Harvelle Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Chapter 4: No Exit
Skylar's POV
Do you ever have the feeling like something terrible is going to happen? Let me clarify what I mean, like, another argument between family members. The tension built up when I woke up in the shared bedroom with Jo. She was sitting by the desk, fiddling with my laptop.
"Jo, what are ya doing?" I yawned, checking the alarm clock on the end table. "It's five-thirty in the morning."
"Remember the news last month on missing people?" Jo asked.
"Not really," I muttered.
"Well, the girl who went missing, Katie Burns, she lived in Philadelphia. So, I looked it up, and it turns out there have been six missing people for the past eighty years. All of them being young blond girls. And none of the cops could put a connection nor find the bodies. Sky, this could mean something. All this month's work, and I found a case." Jo rambled.
It's true this past month Jo has been going hard on this case when Katie Burns went missing. At first, no one thought it was nothing, but abduction or something. But Jo remembered hearing the apartment names and recalled the News brought it up of another missing person from two years ago. Since then, she's been working hard and found a lot of documentation involving the apartment.
Now that Jo has clear information means one thing. Trying to persuade Mom into letting her go and hunting down this thing. However, Ellen is someone who won't let her little ducklings leave her side. Or at least involving a hunt. Ever since Dad died, hunting became out of the question. Sure, we learned how to fight, shoot guns, and learned Latin (surprised that our school had a language course on it). But those were precautions, just in case a demon or anything comes our way, and we had to protect ourselves.
So now, around nine in the morning, as we got the Roadhouse ready, Ellen and Jo started fighting. Jo straight out told mom about the case. At first, Ellen thought it was merely a file to hand off to a hunter, but when Jo said, "I want to do it," the catfight began. I tried my best to ignore their argument while taking chairs down, though tough it was becoming difficult, mostly them wandering around the bar.
"Over my dead body!" Ellen exclaimed, slamming the tray of condiments on the counter.
"You're flipping out over nothing!" Jo shouted. "Be reasonable!"
"I am your mother!" Ellen yelled. "I don't have to be reasonable!"
"You can't keep me here!" Jo screamed.
"Don't you bet on that, sweetie!" Ellen said.
"What are ya gonna do? Are you gonna chain me up in the basement?" Jo challenged.
"You know you've had worse ideas than that recently." Ellen countered. "Hey, you don't want to stay. Don't stay– go back to school!"
"I didn't belong there!" Jo yelled. "I was a freak with a knife collection!"
The door opens, and the Winchesters waltz in confused. I sighed, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. I gave them a crooked smile, giving a hesitant wave indicating not to pass where they are unless they want to lose their heads.
"Getting yourself killed on some dusty back road – that's where you belong?" Ellen ranted.
"Um, Mom, we got company," I finally spoke out.
Ellen and Jo turned to face the Winchesters. Ellen's face didn't look as pleasing as she took a deep breath. "Guys, bad time."
"Yes, ma'am," Sam said.
"Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway," Dean agreed.
"Wait. I want to know what they think of this." Jo said. She walked over to the bar, grabbing the file, and handed it over to Dean.
"I don't care what they think," Ellen said.
And if our luck couldn't get any worse, a family of four came in a mom and dad, with twins. All wearing yellow shirts that read, "Nebraska is for Lovers." This day just can't get any worse. Next, a demon will walk in possessing Justin Timberlake. Then again, I don't mind exorcism him and have a fangirl moment.
"Are you guys open?" The father asked.
"Yes!" Jo shouted.
"No!" Ellen said at the same time.
The family jumped at their tone to a point the parents wrapped a protective arm around the twins. I sighed, walking over to them.
"We're sorry, but you've walked in at an important meeting. There's a rest area thirty miles down the road." I told them.
The father nodded, "Um, thanks. We'll just check out the Arby's down the road."
I nodded, leading the family out. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope you enjoy your vacation."
Once the family was gone, I went back to the group. Ellen was pissed about to say something, but the phone rang. A standoff stood between us on who is going to answer it. On the fourth ring, Ellen gave up and went to answer the phone. Jo took the opportunity to give the case file to Dean.
"Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment. " Jo said, holding the file.
Dean stared hesitantly at the stack of paper. But Jo insisted. "Take it. It won't bite."
"No, but your mom might," Dean said.
Jo gave him a look, which he sighed, taking the file. She then continued as the boys take a peek. "And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished – all from the same building. All young blondes. It only happens every decade or two. So cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one ancient serial killer –"
"Who put this together? Ash? Sky?" Dean interrupted.
"If I did it, there wouldn't be a hissy fit," I said.
"I did it myself," Jo said proudly.
Sam took a look. "I got to admit, we hit the road for a lot less."
"Good," Ellen said, joining in on the conversation. "If you like the case so much, you take it."
"Mom!" Jo protested.
"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough." Mom said. "I won't lose you, too. I just won't."
With that said, Jo headed upstairs to her room. Ellen sighed, getting the Roadhouse ready. Meanwhile, I got the Winchesters a quick breakfast prepared for their next hunt. After twenty minutes, I set bacon and eggs, with two cups of coffee at the table.
"So, what's up with them?" Dean asked.
I sighed, pulling up a chair; I looked around to make sure Mom wasn't in the room. "Ever since Dad died, things have been wary between Jo and Mom. Jo idle Dad, being daddy's little girl, you could say. Always wanted to be like a hunter: hunting monsters and saving people. But how dad died . . . it wasn't pretty?"
"Um . . . How did your dad die. . . if you don't mind me asking?" Sam asked.
"I don't know for sure, I was about three, but . . . He got possessed by a hellspawn and took a holy bullet. Mom said . . . the ambulance couldn't make to the hospital in time." I stopped taking a deep breath.
Jo was five years old, and I was three. Ellen, Jo, and other hunters would tell me great stories about Bill and how a great hunter he was. The only memory I have of my dad are those rare nights upstairs in the loft, he would play with me. How he would pick me up, set me on his lap, and badly sing the old western music as we play horse. Other than that, everything else was vague.
A hand gently grabbed my own. It was calloused yet warm. I looked up to see t was Sam Winchesters. He gave an honest look, "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks," I said, wiping a tear away. "Now, you boys eat."
I got up and start cleaning up the joint before travelers come by.
.o0o.
Later in the night, practically three in the morning, I had woken up to some ruckus. A hand grabbed my shoulder. Instantly my eyes open and grabbed the knife from under my pillow, slashing out at the intruder. The intruder jumped back and turned on the lights, revealing to be Jo.
"For fuck sakes, Jo!" I panted, putting the knife down. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry," Jo said.
"What do ya want?" I yawned.
"I'm heading out," she said. "Tell mom that."
"What?" Now fully awake. "You can't be serious. Mom forbids you going on that case."
"Chill out. I'm not going to Philly," She assured. "I'm heading to Vegas."
"Liar," I said.
"I ain't lying; I need to blow off some steam. If you don't believe me, follow my credit card. But I need to get out and away from mom. So I'll be back in a week or so." She said. "Get some sleep. I'll call you for an update."
"Jo," I said.
"Please, Sky." She pleaded.
I sighed. "Don't do anything reckless."
She smiled, combing my brown locks, "Can't promise that."
"Fine, just don't get knocked up," I muttered.
Jo chuckled, "Deal."
She left afterward with a small duffle bag. I knew she was lying since we agreed that if either of us goes to Vegas, we both go. That was our sister rule, which neither of leaves without the other. Since she didn't offer me to come, I knew she was going to Philadelphia and join the Winchesters. The question is, will she be safe?"
.o0o.
By morning around noon, Ellen came into the bar after running a few errands around town. I worked on running the kitchen, serving up a couple of sandwiches that a couple of hunters' orders. Mom headed out this morning not to realize Jo was absent. But the change in her footsteps could be heard, seeing Jo wasn't running the bar, but Ash.
Ellen barged in, setting a couple of groceries bags on the aisle. "Where's Jo?"
"She ran off for Vegas," I said.
"You sure about that?" She asked.
"That's what she said," I answered. "I checked her credit card; she bought a ticket for Vegas."
Ellen sighed, though there was a lot of force in that sigh. Meaning she doesn't believe it, but I was telling what Jo told me last night. Ellen handed me two letters and then went to the phone. She dials a specific number then spoke in a severe tone.
"Is she with you?" She demanded. ". . . She told Skylar she's in Vegas. I don't believe it for a second. . . Dean?...You sure about that?... Well, please, if she shows up, you'll drag her butt back here, won't you?.. Okay. Thanks, hon."
As she talked to Dean, I stared at the letters from two colleges of Nebraska. My heart rate doubled as my anxiety came up. I open the first letter reading the notice only to tear up at the words,
"We're sorry," and "Rejection." I open the second letter only to find the same result. Tears welled up as I sat on a stool, hands in my face, and taking deep breaths. I don't get it. I worked so hard, arrived in the top ten percent in high school, joined school activities, a 3.5 GPA, and a recommendation letter. Even a scholarship, yet none of the two schools accepted me.
Ellen came over and read the letters. She took a deep breath and rubbed a hand on my back. "Oh, Skylar, it's okay. There's one more school, and you sent an application at Peru and one in Ohio."
"Yeah, but I worked so hard," I said, taking a deep breath.
"It's just the first round. Just give it time, and you'll be going to college and following your dreams." She said, kissing my temple. "Come on, go upstairs and freshen up. I'll deal with the customers."
I nodded, hugging her for a moment, then went upstairs to clean up. Mom is right; it's only the first round of rejections. Sooner or later, a college, university, or an institute will accept me. I just need to keep my hopes up and work harder than ever before.
.o0o.
The following day, Ash and I were in the lounge just hanging out. He was playing some video games while I updated my Deviant Art account. Sometimes reading reviews helps calm me down as people comment on my work. My account is called Nebraska Home Life. As I take landscape, scenery pictures, and objects of Nebraska.
Suddenly Ash's cellphone rang, checking it to see it was Jo. "Uh. . . Hey Jo, how's the . . . Um. . . how's Vegas?"
I arched a brow. Is he seriously acting like I don't know that Jo is in Philadelphia solving that damn case with the Winchesters?
"Um, let me put you on speaker," Ash said, pressing the speaker button and setting the phone on the table.
". . . Don't!"
"Hey Jo, how's Vegas?" I asked bitterly.
"Doing great," Jo lied. "Saw the Men of Sapphires last night."
"Right, and Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan came in with a duffle bag of a million dollars from the MGM," I said.
"Look, I need you and Ash to look up the history of a building in the 19thcentury. It used to be a prison right next door to the apartment." Jo said. "Find a list of deaths and executions if you can."
"And why shouldn't I tell mom where you are right now and have the Winchesters bring your sorry ass in?" I asked.
"Because I need to do this, Sky," Jo said. "This is my only chance to see if I want to be a hunter or not. And please . . . a girl is taken, and we only have hours before she's dead."
I sighed, "Give us the address."
"Thank you," Jo said and gave us the address.
It took about thirty minutes, but Ash and I found two websites about the prison in Philadelphia. Moyamensing Prison, built-in 1835 then torn down in 1963. Before the apartment was even
built, the lot was used to execute people by hanging. Roughly two hundred prisoners were hanged there. Let alone rumors of Edgar Allan Poe being incarcerated in that prison for alcohol abuse to appoint of disrupting the public. Abolitionist Passmore Williamson being the center of the press in 1855 for his beliefs. And finally, the gruesome death of H.H. Holmes, the first American serial killer who died in 1896.
I inform Jo of the essential information.
"Thanks, Ash, Sky. Oh, and if you breathe a word of this to my mom –"Jo started her usual threat.
"No, not my computers," Ash begged.
"That's right. I will. With pliers." Jo said.
"Bye, Jo," I said, hanging up. "Bitch."
"Yep, but she's our bitch," Ash said.
I sighed and nodded. "You want a beer?"
"Hell yeah," he said.
I chuckled and gotten Ash a beer and me a root beer. We sat down next to each other as Ash talked about the good old days of MIT. I asked him college questions, and he happily answered them the best he could. So nearly two hours of just talking everything seemed peaceful.
Ellen came in when we were laughing our ass off at a joke Ash said. I couldn't stop laughing.
As the Joke goes:
A young couple were on their honeymoon in New England and decided to stay at a historic graveyard to look around. After a few moments and knowing glances, they stripped off their clothes and went at it on a tomb. The next day, the wife had a backache from her adventures and went to see a doctor.
The doctor asked her to strip and then examined her. "How old are you, my dear," the doctor asked.
"I am 22 replied the wife, why?"
The doctor replied, "Because, on your ass, it says that you died in 1755."
I couldn't stop laughing, practically wiping tears away from the horrible yet funny Joke. Ellen came down, chuckling a bit, and sat down next to me.
"I can't leave you two alone, can't I?" Ellen asked.
"Nope," Ash replied.
Ellen nodded till seeing the screen on Ash's computer of the Moyamensing Prison. She arched a brow, staring at Ash. She asked if Winchester called, which Ash answered yes, though his tone was off. Ellen arched an eyebrow before grabbing my laptop and went to our bank account. Before either of us could say anything, she spotted no updated changes in today's spending. Nothing Las Vegas or casino-related till placing Philly's cheesesteak. Furious, she demanded Ash tell her everything which he did. Afterward, she marched to the phone at the bar calling one of the three.
"You lied to me. She's there." Ellen scolded on the phone. "Ash told me everything. The man's a genius, but he folds like a cheap suit. Now you put my damn daughter on the phone. . . Yeah, right. Where is she?.. Where is she?!"
Ash and I flinched at Ellen's tone. We watched her expression changed to many emotions. Suddenly confusion filled her age face.
"Get her back? Back from what?...Oh, my god. . . You promise? That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester. . . If anything happens to her - . . . I'm taking the first flight out. I'll be there in a few hours. "Afterwards, slam the phone on the wall.
She marched up to the loft. I followed after her, "Skylar, I want you to close the bar and don't open it 'till I get back. Don't let anybody in, and stay put."
"Okay, Mom," I said.
"Why does she do this to me?" Mom said, grabbing a small carryon and put another days' worth of clothes and a box putting her gun and knives in a security box that tricks TSA. "After I told her countless time not to."
I didn't say anything, not sure if that was a rhetorical question or not. After twenty minutes, Ellen kissed my cheek and left the Roadhouse. I put up the closed sign and locked the entire door. Afterward, started cleaning up the joint. Maybe a clean bar would lighten the mood when Jo and Ellen come back.
.o0o.
A day and a half later, the Impala showed up. Jo and Ellen came out first, already arguing over the case. I came downstairs in case this gets physical. Mom dragged Jo by the arm, while the Winchesters followed in pursuit. Guess the car ride over was awkward, especially when Ellen is scorn.
"Ellen . . ." Dean started. "It was my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud of."
"Don't you dare say that – not you," Ellen interrupted. She was dead serious and angry, standing there, glaring at Dean. "I need a moment with my daughter – alone. "
Dean and Sam nodded as they left the bar. Once the door was shut, there was an awkward silence filled with tension. None of us three-spoke a word for a moment. It was Jo who spoke first.
"You're angry. I understand," She said.
"Angry doesn't begin to touch it!" Ellen yelled.
"Let's just think about this," Jo said. "Everything's okay. I'm alive."
"Not after I'm through with you!" Ellen said.
"Is this about me hunting or something else?" Jo demanded.
"You let those boys use you as bait." Ellen snapped.
"They were backing me up the hold time." Jo countered.
"That is why you do not have a sense of this job," Ellen yelled. "You're trusting your life to them."
"What are you talking about?" Jo asked.
"Like father, like son." Ellen cried. "That is what I'm talking . . ." she stopped covering her mouth. Her eyes were watery.
Jo and I stood there, confused. We never saw her like this. Jo said the last time mom was this distress was when dad died. Since then, she hardly cried. I walk over to Ellen, sensing she is hiding something.
"Mom, what are you talking about? Wasn't John Winchester your friend?" I asked.
Ellen couldn't look us in the eye. "Yeah, we were. I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"
"Mom . . ." Jo interrupted. "What aren't you telling us?"
Ellen took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. She told us the whole truth about how dad died. It wasn't the Hellspawn that killed him entirely, mistaking a regular gun with holy sealed bullets. Bill went on a hunting trip with a partner, which is strange since he mostly worked alone. Well, his partner was John Winchester. John promised to bring Bill back before the holidays. But when the Hellspawn possessed dad . . . John said Bill wanted him to shoot him. Mom doesn't know the full story, but John Winchester shot our dad.
Jo and I stood there in shock to hear the entire truth. All this time, we thought it was the Hellspawn that killed dad. But now to know the father of our friends, a family friend killed Bill. Now it explains why Sam and Dean never heard of us, or how we haven't seen John in over a decade. After hearing all this, Jo stormed out, needing to clear her head. Ellen, on the other hand, was in tears. As much as I felt angry at her for holding this secret for sixteen years, the sight of her crying hurt more than what I felt. So I knelt down and held Ellen as she sobbed.
About an hour later, I helped mom upstairs, telling her to rest. When I came out, I checked the others outside, except the Impala was gone. Sighing, I headed upstairs to my room and pulled out my cell phone. I texted Sam asking him to call me. About twenty minutes later, the device ringed.
"Sam…" I breathed.
"Hey, Skylar, I'm so sorry." Sam apologized. "We didn't know."
"I know, and I don't blame you," I said.
"You sure, I mean after everything?" he asked.
"Sam, how can I blame you when you weren't even there. You were what . . . seven at the time?" I said. "Look, it might be best you guys don't come here for a while. Not until things settle down…okay?"
Sam was silent for a moment, "Okay if you need anything, don't be afraid to call."
"Thanks, Sam," I said. "Oh, and tell Dean not to beat himself up."
"Will do," Sam said. "Bye, Skylar."
"Bye, Sam," I said, then hung up.
This secret puts a rift in our family. No doubt about it, and probably changed our relationship with the Winchesters.
The Joke is what I heard from Billy Crystal's 700 Sundays. It's a good show/play. If you ever get the chance, go see it. It should be on HBO.
Updated
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.
