Chapter Fifteen
"Yeah, we'll meet again.
I don't know where and I don't know when.
But I do know we'll meet again some sunny day.
So honey, keep smiling through,
Just Like you always do."
We'll Meet Again; The Ink Spots.
Chapter Quote: "I will pluck out your eyes and force feed them to you."
WARNING
This chapter contains graphic gore, death, graphic sexual assault/rape/non-con elements, mental breaks, vomiting, animal death. This whole chapter is a warning.
Wendy clawed at the rope that dangled Nancy's limp body in front of her face, like some sort of twisted fishing line. Barely, she felt the nails of her index and pinkie fingers rip away at the action as she struggled to tear Nancy down. The blonde gave a small yell of frustration before finding enough sense to slice the thick rope with a quick spell to cut her familiars body down.
Somehow, Wendy managed to catch Nancy's limp body with shaking, bloody hands. She held his small fluffy body to her chest, cradling him like one might an infant. The dull impact of her knees hitting the wooden porch didn't seem to register as she laid his fragile body down.
A shuddering sob wracked her body and worked its way passed her lips as she took in the sight of Nancy's mangled body.
Her teeth clattered together, the sound the only thing she could hear over her heart beating erratically in her ears while her lips trembled harshly.
Wendy reached out, her walls dropping sloppily as she searched for Nancy.
But he was silent.
No, no.
He was asleep—he was only sleeping.
Hope blossomed in her chest, convinced she could see the rise and fall of his tiny body.
Because it was moving.
Wasn't it?
Wendy rubbed at her eyes, before staring down at Nancy, eyes glued to his body.
Still—he was too still. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he breathing?
Air refused to fill her lungs while her body tried to contain the that was filling her to the brim. Wendy stroked the top of Nancy's head, trying to ignore the precise gaping cut that extended from his neck to his belly. It was nothing but an empty cavern.
And he was—
Nononononononononononono.
No.
No.
Nancy was fine.
He was just tired.
He was sleeping.
Nancy had always been such a sleepy and grumpy familiar, with a love of steak. All Nancy needed was a nice long nap. And Wendy knew just the place because if there was one thing Nancy loved, it was sunbathing on the porch swing cushion.
Wendy gave the deceased familiar an eerie smile that wasn't all there; ignoring the tears that streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably and scooped his limp form up. She wandered over to the swing porch and placed him on his favourite blue pillow. The witch meticulously arranged the feline into his usual sleeping position before placing a soft kiss upon his furry head.
Because Nancy was only sleeping and everything was fine.
And she was going to find Grams and prove that this was all just some silly mistake. Because it had to be. Wendy didn't want to even fathom why or how—it just wasn't real.
It was all in her head.
Because you're not well.
Dr. Larshers voice echoed through her mind hauntingly.
He was right, she wasn't well.
Wendy swung herself away from the feline, humming to herself as she floated towards the front door and twisted the doorknob. A frown immediately marred her features when the sounding of twinkling bells didn't hit her ears. Which was strange because the witch bells never came off the door handle.
Perhaps Grams was cleaning? Or maybe they broke?
That wouldn't do at all. Wendy would make a new set, it was very easy to do and perhaps by the time she was finished with the task Nancy would awaken as good as new.
The blonde glanced up after closing the door behind her.
A distressed whimper released from Wendy's mouth when she caught sight of what awaited her in the foyer.
She was frozen, merely staring wide eyed at the display before her. Her racing heart thumped so loudly in her ears that she slapped her hands over them to try and block out the sound. Wendy squeezed her eyes shut.
Why would he come here?
Danny couldn't be here.
It was a lie, it wasn't real.
Wendy opened her eyes, her gaze locking on to Danny's unseeing lifeless stare. She regarded him with a far away, unnerving scrutiny as she studied the way his perfectly preserved body had been strung vertically from his neck to the chandelier above. His arms were seemingly sawn off at the shoulder though the congealed blood made it difficult to tell.
Wendy sucked in a sharp breath, her body registering that she had stopped breathing for a moment, while her brain did not. But still, Wendy couldn't look away from her friend as she took in the appalling sight of Danny.
His ribs had been delicately severed from his spine and snapped backwards, almost resembled a ghoulish butterfly. Wendy swallowed down the bile that tried to work its way up her throat while her eyes trailed down to find his chest had been sliced apart, and flesh carved away. The wound left a hole so large that she could see straight through to the artwork that sat on the wall behind him.
Danny was nothing but a hollowed husk.
Heart gone, lungs missing—disembowelled—intestines draped over the back of his neck like some sort of slippery macabre scarf.
Dead.
Her breaths became too quick as she stumbled out of the foyer and away from Danny's cold body.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
Wendy choked back a giggle.
You've finally gone mad.
Was madness the cause of the vivid hallucinations? She didn't understand why her particular form of madness decided to conjure up the images of her loved ones being brutalised.
Did her mind distort her reality? Was she still sitting in the backseat of the Impala on her way home while her mind trapped her and taunted her with false scenarios?
Or was that wishful thinking? Madness would be a blessing over whatever was happening in this moment. She would welcome insanity with open arms if only to have it confirm that Danny and Nancy were still breathing.
Laughter bubbled up and wormed its way past her lips as she continued her way into the sitting room. Never would she have thought to be begging for insanity; to plead for it. To have the horrid images of those she loved be nothing but a figment of her twisted imagination.
The panic-stricken sound of Wendy's laughter bounced off the walls as oxygen became harder to acquire. She tried to gasp down air repeatedly, only for it to turn into heaving. A vile liquid crawled up her throat, burning as it went before violently expelling all that she ate within the last eight hours.
Wendy couldn't stop.
Brutally, her body purged the contents of her stomach upon the floor of the sitting room she finally staggered into. Wendy fell gracelessly to the floor; knees and palms slamming down as she failed to catch herself properly. The blonde wasn't able to focus on anything other than trying to get enough oxygen as she vomited repeatedly on to the hardwood floors.
After several long minutes of retching and dry heaving, Wendy was able to gulp down enough air to somewhat take in her surroundings.
Her eyes wandered back towards the prone body of Danny.
She couldn't tell anymore.
Frenzied laughter bubbled up and broke free. The noise seeming to echo around her until it felt like the walls were laughing at her misfortune.
Wendy cackled until her throat felt scratchy, until the laughter merged with distressed wails. Her fingers weaved through her curls and pulled at the scalp, head slamming down onto the hardwood floor; face narrowly avoiding the sick that painted the ground.
"You certainly made quite a mess, dear."
An unknown voice spoke from the lounge, breaking through the sound of the blonde's anguish.
Immediately, Wendy snapped her body upwards. Hands still tangled in curls, watching the intruder with blank, red rimmed eyes.
A woman sat in Grams' favourite seat. A beautiful woman, with long auburn hair and dark eyes.
Wendy watched as the unknown person lit a cigarette, the action itself almost a performance. But Wendy's eyes tracked the movement, she felt like prey as her body held its odd position. Her eyes zeroed in on the long purple nails that donned the hand that held the cigarette.
A distant memory resurfaced, brushing across her distressed mind.
Long fingers reaching out to brush away the tears that cascaded down her plump cheeks. Purple pointed nails digging into the sides of her small face and gripping until she cried out for her mother. And then light—so bright, so warm—enveloped her.
"And we both know that Eleanor detests messes." The woman broke Wendy from the memory and gave a teasing smile while flicking ash on to the floor.
Valtushard.
Wendy couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her body was locked in place. What was wrong with her? She should be running, screaming, hurling the woman into a wall, anything else except freezing.
Was this another hallucination?
The woman rolled her eyes and gave a dainty huff, "Come now, my dear, surely Eleanor has taught you manners?" The red head waited a beat, but when Wendy didn't respond, she tsked. "You may call me Amaris."
"Where's my grandmother?" Wendy finally managed to get out, though she wasn't sure the woman—Amaris—would understand, as Wendy sounded on the verge of hysteria.
"Little dove, she's right here." Amaris snapped her well-manicured fingers together and the air shifted vividly around the woman, blurring her at the edges before Wendy was met with the grinning face of her grandmother.
A defeated whimper slipped from her mouth, and Wendy pulled at her hair again.
"No". The word released pathetically. Escaping more like a whine than anything else.
"Yes." Amaris whined back mockingly.
The woman gave a dainty laugh as her body shifted back to the beautiful middle-aged woman she was before. She took another drag, blowing the stench of cigarette into the air. Grams would have a fit if she knew someone was smoking in the house.
"Grandmama is dead." Amaris voice rang with truth as she stomped out the cigarette into the rug beneath her.
Wendy's breath caught and she choked on the air.
It wasn't real, how could it be? Amaris spoke so casually, so calmly. Like she was reciting what chores she accomplished for the day.
"The boy was delightful, I played with him a little—I wasn't his type, you see, but I can be very persuasive." Amaris gave a charming smile, watching in amusement as tears spilled over onto the blonde's cheeks. "Did you like your presents? I hung them just for you."
Wendy didn't speak—couldn't speak.
Amaris frowned, the expression warping her features in an otherworldly way.
"Tell me you liked your gifts." Amaris' voice rang with command, the words spinning through the air like a siren's song.
The words settled over Wendy, forcing her mouth open, "I liked your gifts."
She couldn't stop the words even if she wanted to.
Amaris grinned. "I'm so glad." The woman stood and slowly made her way towards the almost catatonic witch. She crouched down in front of the blonde, unbothered by the stilettos she wore that were now placed in sick. "Eleanor gave me a gift too." Amaris raised her arm, showing Wendy the talisman bracelet that had blocked off the emotions and thoughts of her grandmother.
Wendy's face crumpled and understanding washed over her.
Dead.
They were all dead.
"Shh, shh." Amaris cooed, stroking Wendy's face as the blonde hiccupped. Slowly, Amaris' hand trailed from Wendy's face to the centre of her chest. Amaris gave a satisfied hum and said lovingly, "I'm going to eat your heart."
There was a beat of absolute silence.
And then the walls began to shake.
Bright white light shone blindingly through the windows as they rattled against the force of whatever being was trying to enter the old farmhouse. But the glass held firm by whatever wards Amaris had cast around the home.
The Valtushard huffed in annoyance. "That would be your angel thinking they'd be able to wisk you away like before." Amaris gave a breathy laugh, her hand reaching back up to wipe away Wendy's streaming tears. "But I learnt my lesson, they won't get through the angel sigils no matter how hard they try."
Gabriel.
Light slammed through the windows again, the sound like a blast that had no impact but shook the house with a ferociousness that Wendy could only describe as desperate.
"Gabriel!" Wendy's call came out in a rasp, barely audible, but the windows trembled chaotically in response.
Amaris stood elegantly.
"Come along, dear."
Wendy followed the command like a dog.
The blonde was sat at the vanity in her grandmother's room as Amaris brushed her hair like she was a living breathing doll. Though, a 'puppet' might be a more appropriate description. Amaris spoke and Wendy listened, and when she didn't—Amaris commanded, and Wendy was forced into submission.
Tears trickled down her round cheeks. A nonstop reaction since she arrived back at the farmhouse. She didn't know how much time had passed since she had stepped back into the property. Amaris had simply cast a shrouding spell and the whole house was embraced by a dense dark fog that blocked out any sunshine.
It was to torment her further, she was sure. Because now she didn't know what time of day it was or how many days had passed.
Silver met silver as the blonde witch looked into the mirror before her.
Wendy's face was pallid and splotchy. Her blood shot eyes held a haziness within them, sunken in due to her magic depletion and lack of sleep at the hands of Amaris.
The woman was toying with her. Dressing her up, styling her hair, forcing her to share meals with her—dance with her—brushing her skin against Wendy's like a taunt. Knowing she was safe from Wendy's empathic gifts due to the runic bracelet dangling from her wrist. She exhausted Wendy out, commanding the blonde to cast useless spell after useless spell until the blonde weakened to the point of stumbling.
The Valtushard told her every sordid detail of how she butchered Danny and Nancy and consumed their organs. How she dragged out their suffering for as long as she could before she became bored of them. But she had kept Grams alive the longest, before finally completing her ritual and leaving Wendy as the lucky last, telling the blonde that she needed to savour her.
Amaris held her metaphorical leash, not even allowing the blessed relief of sleep for an hour or two to encompass Wendy and give the illusion of escape from this nightmare.
Wendy had begged at the beginning.
She begged repeatedly for death as the woman morphed herself in to the spitting image of Danny and pinned her to the bed and carved at her skin with an athame.
Amaris always asked the same question.
Where is the key, little dove?
Wendy didn't know what key she wanted or how to give it to her. But her answers were always met with another slice that reopened the wounds that already littered her exposed skin.
She could see those slices now. They painted her skin like a morbid piece of artwork. They had been cleaned once again before Wendy had been ordered to dress into another flowing white nightgown that she now wore.
Amaris sighed happily as the brush ran through Wendy's tamed curls one more time before it was placed down onto the vanity. The Valtushard reached forward to grab a beautifully woven flower crown and positioned it delicately upon Wendy's head and fastened it to her hair painfully. The hair pins dug into her scalp, and every wince she gave, she saw Amaris' smirk grow.
"You look so much like Eleanor when she was your age."
Amaris grasped Wendy's chin from behind leaning her bare chest against the blonde's clothed back. The woman's cold stare found Wendy's in the spotless reflection while she ran her thumb across her bottom lip. Her pointed nail pulled at the split there until Wendy winced.
"She and I used to be so close." Amaris spoke softly, her hand travelling down the length of Wendy's neck, fingers trailing across her exposed collarbone. She tugged at the thin straps to bring them down the blonde's shoulders. Wendy wanted to move, begged her legs to ignore the command of 'sit still and comply'. "We grew up together. Did everything together. We were each other's firsts. Until she left me for a fucking human."
Her nails dug into Wendy's shoulders as she leant in closer, lips pressing softly to the blonde's round cheek. Ignoring the taste of tears she tasted on her lips, Amaris trailed down the column of Wendy's throat. Her hand moving slowly as it travelled down the valley between her breasts while Amaris' other arm lazily wrapped around the blonde's waist, pulling her flush against the curves of her body.
"Won't you let me play with you?" Amaris spoke softly in her ear, sending repulsed shivers down Wendy's spine. Amaris' hand latched itself to Wendy's breast and squeezed painfully.
The echo of Dr. Larshers voice rang loudly in Wendy's mind.
Won't you let me play with you, Wendolyn?
Fear coursed through her body.
Immediately, Wendy shot out from under Amaris' grip, somehow managing to break free from the compulsion the Valtushard had placed her under.
A mocking laugh sounded as Wendy bolted from the room, stumbling out into the landing and tripping on the hall rug. She slammed into the landing banister gut first while her hands scrambled for purchase to stop herself from pitching forward.
"Oh, don't be difficult, little dove." Amaris purred from the doorway, watching in amusement as the blonde clambered away towards the staircase.
Wendy's stomach rolled as her foot slipped on the carpeted staircase, falling on her behind to slide halfway down the stairs. Quickly, she righted herself as soon as she was able to get the cooperation of her feet again and beelined for the front door.
Her face smacked into something hard and cold, her arms flailing out to catch herself on the offending object. A creaking snap sounded, causing the witch the slam backwards onto the floor. Her head crashed down onto the wood flooring as black dots clouded her vision for a moment before revealing Danny's cold stiff body lying on her.
His eyes stared blankly into her own.
Wendy screamed.
The horrifying pained sound rebounding off the walls like some sort of manic banshee as Wendy struggled to push his body off her form. She kicked and clawed at the unmoving body, repeatedly crying out her apologies as she finally managed to crawl out from under him.
Broken wails escaped her while tears dribbled down her chin, mixed with the spittle from her dry and cracked lips.
Her small-boned hands reached the front door, grasping at the doorknob, turning to pull it open.
But it wouldn't budge.
Wendy yanked at the doorknob again. But still, she remained locked within the farmhouse. She lashed out with her fists and nails, clawing at the wooden door like an inmate on death row. The witch tried to reach for any power her tired, beaten body could conjure, but it had run dry, and was nothing more than a leaking tap.
Again, bright white light shone through the windows, vibrating the house violently and causing the blonde to stumble in her place.
Without delay, Wendy unsteadily made her way to the back of the house. As she entered the kitchen, she hissed. Looking down, she spied the source of her pain. She had cut her foot on the broken ceramic that littered the floor from a previous altercation with Amaris. Her heel slipped slightly on the blood when she launched herself at the back-door.
It wouldn't open.
Sobs wrecked her body, adrenaline leaving her as she sunk to her knees in front of the door. Wendy leant her forehead against the cool wood as she curled in on herself.
Her head was yanked back by her hair. Pointed fingernails dug into her scalp, twisting her hair and the flower crown around the long fingers. Wendy reached up to claw at Amaris' hand; pained screams dragging their way out of her throat as she tried to pry herself free. Wendy's hair pulled as Amaris fisted the curls, dragging the witch away from the back door, towards the basement.
"GABRIEL!" The blonde shrieked desperately.
The house shook so viciously in response that it caused breakables to roll and smash into pieces around the witch and the Valtushard. The white light that burst through the windows seemed to burn Wendy's eyes like she was staring directly into the sun. Several resounding booms slammed against the house, only to be swallowed and the sound distorted by the wards.
"You will be still and quiet!"
Silence encased the home once more while Wendy's thrashing form became paralysed and any noise she was once unleashing stopped abruptly.
Two days they'd been without Wendy and Sam missed her.
It was strange to miss a person he'd only known for such a short time, but he did. Sam missed that the witch would always make him a tea whenever she believed he was in distress, missed her reprimands—hell, he even missed her catatonic blissed out form because at least she was around. Wendy had a comforting aura even when she unsettled the younger brother.
But there was something else niggling in the back of his mind.
Because something felt odd.
He felt it the moment they had driven up to the farmhouse. Felt it when they arrived in the next town over and had sensed it the past two nights, causing sleep to evade him.
Sam was left staring up of the shitty motel ceiling, eyes stinging from lack of sleep. And because the brothers were back down to a duo, Dean didn't feel the need to find them a half decent motel to crash at anymore. Not that his older brother would ever admit to finding nicer motels for the witch to sleep in.
But this . . . feeling? It had been a constant itch the moment he had watched Wendy walk up the rickety porch stairs of her home. But Sam had shaken it off. He chalked it up to apprehension of watching her leave.
Because Sam liked Wendy.
Not in a romantic sense, even the thought made him cringe a little. But he liked her presence, liked her voice of reason, liked the way she bantered with him and scolded Dean when she thought he was being a dick. Sam knew she'd never actually say that out loud though.
When Sam had brought up the fact that he missed Wendy to Dean—his brother shut down. Didn't want to talk about the witch at all. It was like Dean put any memory or thought of the blonde into a box and slammed it shut before locking it with a padlock. And anytime Sam did bring Wendy up in conversation, he watched as his brother took on a pinched expression, looking either guilty or in need of taking a dump.
Sam sighed, tuning back into the noise of the café he sat in and brought his focus back to the laptop in front of him as he scoured news sources for anything out of the ordinary. So far, the search was coming up empty for anything locally. He gulped down the last of his coffee. Sam was desperately trying to find anything to keep them in the area just a little while longer before Dean pushed to move on.
Hands slammed down aggressively on both sides of his laptop, jostling the table Sam sat at, causing him to startle at the noise.
Quickly, Sam snapped his gaze upwards and took in the woman opposite him who seemed to be clenching her jaw so hard, he was sure he could hear it. His peripheral showed that some of the patrons of the café had clocked the commotion and were watching the exchange with rapt attention.
The woman before him was unfamiliar and wore an expression that was borderline murderous. Her skin was wet with perspiration while underneath her eyes were smudged with dark shadows. Her hair was dark and seemed to have been thrown up haphazardly in a sloppy ponytail, though it had come un-done somewhat; like she had subconsciously tried to run her hand through it.
"Listen to me you gigantic fuck." She rasped out, her voice sounding like she had just finished smoking ten packs of cigarettes or she had been screaming into the void. A sneer pulled at her lips with nothing but contempt in her golden eyes. "You get your ass back to The Syphon and destroy the angel sigils, do you understand me?"
Sam blinked at the woman.
Then it clicked, and Wendy's voice sounded through his mind: If y' must know, it was Gigi . . . jus' said t' be careful, thangs were startin' t' get messy.
"You're Gigi?" Sam raised his brows in amusement, not really taking in the words the angel spoke.
The angel's face morphed, expression bordering on feral, and Sam half expected her to start foaming at the mouth. He swallowed nervously before hands shot out from across the table and gripped the lapels of Sam's jacket. Viciously, she pulled him forward, across the small table and closer to her face. Sam didn't try to fight it, there would be no point, he knew that she held the power here.
She glowered at him as a frenzied rage danced in her golden eyes.
"I will pluck out your eyes and force feed them to you." Gigi spoke softly, but the low growl accompanying the words laced them with venom. The angel was completely unfazed by the scene she was causing as she gave him a firm shake that had Sam's head snapping back and wincing. "You left her with the Valtushard."
Sam froze at the words.
"Dean!" Sam called as soon as the angel teleported the both of them into the brother's shared motel room.
Gigi began to pace. Agitation seemed to radiate off her as she crossed her arms and strode back and forth around the small living space like a caged panther. Her eyes were trained on Sam, making him feel uneasy under her gaze.
Sam immediately jumped into action, zipping around the room, packing anything and everything they may need to deal with the Valtushard.
"Dean!" Sam shouted impatiently, stuffing his duffle with clothes and heavy looking books without any order.
"What?" His brother hollered back as he exited from the dingy bathroom, coming to a stop as he watched Sam shovel items into his duffle. He frowned, before his gaze zeroed in on the unknown woman pacing back and forth. "Who the hell are you?"
Dean stepped forward menacingly, like Sam didn't know there was an angel at his back watching him like she wanted to rip him to pieces.
"That's Gigi." The younger brother explained hurriedly, gesturing to the angel who was glaring holes into Dean. "Grab your shit, we gotta' go." Sam turned back to the angel, "You can get the car over there, right?"
The angel merely gave a stiff nod.
"Whoa, whoa—don't make me ask again, Sam." Dean snapped, though he began packing his crap right along with Sam.
"That's Gigi," Sam repeated again, emphasising the name while nodding over at the angel who ceased her pacing and was now tapping her foot in agitation. "Wendy's in trouble."
Dean stopped what he was doing abruptly. "Wait, what's this got to do with Blondie?"
"She's with the Valtushard." Gigi bit out. "You left her there without clearing the fucking house first."
Sam winced at the admonishment of the blatant mistake.
"I'm not talking to you." Dean snapped back as he turned his attention back to his younger sibling. "Listen, how to you even know this is fucking 'Gigi'? Bobby spoke to Eleanor—besides, Blondie can handle herself just fine."
"Eleanor is dead." The angel spoke up again.
Sam's head snapped up at the news, turning wide eyes to the angel and watching her glower at Dean. Sam began packing twice as fast. The wild thumping of his heart a distraction as his hands fumbled and dropped items repeatedly before he managed to shove them into his bag and zipped it close.
"So, you do something about it." Dean retorted, a sneer pulling at his mouth.
Sam saw the subtle shift of the angel and tried to step in between the two to mediate, only to be shoved to the side instantly by the holy being.
The angel was on Dean the moment the words left his brother's mouth. Her hand clenched around his neck and pinning him to the wall. She watched Dean struggle, gripping at her hand like he'd even have a sliver of a chance of removing it. Sam moved to intervene, but Gigi merely raised her free hand, and he halted.
"You sanctimonious little cunt." She snarled at him, eyes taking on the unnerving whiteish glow that all angels seemed to be able to display when pushed enough. "I have been trying to get inside that house for two fucking days. So, here's what you're going to do, you're going to go inside and destroy the angel sigils so I can murder the Valtushard or so help me—I will throw you back down on the rack and I promise you, the ride down won't be pleasant."
Gigi released Dean, watching him fall like a sack of potatoes at her black booted feet. He gasped loudly as air flowed back into his lungs.
"I'll be in the car." The angel smirked at the older brother before leaving the room.
"No, no, no, no." Wendy whimpered, willing her arms to move, but they remained locked in place. "I don't know, I don't know. Please, please—stop!" The blondes shriek vibrated in the air around her as Amaris plunged the athame down again into her thigh.
Her gaze danced across the ceiling, trailing the lines of the strange marking that spanned the whole basement. Almost looking familiar, like she had seen it before.
Wendy wanted her mother. She wanted to be held in the safety of her mother's arms. To be told that it was all just a bad dream. She could almost remember her mother's embrace, remember the soft southern drawl of her mother's voice sounding in her ears while fingers threaded through her curls soothingly. That's all she wanted in this moment.
Wendy closed her eyes, blocking the ghastly sight from view and walked back to the fuzzy memory of her mother scooping her up and holding her close in the garden. Humming softly to a song Wendy couldn't recall.
"Don't look away Wendy, you'll make me think you don't like your gift." Amaris spoke soothingly as she climbed up on top of the bench she had Wendy splayed out on.
Amaris swung her long leg over the blonde witch, straddling her hips and sitting herself down on Wendy's pelvis. She grinned down at the young woman, stroking her cheek softly before gripping her face and snapping the blonde's head back to her left to view the deceased body of her grandmother. Wendy's lips trembled, her eyes locked onto the mummified decapitated corpse while Amaris grinded herself against the blonde, releasing a wanton moan.
"No, no, pl—" the plea broke off into a sobbing wretched wail. "Mama!"
Wendy couldn't breathe, her throat seemed to be constricting, air refused to pass through as she heaved out sobs.
Amaris leant forward; bare chest pressed up against Wendy's. Her lips trailed against the blonde's jaw before she placed a soft kiss upon the witch's lips.
"Say you like it. Say you want more." Amaris commanded, her fingers pinching Wendy's nipples roughly through the thin white nightgown.
"I like it . . . I want more." Wendy complied through hiccups; her eyes swollen with tears. The urge to scream still present as she looked upon her grandmother's corpse.
She just wanted her mum.
Amaris' lips were upon Wendy's as soon as the words left her lips. It was a bruising kiss as the Valtushard forced her tongue into her mouth. Amaris bit painfully at her lips, grinding herself against Wendy. The overwhelming need to puke consumed Wendy as Amaris shoved her tongue into her mouth.
Wendy bit down on the muscle.
Amaris shrieked, pulled back and smacked Wendy across the face. A red hand print left behind as evidence.
Amaris smiled, her teeth coated with her blood while the expression she wore was seemingly charmed at Wendy's display of defiance. The Valtushard leaned back down, her lips leaving bloody wet kisses down her throat. The sensation made Wendy want to recoil away. Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes tightly once more, trying to force her mind back to the garden with her mother, back to when she felt safe.
Amaris' lips wrapped around a nipple and bit down.
Wendy yelped painfully; eyes opening abruptly.
"None of that, little dove." Amaris tsked, yanking the athame from the blonde's thigh and ignoring Wendy's shout of pain. "Keep your eyes on me." The witch's eyes shot to Amaris, who smiled approvingly and rolled her hips in response. "Where is the key?"
Wendy didn't know, she didn't know. If she knew what key Amaris was after, she would happily give it to her and lay quietly for death. Wendy would give her anything to have her stop touching her.
"I don't know."
The Valtushards hand came down quickly, sinking the athame down deeply once again into her thigh, watching as the blonde released a bloodcurdling scream. Wendy's back arched, bucking wildly to try and dislodge the woman as Amaris pulled the weapon out. Trying to get as far away from her as possible.
But Amaris giggled, grinding back against Wendy's bucking hips and moaning. The red head gripped Wendy by the shoulders and slammed her back down. Amaris' hand gripped the blonde tightly by the throat, holding her in place as she moved herself down to grind against Wendy's thigh.
Anxiety.
It curled up her spine and sent a shiver across her skin. Wendy froze, wondering if it was Amaris she was finally feeling. But she spied the bracelet still locked firmly around Amaris' thin wrist. The Valtushard keened, lips sucking at Wendy's breast again as she ground herself down.
Weakly, Wendy reached out, her mind searching for the unknown source of the emotion. An emotion that wasn't her own. An emotion that wouldn't be able to break through Amaris' wards unless the being had stepped inside.
Holy fucking shit. I hate fucking witches.
Dean's thoughts clanged around in her mind and Wendy physically reacted by jerking upwards with a gasp. A long fingered hand pushed her back down, her head cracking against the countertop below her.
Amaris moaned shamelessly.
"I knew you liked it." The Valtushard gripped Wendy's hands and placed them on her breasts. "Touch me."
A hysterical sob sounded from Wendy's mouth, only to be drowned out by Amaris. It was too cruel. Her mind was nothing but a vindictive weapon against her. Why would they be here? They'd never would've come back.
Angel sigils. Where the fuck are the angel sigils?
Sam's voice echoed in her mind.
The athame came down again, impaling the joint between shoulder and collar bone. Amaris groaned, breath hitching when the blonde wailed below her. The red heads hips rolled and her legs shook the closer she got to her release.
Wendy's cry broke to pieces when it became interrupted by choked gasps. Panic caressed her, winding tighter around her throat like a constrictor trying the find its last meal. The panic wasn't hers.
Wendy?
Her name, clear as a bell sounded in her head, spoken in a voice she'd know anywhere.
Amaris pried Wendy's mouth open, commanding her to leave it gaping as two pointed fingers shoved their way down the back of her throat. The woman wiggled the digits until Wendy gagged, coughing—sick filled her mouth—only for Amaris to clamp her mouth shut and order her to swallow.
"That's it." Amaris hissed in pleasure, gripping the athame and twisting the weapon slowly as the witch whined from the throbbing sting as the sharp instrument grinded against bone. "I'm so close. Say you want me to touch you."
Wendy breathed deeply, trying to keep the pain within her. She had to at least try to tell the brothers to leave.
"I want you to touch me." Wendy's lips trembled as she spoke the words, crying painfully in retaliation to the turn of the athame.
Wendy reached out, grasping on the first brother her mind managed to snag. Wendy almost laughed hysterically at the thoughts that entered her mind while she felt Amaris' fingers between her legs.
Stupid fucking witches hiding sigils in stupid fucking spots.
Dean?
Blondie!
Y' gotta' leave.
Fuck off. Distract that bitch while we finish here. Just hold on for a few more minutes.
Wendy didn't know if she could, she had been holding on for so long already.
Amaris jerked the athame from the wound she created and jammed her fingers into the gory hole she made. A low moan sounded from the red head as Wendy shrieked at the intrusion.
Distract.
"Th . . . tha' key." Wendy managed to pry out between clenched teeth as she felt fingers push into her from below.
Amaris grinned sweetly down at the blonde. She removed her fingers from the shoulder wound to touch Wendy's face with her bloody digits.
Wendy scrambled for a lie. Mind racing as she tried to make her brain process anything believable while her body tried to make her take notice of the pain she was in.
A memory resurfaced. Hazy around the edges, but graspable.
"Grams, do'ya ever miss home?" A five-year-old Wendy asked her grandmother as she watched her elder help her with her shoes.
"Honey, my home is with y' an' Poppy." Eleanor answered with a soft smile, placing Wendy's little foot into her red leather shoes.
"But I mean where y' come from." Wendy retorted with a pout. "Like how Anne at school misses livin' in 'Pan"
"Japan, honey, not Pan."
"That's what I said." Wendy sassed back. "Do y' miss it?"
Grams sighed, starting on Wendy's other shoe. "I suppose I do . . . sometimes."
"Whatcha' miss 'bout it?" Wendy asked curiously, rarely ever hearing her grandmother speak about her past.
"The celebrations, they would go for days." Grams smiled fondly, eyes far away. "The holidays always brought great balls filled with dancers wearing the most extravagant dresses and the ballrooms were decorated to perfection."
"Would y' go back?" Wendy immediately asked, wanting to go too, to wear a pretty dress and spin around in a big room.
Eleanor shook her head quickly. "No, honey. It's not safe."
"Why?"
"Because a group of people are disagreeing with another group about the way they treat others. They aren't very nice." Eleanor explained as simply as she could, finally tying the other shoe.
"Is that why y' had t' leave? People were bein' mean?"
"Part of it." Eleanor smiled sadly, tucking Wendy's curls behind her ears. "The other part being that my older sister and friend didn't like your Poppy, didn't like me with him."
"Why? Poppy's the best!" Wendy was instantly enraged, how dare no one like her Poppy, he was the best Poppy.
Eleanor let out a breathy chuckle. "Because of how they viewed things. They were a part of the group who treated other's poorly as they thought themselves better."
"Oh." Wendy paused, sticking her arms through the jacket her Grams was holding out for her. "How did y' leave? Was it on a boat? Train? Anne left on ah plane."
Eleanor chuckled a little, helping Wendy tug her arms through the sleeves of the jacket. Once the task was accomplished, Grams beckoned Wendy closer.
Eleanor leant down and whispered in the five-year-olds ear. "With a key."
Wendy pulled away to frown at her grandmother. "Ah key?"
Eleanor nodded. "A special key. So special I had to hide it with letters."
"So, there's a door? Or was it ah wardrobe? Grams, did'y' live in ah wardrobe?"
"No, honey, it was a magic door that could appear anywhere you wanted it to." Eleanor chuckled as she opened the front door.
The memory faded to nothing, and she was brought back to the expectant face of Amaris.
"She . . . Grams said there was ah door."
"Yes." Amaris groaned impatiently.
"An' tha' door could appear anywhere."
A swift smack snapped Wendy's head to the side, her grandmother's body within her sight once more.
"I know all this, stupid girl." Amaris gripped the blonde's face, her eyes catching Wendy's as she turned the witch's head to meet her furious gaze head on.
"M'sorry." Wendy mumbled out shakily.
"Shh, shh." Amaris petted the wild tangled curls away from Wendy's face. And asked softly as she pumped her fingers excruciatingly within Wendy. "Where is the key?"
"She buried it." Wendy choked out the only thing she could think of. "Under tha' willow tree at tha' back of tha' property . . . it's in ah wooden box buried beneath letters—I don't know what enchantments she put on it."
Amaris' lips pulled into a gleeful, feral grin. She ground herself down furiously against Wendy's bleeding thigh. Moans spilled from her mouth, louder and louder. The Valtushards hand swiftly slapped the blondes head to the side, again and again, until Amaris finally climaxed. A vulgar drawn-out groan released itself from her gaping mouth as she shook above Wendy, her slick painting the blonde's thigh.
Wendy bit down on a strangled sob.
Amaris panted, coming down from her high and smiling down at the distraught witch.
Her blissed-out grin dropped the moment something above them landed heavily on the hardwood floor.
The Valtushard immediately swung herself off Wendy.
"Visitors." Amaris muttered, a sneer pulling at her features. Her eyes cut to Wendy's prone form. "You knew."
The blonde vigorously shook her head in denial.
"You knew!" Amaris tossed the athame across the basement, the metal clanging against the side of the stone wall. "I'm going to bleed them like a pig, you dirty little bitch and then I'm coming back to gut you. Do not move."
And then she was gone.
Panic consumed Wendy. It crawled across her skin towards her neck and curled tightly around her throat. Tears spilled over as her nails clawed at the bench to try and free her body from Amaris' compulsion.
Leave, leave, leave, leave! Get out! Get out!
Wendy hurled the thoughts at the two brothers.
Her breaths turned into pants which turned into gasps for air.
She had to get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Sweat beaded across her forehead, running down her neck and dotted her chest. It felt as if there was a slab of cement laying on her chest. Her emotions warred within her. Anxiety gripped her heart as she begged her body to move.
Get up!
Anxiety warped into anger as bangs and clashes sounded above her. Pain rushed over her—pain that belonged to either one of the brothers—her mind unable to comprehend who's. They were here because of her. And they were being attacked because she was uselessly stuck at the command of Amaris.
Fury coursed across her being.
Wendy refused to let anyone else die for her.
Get up!
Wendy snapped up right with a sound ripping from her throat that could only be described as primal. Her body almost launched off the bench with the force of the movement.
She rolled on the floor, feet slipping in the blood covering it that was no doubt her own. Wendy caught herself on the bench top, a pained groan escaping her mouth as her pierced shoulder slammed into the corner.
Silver eyes flickered over to her grandmother's carved preserved body. Wendy threw herself forwards, heaved sobs breaking free as her hands hovered shakily above the body. She was too scared to touch, terrified to relive her grandmother's final moments. It was the only time Wendy had ever seen her grandmother look so fragile.
Wendy wanted to scream.
"M'sorry." The broken whispered sounded loud in the still basement. "'M so sorry."
A shout and thud could be heard from above, and Wendy knew she couldn't linger.
"I love you."
Wendy turned away, adrenaline spiking through her while she made for the stairs. She slinked quietly up the wooden steps, confidently avoiding the creaky ones with ease.
Wendy was going to kill Amaris.
Sam slammed Dean into the wall, but the older brother managed to dodge to the side when Sam's fist came flying at his face. Dean grunted as he shoved Sam off him, watching as his younger brother stumbled backwards.
"Can you fucking stop?" Dean groused, fed up with all this shit. They needed to find the last sigil, if it was even the last fucking sigil. The stupid fucking red head had scrawled the funky looking symbol all over the house like a paranoid conspiracy theorist hiding from the government. They were painted behind doors in what Dean knew was blood without looking closely, painted under rugs, a fucking jar of sugar, behind the stupid bookshelf that had too many books on it—that one caused the initial tell tale sign that they were in the house and had Sam shooting him the bitchiest look he'd ever gotten. Like it was his fault a bunch of books decided to ditch the shelves and thump onto the floor dramatically.
There was even one stupidly scrawled on the mirror over the fireplace.
The respite lasted only a moment before Sam rounded around and came at him again.
"You think I'm not trying to!" Sam gritted out, darting forward as he did so and pulling the both of them down and slamming Dean's back into the coffee table.
The sound of the wood splitting and splintering underneath their combined weight was drowned out by the sound of the Valtushard's laughter.
Dean booted Sam off of him, sending the younger brother crashing backwards; almost landing in a pile of what Dean could only guess was dried vomit.
Cigarette smoke filled the air and tickled Dean's nose as the house shook violently from the force of which the angel was trying to enter, causing Dean to stumble around and silently cursing the feathery asshat for its insistence of getting inside.
He got it. He understood the panic. Hell, the moment Dean heard Wendy's agonised screams coming from below, a harrowing shiver crawled up his spine and sprung him into action of hunting down all the sigils as quietly as possible. All while trying to block out the tormented cries that brought up memories of the rack.
And currently, they were wasting time with this bullshit.
Dean hadn't heard Blondie in his head since the freaky witch bitch set Sam on him, and to be honest—that made Dean want to upchuck his lunch. Because if he wasn't hearing her in his head demanding they leave, then she either passed out from whatever the red head did to her or . . .
He didn't want to think about it.
Laughter sounded from the lounge the Valtushard had placed herself on, and Dean had just enough time to glance her way and see her sucking down a cigarette as she watched Sam stumble back to his feet, heaving with exhaustion.
"Yeah, keeping laughing." Dean grunted at her through clenched teeth.
"Strangle him; I want to watch his face turn blue." The red head's voice resonated with authority while she grinned coyishly at the older sibling.
"Dean." Sam gritted out in warning before he was on his brother once again.
Dean threw Sam back down again, watching as Sam wheezed out a breath after being winded. Quickly, Dean scrambled towards the angel sigil painted on the mirror above the fireplace mantle. He grabbed the first object within reach, a small green vase, and pegged the ugly looking thing at the mirror.
The shattered shards spilt onto the floor, glinting in the firelight and danced on the ceiling.
A soft laugh sounded from the Valtushard, "That's not all of them."
The red head took another drag as arms wrapped around Dean from behind, pulling him down to the ground. He was knelt before the Valtushard, watching her painted lips pull back into a ghastly smile. Blood was smeared around her lips, and Dean didn't even want to imagine what she'd done to Wendy to cause the morbid face paint.
A thick arm coiled around his throat and immediately breath escaped him. Dean tried to pry at the limb, to pull it back enough to attempt to gain breath but was failing miserably.
He saw movement.
A figure darted in the doorway behind where the Valtushard sat, but he would know those long blonde curls anywhere.
Immediately, he began struggling in Sam's grip, putting on a show while trying to get into the right position to jab an elbow backwards into Sam's stomach. His flailing kept the attention of not only the red head, but Sam as his brother struggled to keep hold of him.
Dean kept an eye on Blondie as she limped into the room, her white dress bloody and her flesh grotesquely carved into. She looked like a walking nightmare, like she had walked right out of a 80's horror movie about cults with her flower crown tangled in curls. Wendy closed in on the Valtushard, lifting a heavy looking iron skillet into the air like an executioner with an axe. If he could've, Dean would've huffed at the sight of the angel sigil on the bottom of the skillet.
Wendy slammed the impromptu weapon into the side of the Valtushards head.
The red head crumpled to the floor and Sam's hold on Dean broke the moment the skillet met the side of the Valtushard's head.
The air was still for a moment.
A dark chuckle sounded from the auburn-haired witch as she lifted her head, peering over her shoulder at Wendy. "You little bitch."
Wendy slammed backwards into the wall, head smashing into a picture frame upon impact, hovering there and unable to move.
"Her bracelet!" Blondie shrieked, her voice laced with panic.
Instantly, Deans eyes locked onto the carved metal fastened around the Valtushards wrist and rushed her, slamming her back down to the ground, hands wrapping around her wrist to yank the metal from her limb.
His body flung backwards from a simple wave of the red heads hand as the house once again rattled with the force of the angel tyring to enter. His back slammed into he bookcase, his breath escaping with a grunt as books tumbled onto him.
Dean caught the Valtushard's eye, holding up the bracelet with the most shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. He watched the Valtushard's eyes widen as he broke the dainty chained metal with an easy pull and threw the broken jewellery into the roaring fireplace.
The Valtushard's face warped, turning into something almost animalistic, "Kill him!" Her enraged shriek echoed through the house as the command took over Sam once again.
Wendy panicked at the command, reaching out and latching onto the fury that coursed through Amaris.
With the runic bracelet rendered useless, Wendy could feel every emotion coursing through Amaris. She tried to grapple with any one of them, trying to twist them into something more subdued, something easy to control. But every time she latched on, they slipped away like she was trying to grasp a stick of melting butter.
Sweat beaded across her forehead and ran down the sides of her face. She couldn't tell if the cause was from the heat of the fire or the fact that she was warring against her own fatigue as she tried to twist Amaris' anger into compliance. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
"I know what you're trying to do,' Amaris' gaze locked onto Wendy's still pinned form. The Valtushard slinked her way over to Wendy, her hand caressing the blonde's calf while her painted red lips were mere inches from Wendy's own.
"But I have to wonder what you think you're going to achieve, little dove?" Amaris gave a delicate laugh, a smile toying at the corners of her mouth. She pouted at Wendy and said mockingly; "Are you going to kill me? Avenge Mama and grammy?"
Wendy stared at Amaris in an unblinking fashion, too scared to even utter a sound.
"When I first found you, you were so small. Walking and talking, but still just a tiny little creature." Amaris' hand hiked higher, caressing her bloody thigh. "And Selene begged—begged not to let you see. And I allowed her to place you back into your room. A mistake on my part, I always did have a soft spot for the Barrois girls." She squeezed Wendy's thigh, and the blonde cried out, head slumping forward as Amaris' fingers dug themselves into the gaping wound. The woman's hand slammed Wendy's head back against the wall. "You screamed and screamed, and your pet came to whisk you away."
Amaris smiled and stepped back, a wave of her hand had the fire from the fireplace exploding out into the living room, separating the brothers from herself and the crazed woman.
"For fucks sake!" Dean shouted his compliant while dodging Sam and the now angry fire.
"When I realised you were gone, I had your mama thinking I already killed you." Amaris chuckled. "You should've seen the way her face dropped—and the shrieking, I've never seen someone cry so much before!" She spoke as if she attended a comedy show, as if it wasn't real—just a funny program she had seen on television. Amaris released a pleased sigh.
She locked her eyes on Wendy and grinned. With another wave of her hand, Wendy watched as the woman before her shimmered into the spitting image of her mother.
Horror filled Wendy.
Frantically, she fought against the hold of the telekinesis Amaris wielded. Wendy didn't want to hear whatever cruelty she decided to speak coming from her mother's lips. Didn't want to hear the sound of her mother's voice spewing hurtful words.
"So sad, an' so pathetic." Selene's crooning smooth voice reached her eyes. "What a shame t' have y' as a daughter."
It wasn't real.
.Itsnotreal.
"Nothin' but a waitress livin' with 'er grandmother, not even y'er daddy wanted y'." Her mother didn't actually think that . . . right? She would never say that. Could never have those thoughts about her own daughter, right?
Please, please, please.
"Nothin' but a crazy little girl with no mama, no daddy, no family or friends. All alone, 'cause y'er poison an' nobody could ever love a wretched vile thang like you. Death should've taken you. You should be dead."
No, no, no, no.
That wasn't true.
Was it?
Poison. A perfect description, because maybe she was. Everyone she held dear was dead or not on speaking terms. Maybe she was poison, maybe her father stopped seeing her because he knew. Knew she was wrong; knew she had gotten her mother killed. Because she did, didn't she? Wendy was to blame for her mother's demise, she was to blame for Grams and Danny, and Nancy's too.
He had to have known that she was a bad omen. A jinx.
Maybe her death would be a blessing and stop those around her from dropping like flies.
"Blondie!" Dean's voice called over the roar of the spreading fire. "You better be alive!"
Through the flames, Wendy could just barely see that Dean had finally gotten Sam pinned and bound and knocked out completely.
Alive.
The word echoed around in her mind as tears gathered in her eyes. The words he spoke were simple if a little threatening. But they pulled her out of her melancholy, finding herself giggling at the absurdity of his words. She knew weeks ago; he more than likely wouldn't have cared if she lived or died.
Amaris sighed in disappointment, her body rippled as the image of Selene melted away, "First, the hunters."
Dean scrambled at the words, hooking his arms under Sam's and trying to heave his younger brother's taller frame away from the encroaching fire and the unhinged red head.
Wendy clawed at the wall.
They weren't going to die for her.
Wendy broke free from the hold Amaris held with a feral screech and threw herself at the Valtushard. Her body collided with the other woman, hands reaching and grabbing at Amaris' hair and slammed her head back down into the floorboards, once, twice—again and again.
"You want it, take it." Wendy whispered harshly. Her power surged, rippling through her body as she slammed her fist through Amaris' chest. Her wrist circled in a haunting silver glow.
"Leave!" She shouted to Dean, not taking her eyes from Amaris bucking form.
Wendy pushed the power she took from her mother when she was younger, willed the power she had taken from Amaris back into the very soul of the witch that craved it. She could have it; Wendy didn't want it.
She never wanted it.
Amaris could have it, have every last drop that coursed through her. She could take it all. It had already taken the people she loved. It had caused them to leave her too soon. It had left her alone and tortured—left her broken. So, Wendy would make sure it killed the woman who had hunted her her whole like.
Amaris shrieked, body jerking and spasming uncontrollably as the onslaught of power filled her body. The woman's once cold blue eyes took on the bright silver gaze as her body shook and blood dribbled from every orifice.
Wendy pushed on, throwing every moment of pain she felt at the hands of Amaris back at the woman. Wails filled the space around them, rebounding off the walls and swallowed by the sound of the hungry fire ripping through Wendy's home. A silver glowing light burst through Amaris' chest, her body lighting up like a glow stick.
And she popped.
Like a balloon at a birthday party that was filled with too much helium but was hiding confetti within.
The blonde witch was doused in blood from head to toe.
Wendy stared down at the mess Amaris had left, paralysed at what just happened. She watched as her glowing skin that somehow managed to not be covered in blood, faded.
Was . . . was that real?
Because she popped. Like a tire or a bubble.
Poof.
The giggle escaped her before she could stop it. Immediately, Wendy clapped both her bloody hands over her mouth to stifle the sound.
But it was futile, it couldn't contain the laughter from spilling between her sticky fingers and leaking from her lips. Wendy could feel the drops of blood slide down her face as she pulled her hands away, allowing the laughter to sound freely amongst the pop and crackle of the fire.
"Fuck." She croaked out.
Wendy snickered.
Her hands were painted a glossy red and the inferno that ate at the floorboards made the dark red shine in the flames.
Wendy's laughter warped as she surveyed the carnage that surrounded her. Grams would hate it. She'd have a fit about the mess, possibly blame Nancy for it too. The hearty laughter reached an octave higher, finally contorting into maniacal—guttural shrieking. Grief poured from her very core, consuming Wendy faster then the fire could as her fists slammed down into the pulp that was Amaris.
Once.
Twice.
Over and over again while tears streaked down her face.
Faintly, she could hear voices shouting over the roar of the fire, but the words didn't reach her—couldn't reach her through the rage that was her grief.
"Honey".
Grams' voice cut through the noise inside her head.
Wendy slapped her hands over her ears and begged her mind to just once, please, please leave her alone.
"Not all the sigils are broken. You have to get up."
She couldn't tell if the phantom voice of her grandmother was just her subconscious' way of trying to move her into action or if . . . if it really was Grams speaking to her.
"She can't keep you here anymore. You must get up, Wendolyn."
A rasping cough tore from her throat as she slipped to her feet, no thanks to the gore of Amaris' remain that coated the floor. Smoke billowed heavily in the room, the heat of the fire heating her skin like she was sitting too close to the radiator on cold winter mornings. Wendy's shoulders shook with a hacking cough, her chest tightening with every inhale she took.
Something cold gripped her shoulder and began leading her through the sitting room and out into the kitchen where the smoke was thick and dense, but the fire hadn't yet reached. The door to the back porch swung open seemingly of its own accord as the phantom grip on her shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze.
Wendy looked back and her face crumpled as her grandmother's ghostly form smiled lovingly back at her.
Eleanor's slender hands caressed Wendy's cheeks.
"You are so brave, my sweet girl."
Wendy hiccupped. "Don't leave me."
"We'll meet again." Eleanor placed a gentle cold kiss upon her granddaughter's brow. "I'm proud of you, know that I love you no matter what."
"Please. Don't leave me." Wendy begged, tears spilled as she tried and failed to grasp at Eleanor's hands.
"She can't keep me here anymore." Eleanor spoke softly, her voice wavering as tears glistened in her eyes. "And she can't keep you either. I'll be waitin' for you when it's your time, but it won't be today."
"No, noplease!" Wendy pleaded as she watched her grandmother's form glow brightly until she blurred at the edges and faded out of existence.
Wendy stood frozen at the entrance, staring blankly at the fire that began to slowly make its way into the kitchen. The heat of the flames dried the tear tracks staining her face as she watched the fire lick lazily up the walls.
Numbly, the witch turned her back on the fire and woodenly made her way down the stairs of the back porch. The shouting of the siblings could be heard over the roaring fire, though it was accompanied by an angry female voice. Wendy circled around to the front of the house in her bloodied nightgown and crooked flower crown, looking like some sort of village sacrifice.
"You had one job—fucking one!" The woman shouted up at the two brothers who dwarfed her with their height, even though she looked to be the average height for a woman in her late twenties.
"Clearly, the house is on fucking fire, what do you want me to do?" Dean snapped back just as heatedly as Sam casted worried glances back at the burning house.
"Fucking die for all I care, you useless pieces of shit!" The woman shouted back. The windows of the old farmhouse blow out as an echoing boom sounded within the home. More than likely, it was the gas stove that decided to say a finale goodbye.
"Fuck." The woman rasped out desperately, turning around to face the house, only to catch sight of Wendy who was watching the three bicker with vacant eyes.
The woman paused for a moment, eyes looking over Wendy in abject horror. Breath seemed to leave her as she contemplated but came to some sort of decision as she approached the witch in a careful manner. Her hands reached up to brush tangled curls away from Wendy's face, but the witch flinched back at the sudden movement.
"Hey, it's okay." The woman said gently, catching Wendy's gaze. The blazing fire flickering in the woman's golden eyes, giving them an almost illuminating glow. "It's me."
Wendy drew in a shuddering breath and hiccupped out Gabriel's name softly.
Gabriel cupped Wendy's face before the witch crumpled, burying her face into the crook of the angel's neck and releasing an earth-shattering sob. The blonde fisted the leather jacket, clinging onto the material like a lifeline while long fingers cradled the back of her head, and an arm came around her.
"I've got you."
Well, that was a lot.
Anyway, here's the Pinterest board if anyone's curious: Over The Rainbow
There are spoilers, so be warned.