Chapter Thirteen
"It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane."
- Philip K. Dick, VALIS.
Chapter Quote: "You're so fucking weird."
The trio had only been in the state of Louisiana, in the town of Springhill that bordered on Arkansas, for two hours. And already it was two hours too long for Wendy, but she tried her best to ignore the brothers. They had found a motel to rest at, their bags unceremoniously dumped on beds, before they trudged over to one of the local diners.
Wendy had to admit that it felt odd being back in her home state without having any intention of going home. She had briefly considered it. Wendy was beginning to become concerned with the radio silence her grandmother was giving Bobby. But she knew how stubborn, and one tracked her Grams' mind was when she was set on a goal.
However, it wasn't just her Grams' silence that irked Wendy.
It was also the silence of Danny.
All forms of communication between the pair had faded to nothing.
Perhaps he was mad at her for leaving. She would just have to make it up to him when she got back home.
As the trio sat and ate a late breakfast, Sam perused the internet from his laptop, trying to find another hunt or any mention of the Valtushard's killing spree. It wasn't long before Sam came across the most recent Valtushard attack. The article stated that the murder had only just been discovered six hours ago in one of the close by towns, Cotton Valley.
It unsettled Wendy a little that the Valtushard was so close by, but this is what they had been waiting for. If they could stop them before they found Wendy and/or killed someone else, then the witch could finally go home.
All three immediately decided that they would travel to Cotton Valley and check out the body and the crime scene. They headed back to the motel to change into the appropriate clothes with Dean handing Wendy the same fake badge he had given her during his bout of ghost sickness.
Wendy was nervous. The drive had only taken twenty minutes max, but she didn't feel that was enough time to comprehend the fact that she was going to see exactly how her own mother had died. She took a deep, calming breath, trying to keep a lid on her own emotions, reinforcing her walls so as to not let her own anxiety trickle out and affect the brothers.
The trees blurred past as she watched the scenery through the window. Wendy couldn't help but think how it resembled her mind. Her thoughts racing past and overlapping with each other, memories that weren't her own weaving together to create a distorted image of her past while the invasive thoughts of others whispered in her mind.
You're here because you're crazy.
Wendy viciously shook her head, as if she could physically remove the voice of Nurse Julie echoing in her mind.
The car pulled over smoothly to the curb of the street, Dean shutting off the engine. The small two-story home had officers milling around the front, blocking off all access to the public and the small camera crew that was present. Wendy took a moment to ensure her shield was strong and stable before she popped open the back door to join the brothers.
However, upon closing the car door, she caught a look at her reflection. For a moment, she almost thought the person staring back at her was her mother. The same hair, the same build and complexion, and the same eyes. 'A spitting image of Selene', her Pop always used to say.
God, she wished she could remember what it felt like to be held by her.
She wished she could recall what she smelled like. What she sounded like.
Would Selene approve of who her daughter had become?
Or would she hold the same look of irreverent disdain her father held the last time she saw him?
Fingers snapping in front of her face brought her back to the present, forcing her to tear her gaze away from the Impala's window.
"Where'd you go?" Dean looked down at the witch with a concerned frown.
Worried waves flickered lightly against her mind. Wendy hadn't even realised that her walls had shifted to allow Dean's emotions through, even if it were only a little.
"Did'y' know ah study found that rats prefer silence when sober, but on cocaine they wanna' listen t' jazz." Wendy recited the information when it entered her mind. The flash of a memory buzzing around her skull, as Dr. Larsher smiled disturbingly at her nine-year-old self from across the cold clinical table telling her the same thing.
The concern smoothed out on Dean's face, his features going blank, looking like a dissatisfied customer. "I don't know what to do with that information."
Samuel made his way back over to the pair after speaking to the police officer that was monitoring who was allowed access to the property and who was to be turned away. Wendy didn't need to lower the shield around her mind to know that Samuel seemed a little troubled. The crease between his brows and his thinned-out lips were indication enough. No doubt he was chewing on the inside of his cheek until it bled.
"So, forensics are finishing up now and the body's at the morgue." Samuel's eyes cut briefly to Wendy. "We check over everything here, then we go look at the body. You good with that?"
She didn't think she could say 'no', even if she wanted to. Wendy needed to see the body. To see how the Valtushard had left this Valkaras—how they had left her mother.
Wendy had never gone out of her way to see any of the previous crime scene photos, nor had she made any sort of effort to research any of the spell work that went into the rituals. Of course, she knew the basics, but Wendy wasn't overly keen on having the knowledge to perform that very same ritual that took her mother's life.
But now . . . now it was becoming real.
It was real.
It wasn't what ifs and maybes. It was right before her, ready to be acknowledged; a band aid ready to be ripped off, a wound that needed healing.
A hum of agreement was all Wendy could manage. But it was a step, a step towards moving forward.
"The vic's name was Cassandra." Samuel informed both Wendy and Dean as they made their way up the front porch of the house.
Wendy immediately took note of the windchimes that swayed eerily in the subtle breeze, recognising the etched in runes.
Wards.
The very same symbols her farmhouse had carved into the wooden paneling on the exterior. Casting another glance around the porch revealed more protection runes. They decorated pot plants, both the door and window frames, along with the porch railing. A wreath from what looked like rosemary, sage and cedar was singed and blackened, hanging precariously on the front door.
All were items to protect oneself from anything that may cause harm.
Stepping over the threshold felt like a waft of steam hit Wendy's body. A rush of heat, before cooling quickly to a chill that settled deep within her bones.
Power and fear.
Wendy swallowed down the nausea that swirled around inside her stomach trying to claw its way up her throat.
The Valkaras had tried everything she could to protect herself from the Valtushard. Warding symbols painted the entry's walls in what Wendy knew was a liquefied version of black salt. She could only assume that Cassandra knew she was being hunted. Unless the Valtushard found some sort of sick amusement in making themselves known to their victims before even attempting to start their ritual. Watching gleefully as their targets fretted over their impending doom.
No doubt Cassandra could feel her wards being taken apart by the Valtushard as she worked tirelessly to create new ones to keep them at bay.
Cassandra's magic was stamped into the walls of the home, the feel of it like cotton candy being placed on your tongue, only to disappear within seconds.
The symbols continued across every surface of the walls Wendy could see, as she followed the brothers further into the home. They became more frenzied, seemingly like Cassandra had painted them as the Valtushard breached her home. Jars of various herbs were scattered or smashed on the hard wood floors, and Wendy winced at the sound of her shoes crunching on the glass. A few tarot cards were tossed about, some ripped, some covered in wax while a couple of others were burnt. No doubt the damage was caused by the scorch marks that stained the floors, the ceilings—and the lacy curtains in the hallway that were burnt beyond repair.
Finally, they found themselves in the lounge room.
All the furniture that once occupied the space was pushed up against the walls. It was as if something had come in and begun flinging anything they could to cause the most amount of damage, leaving gaping holes in the walls. But, in the center of the room, marked out in melted candles and a dried muddy brown liquid that could only be blood, was a large circle. A human skull was placed on the edge of the circle with Foxgloves and Angels Trumpets caressing the base of the still fleshy skull.
The body of Cassandra would've been found laying in the center of the circle, directly beneath the human skull, but a bloody athame was all that remained. Cassandra's magic thrummed through the magical tool but was now tainted with the essence of the Valtushard.
Felt like tiny spiders crawling across Wendy's skin.
"Do we have any idea what superpower Val stole?" Dean asked, nose wrinkling at the human skull on the Valtushard's makeshift altar.
"I'd need t' see tha' body." Wendy answered monotonously. It was a struggle to keep Cassandra's fear from overwhelming her.
People don't realise that they leave energy wherever they go. And in tragic events, the energy can be so much that it scars the place or an object with the last emotion felt. Not for long, unless the tragedies happened often, and the energy was built upon. But in circumstances like this it usually dissipated within a week, but Cassandra's fear lingered in the air around them, charged the space more so then if she were just a regular human who had died.
"Maybe we can look for her Grimoire?" Samuel asked quietly, coming over to stand beside Wendy. He watched her face, waiting for any sort of emotion to flicker past, but none came.
"Ah'Grimoire is almost sentient. We won't be able t' find or touch it unless it wants us t'." Wendy explained, her eyes lingering on the shattered picture frames that scattered the ruined bookshelf beside her. Pictures of Cassandra smiling with family and friends, people she'll never see again.
"Dean scoffed, "It's just a book."
"A magical book." Samuel said condescendingly, sending his brother a pinched look, as if trying to convey a message. But Dean merely gave him a sassy head wobble, subtly flipping him off without the witch noticing.
"Ah'witch leaves their magical signature an' essence within their grimoire. It's not jus'ah book." Wendy butted in when it looked like Dean was readying a retort and winding up for a half-hearted slap fight with his younger brother.
"Val would've needed something to incapacitate this witch." Samuel commented, taking to using the uncreative name Dean had assigned the Valtushard. "And they'd have to get past the wards out front." He paced a few steps away, casting a look around the room.
"If I were an evil menace, where would I hide a curse pouch?" Dean muttered, hands stuffed into his pockets while he exited the room and headed back through the house to see if they missed anything.
"If y'know tha' in's an' outs of ah spell, takin' down wards is easy peasy." Wendy commented softly, eerily. Vaguely registering Samuel nodding along to her words.
If there were a curse pouch hidden, the Valtushard would've easily masked the magical signature of it. They weren't sloppy like the other witch the trio had encountered before. However, the more likely reason for not finding one, was that the Valtushard had the sense to simply take the pouch with them after completing their rituals.
But Wendy still helped Samuel check over the lounge room on the off chance that she was wrong. They opened drawers, investigated the sides of the couch cushions, stared suspiciously at the decorative lounge pillows before opening them. But there was no curse pouch anywhere to be seen. And when Dean came back empty handed, the brothers came to the same conclusion Wendy had, the Valtushard had taken it with them.
And so, they found themselves at the morgue.
The body of Cassandra Dyte was completely mummified.
The life within stripped away, leaving nothing but an empty husk.
Clinically speaking, Cassandra had been decapitated and her chest slashed open to pull away her flesh and muscle to gain access to the organs she harbored. Her mediastinum was cut cleanly where her ribs could be pulled apart to expose what lay within. And lastly, her body was entirely devoid of blood.
Wendy tried to view the body as Cassandra's, but all she could see was the weird smashed together vision of her mother and herself. Her own fate stared back at her if they didn't find a way to stop the Valtushard.
The blonde pushed down her emotions, squished them so far down to stop them from leaking out and affecting those around her. She leashed them tight and stuffed them in a box deep within herself, just for now. Just until she could be inside the tiny shower back at the motel and let the tears fall until her eyes stung.
"So, how do we find out her power?" Dean asked too casually, pulling a face as he finished speaking, like he felt odd for even asking.
Wendy didn't answer with words, merely removing the latex glove that covered her hand and placed it on the arm of the body. The residual energy of Cassandra still lingered on her body, stamping her last memory within. Skin to skin contact initiated the connection between the living and the dead. The memory ran through Wendy's mind before she could even take a breath to prepare herself.
Cassandra painted the warding symbols frantically on the walls of her home, as she could feel the previous wards break under the pressure of the Valtushards counter spells. She could feel the snap, like an elastic band against her skin, as the remainder of her wards upon the entry of her home broke. The front door handle began to turn, but Cassandra didn't stick around long enough to watch the Valtushard enter. Instead, the Valkaras summoned a large fireball in the palm of her hand and launched it at the door, before escaping down the hall and into her lounge room where she began to paint more warding spells on top of the already placed ones.
Wendy swiftly pulled her hand away, not wanting to see the demise of the Valkaras firsthand.
Cassandra's fear took over as the blonde's hands shook. Wendy clasped her hands together as if that would help, but it didn't, all it did was cause the brothers to look at her strangely. She tried to steady her breathing, but every breath felt shallow, like her lungs refused to fill up with enough air to keep her conscious. The thought of not getting enough oxygen made Wendy's heart beat rapidly within her chest, to the point of sending out sharp little pains through her torso.
With her hands clasped, Wendy brought them to her chest to ground herself. Slowly, she took hold of the fear gently. Easing it like a frightened child until it calmed and dispersed into nothingness.
Wendy inhaled a deep steadying breath and reinforced the shield around her mind while blinking back the tears that clouded her vision. She mended any cracks or weak points she could find until it seemed like there was a thick slab of cement between herself and the emotions and thoughts of those around her.
A large hand was placed on her shoulder, and Wendy jumped at the contact, causing Samuel to immediately retract.
He cleared his throat, "You okay?"
Wendy hummed in reply. "Fire was 'er gift."
Wendy hated hospitals.
She refused to go in when the boys got out of the Impala. They had both shot her confused looks when she didn't budge from where she sat in the back seat. But neither of the brothers tried too hard to coax her out of the car due to her growing annoyance with the both of them.
Samuel had noticed the shift in her mood the moment they mentioned a hospital. It had soured further the closer they got to their destination. Wendy had spent three days in the back seat of the car listening to the brothers bickering back and forth. Ever so slowly the agitation lapped at her shields, wearing them down over the hours until it wrapped around her like a tight embrace, and she finally snapped at the siblings.
Her outburst resorted in a wonderful silence where all she could feel was the faint feeling of admonishment wafting from the brothers.
"You sure you wanna' stay in the car?" Samuel attempted once again as worry fixed onto his features while he watched the blonde stare straight ahead through the windshield. Wendy simply nodded her head and the brother left, telling her that they'd try not to take too long.
What little she remembered of Dr. Larsher was enough to make her never want to step inside the cold sterile walls of a hospital again. Morgues were different, a coroners and mortician's patient was an unmoving body where the spirit had already left. But hospitals always reminded Wendy of the psych ward she had been placed in.
So, here she sat, waiting for them to return from questioning Anna's psychologist. Apparently, the woman, Anna, had escaped the hospital, and before her escape she was talking about angels, the devil, and the world ending. In the grand scheme of things, the apocalypse was top priority over a power hungry Valtushard.
Wendy wasn't there for the interaction between Ruby and the brothers, but she didn't like wherever this detour was going. So, yes, Wendy was a little peeved they had to cut their Valtushard hunting short. But Wendy also found it odd that the moment she wasn't with the brothers, the demon decided to pay them a visit while they tried to scam money out of the drunks down at the local bar.
However, Wendy could just be biased.
The blonde cut her gaze from the scenery out the window to the seat beside her.
Gabriel had seated himself comfortably in the backseat, chewing on a Marsbar.
"Never thought I'd see you near a hospital again." He said it so unremarkably casual that it didn't even sound like a casual statement. Gabriel was fishing, wanting to know why she would ever be within a ten-foot radius of a hospital catering to the mentally ill again. Wendy didn't need to read his thoughts or emotions to know what he was getting at.
"'M'not goin' in." She supplied numbly.
"C'mon sugarplum, I don't like it when you look like that." Gabriel gave her a gentle smile, shifting closer to the blonde and handing her a Snickers bar.
His voice was soft, and he kept it low, like he was telling her something only for her ears. It made her cheeks feel warm. She moved her face away from the softly glowing being, not wanting him to notice her surely bright red complexion.
"This is jus' my face." Wendy murmured once she calmed down, her mouth pulled down at the corners, the smallest of pouts on her lips.
"You know that's not what I meant." He wiggled the chocolate bar closer to her face until she took it, sending him a small smile of thanks. "Why don't you and I skedaddle away from these clowns?" Gabriel gave her a boyish grin. "We'll go for a stroll in Paris—the pickpockets are annoying though." He muttered the last part to himself before he snapped his fingers. "I know! We could go to Venice."
"'M'not leavin', Gigi." Wendy mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. He observed the witch as her eyes became unfocused and her body relaxed back into the seat of the car. Knowing she was slowly being lulled into a sense of comfort she had been lacking since their last encounter; subconsciously enjoying not feeling the need to be on constant alert. Wendy hadn't even noticed she let the walls slip away while he kept her mind silent.
"Knew you'd say that." Gabriel gave an annoyed huff as he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes upwards. But then he shot her a sidelong look, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Wendy met his eyes unblinkingly and smiled dreamily. "Blood is thicker than water, but maple syrup is thicker than blood, so technically pancakes ah more important than family."
Gabriel watched as her tongue darted out, licking at the melted chocolate that was glued to her thumb. Her pink lips wrapping around the digit to give a swift suck before letting go with an obscene 'pop'. Which was all kinds of distracting.
A giddy grin pulled at his lips when her words registered, pulling his thoughts away from her lips. "You're so fucking weird."
Gabriel waited for her admonishment for his curse, but was only met with a frazzled witch that looked on the verge of a meltdown.
"Sorry." Wendy whispered back, wide eyed with hands raised to her mouth in a worrying fashion. Her chocolate bar now forgotten.
Shit.
Don't make her fucking cry, you idiot.
"Whoa—hey, hey, you're okay." Gabriel reached over, grasping her hands, and unweaving the digits she had started to tangle in her hair. When her glassy silver eyes finally met his, he gave her a soft smile. "I meant it as a compliment, sweetheart."
His thumbs rubbed small soothing circles on the insides of her wrists as he watched her body physically relax once again.
Gabriel sighed, letting go. He handed back the chocolate bar, suddenly turned serious. "You gotta' be careful, alright? Shit's gonna' hit the fan soon."
He disappeared just as the driver's side door opened, and Dean leaned down to look inside. His eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Wendy chomping down on a chocolate bar, looking entirely vexed as she glared at him.
She had slammed her shield back over her mind as soon as Gabriel vanished, and reinforcing it was straining. Especially when Dean's mistrust coursed through her being like a current of electrical energy.
"Who're you talking to?" Dean demanded like a suspicious father interrogating their child after smelling cigarettes wafting from their room. He practically jumped into the vehicle to look over the backseat, seeing if he could spot anyone hiding on the floor of the Impala.
Wendy instantly bristled, giving him Grams' infamous 'hard stare'. "Who do y' think y' talkin' t'?"
Dean's eyes widened at her tone, promptly realizing the error of his ways, and recoiled swiftly out of the vehicle. Wendy could hear the aggressive back and forth whisper argument the brothers were having over the top of the Impala. She could only make out the last of their conversation, but the siblings weren't as discreet as they believed they were.
"Oh, so it's okay for her to get mad at me?"
"I'm not going back in there, Sam. She had goddamn murder eyes!"
It seemed Samuel had lost their argument as a moment later, the front passenger door opened, and he was leaning into the car to talk to the peeved witch. As soon as Samuel caught sight of Wendy, he froze; the pair holding prolonged eye contact as she chewed.
Samuel finally cleared his throat, shifting nervously under Wendy's unblinking gaze. "Hey, uh . . . we just wanted to apologise. We know how . . . difficult it is with your powers, and we haven't been making it any easier."
A beat of silence passed.
"Apology accepted, honey." Wendy gave the younger brother a dazed grin, something he returned readily as his shoulders sagged in relief.
As soon as Wendy accepted the apology, Dean was leaning back down. "So, who were you talking to?"
"Dean." Samuel muttered, shooting his brother a warning look.
"If y' must know, it was Gigi." Wendy conceded. It wasn't like she was hiding it from the boys, just that she didn't like Dean's tone when he had asked. You get more flies with honey . . .
"Stupid name." Dean grumbled, but quickly moved on before Wendy could scold him. "What'd it want? They gonna' kidnap you again?"
"Jus' said t' be careful, thangs were startin' t' get messy." Wendy shrugged, taking another bite of the Snicker's bar.
"Where'd you get that?" Dean nodded towards the chocolate bar in her hand, his words coloured with a blood orange haze of suspicion.
Wendy blinked owlishly back at Dean but gave an answer: "Gigi."
Dean squinted at her, but Wendy merely opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, showing him the chewed-up bits of chocolate. Dean's nose wrinkled in disgust, but he chose to ignore her as he got behind the wheel of the Impala.
Wendy shot Samuel a questioning look.
"Obviously, Anna's not here. First place to look would be her parents' house." Samuel explained.
"Y' think she'd go there?"
"'Course not." Dean butted in, "But she may have called them, give them info about where she might be heading."
"Anna's father is a church deacon; Anna became paranoid two months ago and her delusions became religious based." Samuel informed Wendy, turning back to look at her as he spoke. "She thought demons were everywhere. Had a whole sketch book filled with drawing about Samhain rising—"
"The witnesses." Dean interjected.
Samuel nodded and continued, "She spoke about the devil rising and bringing on the apocalypse. Her parents thought it was schizophrenia and sent her to the hospital."
Wendy repressed the shiver that the word 'schizophrenia' sent down her spine Memories flashed through her mind of her father and Kathy speaking about her so-called diagnosis in hushed voices. Their thoughts and fears swimming around inside her head as she tried to happily play with Randy. They had been scared of her, scared of what her 'delusions' might make her do.
Until one day, they sent her away.
So, Wendy could understand what Anna was experiencing, at least to some degree.
When they had pulled up to Anna's childhood home, the witch knew they'd find nothing. Wendy felt it before she even exited the car and told the brothers as much. There was no life inside, only the lingering traces of fear in the air surrounding the home. Anna's parents were slaughtered by the demonic beings that were searching for her.
"All right," Dean sighed, looking through stacks of paper that was piled on the bookshelf. "So, I'm 'Girl, Interrupted' and I know the score of the apocalypse—just busted out of the nut box. Possibly using superpowers . . . where do I go?"
The room was silent as the trio looked around the space for any sort of clue that Anna may have left behind. Samuel inspected the photos, picking up one of the family at what seemed to be taken on some sort of trip.
Maybe they have a holiday home Anna's holed up in?
Samuel's thought slithered through a crack and sounded off in Wendy's mind.
It was plausible. However, trying to find out if the family did own any such thing would take time, and that was something they didn't have.
"She a witch?" The question Dean had asked was directed at Wendy, but she shook her head 'no'. There was no magical signature anywhere in the home or at the hospital.
Wendy spied the religious imagery on the walls and mantel on the sitting room. A shame to put so much faith into something, and in your time of need it didn't help. Wendy didn't think she'd ever understand religion, and now she was interacting with angels on a frequent basis. And angels were nothing like she had been taught in Sunday school when she had lived with her father. Wendy didn't think anything in the bible held any weight when held up against the real thing.
She paused her train of thought, turning back to the brothers just as Samuel held up a picture of Anna's family standing in front of a church.
"Anna's daddy was ah deacon; she'd find comfort at ah church." Wendy took the frame from Samuel, gazing down at the small smiling family. Anna had no idea her parents had been brutally murdered. How does one break that news?
"You got those sketches from Anna's notebook?" Samuel asked his brother, watching as Dean dug around the inside of his suit jacket for the folded pieces of paper.
Samuel held the sketches up to the photo; the similarities were immediate. Anna had been chaotically drawing the window of her father's church for the last two months. The drawings became more unhinged and unidentifiable as the days passed.
"Gotta' find the name of it." Dean muttered, taking the sketches back from his sibling and tucking them away as Wendy placed the picture frame back to its original position.
"I'll find the office." Samuel said, heading out of the sitting room.
Wendy followed his lead, wandering the home until she found the kitchen. She had always placed bills and other mail in the kitchen of her own home, perhaps these people did the same. The witch checked the counter of the kitchen for any folded pieces of paper or envelops, but the counters were bare. No clutter, no dust, not even a crumb lingered. Anna's parents must've liked to keep an exceptionally clean home.
"Found it!" Samuel called.
Once the church came into view, Wendy cut the smallest slit in her shield, reaching out for any sign of life within the tall building.
It was there.
Worrying and fearful.
Anna's frantic thoughts scattered through Wendy's mind, but she couldn't understand a word. Other voices were heard bickering back and forth inside Anna's head, but still the language they were speaking was foreign to Wendy. And the witch knew she wouldn't be able to force her mouth to pronounce even half of the words being spoken.
"She's here." She told the brothers softly as they climbed out from the vehicle. Wendy focused on Anna's emotions, starting forward, and leading them as quickly as possible to the frightened woman.
Wendy moved on autopilot, not registering that she opened the door to the church or when she began climbing the stairs to the very top floor. Samuel hissed her name as he quickly followed Wendy with his gun drawn (though unnecessary), Dean not too far behind. She merely followed Anna's fear like a moth to a lone lamppost in the dead of night.
As she came upon the door at the top of the stairs, Samuel had his arm raised and pushed her behind his taller frame before she even had the chance to open it. The witch managed to rush in after Samuel once he walked through the door, worming away from Dean before he could give her the same treatment.
The room behind the lone door was an attic, storing random trinkets and furniture. Nothing was out of the ordinary aside from the rolls of anxiety omitting from the very back of the room.
Wendy reached out and swiftly pushed Samuel's gun towards the creaky floorboards. He threw a confused look her way but got the hint as Wendy nodded towards the glass-stained window. In a speedy fashion, Samuel had the gun tucked away and out of sight, gesturing to Dean to do the same.
"Anna?" Samuel called out, slowly making his way further towards where Anna lurked. "We're not gonna' hurt you. We're here to help."
Silence was his only answer.
He continued gently, hesitating to get any closer in fear that Anna may spook easily. "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean, and our friend Wendy."
Wendy perked up at the word 'friend', shooting the younger brother a beaming smile as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She was completely unbothered by the shared look of befuddlement the siblings were sending her.
"Sam?" A small voice questioned from behind it chosen hiding spot. "Not Sam Winchester?"
"Uh . . . yeah?"
Anna quickly darted out from behind the window, her auburn red hair glowing brightly from the sunlight that poured in from the purple stain-glass window she now placed herself in front of. Her eyes darted back and forth between the three strangers that had joined her in the dusty attic.
Anna's dark brown gaze landed on the elder brother, "And you're Dean. The Dean?"
"Well, yeah." Dean grinned goofily, smugness radiating from his entire being that had Samuel rolling his eyes. "The Dean, I guess."
"It's really you. Oh, my god." Anna gushed like she was meeting her favourite celebrity, coming closer to the trio. "The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us." Anna quickly shot Samuel a glance, wincing a little while continuing. "And some of them don't like you at all. They talk about you all the time lately. I feel like I know you."
"Wait. Hang on." Dean raised his hands, stopping Anna from continuing her tirade. "So, you talk to angels?"
"Oh, no. No, no way." She laughed nervously. "Um, they probably don't even know I exist. I just kind of . . . overhear them?" Anna shrugged as she tried to explain. Her big doe eyes darting around the room as she wrung her hands together.
"You overhear them?" Samuel repeated, baffled. He shot Wendy a brief look, but only received a shrug from the witch.
Anna followed his gaze, her brows creasing as she met Wendy's eyes.
"Um, yeah. They talk, and sometimes I just . . . hear them . . . in my head." Anna's gaze shot to the floor, as if ashamed by the notion.
"Like . . . right now?" Dean raised a questioning brow.
"Not right this second, but a lot. And I can't shut them out, there are so many of them." Anna rushed to explain that she wasn't crazy. Hope spewed from the woman, the words 'believe me, believe me, believe me' chanting repeatedly until Wendy had to slap the thoughts from her mind.
She felt sympathy for Anna. The witch had firsthand experience of what it was like to have voices whispering in your mind at any moment of the day, spilling secrets and revealing dark thoughts while you tried desperately to shut them out.
"So, they lock you up with a case of the crazies when really you were just . . . tuning in to angel radio?" Dean scoffed, compassion leaking from him and rushing over Wendy.
Even though the feeling wasn't directed towards herself, Wendy still became misty eyed. Especially when she heard Anna's gasped 'yes' and whispered, 'thank you'. Wendy could hear the relief in the red head's voice when she realised she was being believed.
"Anna, when did the voices start?" Do you remember?" Samuel questioned.
"I can tell you exactly." Anna answered eagerly. "September 18th."
"The day I got out of Hell." Muttered Dean.
"First words I heard, clear as a bell; 'Dean Winchester is saved'." Anna recited, nodding to herself.
"What do you think?" Dean turned to Wendy and Samuel, silently freaking out about the information just given to them. He wanted one of them to give him answers, for someone to know exactly what they had to do, because this was all starting to get a little too much.
But Samuel had nothing.
And Wendy . . . she remained silent.
Because the air felt different as she ignored Dean's internal freak out and the conversation the brothers were having with Anna.
No, no, it wasn't the air.
Wendy dropped her shield entirely. Firstly, she felt Samuel's quiet reassurance, Dean's ever-growing panic, and Anna's worrying. Understandable they were the first she felt as they were standing right in front of her. But there was something else looming, stalking closer and closer. Like a predator enjoying the hunt of its prey. Anticipation rolled around in Wendy's stomach, and the urge to carve and slash overwhelmed her. Oh, how she loved the feel of her hands burying themselves deep deep inside of a wailing body. A delightful shiver dragged down her spine. How'd she'd love to get her hands on the angel listener, feel the slippery sensation of her blood and organs sliding through her fingers as Wendy gripped and pulled anything that would make the screams reach an octave higher.
Wendy physically jerked, ramming the presence from her mind, and slamming her shield in place.
"You good?" Dean questioned, concern washing over his features as he watched the witch's hands shake as she pushed the wayward curls away from her face.
"We need t' leave." Wendy moved determinedly, grabbing Anna's arm and started leading her away from the brothers.
The attic door opened, and the woman Wendy had only seen in Dean and Samuel's memories rushed into the room.
"You got the girl." Ruby sighed in relief. "Good, let's go."
"Her face!" Anna cried, stumbling back, only to be caught by the shorter woman death gripping her arm.
"Another way out." Wendy ordered Anna, but she received no response from the obviously terrified woman. Wendy cracked her shield and gripped Anna's wrist with her other hand. The witch poured every bit of euphoria into the woman, watching as Anna's eyes rolled back before taking on a hazy sheen. "Is there another way out?"
"Yeah." Anna's voice giggled out softly. Memories of the exit to the side of the attic flooded Wendy's mind before she broke the connection and pulled a dazed and giggling Anna towards the second exit.
"Hey!" called Dean.
"Alright, you and Ruby banged." Dean heaved a tired sigh, rubbing at his face with both hands before getting up from his position on the couch and started to pace. "We worry about that later, right now we gotta' find Anna and Blondie."
"I already told you, we hang tight here and Wendy will contact us." Sam muttered.
"And how do you suppose she do that? She left her phone in the car."
"Uh, magic?" Sam snapped back sarcastically, which made Dean want to slap him upside the back of his head.
As if on cue, a mug that had been sitting unbothered and half full shattered upon the table. The sound was obnoxiously loud, but the dirty leaf water within didn't splatter and drip onto the floor like expected. Instead, the liquid moved slowly until it finally formed letters and numbers.
An address.
"About damn time." Dean grumbled as he made for his jacket, letting Sam jot down the address.
A knock at the door had both brothers freezing in their tracks. In unity, they both turned and looked at the flimsy piece of wood that would do fuck all to keep whatever asshole that wanted to skin them, outside. Dean swiftly retrieved his gun that sat on the coffee table.
"Housekeeping!" A muffled call from the motel maid was their only clue as to what awaited them behind the piece of shit door.
"Not now!" Dean called back gruffly, hoping the maid would take the hint and wander off elsewhere.
"Sir, I've got clean towels." The maid backtalked, sounding absolutely done with the situation. Dean rolled his eyes, sliding the gun into the waistband of his jeans and opened the door.
"Couldn't you just leave 'em at the door?" groused Dean as he stood before the unimpressed woman wearing the motels maid uniform.
The maid gave Dean the dirtiest look he'd ever received from the opposite sex and pushed past him. She dropped the towels unceremoniously on the floor and closed the door, before darting over to the window to shut the curtains.
"You know where she is or not?" The maid, Ruth given her name tag, asked abruptly turning to Sam with her hands on her hips.
"Sorry—what?" Sam turned to Dean, sharing a puzzled look.
"If you know where she is, go now." Ruth spoke to the both of them like she was speaking to a class of children. "Go through the bathroom window, don't take your car, don't pass go. There are demons in the hallway and the parking lot."
". . . Ruby?"
"Fucking hell. Okay, yes, so I'm possessing this maid for a hot minute. Sue me." Ruby bit out and rolled her eyes, looking absolutely done with this conversation.
"What about—?"
Ruby interrupted Sam, "Coma girl? Slowly rotting on the floor of the laundry room. I'll be right behind you, so go!" Ruby strutted out of the room without a backwards glance.
As Sam dug around in his duffle bag for a map of the area, Dean mopped up the watery address—he didn't want to hear Blondie scold him for not cleaning up the mess she created. With both the map and the address, the brother's followed through with the instructions they were given by both Wendy and Ruby.
The two slunk through the woods that backed onto the motel, making their way to the road, keeping to the trees. Not even five minutes after coming upon the main road, Ruby was with them. She wouldn't shut up, kept pestering about the location of Anna while Sam just made goo-goo eyes at the slippery little demon. Dean had to bite down on his tongue serval times to keep from telling her to fuck off.
Soon enough, Sam was leading the way to wherever Blondie and Anna had set up shop. And it was about an hour later, the brothers and the unwanted demon finally stumbled upon a shabby cabin. The windows of the disrepair box omitting a soft glow that was somewhat blocked by threadbare curtains.
The door of the cabin flung open.
And there stood Blondie in all her five foot one glory. Her face blank, but her eyes seemed to blaze up at them with that silvery glow as they approached.
Dean opened his mouth to shoot off a sarcastic quip at the witch about looking at him like he pissed in her cornflakes. However, he paused in his wisecrack and followed the witch's gaze. Blondie was staring holes into the demon that tagged along.
Yeah, I fucking hate her too.
Blondie's eyes cut to him, causing Dean to hesitate mid-step. He dragged his eyes up and down her small stature, looking for any signs of injury, but finding nothing. Though, Dean registered how tense she was, before her head cocked to the side swiftly, like an involuntary twitch.
What's wrong?
Sure, Dean didn't like having Blondie read his thoughts, but he could see the benefits of such a skill if it gave him an advantage to whatever the fuck was happening here.
Wendy's hands flexed at her sides.
But then she smiled that stoner grin that unsettled Dean to his core more than anything else.
"Tha' silence is loud." Wendy spoke dreamily, twisting her hips from side to side. A delirious giggle spilt from her mouth before she gasped and quickly covered her mouth with both hands.
"Wendy—" Sam took a step towards the witch that was clearly in the middle of a mental breakdown.
Blondie snapped into movement, placing a finger against her lips. "Shhh! There're no thoughts, no feelin's. It's silent. Not ah peep, squeak, or whisper. It's wrong."
"You mean Anna?" Sam questioned, coming closer and laying a hand on Blondie's shoulder that had the witch pouting down at the limb.
Dean moved his gaze over to the demon who watched the whole interaction. Her eyes locked onto Blondie like a wolf observing a rabbit before it lunged.
Ruby?
Blondie turned her gaze away from Sam to look back at Dean, her lips stretching into a sleepy grin. "You're such'ah clever boy."
And with that, she twirled out from under Sam's hand and back into the cabin, humming a tune Dean didn't recognise.
He fucking knew Ruby was shifty. She always fucking appeared whenever trouble came calling. He wanted so badly to shout, 'I told you so!' at Sam. But, nah, he had to play it smart. Blondie had noticed something off with the demon too, which had the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. While Blondie may have her bouts of the crazies, she hadn't been wrong when nonsense spewed from her mouth.
He had to play the long game. Play nice until he could find out what the black-eyed bitch was up to.
"Where'd you find the nutcase?" Ruby probed, eyes tracking Blondie as the witch darted inside whispering to herself.
"She's a friend." Sam lightly reprimanded before Dean could tell her to fuck off. Sam emphasized the last word, warding off Ruby from even taking a swipe at the witch.
After giving Ruby another disapproving look, Sam followed after Blondie, with both Dean and Ruby close behind.
Dean found Anna sitting on the flaky faux leather couch to one side of the cabin. She was watching Blondie warily while the witch giggled manically to herself as she used a pocketknife to carve sigils into the wooden walls of the cabin. Dean had half a mind to confiscate the sharp object from the witch with her being a little looney, but he determined that protection sigils were more of a necessity at this point in time.
"You okay, Anna?" Sam asked gently as he came to sit beside the red head.
"Erm . . . yeah. I think so." Anna shot an uneasy glance towards Blondie stabbing at the wood, humming cheerily. "Is she . . . is she okay?"
"Yeah—yep." Sam cleared his throat to stop himself snorting at the gleeful cackle Blondie unleashed that proved him wrong. "She's just eccentric."
"She did something to me." Anna said lowly to Sam, her eyes never leaving the witch's figure, as if worried Blondie may overhear. "I was scared, but then she . . . she did something and everything was like a dream. And then we were here, and she was . . . like that." Anna paused. "She's been insisting that goats have accents."
Sam rested his chin in his hand, fingers covering his mouth that Dean knew was hiding an amused grin. Most likely not wanting Anna to think he was laughing at her.
Dean reluctantly turned his attention to Ruby. She was still watching the witch like a hawk. What the fuck was her deal with Blondie?
Dean cleared his throat.
Ruby's head snapped towards him. "What?"
Here goes, making nice. "I guess I owe you . . . for Sam." Dean sighed inwardly and clucked his tongue. God, he fucking hated every second of this interaction. "And I just wanted . . . y'know—"
"Don't strain yourself." Ruby drawled, looking at her nails.
Oh, thank fuck.
"Okay then." Dean raised his brows, sarcasm leaking into his voice. "Is the moment over? 'Cause that was awkward."
He would never be doing that again.
"Sam, you think it'd be safe to make a quick call, just to tell my parents I'm okay?" The sound of Anna's question pulled Dean's attention away from the freaky demon. He watched as Anna's lips twitched into an awkward smile. "They must be completely freaked."
"Anna . . ."
"What?" Her smile dropped, and Sam quickly cast a look back at Dean, but hell, he didn't know how to tell someone their parents were dead.
Sam released a breath, turning his body to face her. "Anna . . . your parents—"
"What about them?" Her voice shook as she looked at Sam with those sad brown eyes. She knew, she already knew. Anna just didn't want to believe it, wanted them to play along and tell her everything was fine.
And fuck, that made Dean's heart break.
"I'm sorry—"
Anna viciously shook her head. "No, no, no, they're not." When she didn't receive a response, a choked sob ripped from Anna's throat as tears tracked down her face. "Why is this happening to me?"
Blondie appeared beside Anna, sitting herself down next to the woman and placed a comforting hand upon Anna's own. The action only caused more sobs to bubble out, and the red head leaned heavily on the witch's shoulder as she hummed a soothing lullaby. Blondie patting at Anna's back as one might do to settle a fussy newborn.
Anna pulled away from Blondie with a startled shout.
"They're coming." Anna gasped out, wrenching herself away from Blondie as the lights flickered ominously in the room.
"Back room." Dean ordered, reaching for Anna, and ushering her towards the doorway at the back of the cabin. "Stay here and stay quiet." He waited for her nod before he closed the door, shutting her safely inside.
"We don't have the knife anymore." Sam reminded both Dean and the demon.
"Fuck." Ruby spat, rushing over towards the duffle Sam brought, digging through and pulling out various weapons, handing some over to Sam.
"Naughty, naughty." Blondie tsked as she watched the lights flicker above her while swaying back and forth of the balls of her feet.
"Blondie!" Dean called, catching the witch's attention. "You know what's coming?"
The witch's sleepy gaze met Dean's, and in the most serious tone he had ever heard from her, she said; "No matter how sad I am, I will never be sad enough t' be ah good painter."
"Jesus Christ." Dean muttered as he grabbed her shoulders fighting the urge to shake her. "Snap out of it, Wendy!"
The whole cabin started to shake with the windows and doors rattling violently against their frames. Dean was convinced that the rickety wooden floor was going to open up beneath them and swallow them whole if they didn't do something soon.
"It's'ah party!" Blondie proclaimed, gripping his forearms and shaking him before she let go to clap her hands together. She smiled up at Dean happily as she bounced under the weight of his hands.
The cabin door burst open to reveal Castiel and his henchman as they strode into the cabin, their eyes immediately falling on Ruby. Swiftly, Dean pulled Blondie behind him as he watched Castiel stare the demon down blankly while his counterpart sneered at her like she was a steaming pile of shit on its doorstep. Reasonable, because she was.
And while Dean wasn't happy to see Uriel again, he'd admit to himself that he was at least reluctantly relieved to see Castiel. After their last conversation, with the angel revealing that he was having doubts, Dean hoped that those doubts would at least offer some form of aid now. He begrudgingly acknowledged that the angel was growing on him.
"Please tell me you're here to help." Dean said to Castiel, refusing to grant the other angel any of his attention. "We've been having demon issues all day."
"Well, I can see that." Uriel's upper lip curled in distaste. "Would you like to explain why you have that stain in the room?"
Castiel kept his eyes trained on Ruby, but his words were directed towards Dean. "We're here for Anna."
"Here for her like . . ?"
Uriel clucked his tongue in annoyance, "Stop talking. Give her to us."
Sam's shoulders relaxed just a smidge. "Are you gonna' help her?"
"No." said Castiel, stoically. "She has to die."
"Nuh-uh." The southern denial sound in the small cabin after a beat of silence.
Dean glanced behind him, only to startle at the sight of Blondie beside him. Her mouth was pulled down in a displeased frown.
The first ounce of emotion since the angels appeared marred Castiel's features in the form of a confused frown.
"Yes." Castiel responded slowly, as if it were worried it was somehow speaking a different language without its knowledge. Castiel squinted at Blondie, like it was seeing if she now understood what it was saying.
"Enough." Uriel snapped. "Out of the way."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—okay." Dean raised his hand, like that would have any chance in holding the angel back as Uriel took a step forward. "I know she's wiretapping your angel chat or whatever, but that's no reason to kill her."
Dean ignored the fact that Blondie was sagely nodding along to every word he was saying. He wasn't overly keen on having the crazy witch be the only one agreeing with him.
"Don't worry, I'll kill her gentle." Uriel flashed the group a smug grin as he inched himself forward once more.
"You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?" Dean rebutted, angrily.
"Yes," Castiel retorted, brow cocking ever so slightly. "And?"
The disappointment that stabbed through Dean's chest was staggering. Because—fuck—he stupidly thought that maybe Castiel had started to come around. That maybe the angel wasn't really some compassionless robot waiting for a command.
Blondie leaned in close to Dean, pressing almost her entire weight against his side heavily and whispered; "Liar."
Castiel's cold steely gaze zeroed in on the witch, annoyance flickering in its eyes. Dean had to fight the urge to pull her behind him once again. He didn't need her wacky self antagonizing these feathery nuisances anymore then their current predicament was already doing.
You're gonna' get us killed, Blondie.
His thought was met with a snicker.
"And? Anna's innocent." Sam argued, tone pleading. Dean wanted to tell him it was no use. The angels gave their answer, they weren't going to change their minds just because Sam pulled out the puppy dog eyes.
This was going to end in a fight. But it was a fight he didn't feel he could walk away from. He'd be no better then these assholes if he just handed Anna over.
"She is far from innocent." Castiel shook his head in a disappointed manner.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam shot back, eyes flickering between the two angels.
"It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing." Uriel hissed between clenched teeth, eyes flashing in the low light of the cabin; patience wearing thin. "Now, give us the girl."
"No, can do. Get yourself another one." Dean cut in, drawing Uriel's attention away from Sam and repressing a shiver when the angels eyes bore into his.
"Who's going to stop us?" Uriel raised a brow, a mocking chuckle brushing past its lips. "You two? The Syphon that doesn't have a thought in that head of hers or this demon whore?"
In a flash Uriel reached out and wrapped its large hand around Ruby's throat, tossing her to the side as if she weighed no more than a loaf of bread. A crack sounded on impact as she slammed into the walls of the shoddy cabin, a glass bottle falling and smashing to pieces due to the disturbance.
Instantaneously, Uriel was hauling Ruby up by her hair, slamming her head back into the wall repeatedly. It wasn't until her head lolled that Uriel placed his other palm against her forehead and began reciting in an unknown language.
Dean launched himself at Uriel out of instinct as Sam took a stance, blocking the way to the room they had hidden Anna in. Castiel approached Sam casually, like he was merely taking a Sunday stroll.
"Castiel, stop . . . please." Sam pleaded; his eyes firmly locked on the advancing angel. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop it. Knew that the angel could easily bat him away if it wanted.
So, why didn't Castiel?
Something darted forward in Sam's peripheral. He clenched his jaw to the point of pain to force himself from tracking the movement—less he gave the angel in front of him any warning. Just as Castiel placed two fingers upon his brow, Sam witnessed the witch jumping at the angels back. Her nimble fingers resting at the temples of the vessel Castiel occupied.
The angel's eyes took on the same enchanting silver glow that consumed Wendy's own pupils and Sam had the pleasure of watching the angel drop unceremoniously as unconsciousness overtook him.
A bolt of white light overwhelmed the room, causing the occupants to cover their eyes, and when the light receded, the angels were gone.
Wendy didn't know how long they had been at Bobby's when her mind finally decided to check in with her body. She realised she had been steered to the old, frayed couch in Bobby's messily tidied lounge room.
Samuel's voice lingered in the air around her, but she couldn't find where it was coming from. One moment she would hear him in the kitchen, only to catch movement to her right. She saw him seated in Bobby's squeaky leather chair, leafing through a book, occupied by the pages in front of him. Or she could've sworn he was just speaking to her, but when she looked over, she would see the back of his head as he walked away.
Wendy released a mournful whine as she rubbed tiredly at her eyes. Time was blurring together as onslaughts of emotions and thoughts bombarded her mind. Her walls that kept her mind her own were nothing but dust. The power stored within had been running free for too long, though it had only been a day.
The moment Wendy had calmed Anna to the point of a high—that was the beginning of her undoing. As soon as she delved into Anna's mind and emotions, her brain felt fried. She was bombarded with so many memories of loud voices speaking in what sounded like nonsense. The voices echoed in her mind, as bright flashes of light burst beneath her eyelids and the sensation of falling made her stomach drop.
It frazzled Wendy, and it made her feel barely coherent. How she managed to get the both of them to that cabin was beyond her understanding.
But then Wendy couldn't just leave Anna blissed out of her mind and talking to the air. So, she did what she thought was the only sensible option and absorbed that bliss. Which, to be completely honest, probably wasn't the most logical thing.
Because now she felt like jelly.
And she was squishy.
Her tummy was squishy, her thighs were jiggly and squishy, and her breasts were big and squishy. And she liked being squishy. Oh, she was a marshmallow. And Wendolyn adored marshmallows almost as much as she did chocolate fudge.
The witch barely comprehended Samuel hovering around her like a mother hen. The clink of ceramic against wood seemed to reverberate in the space around her. A mug sat steaming on the coffee table in front of her, the smell indicating that it was peppermint tea, and likely from the stash she had kept here.
Wendy gripped her thighs, wanting to feel the squish again, but paused. She frowned down at her legs in displeasure, now noting the flannelette blanket across her lap. She wasn't pleased to learn that she had been covered, but she refrained from throwing the offending blanket off. Because she was cold, and yes—yes, it could stay.
She patted the material with an appreciative hum.
Samuel's muffled call for Dean reached her ears as Wendy continued to pat the blanket while staring at the mug, watching the steam curl and dance upwards in an almost sensual manner.
Thoughts ricochetted around her mind, taking Wendy a minute or two to realise they weren't hers. Dean was stressed about the situation they had now found themselves in. He was on the verge of throwing a fit, because now they had to worry about angels on top of the demons that were already trying to get to Anna.
Meanwhile, Samuel released his anxiety by pacing in the kitchen with a file on Anna in his hand, his mind was full of scattered thoughts. As if someone had tipped them onto the laminate floor of the kitchen like a box of Lego. His mind jumped from Anna to the angels, to Wendy, before repeating over again in a loop.
Anna was quiet with her thoughts, but loud with her emotions. The grief burned Wendy's heart as she tried to breathe through the tightness that wrapped itself around her throat like a snake trying to suffocate its prey. Wendy didn't try to ease the emotion because Anna needed to feel it to process it.
And Ruby . . .
Ruby was silent.
So, so quiet.
Not a blip of anything trickled from the demon.
It was wrong.
Wendy could feel demons, she could see them encased in pitch black, hear their thoughts.
But Ruby wasn't there. She was absent, but she was there!
She was standing right there!
The witch carded her fingers through her curls and tugged at the roots.
Wendy could see her; she can see her. They can see her too, right? Ruby was real, she was there! So, why couldn't she be heard? Why couldn't Wendy feel her?
Or was she not there?
Was it a lie? Was Ruby a fib, a trick, a figment of Wendy's imagination? Just conjured up in her mind from the memories she had viewed from both Samuel and Dean?
No. No, no, no, no.
Shesrealshesrealshesrealshesrealshesreal.
"Blondie?" Dean appeared crouched before her with a crease between his brows. His clover green eyes darted over her face, no doubt noticing the tear stains that marked her cheeks.
"Did y' see 'er?" Wendy leaned towards him, whispering shakily.
"Who?" Dean immediately looked around the vacant room.
Where did they go? Samuel and Anna were here, along with the demon, she was sure of it. They were all talking, she heard them. The conversation was dampened, but it happened. Wendy knew they were there at some point.
Wendy grabbed both sides of Dean's face and brought it close to hers, ignoring the way he startled. "I'm supposed t' feel 'er. Tha' walls are down an' I'm suppose t' feel her. But she's quiet, there's nothin' there. I can see her. Is she there, can y' see 'er?"
"Ruby?" Dean asked quietly, his own hands gripping her wrists and pulling her away, not at all comfortable with how close the distressed witch was. "I see her."
Wendy whimpered, a shaky breath escaping her mouth. "'M'not crazy."
"No, you're not." Dean's jaw clenched, his thumbs rubbing at her wrists as if trying to offer her some form of comfort.
Wendy smiled dreamily at him, appreciating the lie.
"Can't let Blondie dig around in Anna's head." Dean said in a way of greeting the three other occupants later loitered in the basement as he came down the stairs.
The little display upstairs from the witch all but confirmed to Dean that she was becoming more and more unhinged the longer she used her witchy powers.
"Wasn't thinking about it." Sam said from his place beside Anna inside the bunker. "Wouldn't let her in here even if she offered. But I called Pamela. Figured a psychic would be the next best thing after an out of commission empath."
"Is . . . is she going to be okay?" Anna directed the question to Dean, her hands rubbing together in a worrying fashion.
"Looked like the lights were on, but no one was home." Ruby butted in sardonically from the wall she had leant herself against.
Sam cleared his throat, giving Ruby a stern look before answering Anna, "She's just got to recharge."
Ruby scoffed, "I'll say, with the way she downed that angel." The demon crossed her arms and gave a tiny shrug. "Maybe pack her up and send her home if she's this useless."
An alarm bell shrieked in Dean's mind. Blondie's two warnings ran through his head at Ruby's words. The slimy bitch was uncomfortable as fuck having the witch around. What the hell was the demon bitch up to? Of course, Dean's first thought was Anna. Wouldn't be a far stretch that Ruby wanted Anna to get the inside scoop on what the angels were up to, or hell, even working for someone else who wanted Anna.
Disapproval set deeply on Sam's features. "She's not useless and we're not sending her anywhere."
"Suit yourself." Ruby gave another nonchalant shrug. But Dean found the movement stilted; forced. Her tone was off, and she refused to look at Sam as she spoke.
Why can't Blondie get a read on you?
Dean wasn't overly thrilled to leave the demon with Anna while he followed Sam upstairs. But he'd play nice, he'd be patient, and he would figure out what that two-faced fuck was up to.
After giving Dean a brief goodbye as he went to bring Pamela back, Sam's attention turned to the blonde that sat motionless on the couch. With how still Wendy sat, you could almost believe she was a wax figure.
He sighed as he noticed the undrunk mug of tea and began to busy himself in the kitchen to make the silent witch another. The only sound heard on the ground level of the house was the clink of the spoon as Sam stirred the honey into the tea.
"Castiel is nice." Wendy said softly as Sam came over to place the fresh mug directly into her hands. "I hope he's not mad at me."
"Yeah, uh—I'm sure he's not." Sam froze a little at the sudden sound of her voice after not hearing her speak for a solid three hours. "How . . ?"
"Angels can be quiet." Wendy explained kindly, raising the mug to sip at the scolding tea. "Their walls ah strong, but he wasn't expectin' ah touch." She wiggled her fingers in Sam's direction, a mischievous grin painting her lips. "Their thoughts ah gibberish though."
A smile tugged at Sam's mouth.
The pair sat in silence as Wendy slowly consumed the tea Sam offered her. And he didn't mind the silence, however this time, it felt off. In the time Sam had known Wendy, she was always spacey and soothingly quiet, prone to bouts of nonsense and intrusive thoughts. But now, she was eerie with how still she had become, eyes giving the thousand-yard stare of dissociation.
It unsettled him.
The crunch of tires on the dirt driveway alerted Sam to the arrival of Dean and Pamela sometime later. It was a warm welcome, it always was with Pamela, and Sam had always liked the psychic. Her easy-going nature, sarcasm, and quick-witted remarks had him fawning over her like a teenager.
"Well, hello there little syphon." Pamela greeted the unmoving witch with a friendly grin after the psychic had given Sam shit for ogling her chest.
Wendy slowly slid her eyes over to the psychic, head cocked to the side as her silver gaze bore holes in Pamela.
"It was an accident."
The grin fell from Pamela's lips at Wendy's detached words.
"Oh, he was so sad when it happened." Wendy continued miserably. "He was too bright an' now y' have no sight."
"Jesus Christ, Blondie—read the room." Dean muttered the last of his sentence waspishly through gritted teeth.
They had tried finding Anna's grace. Samuel had located its exact location, but the overly large tree didn't glow brightly enough to hold anything other than the remnant of the angel's grace. It just stood still and tall, looking arrogant.
A disappointment, to be sure.
Like trying to sneak more ice cream, only to realise the container was empty.
And now the five of them were holed up in an abandoned barn that did not look even remotely structurally sound. Wendy frowned at the frail looking beam above Samuel, silently threatening the wood that should it fall upon Samuel's head, she would burn it.
The night before, Dean and Anna had taken it as an opportunity to enjoy pleasures with each other. Which caused the witch to let out an undignified squawk, slapping her hands over her ears as Samuel stressed about what had set the blonde into a state of dread. With all the mental strength she had left, Wendy hurled their emotions from her being. She tried desperately to focus on Samuel and Ruby's conversation as they came up with a plan to dupe both the angels and demons. Which proved more difficult than she originally thought.
Wendy didn't really recall the plan, too busy trying to build her shield to keep them all out of her mind. But every time she placed what she imagined to be a brick, it crumbled and turned to dust. Each time this occurred, the witch would pout and look up at Samuel sadly. This only led to the younger brother trying to offer some form of comfort to an affliction he couldn't help with by patting her on the back.
Wendy sniffled and rubbed her eyes with closed fists from her place on a pile of hay away from the morning light that stung her eyes. It was somewhat peaceful now, aside from both brothers being jittery messes. It rolled over Wendy's skin, prickling across the fine hair of her arms like static. Samuel was worried that the silent demon wouldn't show up in time, Dean unsettled about their plan falling to waste.
No, no, no—that wouldn't do. She didn't want that feeling of an anxiety riddle mosquito buzzing around her skull. She shooed it away, trying to maintain her own mind by building her flimsy wall.
The fragile peace was broken when the two angels appeared again, their plan already falling sideways when Ruby still hadn't showed.
Wendy's mind flickered back to Anna hours before, making it abundantly clear that if Ruby was a no show with her fellow demons, then Anna would be handing herself over. Wendy was also told not to go messing with any angel brains. No if's, no buts, no coconuts. Sighting that a repeat of a broken empath was not ideal when being pursued by holy and demonic beings.
The fallen angel had explained earlier why she was hunted, why the only likely outcome for her was death. And that was where it seemed to be heading, with Anna standing before both angels—ready to accept her fate.
Wendy felt the menacing presence as it stalked towards their debilitated old barn.
The itch crept up on Wendy slowly. The feelings brought forth a familiar horror causing her eyes to become unfocused. It withered across her brittle shield before easily sinking in and taking over her train of thought.
She wanted more. It wasn't fun to play with your fellow hell spawns, they knew what to expect, they'd been through it so many times already. But the angel would be so nice to play with. She'd pluck her eyes first before hacking her fingers off one at a time.
A spike of fear cut through the appallingly gruesome thoughts, bringing Wendy out from under the unwanted thoughts. The fear refocused her attention on the scene in front of her. Flashes of memories played like a lifetime movie through her mind. Screams and pleads swirled together to create a horrific symphony filled with agony and terror.
Standing at the other entrance was the demon that haunted Dean's nightmares. It had her heart pumping in time with Dean's due to the dread the eldest sibling was experiencing.
Wendy hated the demon that called itself Alistair.
It unfolded quickly, the taller angel moving swiftly and overpowering the intruders that tagged along with Alistair. Dean made a move for Anna, pulling her out of the fray as Castiel beelined for Alistair looking somewhat like an executioner in his beige trench coat.
Castiel gripped the demon, laying a hand upon his brow—but there was nothing.
The angel's shock jolted through Wendy's body at the knowledge that his angelic gifts had no effect on the demonic torturer. The disbelief was Castiel's undoing as Alistair had the angel pinned with a few quick jabs and began to chant—watching as the angel's body started to convulse.
But the witch liked Castiel, and Wendy was small and sneaky.
She was upon the demon before Alistair noticed the touch of her small-boned hands gripping the sides of the demon's skull. Her pointer and middle fingers dug into its temples, a soft silver glow forming at the place of contact. The light became steadily brighter as her fingers pushed through flesh and bone, pouring every ounce of horror she could manifest into the creature at the mercy of her hands.
Alistair's tainted being melded with her own, spinning around in her mind like she was watching the spin cycle of her front-loading washing machine. Every emotion, every thought, every single memory he ever held belonged to her. And now, the witch couldn't tell who was who.
A manic laugh bubbled out from her throat as she watched the demon's head fall backwards, its eyes matching the same glow hers were no doubt displaying. Alistair trembled and twitched, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. But sound wouldn't escape the demon—no, because if it screamed, Wendy would shove her arm down its throat and rip out its heart.
"Shut your eyes!" The command sounded out.
Strong arms wrapped around Wendy's waist, pulling her away from the crumpled body. She had no time to register who had manhandled her as a hand covered her eyes just as an explosion of light made the backs of her eyelids turn yellow.
It was over as soon as it began.
Wendy pulled the hand away from her face, eyes following the limb to find Castiel attached to it. The pair held unwavering eye contact until it was broken by Wendy leaning towards him and giving the angel a gentle 'boop' on the nose, sound affect an all. The action caused her to lose balance; tipping to one side, only to be immediately steadied by a slightly disgruntled Castiel.
The witch gave the angel a dopey grin.
"What are you waiting for?" Dean said gruffly, tucking the demon knife he retrieved from where Alistair's body had been laying before it blinked out of existence due to the returning of Anna's grace. "Aren't you going to get Anna . . . unless, of course, you're scared?"
Anna was gone . . . and Wendy didn't even get to say goodbye.
A touch on her arm alerted her to Samuel, watching as he gently gripped her hand and coaxed her away from Dean's stand off with the two remaining angels.
The taller angel stalked forward, a snarl marring his features. "This isn't over."
However, he was stopped.
A firm hand clasped its shoulder, and when the angel looked over, it was met with Castiel's reprimanding gaze.
In a blink all that remained inside the poorly built barn were two obnoxiously tall hunters, a suspicious demon, and an unhinged witch.
This story isn't completed, and it won't let me change it!
I also have a Pinterest board for this story if anyone is interested, it's under the profile 'sadbimbo'.
There are clues on the Pinterest boards as to what is going to happen in this story. So, if you don't want spoilers, I suggest not looking at it. *shrugs*