' type'ah person who never wears patterns." Blondie spoke up just before taking a long pull from her mug, wide eyes the only thing they could see over the large cup.
Sam finally made a grab for his own beverage, bringing the teal coloured mug to his lips to quickly hide the growing smile that began to show. They were dealing with two witches; one of them happened to be a basket case and Sam found the whole thing funny.
Dean sighed internally, ignoring Wacko's comment. "Anyway. You gonna' help us or not?"
It was quiet for a moment as Eleanor sized the both of them up with an arched brow, unknown thoughts running through her head before she finally spoke.
"Oh honey, no." Eleanor gave the two a cat like grin, he granddaughter giving her a frown that she ignored. "Y' gonna' help me. Ya'll can't kill this thang, y' two ah' just'ah sack of meat with bones holdin' y' up right." The older woman leaned forward, gaze narrowing and intimidating—expression becoming serious and threatening. "You will take my granddaughter an' you will keep her safe while I deal with tha' Valtushard. That is our agreement."
"No." Dean declined without missing a beat, shooting to his feet and making his way across the room towards the buffet to fetch the gun Blondie had made him kick there. "C'mon Sam, we're leaving."
"I agree." Wendy sided with Dean, turning to her grandmother with her thick brows lowering over her eyes, marring her round face. "If y' think I'm gonna' leave y' alone t' deal with tha' Valtush—"
"Wendolyn, I go after 'em, they'll meet me head on; where you'll be—like'ah present wrapped up in'ah pretty little bow." Eleanor placed her wrinkled hand upon Blondie's knee, giving a little squeeze. "I'll be dead before that ever happens."
"Dean, wait!" Sam, who hadn't moved from his seat on the lounge to follow his brother, called out to him before giving Eleanor his full attention. Sam heard Dean march back into the room, but placed himself near the exit instead of the lounge. "Why do you want us to hide . . . Wendolyn?"
"Wendy's fine." The dreamy blonde offered as she reached for a biscuit and gave the treat a bright smile; her mood swinging over to a more positive one at the drop of a hat.
Eleanor sighed heavily with pursed lips, fingers flexing in her annoyance, but she didn't answer. It was silent between the four of them, bordering on awkward. Dean lent against the door frame, arms folded and waiting on his younger sibling. Dean was beginning to think this whole detour was a waste of time. They'd be so much closer to catching the witch if they hadn't taken Bobby's advice.
Frustration bubbled up inside Dean.
And then it was gone. Dissipating too quickly to be natural.
Dean's clover green eyes meant that of the young Valkaras.
"I feel it all." She told him with a little smile and finished off her biscuit. Wendy's long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder as she reached for another. "Sometimes it's'ah flowin' river; as calm as calm can be. But then it's ragin' an' batterin'—crashin' against me—over an' over; like an ocean durin' ah' storm or an angry man with'ah sledgehammer."
"Wendy's an Emapth. Ah better term would be Vadalis," Eleanor educated the two men, sweeping a curl that came free back up into her neat and tidy bun while she watched the young blonde worriedly. "Which is someone with tha' ability of emotional manipulation an' absorption; kinda' like'ah syphon, being able t' access someone's entire bein' with just'ah touch. What makes that so dangerous—wanted . . . Wendy can also absorb abilities." Eleanor stated plainly and quickly; like ripping off a band-aid. "Ah Valtushard kills their victim with ah very specific an' painful ritual t' acquire their victim's powers. If they were t' have Wendy's gifts . . ."
"Then they wouldn't need to kill." Sam finished.
"No, there would still be killin's." Eleanor re-adjusted herself on the lounge, crossing her ankles over. "Tha' ritual isn't jus' for stealin' power, but for also stealin' youth. That's why all tha' bodies are missin' their lungs as well as their hearts."
"Y' supposed t' eat tha' heart, then mush tha' lungs up," Wendy rubbed her palms together, actioning her words. "til' it's paste like, an' rub it on y' skin." She finished knowingly, her nose wrinkled as she looked off to the side at the damned cat that was eyeing Dean in a particularly nasty way. Wendy gave the feline a disapproving look and watched it slink off behind the lounge she sat on.
"So, what? It's like some kind of sadistic anti-aging serum?" Dean threw out, face twisted in disgust. "Damn, witches are gross." That was even more fucked up, couldn't the son of a bitch just leave the dead be? Why go be extra and start fucking eating them? Dean repressed a shiver of disgust.
Eleanor sneered at his commentary. "Tha' last time tha' murders happened there were twenty-one victims." She leveled the two brothers with a glare. "Tha' last time my daughter was murdered . . . So if ya'll want my help, take tha' deal or try an' find yourselves another witch who won't try t' kill y'."
"We don't know 'em." Wendy fiddled with her fingers as she watched her grandmother pack the brightly patterned weekender bag full with other necessities other than clothes she took from the young woman's room. Small jars filled with different herbs and other odds and ends were placed in there as well.
Both Samuel and Dean were waiting in the car for her. They had promised her grandmother that they wouldn't go anywhere until Wendy was ready. The whole thing had Wendy's mind spiraling. She was confused, not really knowing what to do about this whole situation. Of course Wendy understood her grandmother's reasoning, but she felt discarded; being pushed away like she wasn't wanted. It reminded Wendy of her father and Kathy, hiding her away from the world so she couldn't cause further issues. She wanted to dig her heels in, stamp her foot, shout, scream; anything to get her grandmother to explain why she was doing what she was doing.
"I know Bobby. I trust Bobby." Grams didn't look up at Wendy as she picked up the heavy leather bound grimoire and moved to pack it with everything else.
"No, don't." Wendy took the heavy book from her grandmother, putting it on the over sized island that stood in the middle of the basement. "You'll need it more than me."
Grams placed her hands upon her hips. "I know I've upset y', but I'm—"
"Stop." Wendy snapped wringing her hands together then stopped the movement to push her hair back away from her face with both hands. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt restricted. "I can't hear y'. Can barely feel y'—an' y' just actin' like this is normal. It's not normal! Y' keepin' secrets an' I don't know why."
Grams sighed and grasped Wendy's hands within her own, causing the younger woman to suck in a sharp breath as emotions and thoughts whirled around inside her mind before her grandmother slammed up her shield. Eleanor jingled her newly acquired bracelet that hung delicately from her wrist, bringing it to Wendy's attention. "I've enchanted it t' block y'—or ah Vadalis, really—an' only works when there's no skin contact. It took ah while t' come across. It's better this way. Y' don't need t' be on guard all tha' time."
Silver and blue mixed with her grandmother's words.
Wendy wrenched herself away from the woman before her; losing the connection to Grams' emotions at the action. "You're lying."
"Y' need t' understand—"
"No, no, I need t' not be lied t'!" Wendy sputtered with watery eyes and shallow breaths. "Why—why would y' do that?"
"Wendolyn—"
"No more excuses!" Wendy uttered disdainfully, cutting her grandmother off before she could sooth her. "I jus' want tha' truth . . . please."
"No." Eleanor spoke firmly, narrowing her eyes at her granddaughter. Wendy felt her eyes widen as she took another step back. She reached out to tap against the wall that surrounded her Grandmother, but aside from the quiet waves of regret, she got nothing; just static.
Wendy swallowed tightly as she turned away from her care-giver and zipped up her bag, walking out of the basement without another word to Eleanor. She bid Nancy a quiet farewell, asking him to look out for her grandmother while she was away. Nancy wasn't too happy to have Wendy leave; his tail flicking back and forth as he sat beside the front door—his displeasure running through her, but she gave him a smile while scratching behind his ears and he returned the action by nuzzling into her hand.
Five minutes later the brothers were sitting in the Impala with Metallica playing quietly on the old stereo while they waited for Blondie.
"I can't believe you talked me into this." Dean grumbled as he sat in the driver's seat of the vehicle, Sam beside him in the passenger's seat. They were heading back to Bobby's to find out about all the angel crap they were dealing with (on top of the fucking witch shit).
"Do you have any other ideas?" Sam retorted. "I'm all ears Dean."
Before Dean could shoot a scathing remark at Sam, the boot popped open, than quickly shut again followed by the back passenger door going through the same motions—then there was Blondie sitting in the backseat of his baby.
"Who's Bobby?" Wacko inquired harmlessly. Dean was about to answer the casually asked question, but caught himself. A crease formed between his brows as he shot a look at Sam who gave him the same questioning eyes. They both turned to look at the little weirdo.
"How—"
"Ya'll have loud thoughts," She answered Sam's question before he asked it. "It's like screamin' inta' ah microphone."
"Wait, you read minds?" Dean winced a little when he asked out loud and felt a little guilty for the names he had called her, even if they were only said inside his head. He shook it off, and gave the witch a blank look. It was fucking freaky, just what he needed; a goddamn witch inside his head while an angel waltzed around telling him God was real.
"Oh yes!" Blondie grinned brightly, but her smile softened when she saw the stricken look upon Sam's face. "Don't worry though, most people think what ya'll were when they first meet me."
"Right, well sorry." Sam squinted, his lips ticking a little to the side.
"That's so nice." Wendy said softly, buckling herself up. She sat with legs crisscrossed underneath herself in the middle seat, hands clasped together and back straight—looking out the window at the old farmhouse with a small frown.
"You forget anything?" Dean probed, feeling inclined to ask as he twisted the car keys to start the ignition, engine coming to life and sounding like a deep purr.
"I have no idea what goes on inside ah dishwasher after I push tha' start button. There might be'ah tiny man in there washin' each dish by hand." She peeked over at the two, head cocked to the side. "Who's Bobby?"
Dean snorted, driving the car down the long dirt drive way.
"He's an old friend." Sam responded. "He's got some information for us."
"Okie dokie."
"You're Elle's granddaughter?" Bobby said gruffly, rhetorically. "Y' look like your ma'." Wendy gave him her best smile, almost laughing when his ears turned red and feeling his bashfulness fill her up— turning her own cheeks pink. He grumbled, words not making much sense as he walked out of the hallway and off to the left.
"He's'ah sweetheart." Wendy commented as she stepped over the threshold of the old house, hefting her bag further up her shoulder and following after the curt stranger where she found him in a small lounge room standing beside an old wooden desk on one side of the room, which was piled and piled with books; some littering the floor, lining the walls, and crowding any available surface. On the other side was a beaten up love seat, a frayed arm chair and a relatively old television set.
Over the last few hours travelling with the brothers taught Wendy that they didn't trust her, which was fair because she didn't trust them either. Dean in particular didn't like her, mainly because she was a witch, also because he thought she rambled a lot about nothing. It also freaked him the hell out that she could read his mind and emotions at any given time; he got the bright idea of shouting AC/DC lyrics in his head that made Wendy wince and throw up her weak walls to keep the shrieking out. Samuel on the other hand was indifferent towards her. He was the type of person who was mild mannered, but didn't typically speak his mind; so what Wendy received when tuning into Sam Radio was snark and sass thrown left and right about anything and everything. Samuel was also twitchy and agitated, which made Wendy want to find out why, though she could take a guess. But trust wasn't earned by looking where someone didn't want you to, and so she let him keep some secrets.
"I got stacks of lore," Bobby began as he took a seat at the desk and started to leaf through a thick hardcover book as the brothers went over. "Biblical, pre-biblical. Some of it damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit."
Wendy sat her bag down by the love seat and wandered over to the three men whom crowded the desk. She stood next to Samuel's towering frame, frowning down at the depiction of an angel hovering above a man being consumed by fire. Her mind jumped and raced towards Gabriel, her eyes narrowed down at the page, lips pursing in contemplation.
It made sense, didn't it? Gabriel being an angel? Wendy almost laughed, it was glaring obvious now, what with the wings and all that glowy-ness. But why would an angel be wandering around on earth chatting to a Valkaras? Shouldn't he be up in the clouds in paradise? The image of Gabriel in a meadow flashed within Wendy's mind again; it seemed more likely that he had once strolled through such a place at one point in time. But another, equally important question was why these three men were looking into angels?
"What else?" Dean's question startled Wendy from her musings, looking up and finding a crease had formed between his brows. He had his hand resting upon his left shoulder, a memory appearing in her mind as Dean reminisced about seeing it for the first time; the phantom pain that shot through Dean made Wendy grimace and roll her shoulder in response.
"What else, what?" Bobby retorted.
"What else could do it?"
"Airlift your ass out of the hot box—as far as I can tell? Nothing." The older man gave a small shrug, leaning back into his chair with a heavy sigh.
"Dean," Samuel began, lips twitching a little as he did so. "this is good news."
"How?" Wendy could feel Dean's frustration oozing out of him. He was tired of having the same old argument with Samuel. The two were continuously going around in circles, and all Dean wanted to do was forget that the encounter with this angel ever happened; hoped he never saw it again.
"Because for once this isn't just another round of demon crap." Samuel spoke reasonably. "I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?"
"Okay. Say it's true. Say . . . there are angels. Then what?" Dean countered, raising he's eyebrows quizzically. "There's a God?"
"At this point, Vegas money's on yeah."
Dean chuckled a little at Bobby's remark, making to walk off into the kitchen, "I don't know guys."
"Okay, look. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof." Samuel argued, scoffing. Dean whirled back around as the two began to bicker on and on about the subject. Wendy cast a glance to the side, eyeing Bobby as he rolled his eyes at the pair and began to pour himself a hefty glass of whisky. The sight made Wendy think of her grandfather and a smile pulled at her lips.
"Because why me?" Dean's voice pulled Wendy back into the conversation. "If there's a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"
"Dean—"
"I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy." Wendy watched the elder brother worriedly. Anxiety whirling up inside him as he paced a few steps; fists clenching and unclenching. Wendy wanted to sooth him, calm him; but she didn't. He didn't like it so much the first time she had, and Wendy didn't feel like pushing Dean to turning on her with aggression—considering his immense dislike towards people like her.
"Apparently, you're a regular guy that's important to the man upstairs." Samuel verbalized animatedly. Trying to get his brother to see the brighter side of things, to not try and seek out the potential hidden danger in everything.
"Well, that creeps me out." Dean expressed worriedly, shaking his head while Samuel let out a huff. "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by . . . God." He finished with a scoff.
"Okay, well, too bad, Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat." Samuel folded his arms and looked at his older sibling smugly.
"I love parties." Wendy joined the conversation quietly as she reached for the book Bobby had showed the three, turning it around so she could read the words. "It's sad we don't have Balls anymore. I want t' be courted an' dance, an' wear ah lovely gown that sweeps tha' floor."
It was quiet for a moment as Dean ran his tongue along his top teeth while Samuel and Bobby stared blankly at the blonde who was flipping through pages of the thick book, skimming the words for anything that seemed important.
Samuel cleared his throat quietly and gave Wendy a confused smile. "That sounds nice."
"What do we know about angels?" Dean cut through the awkwardness with the query.
Bobby glanced at the pile of fat and weighty looking books, picking them up with a sigh and plonking them on the desk in front of Dean. "Start reading."
Dean glowered at the pile of books, and turned towards Samuel—pointing at him before stating very firmly; "You're gonna' get me some pie." He snatched the very top book from the pile before moping away while the younger of the two pursed his lips at the demand.
Wendy cooed and turned her attention to Samuel. "May I have some chips?"
Fun Facts:
- The term Valkaras is given to natural born witches.
- Valtushard is a term for a Valkaras who murders their fellow witches for power.
- Wendy would be a Hufflepuff.
- Eleanor would be a Ravenclaw.
- Eleanor doesn't have a natural born gift like her daughter Selene or granddaughter Wendy.
- Eleanor is a talented Alchemist and Caster.