Harvelle Supernatural

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

AN: So, I decided to make a change in one of the episodes in season two. Mainly, Skylar is looking into a college to decide where she will attend. However, she chose to explore the college where the supernatural is happening without meaning too. So who does she call?


Chapter 6: Tall Tales

Skylar's POV

"Mom, chill out," I said into the cellphone. "I'm calling to let you know I'm at the university."

"Make sure you call me once a day," Ellen said on the other line.

"Okay," I promised. "Love you."

"Love you too, be safe honey." She said before hanging up.

I sighed, putting the phone back in my purse. I shudder to make sure my coat is secured in the early winter. There was already snow, and the winds were blowing. But luckily, I brought warm clothes and obtained an excellent hotel outside of Springfield University. For the next week, I'll be visiting the college for a program that they have to allow probable upcoming students to experience college life and a shadow. Sadly, they ran out of rooms, but I asked the supervisor of the event if I could stay at a hotel and come in on the events. The supervisor said sure and emailed me the schedule. So I won't be staying in a dorm, though I do have to meet up with the host.

In the past few months, I have taken a tour of the two colleges in Nebraska. Now that winter break is over, I need to check out Springfield College before the next term begins. Ellen suggested I spend a week in Ohio, taking any opportunities the university has before making a final decision. So here I am, in cold Ohio.

So all day, I checked in at a hotel and arrived at Springfield University for the college tour. After two hours of traveling in the cold, I met up with my host Jen. A very perky woman who is studying psychology. Throughout the afternoon, she showed me a personal tour of the Arts and Science buildings. I got a chance to see the photography room and the computer lab for graphics. I couldn't stop smiling as she told me about the parties and where to go for alcohol when underage. I was twenty now, but that didn't prevent me from getting a drink now and then.

By the time it was getting late, around eight in the evening, I had said bye to Jen and headed out for the hotel. Day one was ultimately a pleasant experience. As I walked fast, there was a crowd building up at Crawford Hall. There were police officers, an ambulance, and students piling around. Curious, I walked over to see what is going on. When I did, I saw two morticians put a dead body of a man on the gurney. The man looked like a professor with his skull cracked open.

By the looks of the crime scene of a single spot of a blood pool and glass, the professor fell out of the building.

"Oh no, the urban legend is true." One student said.

"What urban legend?" I asked the student.

"Like thirty years ago, a girl committed suicide after having an affair with a professor. Sometime later, he broke it off, breaking the girl's heart. She was so devastated that she committed suicide by jumping out of room 669. Since then, her spirit haunts the building, killing any adultery

professors or boyfriends." The student said.

"Um, how many deaths have been here?" I asked.

"The professor would add a total of four." The student answered.

A bit unease I looked up at the building. For a moment, I thought I saw a woman standing on the fourth floor wearing a white dress and having dark hair. I grabbed my phone, taking a picture before she vanished then walked away. As I walked, I checked the image on my phone and gasped, seeing a ghost in the picture. Her face practically decayed, and eyes dull.

Quickly I ran to the hotel wanting to be far away from here as possible. I made a quick stop at the drugstore buying salt. Once at the hotel, I placed salt along the windows and the door, making sure the room was secure.

"This can't be happening," I muttered, pacing around the room. "For once, can't I have one week of normalcy."

I debated if I should call Ellen and have her say in this. But I rejected that option since she would immediately tell me to come home now, and I just got here. I thought of my sister Jo, dialing her cellphone number. Sadly, the moment I do, the connector says the person I'm trying to reach is no longer in service. Damn it, Jo, why did you cancel this number. I know she is alive since she emailed me wishing me luck on my trip. Thus, I text the only two people I could trust to solve this case and keep me safe. After ten minutes, my cellphone rang.

"Sam," I said out of breath.

"Skylar, what's wrong? Your text sounded urgent." Sam said.

"Where are you located right now?" I asked.

"Uh . . . Michigan, why?" Sam said.

"How do you boys like to solve an urban legend?" I offered, still a bit shook. "One about a vengeful spirit who just killed a professor?"

"Skylar, where are you?" Sam asked.

"I'm at Springfield University in, Ohio. Think you boys could come?" I answered.

Sam talked to Dean for a moment on the other end. "Yeah, give us the address of where you're at, and we'll be there tomorrow."

"Thanks, I truly appreciate it," I said.

"No problem," Sam said. "Get some sleep."

"I'll try," I said and then hung up.

I could barely sleep that night. I curled up in a ball with a knife made out of iron in my hand. The image of the ghost frightened me so. Never in my life have I encountered the supernatural. Sure, I had read, researched, and documented creatures of both supernatural and paranormal, but never in my life have I face it. Ellen made sure of it. Hunters at the Roadhouse made sure of it. But this wasn't Nebraska, where people own weapons against the unknown.

This is Ohio.

.o0o.

Knocking on the door caught my attention after getting dressed after a long selfish shower. I finished putting on my stripe sweater then answered the door to see Sam and Dean Winchester holding a box of donuts. The apprehension I felt last night vanished when seeing these two here.

"Thank you, guys," I said, hugging Sam than Dean.

"No problem," Dean said, walking in. "So what seems to be the problem."

"Well, Professor Arthur Cox was killed last night," I explained, closing the door.

"Cause of death?" Dean asked.

"Thrown out a window," I answered. "Police are calling it a suicide."

"Well, if evidence leaves to suicide, then why are we here." He asked, sitting down on the bed.

"Because I saw this, thirty minutes after his death," I answered, pulling out my cellphone and pulled up the picture I took on the fourth floor.

Dean grabbed hold of my cell phone with Sam right behind him. They looked at the image of the ghost on the small screen. Dean attempted to zoom in but fail. Before he accidentally breaks it, Sam took hold of the phone and got a better view.

"Yep, that's a ghost all right," Dean confirmed.

"So, are you guys gonna take the case?" I asked to be sure.

"We'll take it," Sam said.

"Wait, hold up," Dean spoke. "What about you, sweet cheeks? Are you joining us or not?"

"I just want to do the school program and go back home," I said.

"Then why don't you just go home, and we'll take care of this," Dean said. "The last thing I need is your mom on my ass again."

"Because I put five hundred dollars into this trip," I muttered, arms crossed. "Plus, the plane tickets."

"That makes sense," Dean muttered.

I walked over to the coffee table, grabbing my boots and putting them on, then my coat. The guys were talking in hush about the case while staring at me. Hearing my name like I wasn't in the room was a bit irritating. I then grabbed my backpack and then put on gloves and a hat.

"Well, I'm off to meet Jen. So . . . see you guys later." I said.

"Oh, hold up, you ain't going anywhere without protection," Dean said.

"Are you serious?" I said. "So far in what I hear is that the ghost haunts Crawford Hall."

"Still," Dean said.

I groaned, checking the clock to see I was going to be late. "Then one of you has to escort me to the Arts building, have lunch, and then other location for the entire week. Because I can't miss out on a class!"

"I'll go with you," Sam offered.

"And I'll say hello to the bed," Dean said, slumping on the bed.

His body spread out on the full-size bed as if he was making a snow angel. Suddenly his hand caught something under the sheets and pulled it out. My face became bright red as he held up my bra. No one said a word as we all stared at the article of feminine clothing.

"Out!"

.o0o.

After leaving a lovely handprint on Dean's face, Sam and I headed to the university. None of us said a word, for I was too embarrassed in what just happened. If it were Jo, she would ignore it and give some sarcastic remarks like a bra was nothing. But for me, my undergarments are personal. Let alone that Sam saw it! He's my friend, and he saw it to which made things awkward.

"Skylar," Sam started.

"Yes, Sam," I replied.

"Sorry about Dean, he wasn't trying to be a jerk." He explained. "It's just how he is."

"Yeah, but still," I muttered.

"Don't worry; I'm sure he's trying to get a room right next to yours." He assured.

I nodded, then shuddered from the cold. It sucks to be a skinny person in my condition. You get cold so quickly that nothing seems to keep you warm. Sam saw this and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, bringing us closer. I blushed, lucky for the scarf to cover it. After the awkward moment pass, I somewhat leaned against him.

When we reached the Arts building, Sam dropped me off at the lobby, saying he'll pick me up around one in the afternoon. I said thanks and headed off to the shadow classes. To know that the Winchesters are here really helps.

.o0o.

Sam, Dean, and I went to the bar to meet up with Jen and her boyfriend, Curtis. After doing the Shadow classes, Jen showed me around the dorms talking about the dorm room life. Once done with the dorm tour, she offered we should meet up at a bar to catch up. I asked if I could invite some friends who were in the neighborhood. Jen said sure, handing the address and the time to meet. Now here we are. Dean suggested we split up and find out more information about the professor or the urban legend. Sam was going to protest, but Dean dashed to the bar. I chuckled, shaking my head. We walked to the bar, ordering drinks. I ordered a coke, and Sam got some water. As I was about to pay, Sam stopped me.

"I got it," Sam offered.

"You don't have to," I said.

"No, I got it." He assured, handing the bartender the money.

"You know it's sad," I started. "I live in a bar, but I can't legally purchase a drink here."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "Ironic."

We walked around the bar, searching for a group of students to interview. There were a lot though some seemed less interested than their group. It wasn't until I spotted Jen sitting next to some guy wearing a sports jacket. By the three Greek alphabets, I could only assume he is in a fraternity.

"Skylar, over here!" Jen called out.

We walked over to Jen to a small table. As we took a seat, she arched an eyebrow. "Oh, is this

your boyfriend?"

"Uh, no, um we're…" I started, nearly stumbling.

"We're just friends," Sam finished a hint of blush on his cheek.

"Yeah, Jen, this is Sam. He works for the local paper." I added.

"Oh, sorry," Jen said. "Well, I'm Jen, and this is my boyfriend, Curtis."

"You two don't mind if I ask you questions about Professor Cox?" Sam asked, pulling out audio recorder.

"No, go ahead," Curtis said.

"So, did you know the professor?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, we both had the professor for 'Ethics and Morality.'" Curtis answered, slouching in his seat and took a sip of beer.

"Yeah? So why do you think he did it?" Sam asked.

"Who knows? He was tenured, wife and kids. His book is like a really big deal," Jen answered.

"Then again, who's to say it was suicide?"

"Jen, come on," Curtis complained.

"Well, what else could it be?" Sam asked.

"Well, you know about Crawford Hall," Jen said.

"No, I don't, actually," Sam said.

"It's a bunch of crap," Curtis injected. "It's a total urban legend."

"Yeah, well, Heather's mom went to school here and she knew the girl." Jen defended.

"What girl?" I asked.

Jen leaned forward, "Like, thirty years ago this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off. She jumped out of the window and killed herself."

"You know her name?" Sam asked.

"No," Jen answered. "But they say she jumped from room 669. Get it? You turn the nine upside down . . ."

I snorted, choking on my coke. I don't think the number 666 of the devil comes to mind. At least not the last two digits being 69. Curtis had the same thought as well, as he laughed into his beer. Sam seemed to take the slight detail more seriously for Jen's concern.

"So now she haunts the building," Jen continued. "And anyone who sees her . . . they don't live to tell the tale."

"Well, if no one lives to tell the tale then how does the tale gets told?" Curtis asked.

"Curtis, shut up!" Jen snapped.

"You know what? Uh, thanks a lot, guys." Sam said, grabbing the recorder and got up. "Excuse me."

"Well, see you tomorrow Jen," I added, following him.

We interview a couple of students about the case. Unfortunately, not many knew much about Professor Cox and said it was such a tragedy. So having nothing to add to the pretext of the interview, we went over to find Dean. At the bar, Dean leaned against it taking shots of Purple Nurples. Sam and I stared in shock to see Dean just consumed three shots of Purple Nurples in a row.

"Dean," Sam said, slightly disgusted. "What are you – what are you drinking?"

Dean burped, "I don't know, man. I think they're called Purple Nurples."

When Jo came back from college after dropping out, she showed me how to make a Purple Nurple. If I remember correctly, the ingredients are Malibu coconut rum, triple sec, Blue Curacao liqueur, and cranberry juice. Holy shit, he just drank three types of liquors in a shot glass. Who knows what else the bartender added to make it a house specialty?

"And how many have you had?" I asked.

"Uh. . . Like six," Dean answered, chuckling.

I gawked, staring at him. Why couldn't he take a damn Jell-O-shot or a primary beverage of a beer, for Pete's sake? What was he doing this past hour, flirting with a female graduate student? Like hell am I going to let him sleep with a student from here? The last thing I need if I go here is him ruining my experience and have students say, "Hey, aren't you the girl hanging out with that drunk?"

"Okay, well, listen, I think we should go check out the professor's office," Sam said.

"Oh, no, no, no. I can't right now. 'Cause I've got a feisty little wildcat on the hook. I'm about to, zzt, reel her in." Dean said. "I'll introduce you."

Sam and I stared at the girl behind him. She looked to be about a grad-student in her twenties. Blonde, of course, to Dean's taste. She wore a black fashion top showing off her cleavage, a jean skirt, legging with a diamond print, and heeled boots. When she turned around, she seemed a bit buzzed but not intoxicated as she took a sip of beer.

"Starla. Starla, hey." Dean called out. The girl name Starla turned around, taking a chug of a Purple Nurple her friend gave her. She slammed the glass on the table. "This is my shuttle copilot, Major Tom, and his girlfriend."

Did he just use a David Bowie song Space Odyssey? I thought.

I bet Dean forgot her actual name and used the first thought that came to mind that sounded similar. Then I recalled him calling me Sam's girlfriend. Well, that just ruined my college experience. If this girl can remember after tonight, she might remember me.

"Major Tom, Skylar – Starla." Dean introduced.

"Mm. Enchante," Starla greeted. Though she tripped stumbling against Dean in attempted to catch herself. "Oops, sorry, first time with these wild drinks." She then covers her mouth. Taking a deep breath. "Sorry, just trying to keep my liquor down."

"Hi," Sam grumbled.

"And good news, she got a sister," Dean added.

"Okay. Bye, Starla," I added.

Then I leaned forward, grabbing Dean by the ear and dragging him out of the bar. Dean protested, but Sam walked behind him. The oldest brother of the bunch is entirely wasted, and I am utterly flustered by what just happened. God, after this week, I don't think I can go to this college thanks to this damn drunken asshole.

.o0o.

The next day was spent as usual with Sam walking me to the Arts Building. Dean hardly woke up from the amount of alcohol he consumed, and bet he'll wake up with one hell of a hangover. Neither Sam nor I could speak since I was too pissed at Dean from last night. I specifically asked him not to do anything to ruin this trip for me. Just solve the case and hit the road. But no, he had to get fucking drunk and flirt on a grad-student who was ready to hurl. I probably did that girl a damn favor; otherwise, she would consider sleeping with Dean as an embarrassment or call it rape. And the last thing Sam or I need is paying bail.

Therefore, I spent the rest of the day in the photography room listening to the professor go over the objective of the class, the portfolio required to graduate, and do a lab experiment. When lunchtime came, I headed to the lobby waiting for Sam. Sam arrived on the dot, and we headed to a local restaurant.

"So, is the Asshole still asleep?" I asked.

"No, he's awake," Sam answered. "But with a damn hangover."

"Good, he deserves it," I said.

Sam sighed, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry, Skylar. I know this trip is important for you, and Dean is making it uncomfortable, but he means well."

"I know, but still," I said. "This is very important. For once, I like to experience college without worries about the supernatural. Not to have to look over my shoulder, sleep with a weapon under my pillow, or hold rosary beads in my purse. And I'm not even Catholic."

Sam nodded, "And we'll make sure of it."

I nodded. A waiter came over, asking if we decided on what we are going to have. We both ordered sandwiches and water, keeping things cheap. The waiter nodded and left to fetch our order. In the meantime, I looked at my phone, sending a text to mom to keep her on the update. From keeping secrets, I failed miserably and told her what happen. Fortunately, Ellen decided not to force me back after I said the Winchesters are here, and they escort me to and back from the hotel to the college. Of course, she had to have Sam promising that, fortunately, she said Okay.

.o0o.

Later that day, the Winchester headed to Crawford Hall to investigate the crime scene. Of course, I was at the hotel researching the school on any deaths on my laptop. When the boys came back, they had a lot to say, as we met in their room late at night. Apparently, the janitor gave a lot of information about seeing Professor Cox enter the building with a young lady, but she never left the building. But what they found didn't fit.

"Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure," Sam said.

"And that room 669's a load of crap," Dean added.

I snorted, for I couldn't resist the last two digits. Whoever tried to create this Urban Legend had a perverted thought. Probably tried to get laid when a hot chick came over to him, and he wanted to woo her with stories. Anyway, Sam and I sat down at the table while Dean went to the fridge, getting a bottle of beer.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked removing his jacket. "The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?"

"But it doesn't explain what I saw and the picture I took," I said.

"Well, the girl that the janitor described - that's pretty weird." Dean agreed.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"We oughta check out the history of the building," Dean suggested, taking a swig of beer. "See if any coed ganked herself there."

"Already have," I said, opening my laptop. "So far, there have been four deaths at the building, but here's the thing. None related to a student jumping or suicide. So far, two of the four were professors were having heart attacks or strokes, then there was a frat student who died from a harsh hazing, and then Professor Cox."

Sam nodded as he opened his laptop to do his research. When he lifted the lid, his eyes furrow.

"Dude, were you on my computer?"

"No," Dean answered, confused.

"Oh, really?" Sam said, not believing him. "'Cause it's frozen now on-on, uh, Busty Asian Beauty."

Dean paused, trying to remember if he did or not. Then shrugged, walking away to the bathroom. Sam called out his name in protest.

"Dean…would you…Would you just – don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?" Sam said.

"Why don't you control your OCD?" Dean countered.

I clapped my hands to catch both of their attention before a fight begins. "How about you boys shut up and focus on the case." I went to my laptop, switching the user to a guest, handing it over to Sam. "Here, Sam, you can borrow my computer. I emailed you what I had discovered."

I got up, heading to the door, "Night boys, and don't kill each other."

I don't know how Jo handled these boys when solving the H.H. Holmes case. But the Winchesters are starting to get on my nerves.

.o0o.

The next few days, on this case, just got weirder and weirder. Neither Sam, Dean, I, and the entire university got high from something in the water, or this case is messing with us. The days start as usual with Sam walking me to a precise building; the boys do research, Sam picks me up, and then we all do more research on Crawford Hall and the university in general.

Then this happens. Jen's boyfriend Curtis announced he got abducted by aliens. No one believes him, of course, saying he either took some drug or got severely drunk. But it doesn't explain the alien's circle in front of Crawford Hall. Anyway, the Winchesters went to see Curtis using the paper as a pretext. What they got from Curtis was that he blacked out, lost track of time, and woke up to a hidden room surrounded by grey aliens while being strapped to a table. The "aliens" did a test on Curtis and probed him. And afterward. . . They made him slow danced. Like the tacky eighties' prom with "Lady in Red" by Chris DeBurgh playing. Although, one student told the Winchester that Curtis is the pledge master at the fraternity and put the frat boys through hell.

So there is a connection between the two victims. The professor was sleeping with his students, and Curtis being the haze master of his group. Or, as Dean put it, "They're both dicks." And then, Sam's laptop officially goes missing, leading to another dispute between the brothers.

Afterward, another incident happened to a research scientist in animal testing. Another dick, fitting the pattern and his office is by Crawford Hall. From what the rumors are saying, his left arm to his torso is gone, body practically ripped to shreds right next to the sewers. When the boys went to the morgue to get a better look at the victim . . . They found an alligator scale. So now alligators in the sewer?

This is getting ridiculous. Practically this case is all about Urban Legends. I'm close to losing my mind, for I only know supernatural and paranormal phenomena, not science fiction. Anyway, there was no event at the university, so I helped Sam research what is going on here. We just got back from the library printing and renting books, followed by parking the Impala while Dean went to investigate the sewer.

Broken-hearted ghost girl on a perverted professor. Alien abduction on the frat boy. Alligators in the sewer on a research scientist. All three men had a "dick" personality. Wait a minute, why does this sound familiar. Not the Urban legends, but how they are performed. I grabbed my laptop, going to my old documents on literature and myth I did for an online college course. I scroll down to save notes, and it came up on tricksters. Other than Loki, the Trickster in different cultures is one who attacks the villain to teach them a lesson. Ergo, if we are dealing with a trickster, then he is targeting people who are dicks.

Dean barged into the room, furiously, "You think this is funny?"

"It depends. What?" Sam said.

Dean made a mocking mumbling sound before saying, "The Car!"

"What about the car?" Sam asked.

"You can't let the air out of the tires, you idiot." Dean scolded. "You're gonna bend the rims!"

"What?" I asked. "The Impala was fine when we parked it a few hours ago."

"Oh yeah, well, this was on rims," Dean said, showing some money in a silver clip.

Sam's eyes widen as he got up, checking his pocket. When he found nothing, he looked at Dean, "Hey, give me back my money."

"Oh, no, no," Dean disagreed. "Consider it reparations for, uh, emotional trauma."

"Yeah, very funny. Now give it back." Sam said, chasing after his brother.

"No." Dean refused.

"Dean, I have had it to here with you," Sam said.

"Yeah? Right back at ya!" Dean countered.

The boys started getting into a childish game of grab it; only it leads to a full out fight on the bed. That's it. I had had it with these two. All week has been arguments, fights, drunken embarrassment, and stress. So getting up and walking over to them, I took the money, but they continue to fight. Taking the matter into my own hands, I got the glass of water and poured it all over them.

"Stop it, both of you!" I exclaimed. "I did not call you here for a hissy fit."

Sam and Dean realized what is happening or that I am still in the room and got off of each other. I handed Sam his money while glaring at both of them.

"All week, you boys have been a couple of dickheads. I asked you guys to come here for a professor just died, and I felt unsafe. But now I see I made a huge mistake." I said.

"Sky-" Sam started.

"Don't," I snapped. "Don't say anything."

I was so angry that I couldn't control what could come out of my mouth. So I grabbed my purse and jacket, leaving the two alone. I didn't know where I was going. The anger blinded my vision that I just walked, and walked to passing Crawford Hall. When I stopped, I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I grabbed my cellphone, checking the time to discover it was late. Looking around, there was nobody, and the cursed building was behind me.

"I should head back," I sighed.

Turning around to go back to the hotel. However, before I made a step, arms wrapped around me, while a cloth pressed against my mouth and nose suffocating me. The fumes were intoxicating, that the more I breathed, the more tired I become. Chloroform. I desperately tried to fight off the attacker, but he had a good hold on me. Then everything went black.

.o0o.

Everything was cold. I woke up feeling cold and wet. When I open my eyes, everything seemed hazy, impossible to see clearly while smelling the intoxicating fumes of chloroform. Moving slowly, rubbing my eyes till my vision got back in order till discovering where I was. I was in a bathroom, in a bathtub . . . Filled with ice—all around the tub where medical supplies and a cooler.

The kidney heist, I thought, looking at my body, discovering my shirt was gone. All I wore were my undergarments and pants. But that didn't matter, as I look at my torso where my kidney should be. There was no incision or any signs of medical surgery. Therefore, the Creep that took me . . . He didn't start just yet. Quickly and quietly, I got out of the bathtub and walked to the door creaking it open to peek. From what I could see, a man dressed in medical garb stood by the kitchen sink sterilizing medical utensils.

I gulped, closing the door silently, and went over to the window. The window won't open. I look at the mantle to discover they were nailed shut. Panicking, I search for anything to use to break the window. There was nothing much that was strong or hard, till spotting a shower rod. Quickly I locked the bathroom door and used as much force to yank out the metal rod. The amount of power knocked me off my feet, slipping on the wet tile and knocking over a medical tray.

Shit, I thought in panic.

Not a moment too soon, the Creep was at the door trying to open it. Not wanting to deal with wannabee Jack the Ripper, I smashed the windowpane, doing it a couple of times till having a more massive hole to escape from my kidnapper. Luckily, we were on the ground floor, but it didn't help as I climbed out, cutting myself allover half-naked. The moment I got out, the Creep barged in. There was no way to identify him as he wore medical scrubs and a medical masked. The only thing I could depict was that he was Caucasian, dark curly hair, and dark eyes.

He lunged forward, but I smack him in the face with the shower rod causing him to fall back. Taking this opportunity, I ran, trying to find help. I ran in my undergarment in February weather not giving a damn. When I got out of the alleyway making a left turn did, I realized I was in Crawford Hall.

"You got to be kidding me." I cried.

"Skylar!" Yelled a voice.

I turned around to see Sam, Dean, and another fellow. Instantly I ran towards them, tripping on wet concrete, which resulted in scraping half my body. However, I manage to get up, running towards them, crying. I collided into Sam sobbing as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Where is the bastard?" Dean demanded.

"In there," I cried, pointing at Crawford Hall.

"Sam, take her back to the hotel." The other man, who looked to be in his middle ages, ordered.

Sam nodded, taking his coat off and wrapped it around me before picking me up and running back to the hotel. I sobbed, holding on tight to Sam. What happened just a moment ago scared me to oblivion.

.o0o.

Sam never put me down as we enter my hotel room. He lied to the hotel receptionist, saying I was drunk and went crazy. Knowing there was a college, he let us slide and handed a copy of the key. Once we were in the bedroom, he set me down on the bed. No words were exchanged as he removed the jacket to expose the cuts and bloody scrapes from the escape. I was so tired, practically exhausted, that I could barely comprehend.

"You're freezing," Sam noted.

"Bathtub full of ice," I muttered.

"What . . . happened?" he hesitantly asked.

"I don't really know. It's like he was trying to steal my kidney." I whispered.

Sam sighed as he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. He set me down on the toilet then started the shower. When the shower was at the right temperature, he left, saying he was going to get a first aid kit. I nodded, though scared, thinking the Creep would come back. But I had to remind myself that Sam is here. So with a deep breath, I got in the shower, taking the ripped pants off, and sat there in a fetal position while hot water poured over me, washing away the blood.

Not a moment too soon, my eyes started to become watery, and then I cried, sobbing some. I can't believe this happened. I was almost killed, and it was because I got so angry at the Winchesters. Dean said I should go out with one of them for safe measure, but I didn't listen. And the consequences almost had me in an Urban Legend fiasco. Even when it broke a pattern, I didn't care.

Not a moment too soon, Sam came in. His eyes widen in how to distress I was, if not me being in a bra and underwear. He took a deep breath, turning off the water, and then wrapped a towel around me. Once I was dry enough, he led me to the toilet and started treating my wounds.

Applying iodine and Neosporin on gashes, medical tape, bandages, and gauzes on my arms, back, and feet. Though it was difficult since I couldn't stop shaking.

Sam realized this and took my hands. "Hey, you're safe now."

I nodded, swallowing some air. It just was hard to believe what just happened. After treating me, Sam got me my pajamas, helping me put them on then led me to the bed. I laid down, still curled into a ball. Sam being generous enough to tuck me in.

"Get some rest. I'll be next door," Sam said, about to leave.

"No, don't go." I panicked, grabbing his arm.

"Skylar," he hesitated.

"Please," I begged.

Sam paused, thinking about it, then sighed. He took off his boots, belt, and flannel shirt before turning off the lights and lying down next to me over the blanket. Immediately I curled up against him, head resting on his chest. Meanwhile, Sam wrapped a protective arm around me. We didn't say anything as we cuddled until I fell asleep.

"I promise," Sam murmured. "We'll get the guy."

.o0o.

The next morning, I was woken up feeling warm. I open my eyes, facing the window while somebody is pressed against me, practically spooning. At first, I was going to react, but then I remembered last night, almost being whatever creatures Urban Legend, escaping, and Sam taking care of me. I remember asking Sam to stay, afraid the creature would come back. We cuddled, and afterward, I fell asleep until now.

So this is what it likes to cuddle with someone? I thought. To feel safe and protected.

I sighed, planning to go back to sleep until there was a flash of a camera. Groaning, I looked over my shoulder to find Dean holding a camera. He was smirking as he took another picture of Sam and I. What the hell? Last night was crazy, and he has the balls to come into my room and do this shit? He's sure asking for it.

"Rise and shine, princess!" Dean called out.

"Dean, go away," Sam muttered, hugging me tightly to his form. I blushed, feeling something hard pressed against my back, and I'm sure it is not a knife. My gasp brought Sam back to reality, and finally, wide awake, falling off the bed. "Oh God, Sky, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. It's natural for you guys," I muttered.

Dean laughed, "Well, let's hope your mom doesn't castrate him if I don't show her the evidence."

"Get out! I'll see you two in twenty minutes," I grumbled, throwing a pillow at Dean.

Dean chuckled as he left, followed by Sam, who gave an apologetic look. I sighed, getting out of bed, taking a quick shower, and dressed before meeting them in their bedroom. That is when I saw a familiar face from my childhood.

"Bobby?" I asked.

"Well, if it ain't, Miss Skylar Jane." Bobby greeted.

I smiled, walking over and hugging him. Bobby Singer is an excellent hunter who time and again comes over to the Roadhouse after a hunt. He was a good friend of my Dad and always talked about his pursuits as if they were generic.

The boys stared at us in shock as Dean spoke, "How is it, you know everybody?"

"Just lucky, I guess," I answered. "Bobby is a regular at the Roadhouse."

"Yep, knew Skylar for most of her childhood," Bobby added.

"Unbelievable," Dean said.

Anyway, we sat down, talking about the case. We are indeed, in fact, dealing with a Trickster. A demigod with a sick sense of humor, creating chaos and mischief as natural as breathing.

Practically dozens of them from Loki to Anansi, and other cultures; all being immortal, hold a human appearance, create things out of thin air, and have a mean sweet tooth. As Tricksters target the high and mighty, ergo the professor, head frat boy, and leading scientist. Bobby noted that it had us so turned around that we were at each other's throats. Well, mainly Sam and Dean. The laptop, the tires, the attempted kidney heist. Bobby figured the Trickster went after me, breaking the pattern to scare me off or out of the picture.

"So, how do we kill it?" I asked.

"We stake it, with the blood of its victim," Bobby answered.

"After not finding Mr. Ripper, we stopped at the morgue to dip the stakes in the scientist," Dean said.

"And the plan," Sam asked.

"Sam and I are going back undercover as the electricians. We'll convince him we are still being fooled and then trap him at Crawford Hall. You know the usual fight and separation." Dean answered.

"Okay," I said.

Everyone nodded, going into detail of the plan. Once that was settled, Sam and Dean left to keep to the idea while Bobby and I got ready and had everything packed. I decided to ditch any opportunity course at the university. After what has been going on here, I don't think I'll be attending. I mean, who would go and study at a college almost having your kidneys stolen?

.o0o.

It was late in the night as we prepared to kill the Trickster. Sam, Bobby, and I waited outside the hall of the auditorium while Dean talked with the Trickster. Earlier Sam found and Weekly World News in the Janitor's locker, confirming that's our guy. From what we could see, you could tell a man's fantasy. As two scantily clad women lay on the bed, begging their man to join them while "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" by Barry White with a disco ball rotated. Very tacky and cliché if you ask me.

"They're a peace offering." The Trickster said sitting in the audience chair. "I know what you and your brother do. I've been around a while. Run into your kind before."

"Well, then you know that I . . . can't let you just keep hurting people," Dean said.

"Come on!" Trickster whined. "Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards."

"And Skylar?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I was going to scare her. Give her a haircut that's all. After all, she did call you here." Trickster explained. "But you and Sam – I like you. I do. So treat yourself . . . Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town. " As he pulled out a candy bar.

"Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that," Dean said.

"I don't wanna hurt you." Trickster said, taking a bite of the chocolate bar. "And you know that I can."

"Look, man, I – I got to tell you, I dig your style, alright?" Dean started, chuckling a little. "I mean, heh, I do. I mean…pfft. Heh. And the, uh, slow-dancing alien –"

They both started laughing. I looked at Bobby in how familiar Dean was becoming with the Trickster. Bobby merely shrugged, not sure what else to say.

"One of my personal favorites." Trickster laughed.

"Yeah, but, uh, I can't let you go," Dean said.

"Too bad," Trickster sighed. "Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't have come alone."

"Well, I'll agree with you there," Dean said, giving the queue.

Sam, Bobby, and I walked in, blocking out any possible exits. We pull out our stakes, showing that this is the end of these harsh pranks. They aren't funny anymore. Just dangerous. Trickster stared at us, amazed at what just happened.

"The fight you guys had outside…that was a trick?" he asked. Dean shrugged, pulling out his stake from under his coat. "Hmm. Not bad. But you wanna see a real trick?"

Trickster waved his hand with the candy bar. All of a sudden, a giant man wearing a ragged sack holding a chainsaw appeared behind Sam. What the hell, the Chain Saw Massacre, Leatherface, is on the Trickster's to-do list? Sam quickly jumped out of the way, trying to avoid Leatherface's chainsaw. Dean lunged at Trickster, except one of the fake women grabbed hold of him, leading to a game of punching pong. Bobby ran to help Sam, as I went to aid Dean.

However, the moment I cross the Trickster, he waved his hand as if by magic and pinned me to a chair. I tried getting up, except the force was too strong. Trickster laughed, now being two chairs from me. "Relax dear, and enjoy the show. Maybe afterward, I'll give you a confidence lesson. You're gonna need it where you're going."

"Boys!" I yelled.

Watching Sam and Bobby dealing with Leatherface while Dean gets beaten up by Amazon women. If this were another situation with Dean and these two girls, I would be laughing. But add Leatherface into the picture, I'm freaking out. Sam managed to tackle Leatherface as Bobby took the chainsaw away. As for Dean, Miss Blonde grabbed him by the collar of his jackets and tossed him across the auditorium as if he weighed nothing.

Trickster laughed, clapping for his girls who strike a pose. "Ha! Nice toss, ladies!" he then got up, chanting Dean's name. "I did not want to have to do this."

However, while Trickster was sidetracked by his ladies, Sam tossed Dean the stake. Instantly Dean got up and impaled the monster in the chest, right into the heart. Trickster gasped, staring at his death until, while Leatherface and the two porn models vanished, and the spell holding me down was released. Dean yanked the stake, letting the demigod fall into the chair dead. Instantly I got up, joining the brothers and Bobby; it's finally done.

"You guys okay?" Dean asked.

"Uh, huh," I said.

"Yeah," Bobby answered.

"I guess," Sam said.

Dean nodded, wiping the blood off his lip, "All I got to say, he had style."

I rolled my eyes, "Can we go before somebody shows up?"

Agreeing to the idea, we grabbed the stakes and ran out of Crawford Hall. We ran straight to the Impala, not looking back as Bobby open the door, letting me in the back. The boys tried to give their gratitude, except Bobby stopped them. "Let's just get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds the body."

"I second that," I said.

"Look, Dean, um . . ." Sam started. Dean paused outside the driver seat while he continued. "I just want to say that I'm, uh . . ."

"Hey," Dean said. "Me too."

Bobby got out of the car, "You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just leave?"

And with that said, we left Springfield University, Springfield, and dropped Bobby off at his car. We said goodbye to Bobby, then drove to the airport. Once there, Sam and Dean helped me out, and my carryon. Both looked at me, a bit nervous.

"What's chewing you?" I asked.

"Uh," Dean said. "I want to apologize for the way I've been behaving."

"Same here," Sam said. "You called us for help, and we well, um, screw it up."

I smiled sincerely and walked over, hugging them, "Thanks, guys, I truly appreciate it."

"So, does Springfield University sound interesting?" Dean asked. "They have awesome Purple Nurples."

"I think I'm gonna pass and stick to Nebraska. Instate tuition and all." I chuckled.

Dean nodded, rubbing his neck, not sure what that meant, while Sam chuckled as well. We said our goodbyes, and I headed to the airport, promising to text them once I'm in Nebraska. Now I just need to figure out an excuse to explain to Ellen how I got all these cuts. Maybe lie and say I got drunk at a frat party, and while dancing on a glass coffee table, it shattered. That sounds reasonable, don't you think?

You know what? I think I also learn something about myself on this trip. I'm not hunter material.


And with that said, I'll leave it there. Something different to pass the time? Hope you guys enjoyed the story.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.

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