Anonymouse

            “Like I thought—bust,” said Sam.

            “Hold on there, Sam,” said Garth. “There’s a lot of things to factor in here. Uh, it happened last night, so the readings could be cold by now.”

            “Good point,” said Dean.

            “Still no witchcraft,” said (Y/N). “So that narrows things down.”

            “And, uh, even if there was any sulfur, Barney Fife and his crew probably contaminated the whole crime scene and any evidence that was here with it,” said Garth.

            (Y/N) snorted at the comparison and peeked under the car.

            “Wow. He’s on a roll,” said Dean, slightly impressed.

            “That’s one word for it,” said Sam, huffing. He wanted to go back to searching for Kevin, not playing hunter on random cases. He was looking for The End.

            “Oh, ew. Yeah, we got something,” said (Y/N). They pointed a green goo on the ground that they had almost stepped in.

            “Is that gum, or is that ectoplasm?” asked Dean.

            “Isn’t ectoplasm usually black?” said Sam, frowning.

            Garth knelt, put a finger into the goo, and tasted it.

            “Okay, yeah, that can’t be good for you,” said (Y/N), grimacing.

            “Definitely ectoplasm,” said Garth.

            “And you discovered that at what cost?” said (Y/N).

            Garth shrugged. “So, what are we thinking—uh, some kind of ghost, right?” His phone rang again, this time with “Wild Wild West” by Kool Moe Dee. “Uh, Ranger McCrae here.”

            “One of those things rings Hammer, I’m throwing down,” whispered Dean.

            “I’m rooting for Barbie Girl,” said (Y/N).

            “Oh, great. Okay. Okay,” said Garth, bracing the phone between his shoulder and ear while scribbling a note on his hand. “Thanks, Doc.” He hung up and looked at Dean, Sam, and (Y/N). “Asked the coroner to drop me a line in case the autopsy turned up anything…unusual. And guess what? Our dead guy had the word ‘Alcott’—” he showed them the spelling as written on his palm “—carved into his chest.”

            “With what?” asked Sam.

            “Coroner’s best guess? His wife Mary's fingernails,” said Garth.

            “Still think this is a bust?” said (Y/N).

            Sam sighed.

l

            Sam, Dean, (Y/N), and Garth stood beside Mary Lew’s bed in her hospital room. The bright lights of the room buzzed above them as they looked at her, handcuffed with a sheriff guarding the exit. She seemed…tired and grieving. She stared into space even as they addressed her.

            “Mrs. Lew, can you tell us what happened?” asked Sam carefully.

            “I was at the store getting groceries, and the next thing I know, my son Scott finds me in the driveway.” Mary stared into space, and her breath hitched. “And Chester was…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

            “Do you remember anything at all about what happened? Um…Chester dying?” asked Sam, trying to be as gentle as possible.

            “Not really. Bits and pieces, I guess,” said Mary.

            Unfortunate choice of words, thought (Y/N).

            “Such as?” prompted Dean.

            “I remember his screams…the smell of burnt rubber, and…I remember feeling so angry—just uncontrollable rage, like I wasn’t myself,” said Mary, shivering. “And after it was over, all that anger was just gone.”

            “Ma’am, does the word ‘Alcott’ mean anything to you?” asked (Y/N).

            Mary clenched her fists instinctually, a telltale sign it did mean something to her. “What does she have to do with anything?” she said defensively.

            “It’s a she?” said Sam, prompting her to continue.

            Mary couldn’t avoid continuing. “My husband, Chester, and I were going steady in high school for a few years already when we had a big fight,” she said, trying to shrug it off as inconsequential despite the fact it clearly bothered her.

            “What about?” questioned Dean.

            “Something stupid, I’m sure. It was around prom, and so he took Sara Alcott as his date instead of me,” admitted Mary.

            “So, this Sara Alcott was a rival for your husband’s affections?” asked Garth.

            “Sara had one night with him, whereas I was—” Mary started to cry “—with Chester for thirty-seven years.”

            “Of course, right. Sure,” said Sam awkwardly. “Um, just one more question. Um…Is…Ms. Alcott still alive?”

            “As far as I know, yes,” said Mary, through bitter tears.

            “Thank you very much, Mrs. Lew,” said Dean, hurrying them out before the situation became even more awkward.

l

            “Let me get this straight,” said Dean as they headed towards the impala after finishing with Mary. “This poor guy goes to prom with some girl over thirty years ago, and because of that, he is now a pancake?”

            “If it’s some sort of possession, it’s possible it could be bringing up old grudges,” said (Y/N). “Wouldn’t be the first time people’s emotions are influenced.”

            “Yeah, but what sort of possession? Alcott’s alive. It makes no sense,” said Dean.

            “Well, we’re definitely gonna want to talk to her,” said Garth.

            “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” Dean paused. “Did we eat yet?”

l

            “There you go,” said the waitress, setting down the burgers (and singular salad) that the group had ordered. They were in a bar, which (Y/N) got into thanks to their handy FBI badge.

            “Thanks,” said Garth. He took a bite and then looked at Dean and (Y/N). “So, Dean, (Y/N), gimme the skinny. Where were you the past year?”

            “Reading tarot for suburban mothers while I hunted on the side,” said (Y/N), blunt as ever. “Tried not to die.”

            Sam held his utensils tighter. Dean frowned.

            “Bet you made good money on that scam,” said Garth cheerfully.

            Not so much a scam. (Y/N) smiled all the same.

            “Why don’t we save what I did on my summer vacation for another time?” said Dean, taking another bite of his burger.

            “Aw, come on,” said Garth.

            “Alright. I was in Purgatory,” said Dean, straightforward.

            “Like the Purgatory Purgatory?” said Garth.

            “No, the one in Miami,” said Dean sarcastically.

            “The gay club?” snorted (Y/N), and Dean threw a fry at them.

            “Man, that’s balls,” said Garth, not batting an eye. He took everything in stride, which was one of his best qualities.

            “That’s not how you say ‘balls,’ ” said Dean.

            “So how’d you get out?” asked Garth.

            Sam made a show of turning and looking at Dean of the answer to that question. (Y/N) glanced at him curiously. They weren’t going to judge—they were just glad he was back—but they were curious. It was one of (Y/N)’s biggest flaws (that and their hopeless need to run straight into danger, which stemmed from a need to be useful or else, but that was too much psychoanalysis and they weren’t going to get into that).

            Dean avoided everyone’s gaze and looked around the bar. A confederate flag hung on the wall, and he frowned. “What’s up with all the, uh, hillbilly hankies? These people know the Civil War’s over, right?”

            “Mm. That’s a touchy subject round these parts,” said Garth knowingly. “See, Missouri was a border state. So, half the men were Confederate, the other half were the Union.”

            “How do you know all this?” asked Sam.

            “I went to college,” said Garth, munching on his burger.

            “You went to college?” said Sam in surprise.

            “Huh.” (Y/N) hadn’t thought about that; people got into the life in different ways. They hadn’t even really gotten around to thinking about college. And they really weren’t going to start.

            “Yeah. College and on to dental school,” said Garth, nodding.

            “You were a dentist?” said (Y/N), blinking. It seemed so…normal.

            “Yeah, just for, like, a hot minute. Where’d you think I got my first case?” said Garth, shrugging like it was obvious.

            “Let me guess—Tooth Fairy,” joked Dean.

            Looking uncomfortable and a little ashamed, Garth put his utensils down. Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) stared.

            “Yeah. Man, I felt terrible when I ganked that SOB,” said Garth, shaking his head.

            “Uh, you killed the Tooth Fairy?” said Sam slowly, making sure he heard that right.

            “Yeah, man. I mean, not my proudest moment, but it happened.” Garth shrugged and picked up his burger for another bite. “Mmm. Man, this is good.”

            The phone rang—a normal ringtone from Dean’s phone—and he picked it up. “Yes, this is him. Really? What’s the address.” He listened and scribbled it down. “Yeah, got it. Thank you.” He hung up. “There’s another one.”

            “What?” said Sam.

            “Another body dropped,” said Dean. “And the perp was Scott Lew.”

            “Damn,” said (Y/N).

l

            (Y/N) looked at the crime scene with their hands and their hips. Jeff’s—Scott’s friend—body lay under a blanket, blood staining it and the ground beneath him. Drying, spilt coffee was drying on the floor, and various amenities from the convenience store shelves lay haphazardly around Jeff’s corpse. Green goo peppered the ground as well—whatever had possessed Mary had gotten to Scott as well.

            “So, first the mom goes ‘Natural Born Killer,’ and now the son?” remarked Dena. “Well, what do we got—a ghost with an Oedipus complex?”

            “You don’t know what that means, do you?” said (Y/N).

            “Nope,” said Dean.

            “Thought so,” said (Y/N). “Still, is there something about the Lew family causing it? Or is it chance that whatever got to Mary got to Scott?”

            “Not sure, but check this out,” said Sam, stepping over to the refrigerated section of the store. Painted in blood was “Sussex.”

            “ ‘Sussex,’ ” read Dean. “What is that, another name?”

            “I wonder if it’s another person that involved in a grudge,” said (Y/N), tilting their head. “Then there would be some sort of pattern.”

            Garth walked over after consulting with the deputies on the scene.

            “Hey, what’d the cops say?” asked Sam.

            “Not much,” he said, scratching beneath his baseball hat. “Uh, Scott insisted he wasn’t in control of himself. Says all he remembers is a red-hot rage.”

            “That’s like his mother,” said (Y/N).

            “So, what is this, some-some kind of family curse?” Sam looked at (Y/N).

            “Maybe,” said (Y/N). “No hex bag doesn’t rule it out.”

            Dean couldn’t stop staring at the baseball hat on Garth’s head. “Is that Bobby’s hat?”

            “Oh, yeah. Sure is.” Garth smiled proudly. “We worked a rugaru case together a few years back. He left it in my car, so I kept it as a—” Dean snatched the hat from his head “—memento. What are you doing?”

            “That’s not how you wear it,” snapped Dean, tucking it under his jacket.

            (Y/N) grimaced. Dean’s time in Purgatory had meant he never got to grieve Bobby’s loss properly, which, in turn, meant he wasn’t sure how to handle people trying to move on. (This is a very wise statement for someone who refuses to fully deal with the trauma and internalized issues their parents’ deaths created).

            A deputy walked up to them and informed them, “Gentlemen, surveillance is up, but something is all screwy with it.” He brought them to the back room of the store to show the security feed. It displayed Scott stabbing Jeff with a shovel—brutal—but Scott’s face was obscured by white light and a strange line across the screen.

            “Must be the camera,” said the deputy.

            (Y/N) knew better. “Probably. Thank you, deputy.” He nodded and walked off, leaving the hunters to talk amongst themselves.

            “You guys see the head? Ever seen anything like that before?” asked Dean, watching the reply of the security footage again.

            “Like that? No way,” said Garth.

            “So?” said Sam, wondering what to do next.

            “So…” Dean frowned.

            “So, I’m thinking we need to talk to Sara Alcott,” said Garth. “I found her—although these days, she goes by Sara Brown.”

            “How about this?” said Sam. “(Y/N) and I’ll check her out, and you two see what you can find out about Sussex.” He wanted to try to show (Y/N) he was still their friend and someone they could rely on. He had to prove himself to them. After all, he cared about them too much to let them think he didn’t care. They were family.

            “Word,” said Garth.

            “Awesome,” said Dean.

            “Fine,” said (Y/N).

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l

            Homelander chuckled as Frank made the “basket” with the paper ball he had made. “You know, I learned this game from you, Frank.”

            “I don’t understand,” said Frank warily.

            “I once saw you take a shot at the waste basket, and you nailed it, and…and you don’t remember,” said Homelander.

            “No,” admitted Frank.

            “Yeah, well, I sure do,” said Homelander, taking another shot. “Yeah, you were sitting there—” he gestured to a desk “—and, well, I was in the oven here.” He pointed to the compartment. “And you made the shot. You did a little fist-pump to celebrate;. And then you turned up the temperature to see if you could burn my skin.” All at the once, the scientists swallowed. “You remember that, right?” Homelander chuckled. “Your turn.” Frank managed to make the shot again. “Fun fact. Uh, even though my skin didn’t char, it still really hurt. I mean a lot. Yeah, I was in there, screaming in agony, and my tears just sizzled away.” He could still feel it. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I remember there was, uh, people standing here taking notes, but behind them, I saw you make that shot. It was a really great shot, Frank.”

            “I was just doing my job,” said Frank helplessly.

            Homelander’s expression twitched. “Hmm. You know, I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can’t even remember it. It’s funny, isn’t it, how people can have such a different memory of the exact same thing. It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.” He paused. “Hey, Frank? This is my last shot. Why don’t you go watch from in there?”

            Frank’s eyes widened slightly, and the scientists froze. All eyes went to the over compartment.

            “John, why don’t we—”

            “ ‘Homelander,’ ” he snapped when Marty made the mistake again. Homelander smiled. “Get in the oven, Frank.”

            Frank tried to chuckle. “Please.”

            Homelander opened the door and gestured for him to step in. “Get in the oven or your family goes in with you.”

            “Please, Homelander, you don’t have to do this,” said Marty.

            “Marty,” warned Homelander. He smiled. It was cruel.

            Frank swallowed and had no choice but to step forward.

            “Thank you,” said Homelander. He pushed the door.

            “I’m sorry,” said Frank from within. Homelander paused. “I’m so, so sorry.”

            “You’re sorry? Now?” said Homelander. “But why? You were just doing your job, right?”

            “Homelander—”

            Cold and unfeeling, Homelander shut the door.

            “Don’t do this! No!” Frank cried out as Homelander turned the machine on, and the heaters turned on, heat radiating outwards.

            The scientists tried to look away, but they could still hear him crying out as his skin started to sizzle and burn away.

            Homelander just watched. He wondered if this was how (Y/N) had felt tearing their Lab apart. It was…powerful.

l

            “Who are we—(Y/N), it’s us,” said Annie, stepping towards them. “It’s me, Annie. And Hughie and MM and Frenchie. You know us.”

            (Y/N) tilted their head, eyes curious, but not wary like they usually were. “The waves are familiar.”

            “The—What?” said Hughie, looking at Butcher.

            He held up his hands. “I told you, they’re off their rocker. Showed up at my front door last night.”

            “I was looking,” said (Y/N) when everyone looked at them.

            “Looking? For what?” said Annie. And why would they go to Butcher?

            (Y/N) shrugged again. “I was following the waves.”

            “(Y/N), what are the waves?” said Hughie, confused.

            “The light, the sound.” (Y/N) waved a hand vaguely. “People have them, too. I was standing there, buzzing, and I felt the waves I liked. So I went looking for them.”

            Annie looked at (Y/N) helplessly, shock and confusion and concern and completely and utter relief running through her. “You—You’re alive. Oh my god.” She didn’t understand a thing that they were saying, but at least they were alive.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N). “I’m alive.”

            “How?” said Frenchie. “Petit (Y/N), you—You blew up.”

            “I did?” (Y/N) considered. “Oh, right. The orange light. He explained it.” They pointed at Butcher.

            MM glared at Butcher, who held up his hands.

            “I was asking all the same questions of ‘em,” said Butcher. “They remember the explosion and that’s it. From there, they just…pieced themself back together.”

            “ ‘Pieced themself back together?’ ” repeated MM incredulously.

            “It’s not hard,” said (Y/N). They held up a hand. “See?” Their hand seemed to vibrate in the air. With a pop, violet and green light sparked. (Y/N) blinked. “Oops.” They shrugged. “Some waves are easier.”

            “Can I…look at your hand?” said MM, confused by it all.

            “Sure.” (Y/N) stuck it out trustingly, and Mm gingerly touched it. It seemed normal, just a regular hand of skin, muscle, and bone.

            “They’re using electromagnetic waves,” said Butcher. “But they’re seeing ‘em now. Or feeling them more. Haven’t worked it out.”

            “What have you worked out?” said Annie under her breath.

            “They can’t remember a bloody thing from before Soldier Boy went ‘boom,’ ” said Butcher, mimicking the explosion. “And whatever V was in them is malfunctioning.” He grumbled. “I lost a chair when they got surprised by the toaster.”

            “But how are they alive?” said Hughie.

            “I pulled myself together,” said (Y/N) simply. “I told him.”

            “Butcher,” said Butcher.

            “Right, I told Butcher,” said (Y/N). “I just pulled the atoms together again.”

            Annie’s jaw nearly dropped open. “You put your own atoms back together? Your cells, muscles—everything?”

            (Y/N) smiled at her. “It was all there still. I wasn’t dead. Or, at least, I don’t think I was.” They frowned. “I don’t really remember it. I remember the light, and I remember being on the ground. Just staring at the sky. I just wandered around for a little, but the waves kept pulling this way, so I followed them. And I found Butcher, and then I wanted to follow the rest.”

            “Which I figured would lead to you all, so here we are,” said Butcher.

            “So you were looking for us?” Hughie’s heart warmed.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know who you are. Or, well, I’m supposed to, but I don’t. Who are you?”

            “Hughie,” said Hughie. “Like we said.”

            “Oh, right,” said (Y/N), staring at their hands again and wiggling their fingers. “You and Annie have good frequencies together.”

            Hughie turned red, and Annie stared helplessly at (Y/N). She was looking at her kid, but they were so…different. It was like they were really a kid, the weight of all their previous trauma lifted from their shoulders.

            “Okay, okay,” said MM. “Look, (Y/N), we all know you. You were our friend.”

            “I was?” (Y/N) smiled. “I like that.”

            Outside, there were several shouts. MM cursed, and Annie straightened.

            “I need to check on the other kids, make sure they’re all out,” said Annie.

            “Is this about the woman across the street?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah, a real cunt,” said Butcher.

            (Y/N) frowned. “I don’t like her energy.” They meant it entirely literally.

            “We don’t, either, and we’re gonna do somethin’ about it,” said Butcher. “Right, MM?”

            “If we can find dirt on her,” said MM.

            “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Butcher, grinning. “I’ve been busy.”

            “Alright, then let’s go,” said MM. “Hughie, Frenchie, keep an eye on (Y/N).”

            “Can’t I come?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “We don’t need supes right now,” said MM. “And people think you’re dead. We don’t want Vought to know you’re not.” It wouldn’t be safe.

            Especially if Homelander learns they’re alive, thought Annie.

            “Oh, right.” Butcher pointed at (Y/N). “Don’t use the waves.”

            “Why?” said (Y/N).

            “Because you bloody exploded my chair!” said Butcher.

            (Y/N) shrugged.

            “Their abilities aren’t exactly working right,” said Butcher. “Some atoms got misplaced.”

            “No they didn’t,” said (Y/N). “I just lost a few. It’s hard to find them all.”

            “In the brain,” said Butcher. He pointed at Hughie. “Explain to ‘em what they need to know.”

            “What?” said Hughie.

            “Apparently I don’t remember anything,” said (Y/N).

            “Qui,” said Frenchie, nodding.

            “I don’t know what to say,” said Hughie. “I’m no good at—”

            “You should go and help your…” (Y/N) focused and stared at Hughie. “Someone’s hurting around you.”

            Hughie stared. “My dad. How did you—”

            They gestured to him. “The waves are all there. Sick.”

            Hughie breathed out. “Okay. This is super weird.”

            “Non, it makes perfect sense,” said Frenchie. “I, too, once put my brain back together.” He tutted. “I will never do that combination of substances again.”

            MM groaned and pinched his nose. “Frenchie—”

            “Perfect! You can explain things to them,” said Butcher. “Go ahead, have fun.” He pointed at (Y/N). “Behave.”

            (Y/N) hummed noncommittedly.

            Butcher shrugged and headed out. Hughie and Annie chased him out.

            “Butcher,” said Annie. “Aren’t you worried? They’re supposed to be dead, and they’re here and acting so—”

            “I already checked if they were really them or not,” said Butcher. “Can’t trust Vought to not send a fake. But it’s them.”

            “Look, Annie, I’ll give them a checkup after we manage this situation,” said MM. “We’ll make sure they’re okay. But it does make sense that the explosion did something. Kimiko lost her powers after taking a hit from Soldier Boy. We thought that (Y/N) was—” MM shook his head. “We’ll make sure they’re okay.”

            “And we’ll bring them back?” said Annie.

            MM shrugged. “We can’t know whether they’ll ever remembering anything. We can just take care of them how they are now.”

            “A loony,” said Butcher cheerfully.

            Annie swallowed and looked back at the office where Frenchie sat speaking to (Y/N). She hoped they were going to be alright. Annie just wanted to hold them close and know they were safe. But for now, they had the ghost of (Y/N) standing amongst them.

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