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Found Family! Supernatural and Teen! Witch! Reader
Chapter Twelve: Grudge
Summary: Grudges go worse with time, hidden beneath attempts to be calm, getting filled with resent. No one's immune.
(Y/N) and Sam sat across from Sara Alcott—Sara Brown—on her front porch. She poured them glasses of sweet tea, and they dutifully and politely took a sip.
“Mm,” said Sam approvingly.
(Y/N) sat theirs down. They preferred bitter and spicy tastes to sweet. Maybe that was witchy, maybe it was just them. Either way, Sara’s tea had way too much sugar for them.
“Now, I know you didn’t come all this way for my sweet tea, Agents,” said Sara, looking at them both with a knowing smirk.
“No, um, we’re here about Chester Lew,” said Sam.
Sara sighed sadly. “Oh, yes. So sad.”
“It is,” said Sam.
“Is it true you and Chester were seeing one another a while back?” asked (Y/N).
Sara tutted in amusement. “Well, that is an odd question for the FBI, isn’t it?”
“We have to ask a lot of strange questions to make sure we know all angles of a situation,” said (Y/N), never breaking eye-contact.
It was intense enough that Sara had to clear her throat and laugh nervously. “Yeah. Well, yes. Yes. Me and that old tomcat, Chester, we went to prom together. That’s about it.”
“And that’s all?” prompted Sara.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly a good girl, if that’s what you mean,” said Sara euphemistically. “And after that, I-I thought that Chester and I were gonna be hot and heavy. But it just wasn’t meant to be.” She shrugged. “And, uh, a week later, he eloped with Mary.”
“Did you speak much to Mary or Chester again after that?” asked Sam.
“Well, I’d see them about, you know—picnics and such.” Sara gave them a significant look. “But…Mary kept Chester on a pretty short leash. Honestly, I’d moved on, but it seems she never did.” She waved a hand dismissively and shrugged.
“Why do you think she kept such a tight hold on him after all those years?” asked (Y/N).
“Well, I guess in her mind, I was a reminder of Chester’s betrayal,” said Sara. She looked between the pair. “So, if that’s all…”
“Yes, thank you very much for your help,” said Sam, rising with (Y/N) from the deck chairs. Sara nodded and returned to her home while Sam and (Y/N) walked away. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s telling the truth,” said (Y/N). “Whatever this possession is, the anger is coming from the people being possessed, and it’s not being created by other people.”
“Let’s let Dean and Garth know,” said Sam, taking out his phone.
“Hey, you’re on speaker,” said Dean as he answered.
“Sara Alcott’s clean, if you look past the fact that she and Chester knocked boots on prom night back in the day,” said Sam.
“But it sounds like Mary still had an issue with it,” said (Y/N).
Dean sighed. “Okay, so Mary has a grudge against Sara, and Scott has a grudge against Jeff. Besides the fact this is making my head hurt, how does this add up to a ghost?”
“Guys!” Garth’s excited voice broke over the phone. “Bobby has it right here.” He had evidently been consulting an old journal. “Green goo equals a spectre.”
“Which equals a ghost, right?” said Dean.
“Mm, kinda,” said Garth. “A spectre is an avenging ghost. It, uh-it possesses you and finds out whatever betrayals you’re feeling and forces you to act on them.”
“So the definition of what we’re seeing in town,” said (Y/N).
“Bobby say anything in there about how we hunt these things?” asked Sam.
“Uh, the last spectre he encountered rose shortly after someone desecrated a nearby grave,” reported Garth.
(Y/N) opened their phone and did a quick search. “Good news, there was a grave desecrated locally three days ago.”
“Okay, who was it?” asked Dean.
“That’s the bad news,” sighed (Y/N).
l
Dean, Sam, Garth, and (Y/N) stared at the ornamental tomb that had a literal guard standing outside.
“The unknown soldier? You’re kidding me, right?” said Dean incredulously.
“Mary Lew steamrolled her husband the day after this place was vandalized. Do the math,” said Garth.
“But I thought the unknown soldier was buried in Arlington,” said Sam, frowning.
“Yep, but this is the Confederate tomb of the unknown soldier. See, the idea was, they took a faceless, nameless soldier they couldn’t identify, and they buried him here to commemorate all the soldiers who died,” explained Garth.
“Did you learn that in college?” teased Dean.
“Nope—Civil War reenactments. Once a year, every year.” Everyone stared. “Don’t hate.”
“I won’t as long as you’re Union,” said (Y/N).
“Okay, uh, what about the guard?” Sam gestured to the person standing watch.
“He’s ceremonial. Gone by dusk,” said Garth.
“So, then we do this tonight?” said Dean.
“Yeah,” said Garth.
“Burn a Confederate soldier’s bones in a town full of ‘proud of their heritage’ people? Great idea,” said (Y/N).
l
Under the cover of darkness, the group of hunters and the witch headed towards the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Flashlights on, they entered and peered around warily. No telling if a spectre was about.
“Place doesn’t look disturbed to me. What’s the police report say?” asked Sam.
“They thought it was just some teens messing around—beer cans and some graffiti,” said (Y/N). They gave a look. “And, of course, they were stupid enough to open the casket.”
“And so Casper made a run for it,” said Dean.
“So, what? If they never touched this, none of this would be happening?” said Sam, looking at the casket in the center of the room.
“Yeah, according to Bobby,” said Garth.
“All right, well, let’s get this party started,” said Dean, flexing for a moment. “Sammy, you want to give me a hand?” Sam nodded, and (Y/N) kept the light on the casket so Dean, Sam, and Garth could push on the lid. “And…go.”
They pushed the heavy stone top to the side, grimacing. (Y/N) rubbed their fingers together. They scraped their index-finger nail against the pad of their thumb, and a small bead of blood dropped down their palm. A pleasant hum filled (Y/N)’s body, and they pressed their fingers to the stone while Dean, Sam, and Garth were busy. It slid from the casket.
Before anyone looked at them, (Y/N) lifted the flashlight so they could all see the inside of the casket. A skeleton lay within, dressed in a torn-up and decaying uniform and carrying a gun and sword beside him.
“Whoa, check out this hardware,” said Garth appreciatively. “Do you guys know how much this is worth?”
“Yeah, but why open it up if you’re not gonna take anything?” asked Dean.
“Maybe what they took isn’t noticeable?” suggested (Y/N).
“Maybe the cops showed up and they had to split fast,” said Sam. He shrugged and picked up a can of lighter fluid.
“You sure this will work, even on a spectre?” asked Garth. There hadn’t been many tips in Bobby’s journal.
“It's a ghost, isn’t it? You burn its bones, the ghost disappears,” said Dean logically.
Sam dumped lighter fluid over the bones.
“I agree with Garth,” said (Y/N). “It doesn’t explain how the spectre is moving around. It has to be following an item, right? Not it’s bones.” Like Bobby and the flask.
“No harm in burning the bones, though,” said Dean.
“Alright, alright,” said Garth. “Uh, I kind of feel like we should say something, all right? Don't you? Just a little.” He didn’t want any bad karma from not being respectful of a tomb.
“Sure. We won,” said Dean, flicking his lighter and setting fire to the bones.
l
They had not won. That was clear as day when daytime arrived and there was a third body, now of a sheriff. Apparently, the spectre had jumped ship from the Lews to the rest of the townsfolk. Dean, Sam, Garth, and (Y/N) stood around the sheriff’s desk after getting the lowdown on the perpetrator, Deputy Wallace.
“Ten bones says Deputy Doug had an axe to grind with his boss,” said Dean.
“How can you be so sure?” said Garth.
Dean pointed at the green goo clinging to the tape dispense on the desk.
“Ah, what the hell?” groaned Garth.
“Maybe we torched the wrong redneck,” said Dean.
“No, I’m betting that something was taken from the grave, but no one noticed,” said (Y/N). “And like Bobby’s flask, the spectre is moving around with it.”
“And whoever has the object gets possessed,” said Sam.
“Okay. So, who’s got the object, and, more importantly, who do they got a grudge against?” wondered Garth.
“Well, we’ve got the last person possessed in a cell,” said (Y/N). “So let’s see what he picked up from Scott and who might have picked it up from him.
The four headed to the holding cells where Deputy Wallace sat despondently behind bars. He looked up at them tearfully as they entered.
“All right. We need you to focus, Deputy,” said Sam, getting straight to the questions. They didn’t have time to waste. “Other lives depend on it. Tell me what happened after you shot the sheriff.”
“I was on the ground. I think Karl tackled me, and I asked him what happened,” said Wallace, frowning with concentration.
“And?” said Dean.
“He didn’t answer me,” said Wallace, shaking his head. “He just took my gun and walked away.”
Shit, thought (Y/N).
“Did he say where he was going?” questioned Dean urgently.
“I guess…I must have hurt him, too. He said he was going to the hospital,” said Wallace guilty.
(Y/N) knew that wasn’t why he had gone. They looked at the others. “Find out what you can about the unknown soldier. I’m going to the hospital.”
“Not without me,” said Dean.
(Y/N) nodded, and they hurried off.
Sam watched and let out a long breath. Right. (Y/N) could still trust Dean. And they couldn’t trust him.
l
Dean pulled into the hospital, and (Y/N) jumped out to check the sheriff’s car. They cursed.
“Empty!” they said.
“So he’s inside already,” said Dean, moving towards the doors. They ran forward and skidded through the front door. A scream echoed, and (Y/N) darted towards it.
Karl stood with a rifle in hand, pointing at a receptionist and nurse. The man’s eyes widened, and Karl gritted his teeth.
“Hey, ump. You remember me? I stole second!” spat Karl.
“Karl? What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing—”
Karl interrupted the man. “Why am I gonna make mustard from your brain stem?! I don’t know. Why did you call me out, ump?”
That’s his grudge? (Y/N) was unimpressed, and they flicked out a knife, ready to do what they had to pull their magic out.
“I’m sorry,” said the man desperately.
Karl squeezed the trigger, and (Y/N) nearly cut across their arm, but the gun clicked uselessly. Karl stared at it.
“Looks like you’re shooting blanks,” said Dean, and when Karl turned to face him, he punched him across the face.
Karl stumbled back, and he looked at Dean—the gaze inhuman. “Hey, that tickled.” He punched Dean, and Dean flew into the wall.
Well, shit. (Y/N) dug their knife into their arm, swiped their fingers across the blood.
“Karl, listen, I know the spectre’s turning the temperature up in there,” said Dean, standing. He coughed as Karl grabbed him and strangeld him. “So just tell me what the object is, and we’ll send this joker home.”
“I don’t think so. There’s unfinished business, thanks to you,” said Karl, speaking with the spectre.
(Y/N) flicked their wrist, eyes shining, and Karl was torn from Dean, flying into the back wall. His head snapped up as he stood, glaring at (Y/N). Then, he smirked.
“Oh, the spectre likes you. You smell like anger,” said Karl.
“Tell him to come out and play if he likes me so much,” sneered (Y/N).
Karl lunged, (Y/N) dodged, and they rubbed their bloody fingers together, tongue rolling over the words of magic lodged in their heart. Karl stumbled, the spectre grew angry, and he grabbed them. (Y/N) raised their leg to kick him away, but as they moved, Karl pressed a small penny with a hole in it into their palm.
In an instant, all of (Y/N)’s turned from the frustration of a fight to the fire of fury at an old friend. Indignance welled up at their treatment, at the person’s actions, at their abandonment. (Y/N) was still while Karl crumpled, unconscious.
Dean stood and stared. “(Y/N)?” he said warily.
“I have to go,” they said abruptly, turning to leave.
“Can you put the penny down?” said Dean, hoping that (Y/N)’s nature as a witch would protect them against the spectre.
“Later. I have unfinished business,” (Y/N) started towards the door.
“No. Nope, that’s a bad idea,” said Dean, moving between them and the door.
“Dean, I don’t want to hurt you,” warned (Y/N).
Well, that’s nice. “You don’t want to hurt anyone. Not really,” said Dean. “I get it, you’re angry. But it’s in your head.” He glanced at the blood dripping down their arm and grimaced. First, he had never seen them do that for magic. Second, shit. It meant they had power.
“Get out of my way,” said (Y/N).
“(Y/N), I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret,” said Dean.
(Y/N) tilted their head, black goo leaking from their ear. “No one lets me do anything. I do what I want.”
They flicked their wrist, and Dean flew over the reception desk. He crashed into computers, took down a filing cabinet, and hit the ground. He groaned and pulled himself to stand. (Y/N) was gone.
“Son of a bitch.” He grabbed his phone and called Sam.
“Did you find the deputy?” asked Sam.
“Sure did,” said Dean while running outside. “And then the spectre jumped ship.”
“Into who?” asked Sam.
“Son of a bitch! They took Baby!” cursed Dean.
“Who, Dean?” repeated Sam urgently.
“(Y/N), Sam! The spectre’s in the kid,” said Dean. “Which means they’re coming for you. And they’ve got blood and their magic ready to shoot. Where are you?”
“We left the library,” said Sam. “Garth and I were going to head back to the motel.”
“They’ll be there. They know that’s where you’d go,” said Dean. “Pick me up and we’ll go back together.”
“Dean, what’s the plan?” said Sam. “We can’t hurt—”
“We’ll figure it out,” said Dean. They had to. He couldn’t lose his little sibling, either of them.
l
“What’s our plan?” said Sam.
“Don’t die, don’t hurt them,” said Dean.
“They’ve got a gun, but we’re three guys. We can handle it,” said Garth encouragingly. “And we’ll get that ghost out of em.”
Dean and Sam grimaced. Garth had no idea (Y/N) had magic. And, unfortunately, he was about to find out. There was no way to get around that. Sam wasn’t sure what would happen, but he’d make sure Garth didn’t hurt them for being a witch. Dean would ensure the same—by any means necessary.
Dean arrived at the motel room door and pushed it open while he, Sam, and Garth braced themselves. They stepped inside. Instantly, an oppressive force grabbed them by the shoulders, and they stumbled, frozen in place.
“There you are.” (Y/N)’s voice was dark, and they glared at the three.
Garth frowned in confusion at being unable to move, but Dean ignored it. (Y/N) was the focus—that and their anger at Sam.
“(Y/N), give us the—”
“You should have looked for me,” said (Y/N) coldly.
Sam swallowed. “(Y/N), this isn’t you.”
“Don’t let a spectre pull your strings,” said Dean. He hoped that indignation would override the fury they held in their gaze ((Y/N) loved fighting against authority).
“You didn’t look. I kept calling, and I kept looking, and I kept suffering because I was alone, and you were—you were living the life of your dreams,” said (Y/N). Their fingers twitched, and the lights flickered as electricity buzzed. Sam had a suspicion he knew what spell could be coming, and he swallowed.
“I-I should have looked,” agreed Sam. “I’m sorry—”
“I’m part of the life you don’t want,” said (Y/N), voice shaking with anger and grief. “I know that. But it doesn’t make it fair. It’s not fair what I had to go through because you decided you didn’t care enough to look for us, for me!”
“What do you want me to say? I’ve apologized as much as I can, (Y/N),” said Sam. “I can’t make you believe me.”
“Sam,” warned Dean.
“That ain’t (Y/N), Sam,” said Garth.
“I’ve made mistakes, (Y/N), I know it, but don’t make this one. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone—”
“You don’t know anything about me!” shouted (Y/N), and the lightbulbs exploded. Dean and Garth flew back and hit the wall while (Y/N) glared at Sam. “You left me! And I had to survive. I had to—Goddamn it, monsters came for me. Because I’m me. And I had to kill them on my own, alone, terrified, and I almost died, and if the caravan hadn’t found me, I wouldn’t be here, and you would still be living your happy life because you don’t care.” They looked at Sam, eyes burning with anger and tears. “Why didn’t you care enough?”
Sam stared, and he faltered. “(Y/N)—”
Garth tackled (Y/N), and the penny fell from their hand, slicked with their blood. (Y/N) yelped, and Garth grabbed the penny.
“Garth, don’t!” said Dean in alarm.
Garth stood while (Y/N) groaned. “It’s cool.” He smiled. “It’s all good. I’m cool.”
Sam let out a sigh of relief, and Dean grinned.
(Y/N) sat up. “What the hell happened?”
“You nearly fried Sam,” said Dean.
“Oh.” (Y/N) grimaced. “Right. Sorry.”
“It’s…okay.” Sam was surprised to find that he meant it. (Y/N)’s confessions—they explained their anger. He would be angry, too, disappointed in himself even more, if he had the experience they did.
“So, Garth—” Dean turned towards him, hand hovering towards his gun.
“Oh, I don’t care about (Y/N) being a witch,” said Garth casually, anticipating the line of questioning.
(Y/N) stood and stared. “What?” They didn’t believe it.
Garth gave them a half-shrug. “I don’t care.” Like everything else, he went with the flow on this thing, too.
Unbelievable. Well, Garth was moving up the ranks of who (Y/N) liked in the world. “Okay. Thanks.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?” said Dean warily.
“None of my business,” said Garth, smiling.
(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped in relief and exhaustion. What a day.
l
“Did Garth make it out okay?” asked (Y/N) as Dean reentered the motel room. They rubbed the bandage over their arm.
“Yeah,” said Dean. “Turns out the guy is so easygoing he has no grudges.” He paused. “I gave him back Bobby’s cap.”
“That was good of you,” said (Y/N) approvingly.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean. “But we’re not talking about Garth.”
Damn. (Y/N) had thought they’d get to avoid the inevitable “about what you talked about while you were possessed” talk.
“About what you talked about while you were possessed—”
(Y/N) interrupted Dean. “I’m sure it was all stupid. I mean, I was possessed.”
“You said you were hunted by monsters,” said Sam matter-of-factly. “We thought you were hunting.”
“I mean, yeah, I was later on. But at the beginning…” (Y/N) grimaced. “Turns out magic has a smell, and since I’m getting stronger, some monsters smell it and like it. My necklace is getting weaker the older I get.” They looked at Sam and Dean. “It’s okay. I keep herbs on me to avoid that. But I had some incidents before that.”
“You said you almost died,” said Dean.
“I did,” admitted (Y/N). They fiddled with their pendant. “But I got found. The caravan helped me. I—” they licked their lips. “Some of them have magic. Pretty weak, not like the witches we face, but that’s the reason I have a little more control.” The palm readers. The man who could see ghosts of the future. The woman who sensed the pain of others. The kid who knew instinctually who could be brought into the circus and would fit. “They saved me.”
“But you still felt alone,” said Dean knowingly. He was bad at “chick-flick” moments, but he reached out and took (Y/N)’s hand—always a supportive older brother.
“I mean, yeah. Most of their abilities are psychic abilities, so slight it feels like instinct instead of anything supernatural. I’m something else,” said (Y/N). “And they weren’t hunters. Just people. They’re nice, but they’re not my family.” They’re not you.
“You said…You think my life is better without you in,” said Sam.
(Y/N) flinched. They’d said that? Fuck. “You want a normal life. I don’t really fit into a normal life,” they said softly, avoiding his gaze and holding their necklace tightly.
“You fit into my life,” said Sam. He moved closer, and (Y/N) raised their eyes to look at him. “I know I messed up. I really did. I can’t make you understand how sorry I am. But my life isn’t better without you. You’re important to me.” He looked at Dean. “To both of us.”
“Yeah. You’re one of us,” said Dean. “You got it, kid? That’s why we did come and find you. You matter.”
(Y/N) sniffed, trying to hide the overwhelming emotions. “I’m sorry for hurting you guys.”
“Hey, we’ve all beaten each other up,” said Dean teasingly.
“Right of passage,” said Sam, smiling slightly. He looked at their arm. “But can you be careful about hurting yourself?”
“Yeah,” they said. “Sorry.” The magic needed them to give something—not cruelly, but nothing can be given without taking something in return.
“It’s okay. We just don’t like you hurt,” said Dean.
(Y/N) smiled slightly. They cared. They cared. (Y/N) would try to believe it. Even if they hadn’t said everything. Monsters were what hunted them, but (Y/N) knew intimately that some monsters were human.
Random What- If: You think it would be better or worse if Borealis grew up Homelander, only a few years younger, but young enough that he was still in the Lab by the time Borealis is brought in?
Hm, that's a hard question. I can see it going multiple ways.
On the one hand, the big issue with Homelander is that he was isolated his entire childhood, which affects him now. Could having someone else in a similar situation at that formative age help him? Maybe. He could learn some empathy and learn to protect someone else. If he and Borealis created a bond, that would be something precious and good.
Or., on the other hand...it would make him even more possessive. That would be pretty bad for Borealis, and they'd be raised with an abusive and controlling Homelander from the start, which would prevent them from becoming them.
Also, even if there is the possibility, Vought would probably weaponize two super supes being raised together. They'd create some sort of "competition" between the two, especially because they know that Homelander thrives on the idea of trying to be loved. If that worked, Borealis would probably be in an even more trouble since Homelander would turn against them as another "competitor" for the love he deserves.
All-in-all, I think that even if it was positive for a shot while, Vought would twist it in order to psychologically attempt to take control of Homelander and Borealis.
aa yay!! I have to say borealis powers work so well to kill homelander(if youre gonna include them in the fight), it was so disappointing to see marie just get discarded like that
I'm so excited for the finale, to write for it. I'm not 100% how it's going to go, but I've decided I'm going to let the story and Borealis speak to me and see how it goes
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Mouse just watches shows, gets obsessed, and then it pops up. Usually there’s some sort of symbolism or specific trait that I get into that I want to explore in a character (eg with Peaky Blinders I was abroad when I started it so I was thinking about European politics, learning another language, and so that plays a lot into the MC as well as the symbolism of someone who can’t put a gun down/put the war behind them)
I haven't really watched peaky blinders but ohmy god I CANT WAIT FOR SEEYOURSELF BECOME THE VILKAIN BOOK 3???? I CANT WAIT FOR TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYSaaaa you're so productive 😭
I’m not even a chapter in so I have no idea when it’ll be ready, but I suspect that we’ll roll straight from Book 2 into Book 3! :)
glad that you acknowledged my note :3 totally didn't write all of that cuz i jus finished rewatching the series.
if you ever get your hands on tng, your mind will literally explode. the characters and storylines are jus phenomenal. there's so much that can be done with some of the characters like data, deanna troi, q, worf, geordi etc. and the storylines like in "the measure of a man," "the offspring," "times arrow" the conflicts with romulans and... the borg. the concept of the holodeck, insanee. trust me... it's peak.
and yo, i'll take any star trek fics from you (even if it's snw lmao 💀), your fics are so goated. i also may or may not have drawn fanart for logos & pathos btw... shhhh
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Ah! Wait, I want to seeeee, you can't tell me that and then do nothing else :(((
staying anon to seem nonchalant... haiiii, i've been following this blog for a while (since logos & pathos) and have a question !! :3
(note: i fr read logos & pathos atleast once a month. i jus adore the way you write spock, the slow burn yearning kills meee, even as a lesbian i can tell when peak is present.)
anyways i was wondering if you've ever watched star trek: the next generation? you mentioned once that you thought strange new worlds lacked the fun and whimsy that the original series had, (overall it being somewhat of a nothing burger, which i completely agree with) and as the biggest trekkie in the galaxy (true btw), i was wondering if you would ever consider writing for it. i'd argue that tng has just as much whimsy (or even more in some cases) as tos. and i adore how in depth you go when it comes to your fics, especially with tos.
pssst spock is in a two-parter on tng 👀 i would luv to see some y/n and spock when he is on romulus trying to reunify the vulcans and romulans.
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I've definitely considered doing some more with Logos and Pathos and that universe. Honestly, who knows, maybe I will do Strange New Worlds (I once did a bit of an outline for it, years ago) or TNG, but I don't have access to the media (and everything--ahem--keeps getting taken down) so I'm not quite sure how I'd manage that.
I honestly do miss Spock and his gold MC <3
Happy to say hello to you, definitely interested, but I've never watched other star trek stuff (I know I know) other than AOS, TOS, and a bit of SNW on a plane
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A Shot in the Dark (Book 2) has been written and finished. It will follow Season 2 of Peaky Blinders. I do not know when it will be released, but, hey, exciting to have it done. Also...
133,344 words
416 Word document pages
45 chapters
1 book
Nobody's Soldier (Book 6) has been written and finished. It will follow Season 9 of Supernatural. I also do not know when this will be released. It all depends on See Yourself Become the Villain (Book 3) getting finished so I can release that as soon as possible. Exciting times!
Found Family! Supernatural and Teen! Witch! Reader
Chapter Eleven: Ectoplasm
Summary: The Winchesters meet Garth again on a strange case down south.
“So, guy’s old lady comes home while he’s working underneath his ride, puts the pedal to the metal, and takes half his head off,” explained Dean, pulling up on the street nearest the crime scene.
“What, that’s it?” said Sam incredulously.
“Yeah, in a nutshell. She says she blacked out, doesn’t remember a damn thing,” said Dean, shrugging.
“Well, that sounds like insanity,” said Sam.
“Maybe,” said Dean.
“Is there something weird about this that makes this our sort of thing?” asked (Y/N).
“Well, Kevin’s in the wind, okay, Sam’s sulking around like a eunuch in a whorehouse, you’re and I can’t help but ask myself, when is decapitation not my thing?” Dean got out of the impala and headed towards the crime scene.
(Y/N) and Sam got out and followed him, badges in hand. They flashed them to the deputy watching them approach, and the deputy blinked.
“Whoa, whoa, FBI?” he said.
“Yeah, happened to be in the neighborhood,” said Sam smoothly.
The deputy shook his head, mystified. “First a Texas Ranger, now you guys?”
“Texas Ranger?” repeated (Y/N). They weren’t in Texas. They were nowhere near Texas.
“Yep. Right over there.” The deputy gestured to a man in a cowboy hat interviewing a witness.
The man took his hat off to fan himself, and (Y/N) nearly slapped their face. Of course. It was Garth.
“Oh, you got to be kidding me,” said Dean. He started Garth. “Hey, Chuck Norris.”
“Sam? Dean! (Y/N)!” Garth beamed and hugged Sam.
“Forgot he was a hugger,” wheezed Sam. Garth might be smaller, but he could squeeze like a bear.
“Come here!” Garth let go of Sam and went for (Y/N). They accepted the hug; they couldn’t say no to such honest joy.
“Hi, Garth,” they said.
“Alright, okay—” Dean was pulled into the last hug before Garth finally let go and smiled at all of them. “We’re still working here.”
“You guys have no idea how much I missed you,” said Garth. “And (Y/N)! I’m so glad they found you. Did that circus psychic find you?”
“Something like that,” said (Y/N), smirking.
“Um, excuse us, would you?” said Dean to the witness, pulling Garth to the side to chat. “A Texas Ranger, Garth? Seriously? We’re in Missouri.”
Garth shrugged. “What? Come on.” He gestured to their suits. “I look like a funeral director in one of those.”
Yeah, he would look kinda like Death, thought (Y/N).
“Wow. I heard some chatter you three were back in the batter’s box, but I didn’t believe it till now,” said Garth, pleased but incredulous. His phone abruptly with “Jump” by Kriss Kross. He held up a hand while he answered. “Yo, Earl. What you got? A revenant. Okay, uh, you’ll need a casket and some silver spikes. Oh, and don’t get bit. No, it won’t turn you, but it will hurt like hell. Okay, so, once you got all that, nail that sucker in, bury him, and throw away the key. Okay? All right. Hasta.” He hung up after the efficient exchange.
Dean stared. “What are you doing?”
“May job, hombre,” said Garth.
“Your job is giving hunters advice?” said (Y/N).
“Yeah,” said Garth.
“Since when?” said Dean.
“Hold up. Are you the new Bobby?” asked Sam.
“You shut your mouth,” snapped Dean. No one replaced Bobby.
“Yes,” said Garth.
“You shut your mouth! What?” demanded Dean.
“Bobby was gone. You three were MIA,” explained Garth. “It was a weird time. Somebody had to step in and take up the slack.” He focused. “All right. Let’s just get back to work, and we'll talk about this later, all right?” He patted them on the back and walked way.
“Did Garth just tell us what to do?” said Dean incredulously.
“Huh. It makes sense. I just…forgot he has a head on his shoulders,” said (Y/N).
Sam snorted. “Does he really?”
“Hey, he’s a successful hunter. Still living, anyways,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “And he’s nice enough to help other people, so I say keep a good thing going.”
“He doesn’t replace Bobby,” grumbled Dean.
“No, he’s just doing Bobby’s job. Calm down,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes.
Dean huffed under his breath as they returned to the witness.
“Uh, Scott Lew,” said Garth, introducing them. “These gentlemen here are with the FBI. Mr. Lew’s parents were the individuals involved in this…unfortunate situation.”
“Sorry for your loss,” said Dean.
“Just a few questions, Mr. Lew. Um, by any chance were your parents having…marital problems?” asked Sam.
“No. Uh, no more than anyone else,” said Scott.
So that’s probably a yes, thought (Y/N). “Has your mom been ill? Any seizures, strokes, changes to her mental state?”
“I don’t think so, but they’re checking her out at the hospital right now,” said Scott awkwardly.
“What about other strange behaviors?” asked Dean.
“What do you mean?” asked Scott.
“Hearing voices, seeing things—you notice anything like that?” asked Dean.
“My parents were married for thirty years—high-school sweethearts,” said Scott emphatically. “There’s no good explanation for why this happened, no matter where you want to look.”
“Okay, well, thank you, Scott. We’ll be in touch,” said Garth, concluding the interview.
The group of hunters circled closer to the crime scene, and Sam took out an EMF reader to check for signs of spectral activity while (Y/N) snooped for hex bags or anything else occult.
“No EMF. No traces of sulfur anywhere,” said Sam, standing.
“No hex bags,” said (Y/N). “And I don’t—” They glanced at Garth. He didn’t know. “I don’t think there was any witchcraft done around here.”
“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.
It may not be what you planned, but I just have the random mental image of current Borealis taking a look at someone like Firecracker and declaring “Your waves are rancid” before hitting them with THE mother of all vibe checks, which entails them shooting out a small ball of purple and green light from their pointer finger and Firecracker then exploding. Borealis then just stares at a surprised Annie to calmly state “She did not pass the wave test.” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
I don't care about this spoiler but Borealis watched Firecracker's show at some point (TruthBomb) and literally thinks/says "I don't like her waves" so that happens. Other than that, I say nothing (but you are right that she doesn't pass the vibe check)
I saw this on Pinterest and thought of possible designs for MC's dagger; cause Ushti have been previously described as a violent people & planet - just make it a bronze substance pre-Razorcrest-destruction & besker after Mando commissioned Armorer
Ooooh, that's so cool! Love how jagged and dramatic it is, very fitting for our MC
OHHH MY GODD NEVER in million years I could have imagined Borealis having the strength to reshape atoms..A+ writing mouse
Thank you! I tried to really think of how to get creative with their abilities, and I started thinking about frequencies, and then I was taking a class on the energy of atoms and how they all move differently (this was in terms of materials and light and etc) and then I put it together
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Borealis seems to become stronger every time they're in a life or death situation. Tortured by Bitchlander and Nazifront, becomes more powerful and slaughters the lab, Solider Dad accidentally bombs them, LITERALLY reconstruct themselves from atoms (at the cost of amnesia). They will be the most powerful Supe.
They’ve got a real “what doesn’t kill me makes me weirder and stronger” mentality, and can you really beat that?
Imagine Hughie showing Borealis some of his favorite Billy Joel songs and Borealis casually mentions how pretty the sound waves look😂😂😂 With Hughie also doing a double take and also finding this impressive.
The first question is how high are they before everyone realizes they’ve got some screws loose (and then Frenchie has them start drawing the waves as an experiment)
