Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean or anything else you recognize from the show…I figure that much must be obvious. I do own the plot, though not the legend. Oh, and Makenna is mine as well… And I'm not about to give her up! On another note, Samhain Isle does not exist…at least not to my knowledge. The word, in Celtic means November, which is the beginning of winter and the dark season of the Celtic calendar. I thought it would be fitting and enjoyed the ironic twist of the first three letters being the name of the lovable, youngest Winchester!
Map of the World
Prologue
The metal boning of her corset dug into the soft, milky flesh just above her hip bones angrily, as though trying to prove the idea of the corset itself being nothing more than another torture device thought up by men to enslave their women in a physical sense. She hated it. She gritted her teeth in anger, resentment, and determination, not about to show any sort of emotion to anyone - and especially not weakness.
Her wedding day, and all on the island had shown up for the joyous event. It was too bad that she was the only one not experiencing the joy. She supposed that if others knew the true nature of the relationship on display, they wouldn't be so happy either. She wanted nothing more than to run out of the small country church and back to the ocean.
The water wasn't just calming, but was her home. She belonged there, and someday, she would return. Samhain Isle would not become prison.
She laughed at all the funny little quips and jokes that everyone had prepared for her, but her husband seemed to notice that she was distant, distracted. He could almost empathize with her situation. Almost. He had been struck by her incomparable beauty from the moment he'd seen her, dancing away, careless and free, her milky skin a harsh contrast to the dark night around her. Sand had clung to her bare feet and the still wet flesh of her perfectly shaped legs, and her naked form seemed to call out to him.
The last thing she had expected was to be caught. It was rare that any human was even near the shore this late at night. She had supposed that the legends had drawn him there, and he'd succeeded in what he'd come for. And he would live to see the day when he regretted first capturing that first glimpse of her that pitch black evening.
That much she had vowed, not only to herself, but to her yet unborn children. They would see the dark depths of the sea once again.