Something has been awakened in meâŚ.Castiel x Gabriel? Anyone? Cabriel?
âââââââ
Tis weird, I have actually never considered Cabriel because they are brothers (I am very much not into wincest or anything incest because â¨trauma â¨) but like, the angels donât really act like siblings, and angels are, well made, and also above humansâŚ. in some way they are more like colleagues? Idk
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destiel, sabriel, and browley r the mozt default zhip zettingz 2 have in supernatural (abzolutely no h8 2 ppl who zhip theze btw, I zhip them azwell), like, there'z zo much more zhipz like wincest, cabriel, tfl, wincestiel, castiel x gabriel x lucifer x micheal, kaia x claire, or basically anything elze, I promise they're good đĽš
(thiz iz totally not me trying 2 recruit ppl or anything đđ)
How about one OC for each month of the year đ If that's too many, just the months with major holidays!
Oh I'm doing all of em babey
January:
(Art+design by hotchocolategalaxy on toyhouse)
Glace! The prince of the Winter Kingdom, constantly using the kingdom's resources to search for his parents, who had been lost in a blizzard. He keeps his head up though, and is a beacon for others who are also grieving the loss of their rulers
February:
(Art+designs by @arcaneyouth !)
Cabriel (blue) and Darciel (pink)! You get two for this one because You Cannot Separate Them. Not only were they from a valentine's themed adoptable set but they are also the gods of love who gained the title through how pure and wonderful their love for each other is. They would literally tear apart the universe to protect each other
March:
March makes me think of plants, and plants make me think of Raven! The leader of the mind control monsters, who uses vines/seeds/plants as their method of control. Very stoic and hardly ever shows emotion, but actions speak louder than words and sometimes they fuck with people for fun and it's awesome. In some sort of genderqueer toxic relationship that's lasted centuries that even I don't know all the details of and will refuse any knowledge of it if asked
April:
(Art+design by minuhime on toyhouse!)
April! Yes yes it's her name but she's also a cute bunny! She went with all her friends on a school field trip and had such a wonderful time until monsters started attacking and she was one of the first to be transformed into a creature representing her deepest fears. She was simply too sweet and soft and absolutely refused to believe she was in a horrored game
May:
(Art+design by @arcaneyouth !)
SURPRISEEE ITS EYUMIE AGAIN! She makes me think of May because that was one of the months where I was making my Junior Film starring her! Springtime always makes me think of her because of this tbh alshfgskg
June:
Daniel and Jade Hillston! Daniel is the main character of the murder mystery story that doesn't have a name yet, working hard to find the killer so he can free Jade, his daughter, who has been arrested for the crime. He knows she wouldn't do it. She would never. It HAD to be someone else. But he's always worried that person might be himself. I did a lot of the development for this story in summer and that's the time of year it takes place in so it always makes me think of it c:
July:
(Art+design by @arcaneyouth !)
Jubilee! They teleport using fireworks and are a minor deity in the Locked Love universe! Not sure what they do yet but they're definitely besties with Mirri and Ulrick. Treats checking in with them like a trip to their grandparents house
August:
(Art+design by @arcaneyouth !)
Aurelius! The final boss of a metroidvania-type game I started developing after playing Hollow Knight in the summer. They have taken on the role of antagonist simply because they didn't think the previous main antagonist was doing a good enough job to earn the role. They are dedicated to the theatrics, but always holds back when actually fighting. What kind of story would it be if the hero dies?
September:
This guy needs a name if anyone has any suggestions! One of the few humans in The Hallowed who is dedicating his time to trying to figure out what the FUCK is going on in this town. Makes me think of early fall where things are cold and chilly and just a little rainy but the trees still have leaves and there's a mist in the air. Thats his gender tbh
I'm gonna continue this in a reblog in hopes of being able to add the last two images give me just a moment
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I promise Iâm not dead! I know I havenât been posting anything lately, but thatâs because what Iâve been writing is mostly... well, this. The most ridiculously self-indulgent bullshit Iâve written in a long time, and itâs also the longest thing Iâve ever written, and itâs still not even half way done.
I admit, Iâm very self-conscious about this, because the nastier side of fandom has infected me with some bullshit prejudices that I havenât completely managed to exorcise yet, but... Iâm tired of being worried itâs not âgood enoughâ, and maybe, if people do like it at all, itâll motivate me to pick it back up.
So, here I am, retelling Supernatural right from the start, with a next gen OC tagging along, fixing things here and there. (...Yeah, god, I know how that sounds...) Itâs going to start out... sticking pretty close to the Supernatural script, although I tried to limit the amount of times I quoted the show verbatim, it still happens sometimes. The story will diverge from canon more and more as the little changes start piling up and having an effect, but... Thatâs a long way off, tbh.
(For anyone who cares and doesnât know me well enough to guess, the primary future!ships are Dean/Cas/Gabe and Sam/Mia, but apart from the main character being a Dean/Cas/Gabe baby who loves her parents, there really isnât that much more focus on romance than there is in the show. For now.)
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado â Friday 11th November 2005
Landing in the past feels like hitting the emergency stop on a bullet train, like she left her internal organs behind somewhere on the timeline. Meira knows itâs the past because the timeline had felt thick and gooey as she fell. Falling in the other direction would have felt worse, but that doesnât mean she enjoyed the trip. Add that to the sensation of her grace suddenly retreating to coil up under her skin like a wounded animal, and she thinks itâs no surprise that the first thing she does once thereâs solid ground beneath her feet is throw up.
âOh, son of a bitch.â She groans once her stomach feels like itâs settled mostly back where itâs supposed to be. She braces her shoulder on a tree thatâs conveniently nearby, and tries to get her bearings. Sheâs in a forest, she sees, as she looks around. There are a lot of forests on earth. There are forests elsewhere in the universe too, but sheâs⌠pretty sure this is earth, anyway. And sheâs somewhen in the past, although she canât get any sense of where she actually is on the timeline, and when she tries to reach out with her grace to find out, a sharp, awful pain lances through her soul. She groans and staggers, leaning more of her weight against the tree and forcing her knees to keep her upright out of sheer force of will. She is not trying that again.
The thought that there might be something wrong with her grace is terrifying. Sheâs stranded, and she canât get home. She thinks she might be able to manifest her wings, she can still feel them, after all, so theyâre not gone, but she wouldnât be able to fly on them. She canât fly. She canât fly.
The panic sits sharp and cloying in the back of her throat, and she swallows hard, as if that might get rid of it. It doesnât. âMotherfucker.â She swears, and hates that it comes out more reedy than fierce. She has no idea how this happened, either, which doesnât help. Well, she has some idea, because Heaven, Hell, and everyone in between has been trying to get rid of her for her entire life, and if whateverâs wrong with her grace is why she fell into the past, then sheâd say someone finally succeeded. Dadâs going to go ballistic, she thinks, not sure if it makes her want to laugh, or cry.
âHey, lady.â Someone barks, and Meira flinches so hard she nearly falls over. Itâs only a decade of various combat training that saves her from ending up on her ass in the dirt. She has never in her life been unable to sense the people around her before. Sheâs always felt the shades and shapes of peopleâs souls. Until now, apparently, with her grace trapped under her skin and unable to reach out to feel the nuances of her environment.
The man standing a little ways off is fairly nondescript, with short-cropped light blonde hair and a touch of stubble, wearing what looked like wilderness gear. Meira has no idea what lies beneath his face, whether she can trust him or not and it makes her uneasy. âWhatâre you doing out here?â He demands.
âGetting lost?â Meira sasses, because nervousness has never helped shut her up.
And then, another man steps out of the underbrush, but this one, Meira recognises. Itâs her dad. Even though he looks so baby-faced and young, sheâd know him anywhere. The relief is like a physical blow and she sags against another tree. âAnd my nameâs Meira.â She adds. âNot âladyâ, thanks.â
Dad quirks a grin, enjoying her sass, and then says, with every ounce of cocky bravado sheâs ever seen him use and then some; âNice to meet you, Meira. Iâm Dean.â He glances over at the other guy. âAnd this is⌠Iâm sorry, what was your name again?â The question is so obviously insincere, and Meira chokes on an incredulous laugh, because sheâs seen her dad playful before, even bordering on mean when heâs trying not to admit somethingâs wrong, but that was something else. Itâs macho-posturing, she realises, with a mixture of hilarity and dread. Heâs showing off, like a twat, for her.
Oh, god. Sheâs going to have to nip that right in the bud, or sheâs going to throw up again.
âRoy. Roy Roberts.â The other guy replies through gritted teeth, glaring at Dad â at Dean, sheâs going to have to get used to that, or sheâs going to slip up, and things are going to get awkward real fast â with enough venom to bring down an elephant.
âHey, mind if I tag along with you guys?â Meira asks, to diffuse some of the angry tension in the air. Absently she wonders if this is before Dean has admitted that heâs into guys, too, because that might explain some of that. Roy is a fairly good looking guy, after all. He reminds Meira of that guy who played Bond in those movies Dad likes from before she was born. That⌠probably havenât even been made yet. Damn it. Sheâs going to have to be careful with things like that. âI have no idea where I am right now.â She adds, because Roy does not look convinced.
âWeâre heading further in, not back out.â He warns her.
Meira shrugs. âYouâre still a better option than trying to make it by myself.â And she has absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Dad. Itâs not really very rational, but heâs her only point of reference right now, and until she can get her feet under herself and figure out what the fuck to do, she could use the illusion of support. So she grins into the face of Royâs unimpressed glower. âYou know Iâm just asking as a formality, right? If you say no, Iâll just follow you anyway, because what the hell else am I gonna do?â
Royâs glower shades towards resigned, and Meira knows sheâs won. Her grin sharpens, and he rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance. âCome on, then, if youâre coming.â He instructs, heading back the way he came without any further ado, leaving Meira alone with her baby-faced father.
Thereâs a brief moment where they stare at each other, both of them at a loss, and then Dad â Dean â jerks his head towards the bit of forest Roy disappeared into, and Meira takes that as her cue to fall into step with him. âSo, before you were getting lost, what were you doing out here?â Dean asks, looking at her with open curiosity. Then his eyes flicker down and up again, and Meira catches herself before an Enochian exorcism can fall out of her mouth on instinct.
Instead, she switches to the first lie she can come up with that might make her dad stop looking at her like that. âI was running away from a dickbag who wouldnât take no for an answer.â She says without looking at him.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and a glance shows Meira that Dean is grimacing. âWhat an asshole.â He comments, just as they catch up with the others again. Roy looks sour, but heâs attentive, scanning the surroundings with a keen eye, which Meira appreciates, and standing nearby is Uncle Sam. Only heâs a squishy-cheeked, smooth-faced, gangly-limbed baby-Uncle now. Meira has to bite back the urge to coo and possibly pinch his cheeks.
The other two in the group are people Meira doesnât recognise, a teenage boy with close-cropped hair, and a young woman with cute dimples that show when she smiles at Meira in greeting. Meira smiles back with extra warmth. âThis is my brother, Sam.â Dean says, taking it upon himself to do introductions. âAnd this is Haley and Ben Collins. Their brotherâs gone missing, which is why weâre here, looking for him.â He explains, gesturing.
âI hope we find him.â Meira says, specifically to Haley. Sheâs just decided that Haley is her salvation, and she offers her hand to the other woman to shake. âIâm Meira.â Haley takes her hand with just a hint of befuddlement.
âAlright, letâs keep moving.â Roy calls, before Meira can add anything else. She does let her hand linger, though, just a touch, before she retracts it. Their group moves off again, and Meira makes it a point to walk beside Haley.
âTell me about your brother?â She asks, just to strike up conversation.
Haley glances at her sideways, but obliges. Itâs clear she loves her family, just the way she talks about them, and Meira catches herself smiling for real, and not just as a flirtation, although itâs that as well. She does make a point to tell Haley how admirable she thinks it is, that sort of devotion to family, and Haley ducks her head with a rueful smile, bashful.
Behind them, Sam snickers. Meira glances back and catches a disgruntled pout on her dadâs face before he smooths it out into something more neutral once he realises sheâs looking. She makes a bit of a show of glancing between Haley and Dean, and then grins, unrepentant, and shrugs in faux-apology. Dean snorts and waves her off, conceding defeat gracefully enough.
When Meira turns back around, Haley is watching her, one eyebrow arched. Meira refuses to feel sheepish at being caught out, and just nudges her with her shoulder, gentle and teasing, and asks her another question about her life. Haley rolls her eyes, but answers.
The conversation carries them on through the afternoon, until they reach a point where Roy stops. Itâs almost a clearing, if it wasnât for the waist-high undergrowth. âThis is it.â Roy says, looking about them. âBlackwater Ridge.â
âWhat coordinates are we at?â Uncle Sam asks at once. Roy answers, and Meira aches a little at just how incomprehensible the numbers are. Before, she would have just known where she was, and she feels a little sick, being made aware of just how little she can tell about the world around her now. She looks around, hating how small she feels, how muffled everything is. She doesnât dare try to reach out with her grace again, but she wants to, just to make that feeling of wrong go away.
âIâm going to go take a look around.â Roy announces.
Meira whips around to give him an incredulous look. He might not be in the know, might not realise that Sam and Dean are probably on a hunt right now, but even so, it seems reckless for anyone to go off on their own. âYou shouldnât go off by yourself.â Sam points out, so Meira doesnât have to.
âIâll go with you.â Meira offers, since no one else seems like theyâre about to.
It earns her incredulous looks from all quarters, and a disparaging one from Roy. Meira gives him a hard look in return, the sort of âdo you really want to try me, bitch?â look that Pabbi has always told her makes her look like her qaada. And she might not be able to bring her grace to bear along with it like she usually does, but she is still an angel, no matter how constrained, and it would take a tougher man than Roy Roberts to not even blink in the face of heavenly wrath.
âLook,â he says in a carefully reasonable tone, âI know these woods, and Iâm just going to have a look around, see if I can find any signs of people. Iâll be fine. Youâll be safer staying here.â
âYouâd be safer staying with the group, too.â Dean interjects, making no effort to sound inoffensive. Roy gives him a sour look.
âWhy donât we all go?â Haley suggests, all false brightness and impatience.
Roy raises his hands in frustrated surrender, and heads off into the woods. The rest of them follow along like good little ducklings. They do spread out a little as they go, looking for any signs of other people in the area. Meira is not an expert woodsman, but sheâd learned a few things growing up with a hunter family, and she tries to pay attention, to be helpful.
âHaley! Over here!â Roy shouts suddenly. Everyone bolts towards the shout, and they come out in a clearing with three tents lying there in mangled wreckages, blood-splattered and torn. âOh my godâŚâ Haley breathes, sounding horrified. Meira doesnât blame her. She feels a little bit sick, too, and itâs not her brotherâs campsite. The thought of something like this happening to Jace makes her want to smite something, and her grace roils under her skin, pushing at the boundaries of her physical form and aching every time it brushes against the inside of her skin.
âLooks like a grizzly.â Roy remarks, cool and practical.
Meira thinks not. Not only because if it was, itâs unlikely her dad and her uncle would be here, but also because there would be more blood and less wanton destruction if it had been a normal animal. If a bear had been hungry enough to hunt people, there would be a lot more blood, at least, and if it was pissed at them being on its territory, there would be bodies. But there arenât. Just a bit of blood splattered about here and there, and a lot of claw marks.
Haley begins shouting for her brother, and Meira grabs her arm before she can walk any further into the camp. âDonât.â She warns, eyeing the surrounding woods warily.
âWhat?â Haley demands, eyes a little wild. âWhy not?â
âSomething might still be out there.â Sam interjects, giving Meira a respectful nod. She tries to smile back, but sheâs not too proud to admit that sheâs scared. She ought to be able to tell what did this, to feel the spirits and souls around her and know. But she canât.
âSam!â Dean calls, and Sam heads off at a brisk clip.
Meira heads after him on instinct. Haley follows her for about three steps before Ben calls out in a voice that wavers despite his best efforts, and she turns back to him without hesitation. Meira catches up to Sam just in time to hear Dean saying â-tell you what, itâs no skin-walker or black dog.â Then Dean turns and stalls at the sight of her. âUhâŚâ He says, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.
In other circumstances, Meira might glory in making her dad look like that for once, instead of the other way around, but sheâs still feeling unnerved enough that itâs hard to wring any humour out of the situation. âWhy are we ruling out skin-walkers and black dogs?â She asks, propping her shoulder on a tree and crossing her arms. It looks less pathetic than curling her arms around her sides, but it still serves to make herself feel better. What would be best would be a hug from her dad, but thereâs no way sheâd ask for that when heâd probably just take it the wrong way.
âYou-â Sam begins, realisation dawning in his expression.
âYouâre a Hunter?â Dean demands.
âMore or less.â Meira agrees. Itâs never been a title that sits right on her shoulders. Not when sheâs spent her whole life surrounded by people who actually dedicated themselves to the job, while sheâs always felt more like a kid mucking about with a hobby. At Deanâs sceptical, bordering on suspicious look, she elaborates. âI was raised to it, but Iâve never⌠dedicated myself to it.â She hedged. âI just help out here and there when something crosses my path.â
âRight.â Dean acknowledges, and then jerks his head towards something behind him. Meira comes closer to look, and Dean explains the tracks. Itâs almost like being a kid again, with Dad schooling her on this or that aspect of hunting.
âA skin-walker or a black dog could drag a person away, but youâre right, the tracks just stopping like that is weird.â Meira acknowledges, wracking her brains for what could do this. âA phantom cat could, too. Or a wendigo or a moonfiend. Or a harpy, maybe. Itâs too early for a werewolf.â
âWerewolves donât tend to drag their victims off, never mind vanish with them.â Dean points out.
âWhatâs a moonfiend?â Sam asks.
Meira blinks, reminded suddenly that this is not really her uncle. âItâs a⌠Itâs kind of like a mothman, but less aggressive. Theyâre mostly harmless, actually, really shy, but if theyâve staked out a territory, you donât want to go wandering into it.â She explains absently. âItâs just that they can fly, which would explainâŚâ She gestures at the vanishing tracks. âLike Harpies. Wendigos are strong and agile enough to lift a human body, and phantom cats are spirits. Itâs possible a phantom cats could transport a victim that way, but they donât tend to drag people off, either.â
âPhantom cat. Thatâs the animal version of a poltergeist, right?â Dean checks.
Meira nods. âYeah, pretty much. Although normal poltergeists generally just want to hurt or kill you, but some legends suggest that phantom cats steal souls.â
âThe pattern of attacks would suggest itâs hunting, not protecting territory, so I donât think itâs a moonfiend.â Sam adds with a grimace.
The three of them look at each other, all of them coming to the same conclusion, none of them actually willing to say it out loud. Before someone can muster their courage, the forest air is shattered with a shout.
âHELP!â
Meira startles, and then lurches into a run before sheâs had time to think. Of course, Dean and Sam are already on the move, too, even as a second, and then a third cry echoes through the forest. They converge with the others, a wordless scream that sounds closer than ever egging them on. Then the forest goes silent, and they slow to a stop, wary and alert, listening hard. âIt seemed like it was coming from around here, didnât it?â Haley asks.
Meira feels painfully vulnerable, and she tests her grace, to see if she can conjure her blade. Itâs made from her grace, and itâs still there, so the blade should be there, but when she tries to manifest it, a lance of white-hot pain ricochets through her, and she clutches at her wrist, gritting her teeth against the agony.
âEverybody back to camp.â Sam orders, and Meira obeys on instinct. Sheâs never felt so vulnerable before in her entire life, and it only gets worse when she realises theyâve fallen for a trap and all their gear is gone. Before, she wouldnât have worried. Sheâs an angel, she can survive off the ambient energy of the universe if she needs to. Itâs not fun, but itâs possible. But now, she has no idea what she can and canât do. Her grace is still there, warming her bones, but every time she reaches for it, all she gets is pain.
âAlright, listen up.â Sam says briskly, looking around the camp with a tight expression on his face. âItâs time to go. Things have gotten more complicated.â
âWhat?â Haley asks, incredulous and irritated.
âKid, donât worry. Whateverâs out there, I think I can handle it.â Roy says, and Meiraâs tempted to deck him for the condescending arrogance in his voice.
âIf you donât even know what it is, you have no idea whether you can handle it.â She snaps. It seems to startle everyone, but Meira doesnât care. Yesterday, a wendigo wouldnât have frightened her. She could move faster than it, could burn it to death with just a touch of the holy light in her soul, but today, sheâs as helpless as Roy Roberts, and it pisses her off that heâs not as scared as she is.
âSweetheart, when youâve been hunting as long as I have, there isnât much the woods can throw at you that you canât handle.â Roy retorts smugly.
Meira scoffs incredulously, suddenly hating him. âOh, thatâs what this is. Did Sam taking charge just now wound your fragile male ego? Are you really going to put everyone here at risk because of your god damned pride?â
âHow dare you suggest-â
âHey, relax.â Dean interjects. Even though it isnât directed at her, Meira canât help but subside, too used to Dad mediating arguments between her and Jace, or her and Rob, or her and Pabbi that way.
Apparently, Uncle Sam hasnât gotten the memo, though. âSheâs right.â He says, as if Dad hadnât said anything at all. âYou have no idea whatâs out there, what it can do. Iâm just trying to protect you.â
âYou, protect me?â Roy scoffs. âI was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight.â He spits, getting into Uncle Samâs face.
âIsnât it about time you retired, then?â Meira snarks.
âYou shut your mouth.â Roy barks, rounding on her.
âOkay, thatâs enough!â Dad snaps, getting between them with both his hands out as if to physically hold them away from each other. âJust chill out, okay?â He prompts, giving Uncle Sam a pointed look. Meira tucks her arms around herself and tries not to freak out any more than she already has. Haley putting a hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but the comforting squeeze she gets helps a little.
âWe donât have time, Dean. We have to get these people out of here before this thing eats them alive.â Uncle Sam protests furiously.
âLook.â Haley speaks up, interrupting whatever Roy had been about to say in answer to that. âTommy might still be alive.â She states, and Meira knows whatâs coming next. She knows, because itâs what sheâd say if it was Jace out here, in the claws of a wendigo. Itâs what Dad would say if it was Uncle Sam. âAnd Iâm not leaving here without him.â
âThen weâre going to need fire.â Meira says. âLots and lots of fire.â
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado â Saturday 12th November 2005
They build up a large campfire, and several smaller fires, too, and Meira helps her dad draw protective symbols around their camp. And then they sit and wait for morning or the wendigo, whichever comes first. The hours draw on interminably, and Meira sits right by the fire, close enough that she feels a little feverish with the heat baking her face, but itâs close enough that she could grab one of the big branches out of the fire if she needed to.
Sitting and waiting isnât the best plan though, she thinks grimly. For morning, yes. Wendigos donât really like bright sunlight, so theyâll have that small advantage once the sun rises, but after that? Haley isnât leaving without her brother, and her brother, if heâs still alive, will be in the wendigoâs lair. Which theyâll need to find, and get into, and get out of, without dying or getting caught themselves.
âWhatâre you thinking?â Haley asks quietly, nudging her.
Meira glances at her, sees how worried she looks, and musters up a smile. âIâm trying to figure out how weâre going to find Tommy.â Haley blinks, then almost smiles, except not really. Meira knows the feeling, and goes back to staring at the fire. âEven if we kill this thing, weâd still need to find him, and⌠Shit, thatâs a lot of wilderness to comb through.â
âWeâll do it.â Haley insists stubbornly. âIâll do it.â
Meira smiles, slanting a fond look at her. âI know.â She assures her. âI have a little brother, too. Iâd take on a wendigo for him, too.â That wouldnât really have been saying much before, but now? Like this? She still means it.
âAâŚâ Haley falters, frowning. âIâve heard of that before. Isnât that some sort of Native legend or something?â
Meira nodded. âAlgonquian peoples, primarily. They tended to live more northward, where the long, lean winters often led to starvation. And starvation sometimes led to people who who looked at their families and friends, and saw not people they loved, but food.â Haley shudders in distaste. âAnd once theyâve eaten someone, they start craving it, and every time they eat someone else, they turn a little bit more monstrous.â
Haley gives her a sharp look, fear buried under anger. âYou mean this thingâs going to eat Tommy?â She demands in a harsh whisper.
âItâs planning to, yeah. But it probably hasnât yet.â Meira reassures, reaching out to put an arm around Haleyâs shoulders. Haley grabs her other wrist in a desperate, unthinking motion, clinging to hope. âWendigos are born of deprivation, they know what itâs like to go hungry, and they hate it. They tend to hunt in spurts, and hibernate for long stretches of time in between, but they donât gorge themselves. Theyâll take people alive if they can, so they have food for later.â
Haley squeezes her eyes shut. Then she sets her jaw and nods. âHow can we kill this thing?â She asks in a hard voice.
Meira looks away. âIâm starting to wonder if we should.â She admits.
âWhat?â Haley asks, so sharply that Sam and Dean look over at them from where theyâre sitting together across the fire, heads bent together and discussing something.
Meira opens her mouth to explain what sheâs thinking, what she doesnât want to be thinking, but before she can, someone out in the woods calls for help. She cringes, even as everyone else leaps to their feet, those with guns aiming them out into the night. She knows that itâs the wendigo, knows that it isnât some poor bastard getting chowed on, but⌠well, before, she would have known, would have felt it, would have been able to tell for sure that, no, the only soul out there is the corrupted one of the wendigo. Now, all she has to go on is cold logic. Itâs enough to convince her head, but not her soul.
Some part of her still feels the need to go and check, to be sure, because what if sheâs just sitting here, listening to someone die when she could have helped them? Then the gunfire starts up. âI hit it!â Roy shouts suddenly, and Meiraâs head jerks up just in time to see him dodging around one of their extra fires and rushing out into the woods.
Sheâs on her feet before she can think about it. Then she hesitates. What is she going to do, without her grace? But she canât just leave him to his fate, either, no matter how much she doesnât like him. âDonât move!â Her dad orders, right before going after Roy himself.
That cinches it, really. Meiraâs not leaving her dad out there with a wendigo. She snatches up one of the burning sticks, and bolts after them. âMeira!â Uncle Sam shouts, reaching out to try and grab her, but Meiraâs played that game a million times, itâs habit to flex her grace to give herself just a little bit more speed so that sheâs not where he expects her to be.
And this time, it works.
Itâs such a relief she nearly stumbles, but she doesnât have time to waste, so she catches her balance and runs on. Sheâs right behind Dad, and Roy is up ahead, and she can hear the wendigo in the trees. âItâs over here!â The wendigo calls with someone elseâs voice, and Meira can see it reaching for Roy. The world blurs as she lunges, practically tackling Roy out of the way just as the wendigoâs hands flash out and the claws sink into her face.
She could retaliate, she has her stick, but she remembers the thoughts that had been plaguing her earlier, and doesnât.
The wendigo jerks her, hard, but Meiraâs grace isnât gone. Itâs just trapped, which means that when her neck snaps, itâs nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Painful, sure, but her grace heals the damage almost as soon as itâs been done. The wendigo gives her another shake, nearly breaking her neck again, and then wrenches the burning stick away from her, tossing it back down to the ground. She lets it, because she doesnât want to have to heal being eaten, and then plays limp ragdoll as the wendigo darts off through the trees with her. It wonât fool it forever, but it should fool it long enough for it to take her back to its lair.
They drop back to the forest floor eventually, and then further down still, underground, Meira realises. A cave, or an abandoned mine, perhaps. Sheâs tossed into a larger cavern, lets herself roll limply along the floor, and the wendigo retreats. Meiraâs just going to have to hope that her dad and uncle can keep Haley and Ben alive through the night.
âUgh.â She groans and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. Sheâs human enough that that sort of damage is still unnerving, and leaves her feeling vaguely squeamish for hours afterwards. So worth it just to know her grace still works, though.
âHoly shit!â
Meira stills, looking around. The cavern is not, in fact, pitch black. Thereâs faint light seeping in from somewhere above her head, moonlight, and itâs just about enough for her to see by. Thereâs a man strung up from the rafters that looks enough like Haley and Ben that Meira feels pretty safe in guessing âTommy Collins?â
âYeah.â Tommy says breathlessly. âI thought you were dead.â
âThatâs what I wanted it to think.â Meira tells him with a shrug, clambering to her feet and dusting herself off. âNow, letâs see if we canât get you down.â She wishes, briefly but intensely, for her blade. Itâs right there, sitting inside her soul, and she canât manifest it. Instead, she casts about for something in the cave that theyâre in, and settles on a broken shard of rock from the floor of the cave. It worked for prehistoric people well enough.
âHow- howâd you know who I am?â Tommy asks after Meiraâs been sawing at the ropes for a few minutes. Theyâre starting to fray, finally, which is a relief.
âYour brother and sister have come looking for you.â Meira tells him. âBrought me and a couple others along with them.â
âOh, god.â Tommy groans. âAre they okay?â
âWorried about you, but otherwise, yeah. Last I saw, anyway. And D- Dean and Sam know how to handle a wendigo. Theyâll look after them, I promise.â Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.
âI think this is backwards.â Tommy says in a tone of forced cheer. Meira hums curiously, scowling at the rope as she continues to work at it. âWeâll the beautiful damsel is rescuing the handsome knight from the monster.â He points out.
Meira snorts her way into laughter, and leans back to get a better look at him. âYou are cute.â She acknowledges, and in other circumstances, she might have flirted back, because sheâs gotten the feeling that both Haley and Tommy are straight. âBut your sisterâs cuter.â She adds, going back to her work. The rope gives way before Tommy manages to muster up a response to that. He staggers when he drops, having been strung up for so long and deprived of sustenance that his balance is shot to shit. Meira catches him and slings one of his arms over her shoulder. âDo you know if your friends are still alive?â She asks him. Thereâs no one else in this cave, she doesnât think, although she canât be entirely sure of that with her grace locked down like this, but sheâs pretty sure this wonât be the only place the wendigo has to stash its snacks.
She feels more than sees Tommy shake his head. âN-no, it-â He stammers out. âOh god.â He says, and Meira recognises that tone well enough to shift the way sheâs supporting him so that when he doubles over and retches, she doesnât get covered in bile.
âEasy.â Meira soothes, rubbing a hand over his back. He dry heaves a few more times, but manages to regain control of himself after that. âYeah, I canât imagine watching something like that was any fun.â She muses, tugging him back upright and setting off. She hopes she can remember the way out. âLetâs get you out of here.â
âWhat about- about that thing?â Tommy asks her as they stagger along, into the first of several pitch-black tunnels.
âItâs almost certainly out in the woods right now, hunting the others.â Meira tells him, which she is aware is not as comforting as it could be, given that âthe othersâ includes family for both of them. Tommy swears, and Meira grimaces, figuring she can at least help a little bit. âSam and Dean know how to handle something like this.â She assures him. âAnd they have plenty of fire. Theyâll keep Haley and Ben safe. And Iâm going to keep you safe.â
âIn normal circumstances, that would sound ridiculous.â Tommy mutters.
âDonât be sexist.â Meira chides, but she keeps her tone light, and gives him a gentle little jostle with her shoulder to let him know sheâs mostly teasing. Then she sobers, because short of actually eating her alive, which admittedly is a possibility, the wendigo canât kill her, but it could definitely kill Tommy, and if heâs going to play machismo bullshit because sheâs a lady, she really does need to nip that in the bud. âBut Iâm serious. If it does come back, if we run into it, donât you dare try to play the hero, alright?â She puts a touch of divine command into her tone. âI am not your responsibility, do not wait for me, do not come back for me, do not try to throw yourself into harms way to protect me. Am I clear?â
âYes, maâam.â Tommy mumbles, resentful and bewildered.
The rest of the slog out of the mines is made in silence, save for Tommyâs ragged breathing and Meiraâs occasional curse when she makes a wrong turn and they have to double back. Finally, though, Meira picks out a hint of light and follows it to the exit. It looks like it might have been boarded up once, but the wendigo has made a neat little opening for itself, and she and Tommy stagger out into in the dim grey-blue light of false dawn.
Tommy chokes back a sob of relief. Meira grins at the sound and shifts him higher on her shoulder. âCome on, we donât want to get caught here if it comes back.â She points out, and that convinces Tommy to pick up his pace. Itâs still slow going, because heâs still pretty unhealthy after two days chained up in a cave with minimal sustenance. The wendigo probably wouldnât have fed him, but they had been known to give captives water. They also have undergrowth to contend with now, and Meira might heal a broken ankle, but Tommy wonât.
âWhere⌠are the others?â Tommy asks.
Which is a hell of a good question. âI have no idea.â Meira tells him, feigning cheer. âRight now our priorities are water and some way of making fire.â She informs him, and Tommy drags them to a stop.
Tommy clearly knows more about wilderness survival than she does, because within a few minutes of her pointing out a need for it, Tommy has somehow managed to get a small fire going. Theyâre still too close to the wendigoâs lair for Meiraâs comfort, but having a weapon that might actually do something to it is more important than trying to escape something that could outstrip a bullet. They build up a campfire, draw some protective sigils, and Meira fashions them both makeshift torches, wishing bitterly that she wasnât reduced to such primitive tools all the while.
Meira risks leaving Tommy alone with the sigils to protect him just long enough to see if she can find any hint of running water nearby. She does, so they relocate, going through the whole process of warding all over again, this time closer to the water. Tommy looks a lot better for the chance to drink and wash his face, and then they have to figure out what the hell to do next.
âFinding the others ought to be priority over killing the wendigo.â Meira muses. âThereâs just the problem of how to actually go about that.â
Tommy nods grimly. âIf it wasnât for the monster out there that wants to eat us, Iâd say set up a base camp, search outwards, leave signs.â He summarises. Meira is about to suggest that they should do exactly that, then, when a furious snarl echoes through the woods. Tommy flinches so hard he falls over where heâs sitting, only barely catching himself with one hand in the dirt.
âThink it noticed weâre missing?â Meira asks rhetorically.
They sit, tense and wary, in the ensuing silence, waiting for something to happen. It doesnât for long enough that Meira begins to wonder if she should do something. Then the yelling starts. âHelp! Help me!â Meira clenches her hands into fists, heart squeezing.
âYou know thatâs not going to work, right?â She calls, standing slowly and bringing two of their burning sticks with her, one in each hand. Tommy hisses at her, grabbing at the hem of her coat as if that might make her sit and stop baiting the monster. A snarl answers her words, echoing oddly as the wendigo moves mid-sound and the doppler effect turns it multi-toned. âWhat? Pissed because you couldnât kill me? Weâre pretty tough prey, I bet youâve figured by now. All this exertion must be making you kinda hungry.â
The roar that follows shakes the forest, full of fury and malice, and Meira nearly giggles hysterically. She only has the barest idea of what sheâs doing, and her hands are shaking with the terror of having a predator thatâs bigger than her focused solely on her, but she knows, she knows from painful, bitter experience that making someone angry makes them sloppy in the short term. And any advantage she can wring out of this situation, she needs.
Tauntingly, she steps a little closer to the edge of the protective sigils. And there it is, sprinting too fast for the mortal eye to catch, close enough to make the underbrush rustle right next to where Meira is standing, but not quite close enough for her to hit with one of her torches. Meira doesnât want to start a forest fire, but oh, boy, is she tempted right now. âIs that supposed to scare me?â She mocks.
The wendigo rushes by again, and then- stops. In plain view. Not even looking at her. Tommy makes a choked noise of horror, and the wendigo doesnât even twitch. Meira is so tempted to lunge out of the sigils at it, but itâs too easy, and she hesitates. She hesitates like an idiot until itâs suddenly gone, bounding off into the forest, and she realises what must have happened.
It heard something she couldnât. Something that was easier prey.
âFor fuckâs sake!â She explodes, and goes after it, even though itâs probably going to get her eaten.
âHey! Hey, wait!â Tommy calls.
âStay in the circle!â Meira calls over her shoulder. âIf it comes back, set it on fire!â
The wendigo appears in front of her in an instant. Meira swings on instinct, a little too slow because sheâs so off her game right now, but a little too slow is still something, because the flames pass by the wendigoâs emaciated flesh with inches to spare, and it must feel the heat, because it shrieks, an awful, too human sound of pain. A huge clawed hand strikes out, and tears right through the sleeve of her leather coat and into the flesh beneath. âShit!â She curses, pained and indignant in equal measure, because if sheâs guessing right about the limits on her abilities, sheâs not going to be able to fix that.
âMeira?!â Uncle Samâs voice shouts.
The wendigo ignores him, which means Meira succeeded in pissing it off. She ducks the second set of claws aiming for her throat, and then swings both torches up and in. They crash into either side of the wendigoâs head, and the smell of scorched flesh fills the forest just as Sam skids into view. The wendigo screams, rearing back and disappointingly not dead. Meira gears up for another swing, and the wendigo bolts. Itâs gone in a flash, and Meira is about to go after it, to press her advantage, but then Uncle Sam is right in front of her, eyes wide. âAre you alright?â He demands, looking between her face and her arm.
âIâll be fine.â Meira assures him, lowering her arms and hissing when the wound pulls. âMy jacket on the other handâŚâ She bitches, tugging at the shoulder to get a better look at the tears. She whines when she gets a proper look at the damage.
âYou bitch-slapped a wendigo in the face with a medieval torch, and youâre just upset about your jacket?â Sam asks incredulously.
Meira considers that. âI⌠huh. That was pretty cool, wasnât it?â Sam snorts, shaking his head like he genuinely canât believe her. Meira grins, before the situation catches up with her, and she jerks her head back the way she came. âWe should get behind the wards I set up if weâre going to catch up.â
Sam, though, shakes his head. âIâve gotta-â He gestures after the wendigo. Meira is just about to point out that running off half-cocked is going to get him dead, despite the disorientation of having to tell her Uncle that, when he goes on. âIt took Dean and Haley.â
Meira stares at him for a long moment, then tips her head back. âOh, youâve gotta be kidding me!â She whines at the sky. âI just got Tommy out!â
âYou got Tommy?â Sam echoes, brightening.
Meira nods, and realises thereâs really only one thing for her to do. âIâll wait with him while you go help the others?â She offers, and Sam nods once, sharp and decisive. Meira thrusts one of the torches at him. âHere. Take that.â Sam does, muttering a quick thanks before heâs rushing off again, and Meira goes back to sit with Tommy.
Itâs not even half an hour later when she hears footsteps, people moving through the woods, and then the others appear through the trees, all of them in a straggly exhausted group. Haley and Ben both let out cries of relief when they see their brother, and stumble into a sort of run while Tommy clambers to his feet in order to embrace them.
âWendigoâs dead?â Meira checks.
âYeah.â Dean confirms. âShot it point blank with a flaregun.â He adds proudly. Meira whistles, impressed. Dean grins back at her. âHeard you hit it in the face with a torch?â He asks, jerking his head at Sam to indicate just where he heard that. âPretty awesome.â
Meira shrugs, grinning bashfully. âI did what I could.â
Then she realises that Roy is watching her very intently. He looks more than a little worse for wear, something a bit wild around his eyes that suggests heâs not taking the existence of the supernatural very well at all. âYouâre alive.â He says when Meira catches his eye.
âYeah.â Meira confirms.
Roy swallows. âCoulda sworn that thing broke your neck.â He says, all of a sudden not quite able to look at her and instead staring somewhere over her shoulder.
âOh, man, it tried.â She replied, grinning in a strange, giddy relief at the memory of how easily her grace had healed her. âShook me like a ragdoll. But Iâm fine.â She adds to reassure him, because he still looks a bit haunted.
Roy nods. Thereâs a long pause, and then he clears his throat. âYou saved my life. When I was being an idiot.â He adds briskly, grimacing at himself. âThank you.â
Meira shrugs, smiling ruefully. âJust because youâre an asshole, doesnât mean you deserve to die.â
Dean snorts in amusement at that, and interrupts before Roy can say anything else. It doesnât look like he knows what to say in any case. âCome on, letâs get back to civilisation. I donât know about any of you lot, but Iâm getting a little sick of these woods.â
No oneâs going to object to that, so they get themselves organised, and follow Royâs recovered GPS out of the forest. Along the way they discuss what, exactly, to tell the authorities, getting their stories straight. Meiraâs mostly quiet as they hike, trying to figure out what sheâs going to do now. Ideally, she wants to stick with Dean and Sam, but she isnât entirely sure how to go about inviting herself along. She knows from her dadâs stories that he and Uncle Sam had been kind of codependent when they were younger, and trying to insert herself into such a close-knit dynamic is going to difficult.
She still hasnât come up with any good ideas when they get back to a road and call the paramedics. Then itâs all chaos as everyone asks questions and gets medical attention. Sam tries to point the paramedics at Meira, but Meira dodges them with the excuse that it was just a scratch, sheâll be fine. âHey.â Someone says behind her, and she turns to find Haley standing there, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.
âHey, you alright?â Meira checks, touching her lightly on the arm.
Haley nods. âThanks to you.â Meira shakes her head, but Haley presses the point. âYou saved Tommy. You saved my brother.â
Meira relents with a smile, and shifts her hand up to brush her knuckles lightly over Haleyâs cheek. âIâm glad I could help.â She says sincerely. Haley huffs, smiling incredulously.
âYou never let up, do you?â She asks.
Meira shrugs and retreats. âI do mean it.â She points out.
Haley considers her for a long moment, then nods. âYeah, I got that.â She acknowledges. Then she glances over to where Dean is finally escaping the paramedics himself. âI should go and say thank you to them, too.â She says, and Meira nods, watching her go. She watches them talk for a moment, before an idea occurs to her, and she hurries off to pickpocket a ranger, talk to Roy, and then circle back around to Haley. She gets there just in time to hear her say âMust you cheapen the moment?â
âYeah.â Dean replies, as if it should be obvious.
Haley shakes her head, catches sight of Meira, and rolls her eyes. âThe pair of you, I swear.â She huffs, and Meira grins. Sheâs heard it before, mostly from Qaada. Dad always protested that sheâs way more like Pabbi, but given that the pair of them are the same flavour of irreverent flirt, she figures thatâs one and the same.
Meira flips her stolen pen over in her fingers and proffers it to Haley. Haley takes it with a quizzical expression, while Meira shoves up her sleeve and presents her arm to her. âGimme your number, and once I can get my hands on a new phone, Iâll text you.â
Haley narrows her eyes playfully. âAnd why should I?â
For once, Meira doesnât rise to the bait. âBecause then if you get into any other trouble, or if you see anything else weird, you can call me.â She explains. Haleyâs eyes widen a little, and then she nods and scribbles a phone number onto Meiraâs arm.
âSmooth.â Dean comments, half complimentary, half resentful, and Meira elbows him in retaliation. He elbows her back.
Haley shakes her head at both of them again, and then, surprising the hell out of Meira, she leans in and kisses them each on the cheek, Meira, and then Dean. âI hope you find your father.â She says to Dean, who sobers at that, and then Sam and Ben amble over and Haley guides Ben off to go to the hospital with their brother.
âYou going to be alright getting home?â Dean asks, startling Meira out of watching the little family leave in the ambulance.
Meira winces, trying not to think too hard about exactly how far away from home she really is. Dean catches it and raises his eyebrows at her. Over his shoulder, Sam is frowning in concern. âDonât really have one of those anymore.â She admits quietly, since itâs mostly true. Sheâs just muddling her tenses a little bit. She swallows and glances sideways at Dean. âMind if I hitch a ride with you guys?â
Dean glances back at Sam, who shrugs. âSure.â Dean says, a little uncertainly. âI guess.â
Relief makes Meiraâs shoulders slump. âThanks.â
âYou really donât have anywhere to go, huh?â Sam asks, sounding sympathetic.
Meira gives a slightly bitter laugh at that. âNo, I donât. Itâs⌠itâs all gone.â She raises her arms a little in indication. âThis is everything I have right now.â
âShit.â Dean breathes. âWhat happened?â
âWhat always happens to hunters.â Meira hedges, tucking her hands into her pockets and hunching into her coat uncomfortably. Itâs not even entirely a lie. âThey missed one, and it came back to bite them.â
âWell, you can stick with us for a while.â Sam offers.
âThanks. I donât mind helping you look for your dad for a while as repayment.â Meira replies, and they both nod their acceptance. Then Dean tips his head towards the Impala, and Meira goes, aware of the pair of them following along behind her.
Sheâs pretty sure sheâs not really meant to hear it when Dean says, in an undertone. âSam, you know weâre going to find Dad, right?â
âYeah, I know.â Sam agrees heavily. âBut in the meantime⌠Iâm driving.â
Thereâs a long pause, long enough for Meira to reach the back door of the Impala and turn to look at them. Sheâs just in time to see Dean flip the keys across to Sam, and she ducks her head on a smile. As long as sheâs stuck here in the past, this is exactly where she wants to be; with her family.