Hey ya'll, This is a crossover project of mine I've been waiting for the fire to do for quite awhile. For some reason this morning, the muse hit me. I always wondered how Elsa and Anna might do in the Supernatural world, and I like where I'm taking this story so expect more. I can't promise it'll be fast. I know myself by now. I can tell you this story will have mostly Frozen characters and a smattering of Disney characters. Whatever disney character I love will be in it. I'm so excited for this! I have huge plans for both Hans and Kristoff here too, and some basic character arcs of Frozen will feature here also. BUT! this is a No!powers universe, as I don't really want too many complications for this storyline, so no ice-queen. Oh, and this story is an AU, because I can't stand the direction Supernatural went in present day, so keep in mind nothing from Supernatural timeline will feature here.

I'm looking forward to posting more, thank you for looking!


Aldale, Wyoming

13 years ago

The dying evening mid-August sun had finally lost the jagged edge to its blazing summer heat. Its weary body sagged behind the Owl Creek Mountains painting 13 year-old Elsa Halseth's house a rosy orange glow. Elsa sighed, weary from the disappointment of her awkward study-date and readjusted her heavy shoulder bag. Couldn't think of the playful, prodding teasing Mom was preparing for her or Anna's eager, dozen annoying questions. Maybe if she acted fast, she could slip past both her mother and sister and barricade herself in her room (blocking the door with her heaviest dresser would be great) before they even noticed.

Resolute on that idea, Elsa stepped off their driveway and quietly slipped up the front steps. But when her fingers wrapped about the doorknob, habitually expecting it to give way like it did every day, only it didn't. Their front door was locked. Confusion prickled the young girl for a moment even as she dug out the house key in her pocket. They didn't lock the door until it was dark. Odd. Maybe Dad locked it by accident. Sometimes his mind was in a thousand places, being the mayor of Aldale after all. It clicked as the lock came loose and she pushed and as the door swung inwards, the strangest thing was waiting for. A strange sodden, lump piled atop the floor in the entryway. Elsa's sandals stubbed against the hardwood floor, eyebrows creasing dubiously at the weird thing. Each second of staring at it gave her increasing clarity and she cringed backward, mouth curling with horrified disgust and stomach heaving. It was skin. The putrid, molten, flesh-colored pile that oozed streams of bodily juices and blood was human skin.

That ghastly moment was broken by a hair-splitting, shattering shriek scraped the walls, resonating its unearthly volume throughout the halls and freezing Elsa's blood solid. Spooked, Elsa tangled in her own feet and nearly fell. Her heart slammed to a sudden halt, all the air leaving her lungs in a frenzied rush as her fists curled and lips twisted.

An instant later a petrified young scream followed. "Mama!"

Elsa blanched. Anna! Mom! Cold, sickening fear churned within her stomach. What was happening? Frantic, she stabbed her fingernails into her soft palms as her hands became tight fists. They were in trouble! And there was human skin on the floor, what—But, did she really have time to think it all out? No, she had to find her sister and mother.

It would've been so much smarter to call the police instead of heading further into God knew what; certainly if she had done that instead the horrendous nightmares that clawed at her psyche every night since then might not have been there at all. But she was a child. Only 13 years behind her but still a scared child too naïve to do anything but find the pistol Dad had hidden days ago beneath the couch pillow then move softly down the hall to the living room just beyond. She just reached the archway into the vaulted, spacious living room when her mother's agonized rasp scraped the air. "No! Leave her out of this! She has nothing to do it!"

When Elsa peered through the archway, the sight she took in didn't make any rational sense. Her brain scrambled to understand what she was seeing. Pinned up against the wall, splayed strangely and completely off the ground, defying all gravity without so much as a touch from anyone else, was Mom.

Elsa's mouth fell open, almost giving herself away with a great gasp. She scrunched her eyes shut, held them that way a few seconds, but when she opened them Mom was still stuck there, limbs arranged bizarrely. And she wasn't just pinned, she—she was bleeding. Bleeding in rivulets seeping out from her stomach, and from brutal slashes carved deep into the flesh of her arms and face. Absolute terror and agony twisted Mom's features, her pain-ravaged cerulean gaze fixed onto—Dad?

"Now that's not fair. Seeing as this sweet little thing was so happy to let me in, Anna has a very big part to play. As big a role as your husband had, and remember how much fun he was?" casually sneered words taunted in a voice they all loved, knew like the back of their hands. And the world stopped. Not slowed down, just crashed to a stop and flipped upside down on its head in shattered pieces. Dad?

In trembling disbelief Elsa's eyes cast further into the doorway, gaze flittering over the towering man with Dad's height, heavy shoulders, and powerful frame. There was Dad's shaggy, chestnut brown head of hair and flannel shirt he loved to wear and put on just this morning. Sickness pooled heavy in Elsa's heart. Oh God, this was really happening... Mom was really stuck to the wall, and Dad had done this.

Mom's keening, gurgling sob of anguish tossed her daughter against a tidal wave of brutal fear that so drowned her, her legs were paralyzed. To see the woman who nursed you as a baby, wiped immeasurable tears from your face, bandaged all cuts and comforted you through every upset stomach or nightmare so weak, so beaten down and stuck high up on a wall like a freak scene from a horror movie froze every drop of blood in Elsa's body.

"He was so much fun for me I think little Anna deserves to have some of it. And then after she's had her fun it'll be your turn, bitch." Dad, or so he appeared, took a small knife Elsa recognized as one from their kitchen and stabbed it into something she couldn't make out cradled in his fist.

A strangled cry drew Elsa's attention at that moment, a cry her twisting heart instantly recognized. Just on the other side of the wall Mom was pinned to was her little sister, arms and legs splayed out immobile beside her like a caught bug in a web. A protective, nurturing instinct of an older sister started screaming within Elsa's heart the second she met Anna's impossibly wide eyes, how they stared unblinkingly at Mom's suspended body, all the while with endless tears cutting two wet paths down her small cheeks. Then the older sister caught sight of

Anna's entire body was sickly, ghostly white, and even trapped there she was shuddering with bone-cold shock of what she was seeing. Small, rapid, hitching breaths choked out of the little girl's trembling lips.

10 years of being a responsible older sister, making sure Anna was fed, kept out of danger, comforting her through the lonely moments when Mom and Dad both had to be away, and talking her through the fear of silly imaginary monsters under the bed had grown a strong bond between the both of them. So strong that Elsa could feel within her own heart when her little sister was upset or hurting, angry. Right now, the older sister's heart was being crushed open between the jaws of overpowering horror, a phantom pain reflected from Anna's stricken face. Anna's just seconds from hyperventilating.

In disbelief Elsa stupidly stretched her head so far around the corner she was spotted instantly. Not by him, he was turned away towards Anna, too reveling in whatever sick game he was playing to notice the obvious burning stare of a child. But Mom saw, even swaying over the edge of unconsciousness from loss of blood. Her gaze locked onto her oldest daughter the instant Elsa's face peeked childishly over the wall. The instinct of a mother to a child began to slowly cut through all other instincts of self and awareness of Elsa grew stark.

The lure of her mother's powerful stare sliced through Elsa's distracted fixation on that man and sucked her attention. Back to Mom's terrible white-washed face and settled in her mother's alert, so familiar cerulean eyes. For an agonizing, horrified moment Elsa and her mother both held each other's gazes. So often in their lives, Mom had no need to talk to say what she wanted or felt because her eyes, expressive and earnest, told you everything. And right now Mom's stare was painfully wide and screaming, her tremoring, blood-blotched lips opening so carefully slow, not so much as a wisp of air left them. But even without air to speak, Mom's lips mouthed a sluggish but dreadfully clear message to her. Run.

No. Stricken, Elsa desperately wagged her head in desperate defiance, tears beginning to swell over her eyes. No, she wasn't going to abandon her mother! Abandon Anna. But—the other half of her mind screeched—what was she going to do? Shoot her own father?

"I know you're standing there, Elsa." That voice so seductively like Dad's again, it curled her fingers and toes to hear it. A war broke out inside her, half of her screaming this thing wasn't Dad, the other horrified this man mustto be. Nobody else could sound exactly like him!

"No reason to hide behind the wall any longer. Come on out, El." He continued, was trying to reproduce Papa's soothing, fatherly husk. Dad…trying to comfort her into coming out of hiding as he tortured Mom and Anna? Calling her by her special nickname?

"W-what's going on? Why are you doing this, Dad?" she gasped, keeping a shaking grip on the gun's handle. But she didn't dare come out from the corner, be nakedly exposed and small under the sickening presence of whoever this was.

He gurgled a small chuckle so light it was disturbing. "Come on out. Don't be scared." Don't be scared. As if Mama wasn't magically suspended there on the wall bleeding. What kind of nightmare had she walked into?

"He—He's…not your father!" Mama choked, straining muscle tendons bulging against her smeared flesh as her body fought to get free. "Elsa—run!"

"Mama..."

The doubleganger's hazel eyes suddenly bled with animosity in his trapped victim's direction. "You've talked too long." Barely looking at Mom, he lifted his left hand—Dad wasn't left-handed—and coldly, rapidly twisted her neck in his grasp.

Elsa heard the ominous cracking first, a shattering echo. Bone breaking. Shrill yelps tearing out her little sister's throat as she dissolved into senseless sobbing. Sickness pooled in Elsa's stomach thick as poison. She shouldn't have looked around the corner again, there was a horror waiting there that would destroy the hopeful-hearted girl she was and haunt every sleeping moment after, but a child's naivety ruled her that moment and she paid for it. Mama's twisted neck was lopsided and bent like a broken bobble-head with her glassy, staring eyes emptied of warmth. The life crushed out of them. And then Elsa screamed, screamed hysterically until her ears rang deaf with it and heard nothing else-until the windows should have cracked, until the double of Dad scowled with irritation.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he scolded, just as annoyed as if she was a child throwing a tantrum. When her screams didn't stop, he growled ferociously and left Mama's broken to tumble to the floor while he sought out the screamer.

By now, Elsa's legs had bent and crumbled underneath her, leaving her to collapse onto her knees and still she kept screaming. Her raw throat felt ready to tear itself apart when suddenly he stood over her. Nearly choking, Elsa realized she was next to die and in the frenzied moment remembered her hands still gripped to the gun. She pointed its barrel upwards at him, centered on his chest and pulled the trigger. She felt so numb about it, it was somebody else's fingers working.

The bullet tore into her mother's killer's chest and ripped out his back, sending a slew of blood spattering in a mist across the wall behind him. But that ugly satisfying moment she expected of him collapsing down dead in a pool of blood never came. Instead he just stood freaking stood there, freaking flinched and then looked down at the wound rushing with blood and winced. "That hurt. But you'll have to do better." Then he lifted his hand but Elsa now grew crazy with adrenaline and pounded the gun trigger, unloading every bullet left in the chamber—all 4 into his chest and abdomen and watched the walls behind him become painted with his blood.

He stumbled at last and fell to knees, coughing up blood then lifted wrathful eyes. "You little brat…" the murderer hissed, and stood up on weak legs that grew slowly grew steadier as he stumbled towards her. "Just for all that I'm going to go slow with you, make you suffer twice much as Mom." And as Elsa looked on in sickened awe his yawning chest wounds slowly closed up. The torn tissues repaired themselves, grew back together in the time Elsa took to blink!

"What are you?" the teen gasped, sweat beads of terror gathering on her lips, her entire body shaking from head to toe. All the bravery was sucked out of her looking at this thing. What kind of person didn't die, or even slow down, from 4 bullets to the chest and abdomen? What could look and sound like her father's carbon copy? And if he wasn't really Dad, where was Dad? Was he dead too?

What should have mattered most was getting away, try to get past him to Anna and bolt out the back door just feet from them. But her stupid legs wouldn't move, they were turned to stone from pure fear. There was no outrunning this thing, no killing him. She and Anna were going to die.

NotDad or whatever he was, finally finished healing and came to loom over her, a delighted predator gleeful his exhausted prey was weak.

Something tore through his shoulder then and this time…he cried out and grabbed that wound as if it burned. To see such a simple shoulder wound so minor give that monster such apparent pain when the heart shots she'd given him only annoyed him, Elsa blinked helplessly.

"There's more where this came from…fucking bastard!" clutching the '38 was Oma, seething vengefully whilst dripping blood. But their grandmother never got to finish their enemy off. He began babbling rapidly in a tongue so strange to Elsa he seemed crazy or drunk and then—a seam opened in the very air, like the seam of a shirt, and grew wider until it was a black void.

That thing, after a reluctant glance at those he failed to kill, slipped right into that void in a split second even with Oma's snarls and a second bullet shot off after him. Oma leaped to follow too but her body was too wounded and lumbering so she stumbled and crumpled to the carpet. And in that instant the void closed, taking that murderer with it. To safety.

The moment of his vanishing, the power he'd been holding over Anna dissipated and dropped her helpless to the soft ground.

"O-Oma! You're hurt too. W-what happened?" choked out Elsa, hardly sure of whose side to first go to.

Gasping a deep, sobbing breath of air at her failure, Oma to raise her head. "Elsa, I'll tell you everything later… Right now, you need to call help! And your mom…" their grandmother's breath cut off tersely, for she hadn't seen Mom lying there alongside the wall broken and without life.

Quivering, Elsa shook her head wordlessly, unable to bear looking at another awful cascade of grief and horror. Help. Remembering her grandmother's begging, that goaded the young teen to rise onto her legs at last. Help for Anna and Oma. And—Dad. Elsa's body lurched with remembrance. She had to find Dad. "I'-I'll be back." She touched the still-grey Anna reassuringly. "I'll find the phone."

Throughout the years after that, there were few phone calls that made Elsa Halseth ill to remember, sparse memories that were so awful to be violently isolated and buried within her psyche. The call to their local 911, to dispatchers who knew Dad and Mom both and trying to explain all the unspeakable horror that happened, with raw agony of a child watching her mother murdered, that phone call was worse pain then all of the torn flesh and broken bones of her life, together.

"Y-You guys have to come! As fast as you can! Oma and Anna, they're hurt bad."

"Ok, Elsa, they're on their way right now, honey. You should be hearing the sirens very soon." " The dispatcher soothed with a mother's warmth. "Can you tell me where your dad is? Was he attacked too?"

"I don't know. I-I'm looking for him." Elsa stammered, climbing the stairway. "Dad! Can you hear me?"

"Looking for him?" The 911 correspondent repeated, suddenly bent with anxiety. "Elsa, listen to me, you're by yourself. Go back down the stairs and stay with your grandmother and sister until the police get there."

"But he could be hurt!" she argued desperately. "I have to find him…" there was the door to her father's study ahead of her, cracked open menacingly and slurring for her to stay away. Trembling from head to foot, Elsa pushed out her hand and the door glided aside. "Dad!" her lungs rushed out all the air they held to see her father sitting backwards in his office chair, arms forced rigid to the rests by ribbons of duct tape. After every nauseating, nightmarish sight ripping apart her world in one simple hour, her mind pulsed with all-consuming relief that her father's body wasn't spread out in fragments for her to find. He had to be alive, just tied to a chair, right?

"Elsa honey, did you find him?" the child had nearly forgottenthe phone she pressed to her ear.

"Dad!" heedless of the questions in her ear, Elsa nudged the swivel chair to face her. Then she crumbled to the floor and screamed. Screamed until the air of the place echoed with it, screamed as her throat collapsed within, screamed until she imagined she must die for the anguish coursing through her. Solid, soft arms slipped then about the young girl's frame, did they drag her with them? Elsa scarcely might know, she wasn't alive anymore.

An ocean…of azure beacons, swarming around her and pulsing in vain. The 13 year-old girl felt her body lifted, cradled in a protective grasp like an injured baby. Hisses, yells, mutterings, slurping sniffs… Slurping sniffs that she knew, and a small body latched to her side so snugly as if to bond to her skin.

"She's in shock." The older female knelt before the two girls, thumbs caressing the elder's cold cheek. The one did not stir, even slightly. And the woman cursed, quietly but punctured to the core by pain. "God damn it, I should've stopped her from leaving!"

"Mrs. Krieger." the uniformed local trooper, brow clammy from the near sickness at what lay in the mayor's home yards ahead of his cruiser, managed to keep grim poise. "Until she or her sister is able to speak with us, I need whatever you remember. If you're certain you don't want medical help for yourself."

"Of course." Their grandmother ruffled the hairs of both Anna and Elsa, murmuring sleep upon their ears and faced the officer behind them. What story she could tell, he wouldn't believe. The home of the mayor of Aldale behind buzzed with uniformed police, white suited crime technicians all somehow shaken by what cruelty lay inside, no matter how many bloody crimes before they had glimpsed. And Aldale never forgot it.


To be continued...

AN: the next chapter will pick up present day, I'm tending to follow the pattern of Supernatural in that way. Thank you to the people who have favorited this story! No matter how few or how many, it means so much to me! If anyone is interested in being a BETA editor for me, PM me. I've love to hear from ya.

Until next time!