Hello all! Big thanks for reading! I just want to ask that you all PLEASE comment and tell me what you think. It's definitely motivation for me to keep writing. Though I want to get this story out, it helps knowing others are excited to see how this unfolds as well. Also, this story is in no order with the tv series. There may be some aspects of the series story that I will use. But for now, the storyline is definitely all in my head. I hope you guys enjoy! don't forget to comment.
1 year later
"Shit…." Anya hissed, slamming the bottle of whiskey down. She recklessly wiped her mouth with the back of her right arm.
The other was resting on the table with fresh stitches across the upper region.
That banshee had been a bitch.
Anya wasn't a fan of big gashes and lots of blood; which was semi ironic since she had the bloodiest job ever. She almost gagged giving herself stitches.
She took another swig of whiskey and swallowed through gritted teeth.
Truth be told she didn't care for brown liquor, but she knew that the quicker it settled in her, the less pain she would feel.
She sat the bottle down and allowed the alcohol to take effect as her surroundings blurred. She was in another run down motel of a small town in southern Indiana. She had made a habit of hopping from place to place for a while now. She learned a while ago that the more she keeps moving, the less time she has to think.
With much effort, she rose and stumbled to the bed. She fell back making sure to land on her good arm only.
The ceiling had strange yellow spots and she could hear the knocking of the bed from the room next to her.
"Glad someone's having fun." She mumbled.
She sighed.
It had been a year today since her father had been murdered. A whole year and she wasn't any closer to finding the dirty vamp that killed him. For 7 months she tracked him, keeping to his trail and chopping as many vamp heads as she could. But every time she found a new lead, it would come to a dead end.
Whoever this vampire was, he knew exactly what he was doing. Just as he had known the effects of killing a hunter.
Anya's mind wandered to Dean and Sam Winchester, as it did every now and then. Sometimes she wondered if they had ever attempted to find her. After she ran, she spent weeks watching her back. Part of her wanted to be as far from them as possible; but another part wished that they would turn the corner or just appear.
Truth be told, she missed companionship. Of course, she had had her occasional one-night stands with the average brute she would find in a local bar. Once, she even slept with the police officer that helped her with a case. Of course, his quick infatuation with her led to his stupidity and demise… but the sex had been amazing.
Anya smiled bitterly. Had the past year made her that brutal? That insensitive?
She felt different, truth be told.
Her thoughts were halted by the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand.
Anya groaned, closed her eyes and reached for the phone the best she could without disturbing her injured arm. Finally, after a struggle she grabbed her phone and looked at the caller I.D.
It was Bobby.
Anya had spoken to him twice since she left.
The first time was a screaming match. The second one was a little more civilized.
Anya pressed the green button on her phone and silently wondered what this conversation would be like.
"Bobby. How's it hanging." She said as coolly as she could. The alcohol hadn't done its job completely.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
"Just obliterated a freakin' banshee so I'm doing super." Anya sat up and rested against the wall. She could know feel the bed rocking against her wall.
"Banshee, huh? By yourself?"
"I've been by myself for a year now Bobby. Don't sound so surprised," she slurred, playing connect-the-dots with the yellow stains on the ceiling. Ah, now the liquor was in full swing. She was feeling pretty good at the moment.
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"So how are things on your end? You sound alive so that's good."
Bobby sighed."Things are… interesting. The boys keep me youthful, I'll say that much."
Anya waited, wanting to hear more. She knew that the Winchesters were always up to some wild adventures. But Bobby didn't give any more details.
"I'm glad you're still kicking, ol' man. What can I do you for? Erm...do for you?" she sputtered and then tittered a little. "You usually call either to yell at me or tell me what a strong independent woman I am." she smirked.
"How about you stop being a smart ass"
"Sorry, sorry. What's up?" said Anya, attempting to recover. Common, Anya. Serious voice now.
"There's a case I need you to handle in North Carolina."
Anya stood.
"Case, huh? What kind?"
"Your favorite. Haunted house. So far 3 teens have gone missin'. They were last seen goin' into that house on a dare."
"And your precious boys can't take it."
Bobby was silent.
"They're… uh… busy."
"Doing….?"
"If it was your business I would tell ya, igit."
Anya laughed out loud.
"Easy Bobby. I got you. Let me get some sleep, rest this arm, and I'll leave first thing in the morning. Should take no more than 10 hours to get there."
"Your arm? What happened to it?"
"Banshee caught me while I was doing my figure skating routine. I'm fine. I'll call you when I make it."
"Damn you. Goodnight."
"Love you too, Bobby."
Anya hung up and laid back on her bed.
Her thoughts rushed through her mind rapidly. Why didn't Bobby handle the case in North Carolina? What were the boys up to?
And of course, her mind slipped to Dean. He probably hated her now. She knew she deserved it. But a part of her almost yearned to see him again; even if it was on bad terms. It didn't matter much though, Anya had been so promiscuous the last year, she knew she could get rid of this Winchester funk if she really wanted to.
She had been very humble about her looks before, when he father was alive. But she relished in the advantage it gave her.
No, Anya didn't need to worry about Dean Winchester. Besides, she'd probably never see him again anyway.
Anya left Indiana at 4 in the morning and headed straight for the coordinates that Bobby had texted her. After about ten and a half hours Anya drew out a thankful breath as she passed the road sign she'd been waiting for.
Welcome to Hope Mills, North Carolina
As soon as the sign disappeared behind her, Anya flipped open her phone and dialed Bobby.
He answered on the first ring.
"Bout time." he gruffed.
"Good to hear from you too. So do we know what we're dealing with?"
"Ghost probably. Don't know all the info but a landscaper went missing early this morning. I'm sure you can be filled in at the scene."
Anya secret wondered how Bobby could possibly know something about a case that just happened. But she wasn't in the mood to hear his mouth. She was exhausted and wanted to stretch her legs.
"Sounds good. I'll go freshen up and be there in 30."
"Good. 443 Dick Street." the phone clicked instantly.
Somewhat surprised at Bobby's abrupt exit, Anya looked at phone.
"Old coot." she tossed her phone at the passenger's seat and pulled into first motel she came to, The Larange Motel.
Anya grabbed her belongings, locked her car, and walked into the front desk.
An older lady, reading an issue of Cosmopolitan, sat at the run down desk.
The room was small and had a dingy smell to it; a smell that Anya was all too familiar with. The walls were coated with old wallpaper that was rolling up at the edges. The life of a hunter was by no means glamorous.
Anya walked up to the desk and sat her duffel bag down.
The older woman paid her no attention. Her wrinkled fingers grasped onto the magazine harder. Though Anya could not see the right of her face, she saw the tower of cotton candy pink hair that stretched much higher than it should.
Anya coughed deliberately followed by an 'Excuse me'.
Finally, the woman dropped her magazine and stared.
"Yeah?"
"I'd like a room, please."
"74.50 a night."
"That's fine."
"How many nights."
"I'll let you know. I can cover first night now."
Without a word, the woman held out her hand.
Anya smiled fakely and dug into her pocket for a card. She then slammed it on the counter. After an intense stare, the woman pulled the card towards her, being careful to only use her fingertips, and slid it on the register.
She placed the card back on the counter and turned to grab a key.
"Room 105 on the left side from the pool area. Housekeeping comes once a day, but they ain't ya mother." With that, she picked up her magazine and continued reading.
"...right.." Anya said blankly with a tight smiled, grabbed her things and left.
She walked towards the pool and turned left. Room 105.
She unlocked the door and was welcome to a familiar, used and abused atmosphere.
She tossed her bang on the bed and quickly pulled out her FBI uniform. She knew she would have to iron quickly if she wanted to get to the scene before the investigators left.
After ironing and putting on her suit, she slipped on her black formal heels, and clipped her badge to her jacket pocket. She put her pistol inside the back of her pants and clipped a small knife to the inside of her right thigh .
She then grabbed her i.d., keys, and credit card and dashed out of the door.
It didn't take long too for her to find which house on Dick Street that Bobby was referring to. A small crowd of pedestrians and reporters were circled around the large group of investigators in a big area in front of a large older home.
It was a white, plantation style house, definitely built before the civil war.
"Definitely ghost or ghoul." Anya mumbled as she slowed her car to a stop across the street.
She quickly pulled half of her curly hair up to look more professional, added aviators for effects, and stepped out.
She calmly placed her hands in her pants pockets and made her way through the crowd of reporters. When she finally reach the front, a police officer's hand stopped her.
Anya, unbothered, tapped on the badge hanging from her jacket. The police officer nodded and allowed her to pass.
This was probably Anya's favorite part. Not only did it show how masterful she was with faking i.d's but it also showed how flawed the law system was to not ask any questions.
She went to the one man that was barking orders to the other officers. He had to be the ring leader.
She stepped up to him and tapped on her badge once again.
"Agent Sikes with the FBI. Wanna explain why you got a town full of missing people?" she asked curiously.
Clearly she had struck a nerve. But the detective's apparent flench didn't keep him from responding.
"I don't know. The landscaper called to report that someone was following him. When the responding unit got here, there were just drops of blood. The trail stopped halfway towards the house." the detective thumbed behind him to where the house was.
"And that's all you got so far, huh?"
"3 young men have already gone missing from taking a stupid dare."
"Dare?"
The detective sighed and rubbed his temple.
"Yes. A dare to stay in the house overnight. A trespassing violation."
"Now why would they want to spend the night at an old house?" Anya asked, curious about the detective's response.
He shrugged.
"It's supposed to be haunted. You know how kids come up with legends and myths. Two of the three boys were foster kids and were flight risks anyways."
Anya could tell with ease that the detective was trying to come to a sane conclusion for why so many people were missing on his watch.
A ghost wouldn't sustain this guy's conscience.
"Well thank you. I'll just… take a look around." Anya nodded and allowed him half a smile.
"Sure… sure…" then he paused, "I mean, I understand that we may have something serious going on. But did that really merit three agents?"
Anya, though surprised to the core, kept her face blank.
"Apparently so. Where are they, by the way?"
The detective stepped back and pointed back toward the house.
Though it was some distance, Anya could make out the backs of two males walking into the home. One much taller than the other with neck length hair.
No way.
Anya stepped forward and squinted; watching until the two men disappeared into the house.
"Is that all?" The detective asked impatiently.
All Anya could do was nod as her feet carried her towards the house.
It couldn't be.
Anya looked around her as she walked closer; looking for some sort of confirmation. And it came to her with the heaviness of concrete.
To her left, parked across the street, almost adjacent to her car that was parked to the right of her, was a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala.
"You've got to be fucking me." Anya hissed as her feet moved fast to close the gap between her and the Winchesters.
After she got through the larger than life front yard, she carefully climbed the stairs to the porch and opened the door to the house.
As soon as she stepped inside, Anya knew that the house had been the pillar of fortune in its day. The foyer was wide and spacious, dark maple wooden stairs rose to the second floor. The white marbled floor was so clean that she could see her own reflection. The antique furnishings in the room were magnificent.
Her admiration halted as she heard whispering a from around the corner. She followed the sounds through another plush hallway, past the dining room and into the kitchen.
Sam and Dean stood, back towards her, discussing amongst themselves.
Before she moved to interrupt them, Anya listened intently to their conversation.
"So we're definitely thinking ghost here." Dean clarified.
Sam nodded
"I mean the families that have lived here before it was a museum dates back hundreds of years. It's definitely a possibility."
"So now we just find out who's snatching up these guys. Find the M.O, find the corpse. Burn the crap out of it. Rock n' Roll." Dean snapped his fingers.
"Unless the ghost was cremated. Then we have another issue altogether." Anya spoke quickly in case her voice gave out on her.
The boys swirled around in surprise. But no face could compare to the ones they made when they saw it was Anya.
The one second of silence drug on like 10 hours to Anya.
"Fancy meeting you here." Anya said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Dean's stare was stone cold. Sam noticed as well and decided to break the awkwardness.
"Anya!" His voice squeaked with surprise.
Anya heaved in a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Bobby sent me this case-"
"Well that's funny case he sent us this case." Dean interrupted.
Though she feel the salty burn of his bitterness, it was still so good to hear his voice again. To see his face….
"I think we've been bamboozled, gentlemen." Anya rested her elbow on the counter in front of the men.
Without another word, Dean pulled out his phone and turned his back to her. Sam gave her a small, reassuring smile.
"Bobby what the hell." Dean attempted to whisper.
Anya stood up. Both her and Sam's eyes were on Dean.
"Yeah…. I see what you did…. Bobby, Sam and I could work this alone…. No…. Yeah she's here, but…." Dean paused. He turned to glance at Anya and turned back around.
"Yes….sir…. I know I did, but….. Uh huh. Ok. Ok fine." Dean clicked off his phone and turned back to face them.
He looked at Sam, heaved in a sigh and finally laid eyes on Anya.
For a moment it was tense, awkward. But at some point they rested in the familiarity of curiousness with one another. Dean broke the stare, coughed and subconsciously tugged at his pants.
"Bobby...uh, double booked us. So, we're working together."
Anya, recently quick to refute any feelings that may surface, shot back at him.
"You think you can handle that, Winchester?" She suddenly regretted her reaction. She knew that she had just set the pace of their already broken friendship.
Dean cocked his head to the side; itching to be tried.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His once cautious stare was melting into hostility. It was too late now, and Anya had a defensive nature.
"It means you've been a little butt hurt since you saw my face. Anything we need to work out?"
Dean chuckled angrily and forced himself to look down.
Sam seeing the hostility, stepped in between them.
"Why don't we focus on the case, guys?"
"You are a real piece of work, you know that?" Dean ignored his younger brother's peace offering. He had seemingly waited a while for this moment.
Anya was glad. She wasn't the type let issues fester and boil over. She much preferred taking the heat in the moment.
"Am I really?-"
"Damn right you are. What makes you think we'd wanna work within 10 feet of you after the stunt you pulled?" He asked.
Anya let out a hearty laugh.
"Stunt? I left because I'm grown. You met me a couple of hours before and you assume I owed you an explanation?!"
"We helped you, you self righteous, little-"
"Guys!" Sam rose his hands in surrender, "Not here." He pleaded.
Anya was too steamed to listen she stepped around the counter and closer to Dean.
"You help me once. I don't owe you anything." She hissed through a smile.
Dean coughed out a bitter laugh and shook his head.
"What's so funny?" She inquired.
He looked down for a long time.
"You must really be messed up in the head."
"Excuse me?"
"That fact that you think they I-we're upset over something you owe us. I mean, how many friends do you have?"
None. She had none. She cowered into silence. Dean continued, looking into her eyes.
"It wasn't about you owing us anything. Your dad died, I know how that feels. Even with you acting like…. this, I would still do it over again. Not because of anyone oweing anything but because that would be the right thing to do. And I thought we had built a some sort of relationship from that. One that entails a little honesty."
Shit. Anya sucked in some air. She had no response. Dean, surprisingly, had a point. She'd expected yelling, name calling, silence even. But not this: talk of friendship, relationships and feely stuff. She wanted to out-macho him, but she hadn't expected it to be this easy or for it to happen this way.
"I-I was fine." She muttered.
Dean looked over at Sam in defeat. He then walked passed Anya without another word leaving Sam and her alone.
After he heard the door close, Sam finally spoke.
"He'll get over it." He resolved.
Anya put one hand on her hip and turned the direction Dean had just been.
"I've given him a year to get over it," she whispered. "A year...to get over what, exactly? He barely knew me. We barely knew EACH OTHER!"
Sam shrugged.
"Maybe a year wasn't enough."
Anya shot a look at him. Sam hada knowing look on his face and with a small smile, he left as well.
Anya returned to her car. As she slid into the familiar leather seats, she exhaled.
Sam and Dean were here. Dean.
He was still handsome and had allowed a little stubble to grow which didn't help the cause. He hated her now though and she couldn't quite blame him.
She'd been a bitch.
Why?
Why did she always let her mouth get the best of her?
Granted she did make valid points, but those guys were 2 of the 3 people that helped her when her father was murdered. She did owe them an explanation as to why she just up and left. Maybe she didn't give an explanation because she didn't want to or because she couldn't.
Hell, maybe she didn't have a good enough explanation to give even herself. Why did she do it? Because she was a "lone wolf?" Stupid. Because she "only worked alone?" Given the nature of what she was hunting, also stupid. Because she didn't want to see them -especially Dean- hurt? Justifiable, but there had to have been a better way to do it. A way that wouldn't have made Dean hate her so much...
Anya rested her head on the seat.
Still, though she could count on one hand the amount of hours her and Dean had spent together, she felt more connected to him that any guy she'd ever dated or slept with. And, for a moment, she was sure he saw it too.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. She digged into her pocket.
"Bobby." She stated as she flipped open the phone.
"I see you ran into the boys." He said gruffly
"What the actual hell Bobby?" She sighed rubbing her hands against her face.
"Look, ya'll are gonna work together to get this damn ghost got. I'm sick of hearing about what was done wrong and who did it. So a case should do you both some good."
"Just in case you were wondering, you're not Oprah. I don't need your help with relationships."
"Oh yeah? You sound just like him. Both of you stubborn, pigheaded brats."
Anya was going to ask who was the 'he' that he was referring to but she knew the answer.
She sighed.
"What am I supposed to do? He doesn't want to talk to me."
"Jeez you'll figure it out! I'm not Oprah!" And with a click he was gone.
So Dean had spoken to Bobby about her. Enough for him to pull a stunt like this. Anya knew what she had to do.
She stuck her key in the ignition and drove off.