I like this chapter. It reveals some more defining characters things about Lucy and gives you a bit of an inside to her mind! And of course, my favourite female character in the show (and overall 2nd favourite female TV show character) is introduced in this (yes, hello, my beautiful Meg)! Plus…family feels. So this one's a little bit mushy ;)

Also I'm not too strict about editing on this. Like I don't really care too much since it's more for me than anyone else haha :)

Disclaimer: I only own Lucy!

~o~

Chapter 5
My Brother's New Bitch Girlfriend
June 9, 2006

Sam, Dean and I were in Chicago for a new job we found in the papers. Last week, we had hit up Vegas for a few nights (a great chance for me to use my fake ID) just to take our mind off of things for a while. With everything that was going on, it was nice to just get away. I met this girl while we were there—pretty, funny and a damn good time. Course, it was just for a few nights.

In Chicago, a young girl had been killed in her apartment. Her apartment which was locked and had an armed alarm system. So pretty freaky business. Sam and Dean left a little earlier today to investigate the apartment, leaving me to do some research of the last murder in the city. When they returned, we compared some of the info we collected. They seemed to correlate. Plus, my brothers found some creepy sign written in the victim's blood.

We were now at this crowded bar that the murdered girl had worked at before she kicked it. I sat at one of the clean tables, shuffling through my bag and pulling out a few of the articles about the first victim I had discovered. Sam joined me a few minutes later, looking stumped from his research.

"Well," Dean started, sliding my melon daiquiri to me, "I talked to the bartender."

"Yeah," I snorted. "We all saw your hand practically up her skirt. Did you get anything besides her number?" Dean scrunched up his face, pretending to appear hurt.

"Hey, I'm a professional. I'm offended that either of you would think that," he scolded. I quirked a brow. Then, he grinned, holding up a napkin. "Alright, yeah, I did." I rolled my eyes.

"You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam chastised, and I laughed.

Dean threw up his hands in defense. "There's nothing else to find out! I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, and everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal; she didn't do or say anything weird before she died…get off my back. Find anything on the symbol?"

"Nothing. Not in dad's journal or in the usual books. We'll just have to dig a little deeper I guess," Sam replied. I nodded, taking a sip from my drink. "What about the first victim?"

"Mm!" I set the drink down and started digging through the articles I obtained. I pulled one from the stack and set it in front of my brothers, showing them the guy's picture. "Ben Swardstrom. He was mutilated in his house, which was locked with the alarm system armed. No sign of entry besides his own. So it's gotta be the same thing."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?" Dean asked me. I shook my head.

"Doesn't look like it. They lived two completely different lives. I mean, they haven't even met," I replied. I put the straw of my drink up to my lips and smirked. I added, "But hey, at least we have that bartender's phone number!" Dean lightly kicked me under the table.

Sam suddenly stood, cutting off towards something. Dean and I exchanged a puzzled glance and got up to follow him. Right before us, he stopped at a table occupied by one person. He placed a hand on the shoulder of a girl with short blonde hair and a fluttery pink top. She seemed to recognize him, and reached up to give him a hug. 'What the hell?' I mouthed to Dean. He shrugged.

"I thought you were going to California?" Dean and I heard Sam say to the young woman as we approached them. Sam was obviously please to see her. Who the hell was she?

"Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered," the girl answered. I raised a brow at Sam, hoping he'd get the message even though he couldn't see my expression. "Oh and I met what's his name—something Michael Murray—at a bar."

"Chad Michael Murray?" I questioned, breaking into their conversation. The girl gave a snap of recognition.

"That's the one!" she acknowledged…and then went back to pretending Dean and I weren't there. "Anyway the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while." Dean tried to clear his throat to get Sam's attention, but it didn't work.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts-Andover." She paused, and beamed. "Gosh Sam. What are the odds we'd run into each other?" I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes again.

"Yeah I know. I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well I'm glad you were wrong."

Dean attempted to clear his throat again, and finally it caught their attention. "Dude, cover your mouth." A small laugh escaped me, more in surprise than anything. Dean shot a glare in my direction.

"Hi, yeah sorry. My brother didn't inform us that he had friends in the area," I chimed in, sending a sarcastic smile over to Sam. His eyes narrowed slightly. Meg, however, widened her eyes in surprise.

"Oh so you're Lucy, Sam's sister?" she addressed. I raised both of my eyebrows.

"Uh…yeah. I see I've been mentioned," I commented.

"Sam mentioned you, yeah," the girl assured, and turned to look at Dean. "Then you must be his brother, Dean?"

Dean grinned. "So, you've heard of me?" Meg sent him a very fake smile.

"Oh yeah I've heard of you," her voice had filled with malice. "Nice how you treat your brother like luggage." I was taken back. Excuse me?

"Sorry?" Dean asked, confused.

"Meg," Sam interrupted. "It's alright."

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth," Meg coaxed furiously. I stepped in, a pseudo joyful expression on my face.

"Okay," I started, faking a friendly tone. "You need to back the hell off—"

"I think we need to go get a drink now," Dean interjected, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bar, letting Sam and Meg finish their conversation. When we reached the bar, he let go, and I threw my freed arms up in annoyance.

"The hell?" I cried. Dean whistled, shrugging and ordering two shots.

"I don't know." We looked back over to where Sam and Meg were chatting and I noticed Sam's phone in his hands.

"Is he getting her number?" I exclaimed dramatically. Dean shoved a shot glass in my hand and I gulped it down, my eyes not once leaving Sam and Meg. They finished up their conversation and soon Sam was strolling over to Dean and me, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" he asked me as we were leaving the bar, meeting my irritated gaze.

"No, your girlfriend's a bitch!" I shot back. Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Meg's not that bad," he insisted. "And she's not my girlfriend!"

"Then who was she?" Dean questioned. I raised my brow, as if to ask the same question.

"I don't really know, I only met her once. But meeting up with her again?" He shook his head. "I don't know, man, it's weird."

"Maybe you have a stalker," I teased. "At least she's pretty; I'd give her an 8." Sam sent me one of his bitchfaces in response.

"What was she saying—I treat you like luggage? Were you bitching about me to some chick?"

"Look I'm sorry Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana—"

"Is there any truth to what she's saying? Am I keeping you against your will Sam?" Dean accused, his voice building up with anger. They were on the verge of another blow out, I could just feel it. I looked over at him with wide eyes, crossing my arms.

"Stop it," I warned darkly. I'm not going to put up with that shit, that's for sure. Dean paused, and gave me a slightly apologetic glance. He wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"Of course there's not!" Sam assured him. "Now listen, both of you. I think there's something strange going on here."

"Yeah tell me about it, she wasn't even that into me—ow!"

Dean rubbed the part of his arm where I slapped him. I gestured for Sam to continue. He explained, "I met Meg weeks ago literally on the side of the road. And now I run into her in some random Chicago bar—the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural. You don't think that's weird?"

Dean was quick to shrug it off. "Random coincidence, it happens." I sighed.

"For the last time, Dean," I declared, "shit like this is never a coincidence. We don't get coincidences."

"I could be wrong," Sam continued. "I'm just saying there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on." Dean smirked.

"I bet you'd like to."

I pulled a face of disgust. "You are literally the most disgusting person I've ever met," I commented. Dean winked at me and continued.

"Maybe you got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

"Did I mention you're disgusting?" I interrupted.

"Did I mention you're a loser?" Dean retorted quickly. Sam couldn't help his smile.

"Do me a favor. Check and see if there's a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. And see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol," Sam requested insistently. "And I'm gonna watch Meg."

Dean sniggered. "Yeah you are." I burst out in laughter, trying to cover it behind my hand.

"I just want to see what's what you know, better safe than sorry!" Sam countered immediately, still smiling despite Dean's torture.

"All right you little pervert, have fun," Dean jested. Dean and I cackled and started to walk away, Dean pushing lightly on the small of my back.

"You are awful!" I wailed, still sniggering.

~o~

Back in the hotel room, Dean and I took on our own separate research project. He did as Sam suggested and looked up a certain Meg Masters from Andover while I hunted for any information on the strange sign that my brothers had found. Dean had plenty more luck than I did. He dug out files on her and even her high school yearbook photo, letting us know that she really did exist. Funny how things turn out.

As for the symbol, I had to call Dad's friend Caleb to get anything worth noting on that. All I knew is that it was ancient and pre-dated Christ. Caleb fortunately did know something about it. He told us it was ancient Zoroastrian and was a sigil for something called a Daeva. Turns out these Daevas were nasty little demons. Even worse, the fuckers were being controlled by something. Something much more powerful. Now we just had to figure out what.

Dean snapped the phone shut after ending a phone call to Sam—well, Sam kinda hung up since Dean was harassing him about Meg again. Rubbing my eyes, I pulled out the files of the two victims these Daevas had slaughtered. I studied them closely.

"You know, I don't really think staring at it is gonna give us any more dirt, Luce," Dean jested, popping open a beer and taking a sip. I rolled my eyes and smiled up at my brother.

"I'm not staring…I'm trying to find a connection," I replied. Dean didn't reply and rather lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. My eyes flicked over the files, brows furrowed in concentration. And suddenly, I saw it. A certain name caught my attention.

"Oh my god," I whisper. Dean shot up.

"What?" he questioned curiously.

"Oh, we are screwed."

~o~

When Sam returned to our hotel room, we all had news to tell each other. Sam started with his. Turns out 'innocent' Meg was the one summoning the Daeva—at least according to Sam. He saw her perform some kind of ritual or something, and apparently there was gross stuff like human hearts involved. I don't even want details.

Dean and I informed Sam of our recent discovery next. The connection between the victims that I discovered while searching those files freaked me out. Both victims had seemingly nothing in common—except for the fact that they both originated from Lawrence, Kansas. Just like us. And that was not a coincidence.

"That's where everything started," Sam noted. "So, you two think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a definite possibility," Dean answered, nodding. A sudden thought bloomed in my mind, making me gasp.

"Guys," I announced, "what if Meg is the demon?"

Dean automatically shook his head. "She can't be. I mean, we found her file and everything; she's completely normal. Well, normal excluding her most recent demonic hobbies." I sighed. I guess he was right. "But whatever this is and whatever she's up to—I can tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone."

~o~

Dean snapped his phone closed after a "phone call" with Dad. Like always, Dean only got his voicemail. I kinda figured that Dad wouldn't answer, but it was always worth a shot. The whole bed I was sitting on shook as Sam tossed an overloaded duffel bag onto it. The bag was loaded with everything we could possibly need while dealing with—whatever it was we were dealing with.

The three of us silently grabbed for our weapons and began to load them up; gun after gun. I dug my lucky silver knife from the bag, twirling it in my hand for a moment before shoving it into a safekeeping pocket of my jeans I had stitched on.

"Big night," Dean said, glancing up at Sam and I. I smirked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You guys nervous?"

"Nope," Dean and I chorused. Dean added, "Why, are you?"

"No, no way." We returned to our weapons, finishing off the last of them and looking them over for any faulty ones. Sam was the one to break the silence. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing—that demon?"

I frowned at my brother slightly, while Dean let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Come on Sam, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dean advised. A corner of Sam's lip twitched upward and he seemed to have entered a dream world of some sort. I didn't like where this was going.

"I know, I'm just saying…what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight?" Sam inquired in a pensive voice. I shifted uncomfortably and interrupted.

"I don't know, honey. It's kinda hard to imagine it. I mean, this has been going on for so long."

Sam seemed to have barely heard me. He continued, "Man, I'd sleep for a month…I'd go back to school, just be a person again."

That's what I was afraid of hearing. Every movement I was making ceased, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I stared down at the gun in my hands, desperately holding back what I wanted to say. I didn't look up to see either of my brothers' expressions.

"You want to go back to school?" I heard Dean ask. He sounded uncomfortable as well, and I bit down on the inside of my lip, the force almost splitting the skin.

"Well, yeah, once we're done hunting this thing." Sam's voice was optimistic and hopeful. He made it out as if it was obvious he was going to leave. As if it didn't matter to him at all that it would tear me apart. As if he didn't care on how severely it ripped me to pieces when he did it the first time. "Is there a problem with that?"

Dean fiddled with weapons in his hands, trying to sound nonchalant. "No, no it's great. Good for you."

"What are you guys gonna do when it's all over?" I held back a scoff.

"It's never gonna be over," Dean voiced my exact thoughts. "There's always gonna be others. There will always be something else to hunt." They were both silent for a moment. I hadn't moved an inch since Sam blurted that he intended to return to Stanford after all of this. That he wanted to leave us again.

Finally, Sam noticed. "Lucy?" I didn't look up. "Hey, you okay? …Luce, hey!"

I snapped. "Really?" I piped darkly. "You're just gonna leave? After everything?"

Sam's face scrunched up a bit, appearing to be legitimately confused by my outburst. "Well," he pondered, "yeah. What's your problem, Luce?" I tossed my gun down on the bed, fuming.

"My problem," I began, growling out my words, "is that for once, it'd be real nice if you'd stop trying to leave us at every chance you get, Sam!" Sam spoke again, trying to reason with me, but I cut him off immediately. My voice was gradually rising in volume.

"No, you listen to me Samuel John Winchester! You have been doing this ever since I was little! You and Dean and Dad? You guys—and Uncle Bobby—are the only people I rely on in this whole world! You guys are my everything. Do you understand how badly it hurt me when you left, Sam? It ripped me apart. How long did I cry for, Dean? Two days? I mean, how could you do that to me, Sammy? To all of us?" My lower lip trembled. "Is it really that bad of a thing to be with your family?"

Before Sam could get a word in, I turned on my heel and left the hotel room, slamming the door behind me. I stomped over to where the Impala was sitting, jumping up on the hood and crossing my legs. I was surprised at myself, and I was already experiencing the regretful side effects of my little episode. I sighed frustrated, running both of my hands through my long hair.

That was stupid.

I had been holding that back for a long time—ever since Sam ventured off to college in the first place. I had this tendency to bottle up all my emotions for the sake of peacekeeping and sometimes I just couldn't help it…I snapped. But really though? Why was Sam so desperate to leave us? Were we really that bad of a family that it made him that eager? God, what a thick, uncaring, selfish asshole!

But then I paused…and I mentally slapped myself. Was I really that selfish? Sam...I hate to say this, but he's always been the black sheep in the family. Simply for desiring to be normal. For daring to be something other than a hunter. But you know what? It made him happy. When Dean and I first pulled up to Sam's apartment all those months ago, and I saw him for the first time in four years…that was the happiest I'd ever seen him. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He was in a stable relationship…he was in freaking law school! That's something I never thought a Winchester would end up doing.

It hurt, I wasn't going to deny that. My brothers and I…I don't think any of us were going to be content with whatever the end of this shit brought. And that frustrated me to no end.

Someone was approaching me. Whether it was Dean or Sam, I didn't know. But I do know that I needed to apologize to Sam. My big brother was thick sometimes…but he still deserved whatever made him happy; even if it dismayed the rest of us.

"Hey," came Sam's gentle voice. He took a seat right beside me on the hood of the car. I looked up at my brother, hoping he would see the apologetic look in my eyes. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Luce—"

"No," I interjected quickly. "No, back there? That was really selfish of me. You—you need to do whatever makes you happy. It, um…it doesn't really matter what me, or Dean, or Dad think, okay? It's your life." But Sam shook his head.

"Yeah, but…Lucy," Sam attempted, throwing a hand down in frustration. He sighed once more. "You really cried over me for two days?" I breathed a soft chuckle.

"I was 15, I—"I murmured. "Look, it doesn't matter…" Sam grabbed my arm gently, turning me so I was facing him.

"Honestly, I—I had no idea I hurt you that much," Sam begged genuinely. I stared into my brother's hazel eyes. "I was 18, I was pissed with Dad and I…I didn't think. Shit, I'm…I'm really, really sorry, Luce." A tiny, half-hearted smile formed on my face. I scooted closer to my brother and pulled him towards me. I wrapped my arms around his torso in a tight hug, burying my face in his shoulder. He rubbed my back soothingly.

"It's okay, you big emotional dork," I mumbled into his shoulder. I felt his body shake in a quiet chuckle. He released me with a big handsome smile blooming on his face.

"Hey, when this is all over, and if I end up back at Stanford," he started, "we're keeping in touch this time. None of that four years apart bullshit. No, we're gonna meet up at least once a week, you hear me?" A loud laugh bubbled to the surface at my brother's insistent promises. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and added, "You know I love you right?"

I grinned, sharing an affectionate look with my older dorky brother.

"I know, Sammy. I love you too."

~o~

Winchester family feels (ノ◕ヮ◕)*:・゚✧