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teaganmyrick · 2 years

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @teaganmyrick @faetedwill

SUMMARY: Teagan and Sloane get shakes after dinner.

WARNINGS: Parental Death mentions

Really, Sloane wasn’t too sure how Teagan would respond to the dinner. Even though her dad was her dad, there was still the thing that loomed over all of them. He was human, and he would always be such. The topic of her activation rarely came up over dinner, but her mother had delved into the topic as if to assure Teagan that she wouldn’t be fae by proxy, but by existence soon enough. Overall, it had gone well, and Sloane’s mom had asked a plethora of questions about Teagan’s existence as a nymph, and about Dark Score– how to provide assistance, to offer Sloane for assistance, to which Sloane piped in and told her mom that she had already offered.

Now, they sat in Sloane’s car outside of Al’s diner, two milkshakes in the cupholders of the car’s center console. “I’m glad you came over. Did you like the jerk chicken?” There was hardly any iron which was lucky for the three of them, even if Sloane went the least affected. “My dad kept talking about it before you came over.” She picked up the cherry from her milkshake and bit it off from the stem before she finished it off with a satisfying crunch between her teeth. “He said it had to be the best he ever made, having such an esteemed guest.”

“Oh, hush. Esteemed?” Teagan lifted a brow and playfully scoffed. “The jerk chicken was good. Had to drink lots of water to accommodate for the salt, but I would eat it again and again.” She swirled her straw in what was left of her shake, thinking and wondering. That soon turned into longing with a pinch of guilt that made her stomach tighten the same way her second helping of the jerk chicken did.

It’d been months since the nix had last seen her family, and even while she called them every day, there was a part of her that missed that contact, the familiarity of their scales against hers. They hadn’t even seen her since she died, and the thought made Teagan rub at her chest, at the symbol of leviathan. All this new life, and she could see that she was still somehow running. Her habit of depriving herself had only shifted. Altered in a way that only mimicked the liberation of her guilt and covered her newfound imprisonment of fear that she wouldn’t live her second chance at life to the fullest.

Connection after connection, she was still just out of reach so that she could continue to offer herself to others and be of use. Everything so surface level, it was a wonder how Teagan was so intimate with deep water. She could dive deeper, she thought. Let her abilities run through from her heart. Become a cloud and rain down to others in a meaningful way. Save them from the drought she had caused.

“I loved all of it, lass.” Teagan whispered, “I love getting to know you. You know that, right? You mean something to me. You, your mum, and your pa.”

“If you want to eat it again and again, I’ll make sure to tell him. He takes great pride in it.” There were cookies that were sent with them too, but they sat battered at the bottom of Sloane’s bag. She could probably use it as a crumble top over her milkshake, but she was already stuffed. “I’m glad that you liked it though.” She smiled at Teagan. A real, genuine, cheek pinching smile. She took great pride in being able to share parts of herself with the fae around town, and with how close she and the nix had gotten over their short time of knowing one another, Sloane was prideful that she’d been able to create such a meaningful friendship, especially when she had very few.

Sloane was acutely aware that once activated, everything could change. That once she slipped unto the path of her purpose, these relationships could become scattered, or even stagnant. She had been prepared for such a reality before meeting people like Cass, Teagan, Marina, and even Ari, but now? The thought made her uncharacteristically sad. “I know that. You don’t need to get all mushy, Teagan.” Sloane scrunched her nose and reached over, nudging her fist against the older girl’s shoulder.

“I really am glad that you came and visited. It means a lot to me too.” Sloane pointed at herself. “See, now I’m the mushy one.”

The smile Sloane wore motivated one to Teagan’s face and she scoffed, playfully mocking offense at the poke. “I like getting mushy. Mushy is good! You can sink into it and just lay there.” She consumed the rest of her shake and placed the empty cup in the car’s holder, looking at the diner with wistful eyes. A place she walked past every week and she hadn’t even thought of treating herself to such a delicious treat. The coffee shop was much more appealing thanks to the caffeine, but Teagan made a mental note to get a shake at least once a week from then on. Maybe she’d do that with Sloane. Make it a weekly tradition that the two could catch up with and ensure they remained in each other’s lives. A give and take. A balance.

“Ah, see? Not a bad thing. Now we can just be mush together and enjoy it. Not often you find people to do that with, ya know?” Turning, Teagan scrunched her nose, giving Sloane a playful and happy look as she nudged her back. “Was hoping to hear more about your activation, but it seems your mum wanted to find everything out about me instead.” The nix was more than happy to oblige to the wise, fae mother. It had been too long since she last saw any of her aunts or uncles, and it was a revitalizing dinner. Every moment of pleasant humming under her skin was welcomed, and she couldn’t wait to share that with Sloane, and for her to experience the beauty of it.

“How are you feeling about it all? You seem…” Off. Maybe a little disheartened. But Teagan wasn’t exactly sure how to approach the matter. She knew it was hard to be on the outside looking in, but Sloane was so good at seeming okay. Which is why it was so easy to notice the specks of dejection that flashed over her. They were so small and sporadic, but Teagan was always observant. “…almost Melancholy. Everything all right?”

Sloane grew up with a mother who hardly emoted. Not because she was cold, but because she understood the implications of her existence. She knew her mother could love, could even be proud. She had always seen it on her face, but it always seemed dim. She took great pride in what and who she was. Sloane felt that, too, though she could not yet feel the way it splintered across her skin. Instead, she lived in the vagueness of it all. Her mom expected a lot from her, and she would expect a lot from herself too when the time eventually came. She had spent most of her existence preparing for what was to come with little to no inclination that it bothered her at all.

So to feel just because you could, that was a foreign idea and thought to Sloane. Of course, her father always pushed for her too, to live a life bordering on normalcy, but she knew that it would never exist, not for her. She was fine with it, she really was. At the mention of her activation from Teagan, Sloane shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m kind of glad she didn’t. We don’t… I don’t know, it’s more of our thing, we don’t talk about it a lot when my dad is around.” He knew the implications, but Sloane still struggled, even if she thought of herself as prepared and ready to follow fate and death, to even provide a helping hand to it.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, Teagan noticing the way in which Sloane’s expression fell once she began to truly think about what her future meant, and what it meant for those who were in her life. She shook her head, a sad smile pulling at her lips. “It’s not a big deal. I guess I never had a lot to look forward to, but now?” She looked down at her half-empty milkshake. “My activation, I mean,” she soon clarified as she began to dip her straw in and out, pushing the contents against the inside of the off-white cup. “Now I have friends I didn’t have. That’ll change once I’m activated, and my mom, she knows that.” Sloane tilted her head back against the headrest. “It’s never bothered me. I don’t think it bothers me now, really.” Mostly, Sloane felt bad for the people she would become a ghost to once it was her time to follow her purpose. “Being a banshee, you have to sacrifice a lot. I’ve always known that. I just never had anything to sacrifice before.”

The longer Sloane explained and dove into her emotions on the subject of her activation, the more Teagan’s heart clenched. Just like the nix, the young banshee had only just started to build the connections she had, that she obviously adored. Her kind, banshees, had responsibilities like any other fae, but the way it was explained by Teagan’s mum, they were on another level. A banshee’s responsibility was one of, if not the most important a fae could have. She could only imagine how lonely it was to be quite literally Fate’s assistant. It was a dangerous balance to keep those connections, if there was one to be had. One way or the other, Sloane may very well be the person who envisions her very own people’s demise. The thought made a darkness fill Teagan’s eyes, and she reached over to take Sloane’s hand, attempting to share the weight with her.

“It’s a lot.” She declared, pausing to pick her words carefully. “For both sides I’m sure, but mostly you. But there’s a reason we fae can sense one another. Can feel those beautiful and gentle chimes beneath our skin.” Teagan hummed, musing aloud as she got lost in the description. “You’ll sacrifice so much, and that’s terrifying, isn’t it? But Sloane,” She squeezed her friend’s hand and cupped her cheek to guide her to meet her gaze. “You will gain so much too. We fae stick together, we sense one another because we are deeply rooted in the same place. You will be a beautiful banshee and you will do so much good while gaining as much as you give. I can feel it. There’s a balance to everything. Even that.”

Sloane tilted her head to the side as Teagan reached out, her fingers slightly cold from her milkshake. “But I can’t–” She wanted to insist that she was not yet this beautiful thing that Teagan spoke of, that Marina spoke of. She existed beside it, not yet bound to its laws, not yet bound to the way it would shape the next several centuries of her life. “I can’t feel that yet.” The banshee dropped her gaze to Teagan’s hand that wrapped her own. Even now, despite Teagan being just beside her, Sloane felt alone.

And again, it was as if Teagan could sense that. Sloane looked up to meet Teagan’s eyes– a piercing blue. There was a kindness that’d been absent in the first moments from when Sloane had met her. Even though they hadn’t known each other long, this felt far more familiar than the viciousness that she’d been met with on the shore of Dark Score. “I know that.” It was true, and she knew that Teagan only spoke the truth, that this was something she believed in. While maybe Cass and Ari would fade into the background, she would be surrounded by those who would understand what it was like. Maybe not on the level of being a banshee, but a level that others who were not fae did not understand. “The balance isn’t what scares me. It’s that… I’m starting to become afraid of what it means once I leave this behind.” This, being a human existence, though, Sloane knew deep down that being human was just a cloak that would fall once her first scream ripped through her chest. “That’s what scares me. Being afraid of losing this, it’s not… normal. It’s not like me.”

Teagan nodded along, listening closely to her friend and watching as something akin to grief washed over Sloane. She had seen that look before. On herself, on her siblings. But on Sloane, it was different. It was as if she was grieving for things that were not yet lost. Bracing for impact before she had even made the jump into that deep, dark crater of the unknown. “Don’t you know there’s no such thing as normal? I mean look at me,” Teagan flashed her webbed claws, letting them flow back to flesh in a blink. “People would find this abnormal, but it’s normal to me. Here’s what I think. Be prepared for a big sister speech” Squeezing Sloane’s hand, the nix smiled and let go, her hands free to cup her friend’s face. Her eyes sparkled with adoration and hope, wanting to do her best to provide solitude in Sloane’s time of need.

“You said it yourself, Lass. You’ve never had anything to sacrifice. ‘Course activation might scare you a little even if you’ve been working for it your whole life. Because connection, my dear, is something you can never prepare for. Trust me, I’m learning that now.” Teagan’s eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of Patricia, the most unexpected connection that still terrified her. Really, all of them did, even hers with Sloane, but she was grateful to Fate for putting her on her path. “All you can do,” She swallowed, “Is take it day by day and take comfort in the gift that is the present. Be as fluid as water in that aspect. Fill the mold accordingly and you’ll find it easier to deal with that grief. But most of all,” Teagan leaned in, placing a kiss to Sloane’s forehead. “Remember that you are loved and that energy has no end. ‘Specially with us fae.”

Sloane couldn’t help but smile as Teagan flexed her webbed fingers. She knew that her friend meant well, and even though she hadn’t meant that kind of normal, it was still nice to be reminded that even though she might feel alone in this, she wasn’t, not really. “But what they think is abnormal is normal to us, that’s not what I meant.” Sloane tucked the inside of her cheek between her teeth and began to gnaw lightly, mind working around the words that she had meant to say. To her, being fae was normal. It was the sudden attachment of feelings about her activation that felt different, that felt scary.

Even though Sloane wanted to look away, she forced herself to maintain eye contact with Teagan. It was clear that the two had crossed the threshold of acquaintances and had quickly become something more. Being an only child, Sloane was never really sure how to treat others who might approach her with familial affection, but she was grateful nonetheless. With Teagan, it came easy. If asked, Sloane could say with confidence that she looked to the older fae as a sister. “It sounds easy enough, right? Just following the way this has all been mapped out for me. Maybe this is a part of its plan, too.” Impatience had always boiled thinly over Sloane like a second skin, and maybe that was in part a direct correlation to what she was feeling now. “I used to look forward to it, it was all I could ever think about.” Sloane smiled up at Teagan as the nix kissed her forehead. Drawing back, she closed her hands around Teagan’s hands that cupped her face and brought them down so that they rested on the center console. “I’m prepared for what comes next, but it scares me that I’m starting to falter. I think when it comes down to it, I know what path I have to walk down.” She thought of her mother and the stories she told, of the future and of the past. “It’s all I’ve ever known, so I guess if… I focus on that, it won’t be that scary.”

“Ah, but see,” Teagan blushed vaguely at the misunderstanding on her part, but she wanted to find a way for her point to work for Sloane’s sake. Or at the very least, shift it so that she could still help. “Any emotions ya feel, though foreign, are normal. There’s no right way, left way, or two ways to go through something.” She leaned back into her seat, staring off through the windshield at all the passersby while she articulated her thoughts. It was impossible to know exactly what to say, and she could be doing it all wrong, but Teagan still wanted to try. That’s all she knew she could do. As long as she kept doing that, kept giving her best effort for someone she cared about, that was equal to success of some sort. Her friend was looking for answers, no matter how vague. The least Teagan could do, she thought, was be Sloane’s best guess.

“It’s okay if it’s scary, love.” That was something the nix had learned time and time again. Fear was a constant entity that everyone battled. “What matters is how you approach it all. You have a goal. How you get there and how you feel about it is between you and Fate.” Teagan looked down at their hands on the console and smiled, imagining that she could feel the peals of their connection. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel it, a ghost of what was to come. She looked forward to it, something in the future that she couldn’t quite pinpoint the date of.

For the first time in a while, hoping or planning for the future didn’t scare Teagan. She wasn’t just a temporary breath of life that was supposed to be quick to leave the second she wasn’t of use. At least, not in Sloane’s case. That was the hope. “Scary nonetheless, but manageable. Fear and anxiety are energies.” Squeezing Sloane’s hands, she looked her in the eyes, her own brimming with tears. “Just gotta shift them.”

Everything Sloane had ever learned about becoming a banshee had been fairly black and white. There were outliers, small decisions here and there that could technically be seen as going off the beaten path, but for the most part, her own mother had drilled it into her head that once activated, there was a strict set of rules she would have to follow. Not only to protect herself, but others as well. It was why she was instructed to be quiet. It was why her father slept in a different room, and why they had shatter proof windows made of plexiglass. It was why most of their plates and cups were plastic. There were precautions put into place in every aspect of their lives, and it was how Sloane would always have to live.

It would have been easy if Sloane hadn’t ever formed any of these connections. Teagan, for all intents and purposes, was safe. It wasn’t as if her mother would use her for Sloane’s activation, especially because she was fae. But could Sloane say the same for Ari or Cass? Probably not. She had always known the cost to step in line with fate, but what happened once she understood the cost to be too high? “It’d be easier if it weren’t,” Sloane admitted, voice small. She wished she could be brave like Teagan. She thought she was brave, but even the situations in which she’d been put up against danger, she oftentimes shrunk down to appear small. She was a coward, through and through. “Scary, I mean.” She offered Teagan a small, but genuine smile.

“How do I do that?” A laugh left the banshee as she rested back in her seat, her own gaze tracking the person who darted across the street to go into Al’s. Sloane inhaled sharply and folded her hands in her lap. “I thought I had it all figured out. I always knew what would come, and how I’d get it, and I just…” She shrugged. Did she think of her mother as selfish for being unwilling to use her father as a transaction? Perhaps. But Sloane didn’t want him to die, either, but as she got closer to those who could potentially be the cause of her first scream, she didn’t want any of them to die, not for her. “I thought it’d be easier. Caring for humans is stupid. But I still feel human, sometimes, and I don’t know when that will change. I don’t know what it feels like, not being human, even if I’m not human. I know you won’t know what I mean, but it’s… so stupid.”

Teagan shrugged at the question, perfectly okay with not knowing the answer because no one did. It was yet to be discovered. “I think that’s for you to find out, my dear.” She gave Sloane a sympathetic smile, “As cliché as that sounds. Fate speaks to you directly though. She will.”

As Sloane confided in her friend, it was easy to see the similarities the two shared. Like Teagan, she wanted, needed, to have it all figured out. In all of her twenty-eight years of living, it took the older fae up until a few months ago that she could never achieve that. The truth was hard to swallow, almost as painful and acidic as a lie, but it was something she needed to accept. Even then, it was difficult to, but the longer she kept the motivation going, the more exciting it was to never know the next path. In her case, it was her relationship with Patricia. As minuscule as it was in comparison to a whole activation, a whole destiny beginning, it was hers.

“I’d be inclined to agree that caring for humans is stupid. ‘Specially those hunter bastards. But…” Teagan trailed off, thinking of some of the nice humans she had met. “Some of them are worthwhile, and they’re necessary to our ecosystem whether we like them or not. I think it’ll be okay in the end, Sloane.” She hummed to herself, thinking of Macleod, her words of wisdom and her beautiful melodies that she used to bring her back to tranquility. The sluágh was human once. She thought of James and how she adored him. Missed him. He was human too. A human ghost, but still human. She loved them both and it was all because of the strings in their chests. “It’s about the heart. Always.”

This had been the impatience that her mother had warned her about. Sloane knew it was unbecoming, she knew that she should be more careful with her wishes and wants, and for a long time, the only thing she had ever wanted was to fulfill her purpose, to be a guiding hand to fate. She still wanted that, of course, but the cost to acquire it? She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded at Teagan’s suggestion that only time would tell, and that it was hers to figure out.

“You’re right, and I hate that you’re right, but that’s just because I’m stubborn.” The milkshake was half-melted now, some of the fat from the ice cream rising to the top. She swirled her straw around again. Sloane picked up her cup and took a healthy sip of the milkshake and winced slightly as a brain freeze began to tickle the back of her head.

It had to be okay. Teagan had to be right. Sloane knew that worrying wouldn’t get her anywhere, that in the grand scheme of things, a hundred years out, if not a thousand, she would maybe not even remember this conversation. Teagan would be gone. Ari and Cass, too. Sloane nodded. “Humans suck.” She let out a soft laugh and forced herself to smile as she took another sip of her shake. “Heart shmeart.” Sloane wrinkled her nose and looked at Teagan. “I appreciate you helping me with this. You didn’t have to sit here and listen to me, but you did anyways. I hope you know that I’d like to be there for you too, just like you were tonight for me.”

“Of course I’m right. The older sibling typically is. It’s all this great wisdom in my head.” With a playful twirl of her fingers, Teagan chuckled, savoring the way the weight around them began to slowly lift. Things weren’t completely better, but they didn’t have to be. Their bond was enough, and as long as they had that, navigating through the hardships would be easier.

Waving a hand at Sloane, Teagan rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head. “I want to be there when you need someone. No need for the gratitude. We’re fae. We’re family. ‘Course I know you’d do the same, and…” She paused, a huge grin forming as she thought of the perfect topic to discuss that would both distract and help. “Now that you mention it, I do need help with this woman I’m seeing. A werewolf that I was only buddies with. But we’ve…” Her shoulders rose and fell in a slow and confused shrug, and she chuckled as her hands plopped back down into her lap. “…gotten feelings of sorts? I can tell you all about how pretty she is and maybe you can help me figure out what to do next.”

“Okay, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Sloane let out a laugh, and this time it felt light in her chest. The heaviness from their previous conversation had already begun to subside, even if she was still uncertain of just how her life would pan out.

The banshee relaxed into her seat, picking up her milkshake to take another sip. It had melted substantially by now, but it the tartness of the strawberry was still noticeable. “I’ll still let you know that I appreciate it anyways. I would hate for you to think that I’m taking you for granted, you know?”

Sloane smiled softly at Teagan, eyebrows arching slightly as she began to explain a girl she had been seeing. She was no good at relationship advice, but she could try. She would try for Teagan. “Oh, tell me about how pretty she is. She respects Dark Score, right?” Sloane grinned over her straw, glad for the distraction from her own sadness, even if it touched everything she had discussed on the nose. “When you say feelings though, do you mean like, the weird chest and head feelings?”

Teagan’s face flushed with scales, a nix’s blush, at the thought of her feelings and Patricia’s appearance. She cupped her cheeks, squishing them humorously to keep everything light. And really, she was a silly person in general. “Sloane, she’s incredibly beautiful. I can’t stand it. And yes! Of course she respects Dark Score. I wouldn’t keep her around if she didn’t. She even got me plants to place in it to help with its ecosystem.” Letting out a dreamy breath, Teagan laughed and raked a hand through her hair. Of all the things she could need help with, a relationship was definitely not life or death, but she needed help nonetheless. It was better than something harrowing, that’s for sure.

“We were just supposed to be friends that had fun. And now I’ve got these bubblies in my tum. It’s a mess, Sloane.” Teagan mused aloud, unconsciously buckling herself in and sighing back into her seat. “I can talk away on the drive. We should go to my boat and maybe we can end the night with a movie after you make fun of me a little for my silliness. How’s that sound?”

Sloane was impressed by the scales that skittered across Teagan’s face. “Oh, so this is serious.” She turned in her seat so that she was fully facing the blonde now, the knee of her right leg digging into the center console as she leaned forward, expression expectant of all the details. “She got you plants?” Sloane let out a low whistle and a nod of approval. The longer she focused on Teagan’s crush, the easier it would be to discard her own discomfort and sadness.

“Is it a mess, or is it, what did you say?” Sloane tried her best to remember the way that Teagan had put it before continuing. “It’s about the heart, isn’t it?” Her tone wasn’t so much mocking as it was just teasing, and Sloane rested the side of her head against the head rest as she watched Teagan continue on about this wolf. “You better not skimp on any of the details, I want to know everything.” Sloane begrudgingly set her milkshake into the cup holder before she uncurled from the way she had shrunk into her seat. “But uh, it doesn’t sound like too much of a mess to me.”

“Right, right. Of course you would use my words against me.” Teagan feigned disappointment in her defeat, sulking petulantly for a few beats before shaking her wavy mop from side to side. “I don’t think you want to hear all the details. It gets pretty explicit when we get to the bedroom parts,” She teased, nudging Sloane with her elbow. “But, I’ll do my best to keep it light for your sake. It may not seem like a mess to you, but it sure feels like it. I’m a mess. All the time.” Blowing a raspberry, to herself mostly, she settled comfortably in her seat, sinking slightly. “Let’s get on it then. The boat and the…” Teagan couldn’t remember the term for a second, and she squinted as she searched her mind for what she wanted to say. It was something silly, and she had heard it used in a few movies. “…the—what’s the term? Ah! The hot goss! The boat and the hot goss awaits!”

“Okay, well you knew what I meant.” Sloane laughed candidly before pulling her seat belt across her chest. “You can definitely keep that stuff to yourself.” She started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot, finger tapping against the steering wheel.

At Teagan’s exclamation, Sloane snorted again. “To the hot goss we go!” She was just glad that she could instead focus on Teagan’s existence instead of her own, though the feelings and thoughts were still melding in the back of her mind. “PG-13 hot goss, obviously!” She leaned over and slapped her hand lightly against Teagan’s knee before she started the drive towards Teagan’s boat house.

#wickedswriting #words in the water #writings #teagan and sloane #parental death tw

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j-ut-da-e · 2 years

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Chapter 2 - 2,190 Hours

Summary - Sloane Byrne has had a problem her whole life, it cost her her mother and her twin sister's lives. Her father and uncle tried their best to protect her from the monsters that hunted her, but to get her help and possibly cure her they would have to travel for 3 months across the continent. Enter Sam and Dean Winchester.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Fem!OC

Word Count - 2400

Warnings - swearing, violence, blood, disassociation and derealization, talk of murder (brief descriptions)

A/N - posting fics on here is really helping me write, also lmk if I missed any warnings

Sloane holds out her hand to Sam, the taller of the two. Seeing the look the brothers share, she smirks, “I can’t “see” through my gloves, you guys are good.” she says with a wink.

Sam laughs nervously before shaking her hand, Dean takes her hand as well, “NIce to meet you, Sloane. You all packed and ready to hit the road?”

She smiles broadly and hoists her bag over her shoulder, “I’ve been ready since yesterday.”

Sam steps forward, her head only coming up to his shoulder. Sloane had always thought of herself as tall, but Sam was like a giraffe or a moose maybe. “I can take your bag to the car for you,” he says, smiling warmly at her.

As he takes the bag off her shoulder, his knuckle barely grazes her neck and she catches a glimpse of blonde hair. She flinches before thanking them and saying she’ll be out shortly. Both men step outside, pulling the front door shut behind them.

Sloane turns around to face her father and uncle. She opens her arms and they step forward. The hug was sincere and almost suffocating but in a good way. Sloane’s father and Sharon thought about not letting her go, to lock the house and send the Winchesters away, but after a long while, they let her go.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Sharon asks, his brows furrowed.

She nods, “I have to know.”

Both of them nod and hug her again. Her father hands her the money for the brothers and she pockets it. They say ‘I love you’ and ‘Be safe’ and keep waving until Sloane shuts the door behind her.

She turns and faces the outside. The crisp Alaskan air stings her nose as she pulls in a deep breath. Grass crunches under her boots when she descends the steps off the porch. Sam is leaning against a brown Impala when she looks up. Dean is already in the driver’s seat, classic rock coming from the open window.

“I thought I’d offer you shotgun,” Sam calls out with a grin.

“Oh no, I’m fine in the back,” she answers, laughing nervously.

As she gets to the edge of the yard, Sloane looks down. The line of charred grass and spell ingredients lay undisturbed. Sharon and her father redid the wards every morning and every night, so it was fresh. She takes a deep breath before stepping over the line. This would be the first time in 6 years that she had left the house. Since she had freedom.

A surge of energy rushed through her body and she suddenly felt shaky and lightheaded. She’s giddy from adrenaline and strides to the car, beaming. Sam opens the door for her and she climbs in. her heart beats out of her chest as Sam gets in and Dean starts the engine. She faintly hears him ask if she's ready and she nods.

“Oh!” Sloane says, finally snapping out of her trance, “this is for you guys,” she digs the wad of cash out of her jacket pocket and holds it between the seats.

“I’m just gonna…keep that away from you,” Sam says, taking the money and giving Dean a mischievous look, eliciting a laugh from Sloane.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns up the music, “This is gonna be a long trip.”

🜭

Hours passed and Sam and Sloane had been talking on and off. Dean rarely interjected. They’d stopped about 4 times to either get gas, have a bathroom break, or get snacks. They were now looking for exits to get a motel as it had been close to 10 hours since their journey began. The brothers couldn't do their normal routine of switching off driving and sleeping as one of them always had to have an eye on Sloane.

“And it was my birthday recently and my Uncle Sharon almost burned down the house baking me a ‘cake’,” Sloane says, laughing.

Her stories earn hearty laughs from Sam and scattered hard exhales from Dean, “And they didn't even think to check the oven?" Sam asks, calming down finally. "Happy belated birthday, by the way. When was it?"

"October third, I just turned 22. Woo-hoo," she says sarcastically.

Sloane sees the brothers share a glance before Sam speaks up again, "So you were born in…1983?"

"Yep, my twin sister and I. '83 babies."

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, "Weird question, ha, did your mom-"

Before he can finish, the car jolts to a stop. "What the hell," Dean says.

Sloane leans forward and sees 5 people standing in the road. It was dark now, incredibly dark. The clouds covered the moon and stars, making the figures on the road appear almost spectral in the Impala's headlights.

“Some idiots are standing in the road,” Dean says rolling down his window, "Hey! Move!"

"Dean…"

"Yeah, figured it out. Sloane stay in the car." He says, grabbing a hunting knife from the glove compartment and getting out.

She thinks for a moment before deciding to exercise her new freedom. By disobeying, something she hadn't done in years. It felt silly to be excited by this, considering they may be about to die. But it was exhilarating.

Sloane steps out of the car, Sam side steps to block her from the people on the road. There were five people, three men, and two women. They all wore dark but revealing clothing.

One of the men was talking when Sloane stepped out, “-bringing our prize to us. Oh look, there she is now.” he says, clasping his hands together.

Dean looks over from the other side of the car, “Goddammit, Sloane. Stay in the car, is that so hard?” he grumbles to himself.

“Look, this could be real easy for you-”

“No, Sam, this could be really easy for you. Give us the girl and we leave you alive. Simple.” One of the women says, smiling.

“Fat chance you vamp assholes.”

“Very well,” the same man says, motioning towards Sloane.

Almost instantly, Sloane can feel arms wrap around her like a vice grip. Sam and Dean whip around, “Shit!”

“Ah, ah, ah. Not another step, Winchesters,” She felt the man switch to hold her with one arm and the other tilts her head to the side.

He lowers his head and kisses her neck. A woman who looks like Sloane. Then her dead body. Blood is shoved down the man that holds her’s throat. Bile rises in her throat. She can feel a wave of nausea wash over her. Dean’s face twisted with disgust. Sloane’s vision blurs as heat flashed through her body.

Sloane heard Dean’s voice, but not his words. Yelling, jumbled voices, then nothing.

🜭

Hushed, but frantic voices pull Sloane from unconsciousness. Her skin felt tight. It was too dark to make out anything but her matted hair in front of her face. She feels it between her fingers, still wet, but clumped together. Even without seeing the color, she knew it was blood.

Panic rose up her throat. She felt leather against her cheek and through the rips in her jeans. The dull drone of a car’s engine sounded in the background. The Impala. Sam and Dean were the ones talking.

“Dude, I'm telling you, she could be like me. Her birth year matches, her mom-”

“You heard the guy as well as I did, Sammy. Sloane and her sister ganked their mom in one of those- what did he call them, “episodes”?”

“It could be a variant, Dean! How do we know if every single one of us has had our mom die by fire? She tore that vampire's head off Dean! How can one girl fight and kill five vampires by herself without having demon blood- or, or I don't know-”

“Sam,” Dean says, cutting him off. He jerks his chin to the backseat and shakes his head. He clears his throat as Sloane sits up, “Mornin’ sweetheart, how’d you sleep?”

“Is it morning?” she asks, looking out at the still dark roads.

Sam turns to her, “No, it’s only been an hour. We’re looking for a motel to stop at,” he pauses, “Do you…know what happened back there?”

She looks down at herself, seeing her whole body covered in blood made her stomach churn, “No. Not from my perspective anyway,” she sighs shakily and tries desperately to wipe her hands off, tears started to make tracks on her blood-covered face, “I know I killed them, can we just find a room with a shower, please.”

“Yeah- yeah, of course, Dean get off on this exit.”

After a few more minutes, they reach a dinky motel off the highway, Light Maple Motel. Once Sam checked them in, he came back to the car with the keys. Sloane hadn't moved since they got off the exit. The brothers look back at her and then at each other.

“Sam, take our stuff inside,” He just nods and gets back out, Sloane could hear him getting the bags out of the trunk and then walking away. “Sloane?” she could feel his eyes burning into her, but she still didn’t move.

She can hear him sigh before his door opens and then the door to her left. Dean eases into the seat next to her. He reaches out his hand to put on hers but thinking better of it, retracts.

“Listen, Sloane, I know this sucks ass, okay? And it’ll probably get a little- well hell maybe a lot worse. But if we get you to Brazil, this whole shit show could be over. No more “episodes”, no more monsters, no more killing.” She looks over at the man next to her, meeting his eyes. He looked…worried for her. She knew he was genuine, nevertheless, she wanted to reach out and see for herself, see him, “But first, you need to take a shower, get all this vamp blood off you. Then we can all get some shut-eye and get back to the good ol’ US of A by tomorrow night.”

Sloane nods and Dean smiles warmly at her. She follows him out of the car. While he’s shutting the door, her knee buckles. Dean reaches out and catches her before she falls, careful not to touch any bare skin.

“Woah, okay. Let’s get inside, I’ll have Sam pick up some grub while you’re in the shower, okay? Let’s go,” he says, keeping his arm around her shoulder.

🜭

Now inside, Sloane locked herself in the bathroom. It was a nice room for what it was. A plain, tan color scheme carried throughout the whole room and bathroom. It was clean. Until Sloane, that is.

Thick, dark blood covered the door, the sink, the floor, and soon the shower. The girl in the mirror didn't look familiar to Sloane, but then again when did she?

"You're awake now. They were going to kill you- no, take you. They were going to kill Sam and Dean." She takes a deep breath and then another, taking her fingers down her face.

Her nails left tracks in the layer of blood that covered her face. She opened her mouth to scream? Cry? Wail, call out, plead, pray? But no sound came out.

Sighing again, Sloane strips to get underwear and turns the shower on all the way hot. The blood hadn't soaked through her clothes, but any skin that was uncovered was completely drenched. Maybe even stained.

Blood flowed from her hair and she scrubbed her skin. It felt like 20 pounds were shed when all the blood was off. Curling up, Sloane let the water run over her until it ran cold.

🜭

The warm water soothed my bones. I hummed to myself, soaping up my long hair. All at once, the silent house exploded in noise. Banging footsteps came to the bathroom door, bursting in.

"Sloane! Sloane!" My father yelled.

I peeked out from the shower curtain, "Dad? What's going on-"

"Sloane, we have to go now!"

He wrapped me in a towel and led me out of the house. It was blistering hot and the sidewalk burned my feet. Sharon was sitting in the car, waiting for us. After my dad put me in the backseat he yelled at Sharon to drive.

"Dad?! Uncle Sharon?! What is going on?!"

"They've found us again Sloane," Sharon says.

My dad twists around to face me, "But don't worry, we've been making a safe house. We'll just have to go a little earlier than expected."

For five hours I sat in that car, almost naked, soap in my hair. I was cold, scared, my feet were burned. I could never do that again.

🜭

After scrubbing every speck of blood out of the bathroom, Sloane changes out of her wet underwear and into pajamas. Her hair was already almost dry by that time. She wrapped her bloody clothes in a trash bag that was under the sink and finally exited.

Dean wasn't in the room, but she could see him just outside the front window. Salt lined the windowsill just outside the bathroom door. She figured every window had been warded as well.

One of the two beds was taken up by the three of their bags. Sloane sat the trash bag next to hers and sat down on the floor. She hugs her knees and just breathes for a minute.

After a beat, she goes under the bed. Sleeping under her bed had been a coping mechanism since she was a child. Before her mother was gone and before her sister was murdered. It seemed to be the only constant in her life. Under the bed always seemed safe. No monsters could hide there if you already were.

Before she knew it, Sloane was being woken up again by Sam yelling her name. She keeps her eyes closed, but can hear one of them looking under the bed. A flashlight shines and she can hear Dean let out a breath of relief.

"Sammy," he says, standing again. "She's fine, asleep."

"Get her out, we have to keep an eye on her, Dean-"

"Leave it, Sam," he says, she can hear him lay down on the bed above her, "You saw how freaked she was. Let her sleep. We all have our…quirks or whatever."

And just like that, Sloane was back into an unusually dreamless sleep.

#dean winchester #spn #original characters #supernatural #fanfiction #deancoc #dean winchester fanfiction

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