natasha.
𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
Last edited:
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Story — 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢′𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴
- Thread starter natasha.
- Start date
𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲: 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍
natasha.
𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
into the woods.
supernatural fandom
canons only
dean & sam winchester
assignment
1,708 words
TW: violence; gore; language.
“I didn’t even know we had a place called Crete,” Dean muttered as he drove past the large signboard which welcomed them into the small village in Will County, Illinois. “Isn’t that some city in Greece?”
“An island, actually,” Sam replied, looking closely at the map in his hand. “In fact, the biggest island in Greece.” At this point, however, Sam was past giving his brother a disappointed look for his lack of historical knowledge. “Also, take a left up here,” he added, gesturing with one hand to a turning in the road. It was dark out, and they’d been driving most of the afternoon and evening. Originally, the brothers had decided to go through with their newest supernatural investigation in the morning, after catching up on some sleep, but since the site of all the accidents were reported to be close to the entrance of the small village known as Crete, they had decided to get it over with and then check into a motel.
As they neared the spot that Sam had marked in his map, he held a hand out as a signal to slow down. “Yeah, the disappearances usually happen around here.”
It was a normal looking road, that presumably headed deeper into a part of the village. On either side of the road were trees. The forest was dense, by the looks of it, however it was also dark so Sam didn’t know for sure.
Dean parked the car on the side of the road and cut the engine, following which, both boys stepped out, with Sam abandoning the map in his seat before he shut the door and moved to the trunk.
“What exactly are we dealing with again?” Dean asked as he popped the trunk to survey what weapons they had. Unless they knew what they were dealing with, it would be hard to choose what exact weapon would help them defeat whatever supernatural force they were up against.
“Apparently, for the past two weeks, any family entering or leaving the village has been stopped at the border by something,” Sam explained, reaching for a knife that was coated in bronze. “It’s only families that have been attacked. Specifically families with little kids, because… well, it’s the kids that end up dead.”
Dean looked at Sam with a disgusted expression. “This thing is killing kids? Innocent children? And what happens to their folks?”
Sam shrugged. “All of them are usually unconscious when it happens. They swerve after seeing something on the road, and they get knocked out. When they wake up, they’re the only ones left in the car.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we have no idea what we’re dealing with?” Dean concluded.
Sam pursed his lips. “Not exactly. One eyewitness, a teenage girl, said that she saw… a shark.”
Dean stared at him. “A shark?” He echoed. “In the woods? What, is there some huge lake in there, or something?”
Sam shook his head. “She said, and I’m quoting her here, that she ‘saw a woman turn into a shark’ right before her eyes. Rows of teeth and all. I’m guessing it’s probably like a humanoid shark? Like a few months ago, when we had to deal with Black Bill.”
Dean took a moment but then remembered what Sam was talking about. “Guy with a goat head. Right. So if it’s a shark, do we just go in with guns and hope it works?”
“Well,” Sam held up the bronze coated knife he’d just picked up. “I did a little research and, if this is something to do with gods like Black Bill, then I think I might know what we’re dealing with.”
Dean remained silent, as if to let Sam continue, and so he did.
“In Greek mythology, there was this woman named Lamia. She had an affair with the king of the gods, Zeus, and when his wife found out, she wasn’t all that happy about it so she… she stole Lamia’s children and murdered them.”
“So we’re dealing with another god? Didn’t we already deal with Zeus?” Dean looked exhausted as he grabbed a shotgun for himself and then shut the trunk after also pulling out a flashlight.
“No, not a god. So, after Lamia’s children were murdered, Zeus turned her into a shark-like monster so she could devour other innocent children for revenge.” The idea sounded bizarre to Sam, but then again, so were most of the supernatural creatures they dealt with.
“So we’re dealing with a crazy shark lady who eats children,” Dean summed up, which was more of an accurate conclusion this time around, so Sam nodded.
“When we were dealing with Zeus, normal weapons didn’t work, but he was a god and Lamia, well she’s a monster. And in Greek lore, monsters could apparently be killed with bronze so hopefully this works,” Sam said, twirling the blade between his fingers before gripping it firmly at the hilt.
“Alright then,” Dean said, turning on his flashlight and directing it toward the dense forest. “Let’s go kill this bitch.”
And so they went. The two brothers ventured into the woods, trying to listen for anything besides the sound of leaves crunching under their feet, or the sounds of crickets chirping and making the night a little less eerily quiet.
It wasn’t long before they both began to hear some odd sounds. Sam could have sworn he heard a low growl. He didn’t even know sharks could growl. All that came to his mind was the image of a shark snapping its jaws shut on his face, as if this was some sort of movie.
Then again, the whole lives of the Winchester brothers could be turned into a movie with all they experienced on a daily basis.
Sam held his knife up in a defensive position and Dean stood a few feet away, shotgun at the ready. “Sharks can probably smell us right? So we need to —“
Whatever Dean had been about to say was stopped abruptly and Sam spun around to see that Dean was no longer where he had been standing a second ago. In his place was… well, for lack of better word, a shark. Only not completely a shark. The head of the Lamia was definitely very sharklike, but as he looked lower, its body seemed to be morphed into a more feminine build. But that wasn’t all, by the time his gaze reached her feet, he noticed that she didn’t have any. Instead, her legs seemed to be stuck together, as one giant, slithering tail. The Lamia was like a mix of a human female, a shark and a giant snake.
It wasn’t a very appealing sight. Certainly not while she had now set her eyes on him and was now slithering toward him at a pace that was faster than Sam had expected.
“Dean?” He called out, somewhat cautiously, because he didn’t know where his brother was. If he had to guess, he’d been knocked aside after being caught off guard.
Sam’s first instinct was to raise his bronze coated knife, but as the Lamia got closer and Sam could see just how big she was, he suddenly felt like the knife was a needle in comparison, so his next instinct was to turn and run.
Before he could actually act on that instinct, the Lamia came to a stop, alongside the sound of a shot ringing out. Sam peered to the side to see Dean standing a few feet away from the Lamia, with a nasty bruise on his forehead. His gun was held up and he prepared to fire again.
The Lamia turned on him as Dean fired another shot. It only seemed to be slowing her down though, instead of actually causing much damage, because she continued to slither toward Dean, just at a slower pace.
Dean kept firing shots, and Sam realised that this was an opportunity, since the Lamia was ignoring him for the time being. Gripping the hilt of the knife, Sam rushed forward and then leaped. The tip of the knife dug itself into the back of the Lamia’s head, and as Sam lost momentum and fell to the ground, the knife moved along with him, making a huge gash along the back of the lamia’s head, all the way up to her neck.
At this point, when Sam retracted his arm, he had already been sprayed with blood — he thought it was blood, because it wasn’t red like normal blood was — but as he looked closer, he realised that the edges of the large cut he’d created in the Lamia’s skin was glowing, almost like her skin was burning away.
The Lamia stopped her pursuit of Dean and was now standing in one place, roaring out as if she could do something to stop the burning.
Sam watched as the glowing spread all over her body, before consuming her whole, and the Lamia exploded, leaving behind dust and some weird black goo in her wake.
Dust and black goo that now coated parts of him and Dean.
“Well, damn,” Dean muttered, lowering his gun a bit and staring at the place where the Lamia had been standing a moment ago. “Bronze works really well on these suckers.”
Sam let out an exhausted sigh and nodded, looking at the blood soaked knife in his hands. “Yeah, looks like it.” He knelt down and shoved the blade into the ground to use the mud of the forest floor to clean the knife. When he pulled it out, it was more or less clean, and he used his outer flannel shirt to clean off the remaining since his shirt was ruined too anyway.
“Another day, another job,” Dean said, now falling into step beside Sam as both brothers began to make their way toward the Impala.
“Yeah, I’m about ready to crash,” Sam said as they neared the car and opened up the trunk to toss the knife in.
“Me too,” Dean nodded and shut the trunk before going around to his side of the car — which was, as always, the driver’s side. “But first, let’s see if there’s some joint open at this time of night that sells pie.”
“I didn’t even know we had a place called Crete,” Dean muttered as he drove past the large signboard which welcomed them into the small village in Will County, Illinois. “Isn’t that some city in Greece?”
“An island, actually,” Sam replied, looking closely at the map in his hand. “In fact, the biggest island in Greece.” At this point, however, Sam was past giving his brother a disappointed look for his lack of historical knowledge. “Also, take a left up here,” he added, gesturing with one hand to a turning in the road. It was dark out, and they’d been driving most of the afternoon and evening. Originally, the brothers had decided to go through with their newest supernatural investigation in the morning, after catching up on some sleep, but since the site of all the accidents were reported to be close to the entrance of the small village known as Crete, they had decided to get it over with and then check into a motel.
As they neared the spot that Sam had marked in his map, he held a hand out as a signal to slow down. “Yeah, the disappearances usually happen around here.”
It was a normal looking road, that presumably headed deeper into a part of the village. On either side of the road were trees. The forest was dense, by the looks of it, however it was also dark so Sam didn’t know for sure.
Dean parked the car on the side of the road and cut the engine, following which, both boys stepped out, with Sam abandoning the map in his seat before he shut the door and moved to the trunk.
“What exactly are we dealing with again?” Dean asked as he popped the trunk to survey what weapons they had. Unless they knew what they were dealing with, it would be hard to choose what exact weapon would help them defeat whatever supernatural force they were up against.
“Apparently, for the past two weeks, any family entering or leaving the village has been stopped at the border by something,” Sam explained, reaching for a knife that was coated in bronze. “It’s only families that have been attacked. Specifically families with little kids, because… well, it’s the kids that end up dead.”
Dean looked at Sam with a disgusted expression. “This thing is killing kids? Innocent children? And what happens to their folks?”
Sam shrugged. “All of them are usually unconscious when it happens. They swerve after seeing something on the road, and they get knocked out. When they wake up, they’re the only ones left in the car.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we have no idea what we’re dealing with?” Dean concluded.
Sam pursed his lips. “Not exactly. One eyewitness, a teenage girl, said that she saw… a shark.”
Dean stared at him. “A shark?” He echoed. “In the woods? What, is there some huge lake in there, or something?”
Sam shook his head. “She said, and I’m quoting her here, that she ‘saw a woman turn into a shark’ right before her eyes. Rows of teeth and all. I’m guessing it’s probably like a humanoid shark? Like a few months ago, when we had to deal with Black Bill.”
Dean took a moment but then remembered what Sam was talking about. “Guy with a goat head. Right. So if it’s a shark, do we just go in with guns and hope it works?”
“Well,” Sam held up the bronze coated knife he’d just picked up. “I did a little research and, if this is something to do with gods like Black Bill, then I think I might know what we’re dealing with.”
Dean remained silent, as if to let Sam continue, and so he did.
“In Greek mythology, there was this woman named Lamia. She had an affair with the king of the gods, Zeus, and when his wife found out, she wasn’t all that happy about it so she… she stole Lamia’s children and murdered them.”
“So we’re dealing with another god? Didn’t we already deal with Zeus?” Dean looked exhausted as he grabbed a shotgun for himself and then shut the trunk after also pulling out a flashlight.
“No, not a god. So, after Lamia’s children were murdered, Zeus turned her into a shark-like monster so she could devour other innocent children for revenge.” The idea sounded bizarre to Sam, but then again, so were most of the supernatural creatures they dealt with.
“So we’re dealing with a crazy shark lady who eats children,” Dean summed up, which was more of an accurate conclusion this time around, so Sam nodded.
“When we were dealing with Zeus, normal weapons didn’t work, but he was a god and Lamia, well she’s a monster. And in Greek lore, monsters could apparently be killed with bronze so hopefully this works,” Sam said, twirling the blade between his fingers before gripping it firmly at the hilt.
“Alright then,” Dean said, turning on his flashlight and directing it toward the dense forest. “Let’s go kill this bitch.”
And so they went. The two brothers ventured into the woods, trying to listen for anything besides the sound of leaves crunching under their feet, or the sounds of crickets chirping and making the night a little less eerily quiet.
It wasn’t long before they both began to hear some odd sounds. Sam could have sworn he heard a low growl. He didn’t even know sharks could growl. All that came to his mind was the image of a shark snapping its jaws shut on his face, as if this was some sort of movie.
Then again, the whole lives of the Winchester brothers could be turned into a movie with all they experienced on a daily basis.
Sam held his knife up in a defensive position and Dean stood a few feet away, shotgun at the ready. “Sharks can probably smell us right? So we need to —“
Whatever Dean had been about to say was stopped abruptly and Sam spun around to see that Dean was no longer where he had been standing a second ago. In his place was… well, for lack of better word, a shark. Only not completely a shark. The head of the Lamia was definitely very sharklike, but as he looked lower, its body seemed to be morphed into a more feminine build. But that wasn’t all, by the time his gaze reached her feet, he noticed that she didn’t have any. Instead, her legs seemed to be stuck together, as one giant, slithering tail. The Lamia was like a mix of a human female, a shark and a giant snake.
It wasn’t a very appealing sight. Certainly not while she had now set her eyes on him and was now slithering toward him at a pace that was faster than Sam had expected.
“Dean?” He called out, somewhat cautiously, because he didn’t know where his brother was. If he had to guess, he’d been knocked aside after being caught off guard.
Sam’s first instinct was to raise his bronze coated knife, but as the Lamia got closer and Sam could see just how big she was, he suddenly felt like the knife was a needle in comparison, so his next instinct was to turn and run.
Before he could actually act on that instinct, the Lamia came to a stop, alongside the sound of a shot ringing out. Sam peered to the side to see Dean standing a few feet away from the Lamia, with a nasty bruise on his forehead. His gun was held up and he prepared to fire again.
The Lamia turned on him as Dean fired another shot. It only seemed to be slowing her down though, instead of actually causing much damage, because she continued to slither toward Dean, just at a slower pace.
Dean kept firing shots, and Sam realised that this was an opportunity, since the Lamia was ignoring him for the time being. Gripping the hilt of the knife, Sam rushed forward and then leaped. The tip of the knife dug itself into the back of the Lamia’s head, and as Sam lost momentum and fell to the ground, the knife moved along with him, making a huge gash along the back of the lamia’s head, all the way up to her neck.
At this point, when Sam retracted his arm, he had already been sprayed with blood — he thought it was blood, because it wasn’t red like normal blood was — but as he looked closer, he realised that the edges of the large cut he’d created in the Lamia’s skin was glowing, almost like her skin was burning away.
The Lamia stopped her pursuit of Dean and was now standing in one place, roaring out as if she could do something to stop the burning.
Sam watched as the glowing spread all over her body, before consuming her whole, and the Lamia exploded, leaving behind dust and some weird black goo in her wake.
Dust and black goo that now coated parts of him and Dean.
“Well, damn,” Dean muttered, lowering his gun a bit and staring at the place where the Lamia had been standing a moment ago. “Bronze works really well on these suckers.”
Sam let out an exhausted sigh and nodded, looking at the blood soaked knife in his hands. “Yeah, looks like it.” He knelt down and shoved the blade into the ground to use the mud of the forest floor to clean the knife. When he pulled it out, it was more or less clean, and he used his outer flannel shirt to clean off the remaining since his shirt was ruined too anyway.
“Another day, another job,” Dean said, now falling into step beside Sam as both brothers began to make their way toward the Impala.
“Yeah, I’m about ready to crash,” Sam said as they neared the car and opened up the trunk to toss the knife in.
“Me too,” Dean nodded and shut the trunk before going around to his side of the car — which was, as always, the driver’s side. “But first, let’s see if there’s some joint open at this time of night that sells pie.”
.
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𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗼: 𝗆𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍
natasha.
𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
come back.
the maze runner fandom
canon x oc
newt x oc
competition entry
978 words
TW: self-harm; suicide mentions; near death.
Cleo’s heart was pounding in her chest. It seemed to feel that way ever since two days ago, when she witnessed something truly traumatising. When she witnessed her best friend, and possibly the boy she loved, almost fall to his death.
Cleo knew more than anyone how Newt felt about being in the Glade. How he hated the frustration of running through the maze each day only to return with no news. How he hated that so many of those that came up into the Glade as well hadn’t survived, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. But even after all that, Cleo didn’t suspect that he was feeling so lost and helpless that he would attempt to take his own life.
It was the one day she decided to go for her run with Minho instead of him. And it was while they were getting back that Cleo sensed something was wrong. As she and Minho ran through the doors, she noticed a few people in the Glade beginning to run to the walls, eyes cast upward. For a moment, Cleo felt a bit of hope. This was different. This was new. Maybe it was some kind of way out.
But, when she reached the Gladers and turned just in time to see Newt, falling from the top of the wall that surrounded the Glade, Cleo felt her heart stop.
And now, two days later, she hadn’t moved from her spot on the chair beside Newt’s bed in the homestead. His attempt, however terrifying to witness, hadn’t been successful. Not yet, anyway. The Glade’s sole med-jack, Clint, had told Cleo that it was all speculation at this point. New could survive this if he woke up from his coma like state, or his body could slowly give up. If he survived, there was a good chance he could never be a runner again but that was the last thing on Cleo’s mind.
For two days, Cleo sat in silence, scared to say anything. Clint said that talking to him would help. That he probably could hear everything and that his mind and his willpower would play a huge role in deciding whether his body should give up or not. Yet, Cleo had no idea what she could say. There was too much to say.
She thought back to the first time she came up in the Glade. Being the first, and so far only, female caused a bit of a stirrup, not to mention that when she came up, she was seemingly harmed. Her pant leg was stained with blood, and only after she was left alone — in the slammer, because she hit Gally in the face for being patronising — did she lift her pant up to see Newt’s name scratched onto her skin. It was done hastily and messily, and definitely recently. Right before she was sent up into the Glade. And after testing her handwriting by attempting to replicate the name onto a piece of wood, with a blade, Cleo knew that she had done it to herself, and the only reason she could think of as to why she did it was because she must have wanted to remember him, and some connection they’d had.
A year in the Glade had passed since then, and though the scar was now faint white lines, Cleo thought back to all the moments she’d had with Newt since then, almost like the connection between them, whatever it had been before the Glade, had resumed, instead of starting over.
Cleo remembered sitting and forcing down some of Gally’s famous moonshine while sitting with Newt and coming up with predictions about the Glade’s newest greenie. She remembered him walking her to her hammock each night, when the day was done. She remembered a few moments between them during small breaks between their runs in the maze, when their friendship almost took a step forward. For some reason, it never did, mainly because Cleo was unsure if Newt ever felt the same way that she did.
But seeing him lying there, on the brink of death, made Cleo wish she had said something. She had so many opportunities to say how she felt, and she never did. All she could hope was that he felt something. Because if he did, then what she was about to say would work.
Leaning forward, Cleo lifted a hand to gently touch his. She was scared to, almost as if he would break if she did. But, after a moment of hesitation, Cleo gently laced her fingers with his. His hand was limp, but Cleo ached to feel it move, or give her hand a small squeeze. Anything, to show her that he was okay, and he was sticking around instead of leaving her behind.
After two days of not saying anything, Cleo finally broke her silence. “Newt.” Her voice was soft, just barely a whisper. It was already thick with sadness, tears brimming her eyes. She cleared her throat, so that when she spoke again and said what she wanted to, he would — hopefully — be able to hear her.
“I love you.”
Saying the words made her tears finally fall. She wanted so badly for this to work, to see him wake up. She needed him to know that despite everything that had happened so far, he wasn’t alone. And he never would be.
She was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn’t notice his fingers moving gently.
She did however, see movement underneath his eyelids, before his eyes slowly fluttered open completely. Cleo froze. Newt wasn’t moving yet, but his lips parted, as though he were about to say something. And Cleo knew that in the future, when she looked back on this moment, she would never forget the first thing to leave his mouth.
“Cleo.”
Cleo’s heart was pounding in her chest. It seemed to feel that way ever since two days ago, when she witnessed something truly traumatising. When she witnessed her best friend, and possibly the boy she loved, almost fall to his death.
Cleo knew more than anyone how Newt felt about being in the Glade. How he hated the frustration of running through the maze each day only to return with no news. How he hated that so many of those that came up into the Glade as well hadn’t survived, and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. But even after all that, Cleo didn’t suspect that he was feeling so lost and helpless that he would attempt to take his own life.
It was the one day she decided to go for her run with Minho instead of him. And it was while they were getting back that Cleo sensed something was wrong. As she and Minho ran through the doors, she noticed a few people in the Glade beginning to run to the walls, eyes cast upward. For a moment, Cleo felt a bit of hope. This was different. This was new. Maybe it was some kind of way out.
But, when she reached the Gladers and turned just in time to see Newt, falling from the top of the wall that surrounded the Glade, Cleo felt her heart stop.
And now, two days later, she hadn’t moved from her spot on the chair beside Newt’s bed in the homestead. His attempt, however terrifying to witness, hadn’t been successful. Not yet, anyway. The Glade’s sole med-jack, Clint, had told Cleo that it was all speculation at this point. New could survive this if he woke up from his coma like state, or his body could slowly give up. If he survived, there was a good chance he could never be a runner again but that was the last thing on Cleo’s mind.
For two days, Cleo sat in silence, scared to say anything. Clint said that talking to him would help. That he probably could hear everything and that his mind and his willpower would play a huge role in deciding whether his body should give up or not. Yet, Cleo had no idea what she could say. There was too much to say.
She thought back to the first time she came up in the Glade. Being the first, and so far only, female caused a bit of a stirrup, not to mention that when she came up, she was seemingly harmed. Her pant leg was stained with blood, and only after she was left alone — in the slammer, because she hit Gally in the face for being patronising — did she lift her pant up to see Newt’s name scratched onto her skin. It was done hastily and messily, and definitely recently. Right before she was sent up into the Glade. And after testing her handwriting by attempting to replicate the name onto a piece of wood, with a blade, Cleo knew that she had done it to herself, and the only reason she could think of as to why she did it was because she must have wanted to remember him, and some connection they’d had.
A year in the Glade had passed since then, and though the scar was now faint white lines, Cleo thought back to all the moments she’d had with Newt since then, almost like the connection between them, whatever it had been before the Glade, had resumed, instead of starting over.
Cleo remembered sitting and forcing down some of Gally’s famous moonshine while sitting with Newt and coming up with predictions about the Glade’s newest greenie. She remembered him walking her to her hammock each night, when the day was done. She remembered a few moments between them during small breaks between their runs in the maze, when their friendship almost took a step forward. For some reason, it never did, mainly because Cleo was unsure if Newt ever felt the same way that she did.
But seeing him lying there, on the brink of death, made Cleo wish she had said something. She had so many opportunities to say how she felt, and she never did. All she could hope was that he felt something. Because if he did, then what she was about to say would work.
Leaning forward, Cleo lifted a hand to gently touch his. She was scared to, almost as if he would break if she did. But, after a moment of hesitation, Cleo gently laced her fingers with his. His hand was limp, but Cleo ached to feel it move, or give her hand a small squeeze. Anything, to show her that he was okay, and he was sticking around instead of leaving her behind.
After two days of not saying anything, Cleo finally broke her silence. “Newt.” Her voice was soft, just barely a whisper. It was already thick with sadness, tears brimming her eyes. She cleared her throat, so that when she spoke again and said what she wanted to, he would — hopefully — be able to hear her.
“I love you.”
Saying the words made her tears finally fall. She wanted so badly for this to work, to see him wake up. She needed him to know that despite everything that had happened so far, he wasn’t alone. And he never would be.
She was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn’t notice his fingers moving gently.
She did however, see movement underneath his eyelids, before his eyes slowly fluttered open completely. Cleo froze. Newt wasn’t moving yet, but his lips parted, as though he were about to say something. And Cleo knew that in the future, when she looked back on this moment, she would never forget the first thing to leave his mouth.
“Cleo.”
.
Last edited:
𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲: 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒
natasha.
𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
third time's a charm.
supernatural fandom
sam winchester & oc
platonic(ish)
assignment
5,500 words
TW: death; violence; gore; language.
“What will it be?”
It was hard to hear what the bartender was saying over the sound of the loud music, resonating throughout the pub. Fortunately, Drusilla had guessed his question correctly. It wasn’t that she was a good lip reader, but considering she had only just arrived, that seemed like the most likely question a bartender would ask a new customer.
“Just a beer for me,” she replied, almost yelling so that she could be heard. Thankfully, the guy nodded in understanding and disappeared to get what had ordered. While he was gone, Drusilla took a moment to turn around and survey the room. People around were either dancing, mingling or drinking their sorrows away. She spotted her target across the room. A man and woman were seated on a plush red loveseat. They looked purple under the strobe lights that hung above them and seemed to be deep in conversation, but judging by their expressions and bod language, Drew was sure that they would soon leave the place to be alone. It’s just that one of them thought they were about to get lucky, while the other was about to have another victim on their hands.
“Here you go.”
Drusilla turned back to the bar, swivelling on the bar stool she was seated on, only to be met by the bartender who was holding out the glass of beer she had ordered. Thanking him, she accepted the drink and took a large swig, before turning once again to keep an eye on her target. It took her a moment to find who she was looking for but when she finally caught sight of the pair once more, something suddenly came in front of her view.
“Drew?”
Drusilla craned her neck to get a good look at who was in front of her. The voice was familiar, and yet, for some reason, it didn’t register till she actually saw his face.
“Sam?” she was surprised, to say the least. “Sam Winchester?” Drew couldn’t remember how long it had been since she last saw him. All she knew was that at the time, she had been going through some stuff. She had been a troubled teen. Hopping off of the stool, she gave him a brief hug before pulling back to look up at him again. “What are you doing here?”
Sam chuckled, clearly just as surprised as she was. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replied before running a hand through his hair. “I come here almost every weekend. It’s close to Stanford.”
Stanford. Drew had completely forgotten that Sam departed from the family business to pursue a law degree. It hadn’t even registered with her that Stanford was in the nearby vicinity.
“So what are you doing here?” He asked her in return, since she failed to provide an explanation. The look on his face, however, told her that he had a hunch as to what she was up to.
“Hunting,” she answered anyway. Sam had gotten away from it all to pursue a normal life, and Drew respected that. But she wasn’t worried that bringing up hunting would cause a scene with him. What she was worried about was that he would guess what she was hunting.
Sam’s face fell a little, and it was a while before he spoke again, which led Drew to believe that he had already guessed what she was on the lookout for. Or rather, who she was on the lookout for. In his defense, the last time they met, this particular target was all Drew obsessed about. Well, more than her, her father had been hell bent on tracking this woman down. Revenge could really change a person, and Sam knew all about that by looking at his father.
“She’s here?” He asked, now looking alert. He kept his eyes on Drew but she could tell his brain was hard at work.
Peering around him, she tried to locate the couple once again, but the red loveseat had different occupants now. They were gone.
“She was.” Drew immediately got to her feet and fumbled through her pocket for some money that she left on the counter to pay for her beer. She was about to sprint but Sam’s hand quickly reached out to grab her wrist, preventing her from leaving.
“Your feelings of hatred won’t get you anywhere. You’re too deep into this. Get out while you still can,” he warned.
Drew met his gaze. “I’m too deep into this,” she repeated with a slow nod. “That’s why I have to get it done.” Yanking her hand back, she looked at him for a second longer before heading for the exit. She spent months trying to track her down. She wasn’t about to let her get away.
“Drew, get your brother! Dinner’s ready!”
Looking up from what she was drawing, Drew searched the living room for her five year old brother. He sat a few feet away, propped up against the foot of the sofa, with a crayon he had stolen from her. “Mom, Dorian’s eating my crayons again!”
Letting out a huff of air in annoyance, Drew abandoned her sketch of what she thought a vampire looked like, and crawled toward Dorian across the carpeted floor, in order to retreve the half eaten blue crayon from her brother’s mouth. “This isn’t for eating,” she scolded him, tossing the crayon next to the pile of stationary that sat beside her sketchbook on the coffee table.
Drew was about to say more, to lecture little Dorian on how he shouldn’t be touching any of her things, when she heard the main door being opened, which could only mean one thing. Dorian seemed to understand as well, and the two quickly got to their feet before bounding out of the living room and heading to the foyer where they watched as their father walked further into the house.
A smile touched his lips upon seeing the two children, but as Drew neared him, she noticed things that were different from when he left the house earlier that day. His blue shirt was stained red in certain places. His hair was stuck to the side of his forehead with a sticky substance that Drew could only assume was blood. She knew her father’s line of work, so the sight wasn’t an unusual one. Still, it troubled Drew to see her father come back home this way, most days.
While he picked Dorian up for a cuddle, Drew’s feet remained rooted to the floor as she looked up at her father. “I told you, you should have taken me,” she said to him. “I could have helped.”
“I’m sure you could have,” he nodded in agreement. “But witches are way too easy. It makes my job easier if you’re here at home, to hold down the place and keep your mother and brother safe.”
Drew didn’t really buy that completely but before she could say anything, her mother appeared. “Josh?” She was wiping her hands on a dish cloth as she neared the three of them. Her face didn’t exactly say she was happy to see him. Her usually bright brown eyes were now dark with worry. “You’re not staying for dinner.”
Drew didn’t know how her mother had guessed that, but she blamed it on years of being togethr. Her father set Dorian back down on the floor, his blue eyes now focused on her mother. “No,” he wasn’t exactly happy about it either. “A coven of three but I only got two of them, Sonya. I should finish it off before it becomes a problem. I came back to restock.”
“Can I come this time?” Drew looked up at her father eargerly.
“It’s past your bed time, missy,” her mother responded this time, placing a hand on Drew’s dark brown hair to push it away from her forehead.
“Exactly. We can’t have sleepy hunters. But remember, you help me out a lot by staying at home to protect the others,” her father reminded her, a fond smile on his face. “Dorian needs his big sister around.”
Drew pouted but had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to sit this one out.
“I’ll be back home by morning,” her father said, looking away from Drew and at her mother. He leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, to which Dorian and Drew both made a face, and he bent down to pull both of his children into a hug before he turned and headed back out the door.
Drew could hear him going to the garage, to grab more weapons and ammo, but she couldn’t listen for too long because her mother ushered both her and Dorian into the kitchen for dinner. Drew was in bed within the hour, but her sleep was disturbed not long after.
It was the sound of something breaking that led her to wake up. For a moment, she thought her father was home, but something inside her told her that wasn’t the case.
Slowly, she kicked off her blanket and swung her legs off the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold, tiled floor and she looked to the right to see that her brother’s bed was empty. Part of her wanted to believe that maybe he got hungry and dropped something while he was getting something to eat from the kitchen, but because she wasn’t sure of that, Drew walked out of her room. Down the corridor, right at the end, was the front door to the house. Next to it, on the right was the living room. Closer to her, on the right was the pantry while the kitchen was a little up ahead, on her left, where, at the moment, a light was on. Drew also noticed the shadow of a person there.
She was frozen in place as she watched the shadow moving closer to the doorway of the kitchen, but before she could see who it was, she was pulled into the darkness of the pantry, a hand clamped around her mouth. Drew momentarily panicked till she looked down and noticed in the very dim light, that the caramel coloured arm around her belonged to her mother.
She whipped her head around and her mother let go of her. Despite having hardly any light, Drew could see the fear in her eyes. There was some movement beside her and Drew almost let out a scream, but her mother held her finger to her lips.
Seconds later, Drew’s eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to realise that the movement had come from her brother, who was clutching onto her mother’s night dress for dear life.
Everything after that happened rather quickly. The sound of footsteps along the corridor seemed to be in sync with Drew’s racing heartbeat. Her mother pushed both children to the edge of the pantry in a hurry and bent down to open up what looked like a trap door. Drew only suddenly remembered that such a thing existed in case of emergencies. She also remembered that the space beneath it was only big enough for herself and her brother.
“Stay quiet,” her mother told both her and Dorian in a hushed tone once she had gotten the kids to get inside. She quickly shut the top flap and Drew was surrounded by darkness once more.
Dorian was now clutching onto her but he was surprisingly quiet. Drew herself was having a hard time trying not to make a sound, and with each second that passed, it got harder to prevent her tears from spilling over.
Her mother still stood above them in the pantry. There was a light creaking due to her weight, and Drew’s heart began to beat faster as she heard the footsteps getting louder. Eventually, they came to a stop.
There was only silence for what felt like ages. And then suddenly, Drew heard her mother scream. She could make out the sound of a scuffle above, and it wasn’t just her mother’s weight above the trap door anymore. All Drew could make out was different sounds. Each one made her jump. There was the sound of metal falling onto the floor, there was the unfamiliar voice of a woman speaking in an unknown language, and then there was nothing.
Drew was shivering, but she was holding Dorian tight, as if she could shield him from even listening to what was going on above them. Footsteps began to recede.
And then there was nothing.
PART III
present day
Drew spent a good minute rummaging through the trunk of her car to find what she had prepared days ago. Every two seconds, she kept looking up, because further down the road, the man and woman she had been keeping an eye on inside the bar were now getting into a car. Shoving the bottles she had found from her turnk into her jacket pockets, she quickly shut the trunk and ran around to the front of the car so she could get in and start it. She was about to put her foot on the gas pedal when the passenger side door opened and someone got inside beside her.
“What are you doing?” Drew asked Sam, her tone laced with frustration. Her eyes quickly left him to look ahead at the car she was meant to be tailing. They had already started driving down the road and if Drew didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to track them.
“I’m not going to let what happened to your dad happen to you,” Sam insisted, following her gaze to see the car. “You need help. So let’s go.”
Drew could have said a million things to him in irritation during that moment, but she didn’t have the time, so instead of saying anything at all, she just pushed down on the gas pedal and got the car moving. She made sure to keep a decent distance away, so as to not seem that suspicious, but she was now more sure than ever that this woman was who she was looking for since they seemed to be driving away from town and to a more secluded area. Small shops passed them by, and soon were replaced by an endless number of trees.
“How did you even track her down?” Sam asked, after they’d been on the road for a couple of minutes.
“Same as my dad. Raw determination and strong feeligs of revenge,” Drew shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. “Plus a little bit of research,” she added, nodding her head to the glove compartment. “Open it.”
And so Sam did. He brought out a journal and opened it up. “Dianic Wiccans?” He read out from the first page.
Drew nodded. “Witches, but not entirely ordinary witches. A coven of three that draw their powers from someone known as The Triple Goddess,” she explained to him. “Some say it’s the Greek Goddess Hecate, since she’s associated with witchcraft a lot, but other sources say that the Triple Goddess is actually three different people.”
Sam continued to flip through the book. “But they can be killed like any other witch?”
“Yup. The witch I’m after had her coven killed by my dad all those years ago, but she just found two more willing women to join her. I found them this morning and tried the spell on them. I brewed bottles of it, just to keep on hand.”
“And this one doesn’t know that the rest of her coven is dead yet?”
Drew shook her head. “I’ve been following her since the afternoon. She’s been doing a bit of stalking on her own. These Dianic Wiccans, they’re like extreme witch feminists. They brutally murder or hex men that mistreat other women.”
“And the man in that car with her, he’s-“
“He’s probably done some stupid thing that’s landed himself as her next victim,” Drew finished his sentence for him.
“Something had to have led you to all of this,” Sam said, flipping through the book some more till he reached the last page. The only reason Drew didn’t directly respond to that was because the last page had the answer to his question.
On it, was a symbol. It was a circle with a five pointed star in the middle, similar to a demon trap, but on either side of the circle was a crescent moon with the pointed edges facing outward.
“That was burned into my mom’s arm,” Drew explained, her voice tight. She was still looking ahead to keep track of the car that had now taken a right turn, down a dirt road. “And then again on my dad’s chest four years ago. It wasn’t too hard to look up the symbol. And using what I found out, I managed to track the coven down to this town. Apparently, they’re the only one of their kind.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and closed the book before putting it back into the glove compartment. “Makes sense. I mean, I’ve been out of the game for a while but I know I’ve never heard of Dianic Wiccans.”
Drew took the right as well, noticing that the car was now pulling up in front of an old, seemingly abandoned barn. She didn’t drive the whole way because the car would give them away, so instead, she parked and turned to Sam before handing him one of the bottles she had stuffed into her jacket pocket. “You know the words, I hope?”
The whole spell was one she got from Bobby Singer so she was just assuming that, back when Sam was a hunter, he’d have heard of the spell or even used it.
Sam looked to her and nodded before taking the glass bottle from her and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. “You’re not going in there with just this, are you?”
Drew wrinkled her nose. “Hell no.” She got out of the car and went around to the back before popping the trunk. Sam soon joined her side and peered in before grabbing a small hand gun. Drew did the same. Bullets might not kill the witch but at least it could slow her down enough to say the encantation.
“Kind of reminds me of old times,” Sam said, turning the gun over in his hands while Drew shut the trunk.
“Pretty cool, the way your dad took out that vampire.”
Drew looked up from the porch steps she was sitting on and turned her head to see a sixteen year old Sam Winchester at the front door. He had just stepped out into the cool evening air, and as the door slowly closed behind him, she could vaguely hear sounds of conversation between her dad and John Winchester. Drew was assuming that somewhere else in the house, Dean was busy explaining to her younger brother how best to off a vampire.
“Yeah,” Drew nodded, seemingly uninterested in the topic he’d picked up for conversation as she turned back around to stare at the empty road in front of them. This tiny shack of a house was not their home. But Drew could never go back to her real home, considering what had happened there all those years ago.
Sam didn’t speak up much till he moved forward to join her, sitting on the next step below her. “You usually love it when we band together and go hunting,” he pointed out. Drew knew it was basically his way of asking her what was wrong. She just didn’t know if she wanted to answer.
She was aware that Sam probably already knew how obsessed her father was getting with trying to track down the witch that killed her mother. He would only be able to know this so well because he could see the same within his own father. Drew, on the other hand, felt helpless. It had been six years and her father had made no progress, except for making a ton of new enemies. While once, Drew would have jumped at the chance to join her father on a hunt, as of late… he just wasn’t her father anymore.
Sam seemed to understand that Drew didn’t really feel like talking about her problems. She understood this because when he spoke next, the topic for discussion was different. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like If we weren’t raised by hunters?”
At that, Drew had to pry her gaze from the road to look beside her. The question made her think that this was something Sam thought about before. Maybe not just once or twice.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admitted. “When I was younger, all I thought about was hunting. It was a good thing for me. I wanted to do it. I wanted to be like my father.”
Sam nodded. “I did too. I’d wait for the day my dad would decide that I was old enough to go with him and Dean on hunts. But now that I’ve done it all, and experienced a bit of school life at the same time… I want to do bigger things. Maybe not be in danger every other day.”
Drew never thought of it that way. She’d only been to school when she was much younger, when her mother was still alive. After the tragic incident that rocked the whole family, Drew never went back to school, initially because she didn’t want to go anywhere, and eventually because she picked up on hunting and made that her life. Her brother Dorian followed suit whenhe got old enough.
“I haven’t experienced much school life. I haven’t really eperienced anything normal since I was eight,” Drew explained, wrapping her arms around herself, so as to shield herself from the brisk wind. “No homework, no parties, no dates. Not even a first kiss.”
Of course, she had always wondered what that would be like, but she didn’t really get the time to fantasise about it, let alone think of when it could possibly happen for her.
Sam shrugged off the jacket he had on and draped it over her shoulders before he looked at her again. For a moment, it was just silence and them looking at each other, till Sam began to bridge the gap between them. Before she knew it, Drew felt his lips against hers. It was tender, and probably quicker than she imagined it to be, but considering it was her first, it felt like slow motion. She supposed that the fact that she had once had a major crush on Sam Winchester made it feel different. A good kind of different.
Once he had pulled away, he was smiling. Drew’s lips were tinglign and she kept replaying the moment in her head, almost too distracted to hear most of what Sam said next. “Just to cross off one thing on that list,” he explained. “And to show you that it’s never too late.”
Never too late.
Drew had waited twelve years for this moment. She wasn’t going to wait any longer.
Gun in hand, she shared a look with Sam before moving down the dirt road, toward the abandoned farm house. The couple had long since disappeared inside, but Drew saw no lights on anywhere, and she hadn’t heard any sounds of distress yet which led Drew to believe that maybe the witch enjoyed toying with her victims first, giving them a slow, painful death. She shuddered to think that it might have been what her father was subjected to.
“I’ll go around the left side and see if there’s a back door,” Sam told her, nodding to the direction he would be heading. Drew nodded and within moments, he was gone. She headed straight for the main entrance, only to see that one of the two barn doors were pulled open slightly. Drew inched along the side of the door till she could peer inside, through the gap. She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath till she looked inside and saw who she was looking for.
The woman’s back faced Drew. The man she was with was nowhere to be found, but she was busy looking to the back door and speaking some incantation. Her voice perfectly matched the one she had heard twelve years ago, saying a spell right before her mother was killed. From where she stood, Drew had a clear shot of her. She was thinking of going straight to using the witch killing spell instead of using the gun to incapacitate her, but before she could reach into her pocket, she suddenly felt chills running up her spine. She felt like she was being watched.
She turned to see the man that the witch had been with but Drew now noticed something that hadn’t been there before. Fangs.
Drew ducked on instinct, just as the man jumped. It made quite a racket when he hit the door instead and Drew spun around quickly, and held the gun out. It would only be a temporary solution since vampires could only be killed with a good beheading, but considering Drew hadn’t thought to bring a machete, she just aimed at his neck and fired three rounds.
It wasn’t enough to properly kill him, but she did loosen the lid, so to speak.
The man fell to the floor, muttering something that sounded like a name.
“Malia?” Drew echoed, wondering if she had heard it right.
“Yes, Malia. The woman who is fed up of you and your family continuing to kill members of my coven.”
Drew’s head snapped up, her gaze quickly shifting to see the woman now standing at the doors. They were wide open now, and with a fleeting glance, she noticed Sam inside the barn. He seemed to be stuck to the wall, a few inches above the ground. He was awake, and struggling, but unable to move, like an invisible force was keeping him in place.
“Now, put that gun down so you don’t make a bigger fool of yourself.”
Drew made no attempt to move or pay heed to anything she was saying.
“Do it… I’ll do to your boy toy what you did to mine. And I’m quite sure he won’t survive it the same way,” she spoke again, appearing dangerously calm. She seemed quite confident that there was no way she was losing this battle. It made Drew even more determined, but she also knew she couldn’t take any chances.
So, slowly, she let go of the gun and it fell to the grass with a soft thud. “Move along inside. It’s far too cold out there.”
Before Drew could even make a move, she was suddenly lifted against her own will. Her feet were inches from the floor, and her arms were stuck to her side, but she continued to move forward till she was at the center of the barn.
“Hopefully with you, it’ll be the end of the line. It’s getting so tiring to have to deal with this every few years,” Malia continued, walking up to where Drew was levitating. With a simple hand gesture, Drew collapsed to the floor. She only then realised that she was in some sort of circle. And then it hit Drew.
“You knew I was coming.”
Malia smiled. “Of course I did. Did you think I wouldn’t know that you killed my only two coven members?”
“What was the vampire for then?”
“A monthly treat,” Malia shrugged. “I like them exotic.”
“Meaning the more gory the better?”
Malia opted to ignore that comment. “I will admit, I didn’t expect you to have company. But that’s no problem. It seems like he’s new to the game.” She glanced to Sam. “Who bothers trying the back door?”
Drew took the moment to try and figure out what to do. The vampire was still out cold, Drew didn’t have her gun, but she could quickly grab the bottle from her pocket. There was just no way Malia would let her speak the incantation.
“Anyway,” Malia’s voice derailed Drew’s train of thought and the witch was facing her again. “I should get on with this. You’ll be the perfect sacrifice to the goddess.” She seemed almost giddy with excitement.
Malia didn’t seem to want to beat around the bush anymore. She began to speak, saing something in latin that Drew didn’t understand. The circle that surrounded her, made of white sand, began to glow purple and Drew quickly looked to Sam. Fortunately, he understood what she was thinking.
“Furor divina virtute-“
Malia stopped her spell midway, seeming annoyed. “Stop that.”
But Drew only continued, speaking the lines at the same time as him. “-in infernum eam detrude.”
It was a quick spell, but to complete it, they had one more thing to do. Drew reached for her bottle but Malia sensed what was going on. She stepped forward, into the circle, to stop her, and it felt like an invisible hand had wrapped itself around Drew’s neck. She began to choke, and while she grabbed the bottle from her jacket, she was unable to do much with it.
But then suddenly, a crash sounded. Drew wondered if she had managed to somehow throw it after all, but the moment the sound came, so did fire. Malia was engulfed in flames and it caused Drew to crawl away, coughing and sputtering as she took in large gulps of air. She turned around to see Sam was down on the ground again, not too far away from her, and she remembered she had handed him a bottle for the witch killing spell before they got into the barn.
Looking back to the witch, Drew watched as she withered away, now surrounded by smoke, before imploding into a mixture of blood and ash.
Silence surrounded them for a long while till Drew managed to get to her feet. She felt sick and grimy but she also felt a sense of triumph. The witch was finally dead, after twelve years.
Remmbering the vampire, Drew looked around and found a bent crowbar lying on the floor. She quickly picked it up to finish off the vampire. It was messy, and she got blood all over her favourite boots, but she wasn’t willing to wait till she went back to the car to get her machete.
Sam and Drew cleaned up in silence. They dragged the remaining body of the vampire into the barn and set it on fire before slowly making their way back to the car. It was still dark out, but wouldn’t be long till morning came. Neither of them got into the truck. Instead, they leaned against the hood of it, just staring at the trees ahead.
“How do you feel?” Sam asked Drew after a long pause of silence.
Drew gave it a moment’s thought, to try and find the right words. “Accomplished,” she said softly. “But also… a bit disappointed. I thought killing her would make more of a difference but it isn’t going to bring my parents back. I’m just comforted with knowing that the world has one less bitch of a witch to worry about,” she let out a humourless chuckle.
Sam smiled a little. “What now?”
Drew looked up at him. “I’m not really sure. I stayed in the hunting game to see this through. Maybe now I can take your advice and do something else. That’s what Dorian did,” she explained. Her brother was currently finishing off his final year of high school and getting ready to go to college. He gave up the whole hunting game after their dad died. It was just Drew that wasn’t able to. She turned into her father. “So, do you have to explain your whereabouts to anybody?” She asked him curiously after a short moment of silence.
Sam tilted his head to the side for a bit as if he was trying to figure out the best way to respond. “I wouldn’t say we’re quite there yet. But it’s heading there. Jessica is… She’s amazing.”
Drew nodded. “I should probably see if I can find something like that. I’m still curious as to how it would go,” she said before letting out a small sigh and getting into the driver’s seat. Sam followed suit, getting in beside her. Just as she started the car, he turned to her. “It’s like I said before,” he reminded her. “It’s never too late.”
Drew didn’t know what he implied when he said it, and she supposed there was more than one way to look at it since she had no idea what the future would old, but she had to nod and echo his words in agreement because the words rang true.
“Never too late.”
PART I
present day
present day
“What will it be?”
It was hard to hear what the bartender was saying over the sound of the loud music, resonating throughout the pub. Fortunately, Drusilla had guessed his question correctly. It wasn’t that she was a good lip reader, but considering she had only just arrived, that seemed like the most likely question a bartender would ask a new customer.
“Just a beer for me,” she replied, almost yelling so that she could be heard. Thankfully, the guy nodded in understanding and disappeared to get what had ordered. While he was gone, Drusilla took a moment to turn around and survey the room. People around were either dancing, mingling or drinking their sorrows away. She spotted her target across the room. A man and woman were seated on a plush red loveseat. They looked purple under the strobe lights that hung above them and seemed to be deep in conversation, but judging by their expressions and bod language, Drew was sure that they would soon leave the place to be alone. It’s just that one of them thought they were about to get lucky, while the other was about to have another victim on their hands.
“Here you go.”
Drusilla turned back to the bar, swivelling on the bar stool she was seated on, only to be met by the bartender who was holding out the glass of beer she had ordered. Thanking him, she accepted the drink and took a large swig, before turning once again to keep an eye on her target. It took her a moment to find who she was looking for but when she finally caught sight of the pair once more, something suddenly came in front of her view.
“Drew?”
Drusilla craned her neck to get a good look at who was in front of her. The voice was familiar, and yet, for some reason, it didn’t register till she actually saw his face.
“Sam?” she was surprised, to say the least. “Sam Winchester?” Drew couldn’t remember how long it had been since she last saw him. All she knew was that at the time, she had been going through some stuff. She had been a troubled teen. Hopping off of the stool, she gave him a brief hug before pulling back to look up at him again. “What are you doing here?”
Sam chuckled, clearly just as surprised as she was. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replied before running a hand through his hair. “I come here almost every weekend. It’s close to Stanford.”
Stanford. Drew had completely forgotten that Sam departed from the family business to pursue a law degree. It hadn’t even registered with her that Stanford was in the nearby vicinity.
“So what are you doing here?” He asked her in return, since she failed to provide an explanation. The look on his face, however, told her that he had a hunch as to what she was up to.
“Hunting,” she answered anyway. Sam had gotten away from it all to pursue a normal life, and Drew respected that. But she wasn’t worried that bringing up hunting would cause a scene with him. What she was worried about was that he would guess what she was hunting.
Sam’s face fell a little, and it was a while before he spoke again, which led Drew to believe that he had already guessed what she was on the lookout for. Or rather, who she was on the lookout for. In his defense, the last time they met, this particular target was all Drew obsessed about. Well, more than her, her father had been hell bent on tracking this woman down. Revenge could really change a person, and Sam knew all about that by looking at his father.
“She’s here?” He asked, now looking alert. He kept his eyes on Drew but she could tell his brain was hard at work.
Peering around him, she tried to locate the couple once again, but the red loveseat had different occupants now. They were gone.
“She was.” Drew immediately got to her feet and fumbled through her pocket for some money that she left on the counter to pay for her beer. She was about to sprint but Sam’s hand quickly reached out to grab her wrist, preventing her from leaving.
“Your feelings of hatred won’t get you anywhere. You’re too deep into this. Get out while you still can,” he warned.
Drew met his gaze. “I’m too deep into this,” she repeated with a slow nod. “That’s why I have to get it done.” Yanking her hand back, she looked at him for a second longer before heading for the exit. She spent months trying to track her down. She wasn’t about to let her get away.
PART II
12 years ago
12 years ago
“Drew, get your brother! Dinner’s ready!”
Looking up from what she was drawing, Drew searched the living room for her five year old brother. He sat a few feet away, propped up against the foot of the sofa, with a crayon he had stolen from her. “Mom, Dorian’s eating my crayons again!”
Letting out a huff of air in annoyance, Drew abandoned her sketch of what she thought a vampire looked like, and crawled toward Dorian across the carpeted floor, in order to retreve the half eaten blue crayon from her brother’s mouth. “This isn’t for eating,” she scolded him, tossing the crayon next to the pile of stationary that sat beside her sketchbook on the coffee table.
Drew was about to say more, to lecture little Dorian on how he shouldn’t be touching any of her things, when she heard the main door being opened, which could only mean one thing. Dorian seemed to understand as well, and the two quickly got to their feet before bounding out of the living room and heading to the foyer where they watched as their father walked further into the house.
A smile touched his lips upon seeing the two children, but as Drew neared him, she noticed things that were different from when he left the house earlier that day. His blue shirt was stained red in certain places. His hair was stuck to the side of his forehead with a sticky substance that Drew could only assume was blood. She knew her father’s line of work, so the sight wasn’t an unusual one. Still, it troubled Drew to see her father come back home this way, most days.
While he picked Dorian up for a cuddle, Drew’s feet remained rooted to the floor as she looked up at her father. “I told you, you should have taken me,” she said to him. “I could have helped.”
“I’m sure you could have,” he nodded in agreement. “But witches are way too easy. It makes my job easier if you’re here at home, to hold down the place and keep your mother and brother safe.”
Drew didn’t really buy that completely but before she could say anything, her mother appeared. “Josh?” She was wiping her hands on a dish cloth as she neared the three of them. Her face didn’t exactly say she was happy to see him. Her usually bright brown eyes were now dark with worry. “You’re not staying for dinner.”
Drew didn’t know how her mother had guessed that, but she blamed it on years of being togethr. Her father set Dorian back down on the floor, his blue eyes now focused on her mother. “No,” he wasn’t exactly happy about it either. “A coven of three but I only got two of them, Sonya. I should finish it off before it becomes a problem. I came back to restock.”
“Can I come this time?” Drew looked up at her father eargerly.
“It’s past your bed time, missy,” her mother responded this time, placing a hand on Drew’s dark brown hair to push it away from her forehead.
“Exactly. We can’t have sleepy hunters. But remember, you help me out a lot by staying at home to protect the others,” her father reminded her, a fond smile on his face. “Dorian needs his big sister around.”
Drew pouted but had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to sit this one out.
“I’ll be back home by morning,” her father said, looking away from Drew and at her mother. He leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, to which Dorian and Drew both made a face, and he bent down to pull both of his children into a hug before he turned and headed back out the door.
Drew could hear him going to the garage, to grab more weapons and ammo, but she couldn’t listen for too long because her mother ushered both her and Dorian into the kitchen for dinner. Drew was in bed within the hour, but her sleep was disturbed not long after.
It was the sound of something breaking that led her to wake up. For a moment, she thought her father was home, but something inside her told her that wasn’t the case.
Slowly, she kicked off her blanket and swung her legs off the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold, tiled floor and she looked to the right to see that her brother’s bed was empty. Part of her wanted to believe that maybe he got hungry and dropped something while he was getting something to eat from the kitchen, but because she wasn’t sure of that, Drew walked out of her room. Down the corridor, right at the end, was the front door to the house. Next to it, on the right was the living room. Closer to her, on the right was the pantry while the kitchen was a little up ahead, on her left, where, at the moment, a light was on. Drew also noticed the shadow of a person there.
She was frozen in place as she watched the shadow moving closer to the doorway of the kitchen, but before she could see who it was, she was pulled into the darkness of the pantry, a hand clamped around her mouth. Drew momentarily panicked till she looked down and noticed in the very dim light, that the caramel coloured arm around her belonged to her mother.
She whipped her head around and her mother let go of her. Despite having hardly any light, Drew could see the fear in her eyes. There was some movement beside her and Drew almost let out a scream, but her mother held her finger to her lips.
Seconds later, Drew’s eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to realise that the movement had come from her brother, who was clutching onto her mother’s night dress for dear life.
Everything after that happened rather quickly. The sound of footsteps along the corridor seemed to be in sync with Drew’s racing heartbeat. Her mother pushed both children to the edge of the pantry in a hurry and bent down to open up what looked like a trap door. Drew only suddenly remembered that such a thing existed in case of emergencies. She also remembered that the space beneath it was only big enough for herself and her brother.
“Stay quiet,” her mother told both her and Dorian in a hushed tone once she had gotten the kids to get inside. She quickly shut the top flap and Drew was surrounded by darkness once more.
Dorian was now clutching onto her but he was surprisingly quiet. Drew herself was having a hard time trying not to make a sound, and with each second that passed, it got harder to prevent her tears from spilling over.
Her mother still stood above them in the pantry. There was a light creaking due to her weight, and Drew’s heart began to beat faster as she heard the footsteps getting louder. Eventually, they came to a stop.
There was only silence for what felt like ages. And then suddenly, Drew heard her mother scream. She could make out the sound of a scuffle above, and it wasn’t just her mother’s weight above the trap door anymore. All Drew could make out was different sounds. Each one made her jump. There was the sound of metal falling onto the floor, there was the unfamiliar voice of a woman speaking in an unknown language, and then there was nothing.
Drew was shivering, but she was holding Dorian tight, as if she could shield him from even listening to what was going on above them. Footsteps began to recede.
And then there was nothing.
PART III
present day
Drew spent a good minute rummaging through the trunk of her car to find what she had prepared days ago. Every two seconds, she kept looking up, because further down the road, the man and woman she had been keeping an eye on inside the bar were now getting into a car. Shoving the bottles she had found from her turnk into her jacket pockets, she quickly shut the trunk and ran around to the front of the car so she could get in and start it. She was about to put her foot on the gas pedal when the passenger side door opened and someone got inside beside her.
“What are you doing?” Drew asked Sam, her tone laced with frustration. Her eyes quickly left him to look ahead at the car she was meant to be tailing. They had already started driving down the road and if Drew didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to track them.
“I’m not going to let what happened to your dad happen to you,” Sam insisted, following her gaze to see the car. “You need help. So let’s go.”
Drew could have said a million things to him in irritation during that moment, but she didn’t have the time, so instead of saying anything at all, she just pushed down on the gas pedal and got the car moving. She made sure to keep a decent distance away, so as to not seem that suspicious, but she was now more sure than ever that this woman was who she was looking for since they seemed to be driving away from town and to a more secluded area. Small shops passed them by, and soon were replaced by an endless number of trees.
“How did you even track her down?” Sam asked, after they’d been on the road for a couple of minutes.
“Same as my dad. Raw determination and strong feeligs of revenge,” Drew shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. “Plus a little bit of research,” she added, nodding her head to the glove compartment. “Open it.”
And so Sam did. He brought out a journal and opened it up. “Dianic Wiccans?” He read out from the first page.
Drew nodded. “Witches, but not entirely ordinary witches. A coven of three that draw their powers from someone known as The Triple Goddess,” she explained to him. “Some say it’s the Greek Goddess Hecate, since she’s associated with witchcraft a lot, but other sources say that the Triple Goddess is actually three different people.”
Sam continued to flip through the book. “But they can be killed like any other witch?”
“Yup. The witch I’m after had her coven killed by my dad all those years ago, but she just found two more willing women to join her. I found them this morning and tried the spell on them. I brewed bottles of it, just to keep on hand.”
“And this one doesn’t know that the rest of her coven is dead yet?”
Drew shook her head. “I’ve been following her since the afternoon. She’s been doing a bit of stalking on her own. These Dianic Wiccans, they’re like extreme witch feminists. They brutally murder or hex men that mistreat other women.”
“And the man in that car with her, he’s-“
“He’s probably done some stupid thing that’s landed himself as her next victim,” Drew finished his sentence for him.
“Something had to have led you to all of this,” Sam said, flipping through the book some more till he reached the last page. The only reason Drew didn’t directly respond to that was because the last page had the answer to his question.
On it, was a symbol. It was a circle with a five pointed star in the middle, similar to a demon trap, but on either side of the circle was a crescent moon with the pointed edges facing outward.
“That was burned into my mom’s arm,” Drew explained, her voice tight. She was still looking ahead to keep track of the car that had now taken a right turn, down a dirt road. “And then again on my dad’s chest four years ago. It wasn’t too hard to look up the symbol. And using what I found out, I managed to track the coven down to this town. Apparently, they’re the only one of their kind.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and closed the book before putting it back into the glove compartment. “Makes sense. I mean, I’ve been out of the game for a while but I know I’ve never heard of Dianic Wiccans.”
Drew took the right as well, noticing that the car was now pulling up in front of an old, seemingly abandoned barn. She didn’t drive the whole way because the car would give them away, so instead, she parked and turned to Sam before handing him one of the bottles she had stuffed into her jacket pocket. “You know the words, I hope?”
The whole spell was one she got from Bobby Singer so she was just assuming that, back when Sam was a hunter, he’d have heard of the spell or even used it.
Sam looked to her and nodded before taking the glass bottle from her and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. “You’re not going in there with just this, are you?”
Drew wrinkled her nose. “Hell no.” She got out of the car and went around to the back before popping the trunk. Sam soon joined her side and peered in before grabbing a small hand gun. Drew did the same. Bullets might not kill the witch but at least it could slow her down enough to say the encantation.
“Kind of reminds me of old times,” Sam said, turning the gun over in his hands while Drew shut the trunk.
PART IV
6 years ago
6 years ago
“Pretty cool, the way your dad took out that vampire.”
Drew looked up from the porch steps she was sitting on and turned her head to see a sixteen year old Sam Winchester at the front door. He had just stepped out into the cool evening air, and as the door slowly closed behind him, she could vaguely hear sounds of conversation between her dad and John Winchester. Drew was assuming that somewhere else in the house, Dean was busy explaining to her younger brother how best to off a vampire.
“Yeah,” Drew nodded, seemingly uninterested in the topic he’d picked up for conversation as she turned back around to stare at the empty road in front of them. This tiny shack of a house was not their home. But Drew could never go back to her real home, considering what had happened there all those years ago.
Sam didn’t speak up much till he moved forward to join her, sitting on the next step below her. “You usually love it when we band together and go hunting,” he pointed out. Drew knew it was basically his way of asking her what was wrong. She just didn’t know if she wanted to answer.
She was aware that Sam probably already knew how obsessed her father was getting with trying to track down the witch that killed her mother. He would only be able to know this so well because he could see the same within his own father. Drew, on the other hand, felt helpless. It had been six years and her father had made no progress, except for making a ton of new enemies. While once, Drew would have jumped at the chance to join her father on a hunt, as of late… he just wasn’t her father anymore.
Sam seemed to understand that Drew didn’t really feel like talking about her problems. She understood this because when he spoke next, the topic for discussion was different. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like If we weren’t raised by hunters?”
At that, Drew had to pry her gaze from the road to look beside her. The question made her think that this was something Sam thought about before. Maybe not just once or twice.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admitted. “When I was younger, all I thought about was hunting. It was a good thing for me. I wanted to do it. I wanted to be like my father.”
Sam nodded. “I did too. I’d wait for the day my dad would decide that I was old enough to go with him and Dean on hunts. But now that I’ve done it all, and experienced a bit of school life at the same time… I want to do bigger things. Maybe not be in danger every other day.”
Drew never thought of it that way. She’d only been to school when she was much younger, when her mother was still alive. After the tragic incident that rocked the whole family, Drew never went back to school, initially because she didn’t want to go anywhere, and eventually because she picked up on hunting and made that her life. Her brother Dorian followed suit whenhe got old enough.
“I haven’t experienced much school life. I haven’t really eperienced anything normal since I was eight,” Drew explained, wrapping her arms around herself, so as to shield herself from the brisk wind. “No homework, no parties, no dates. Not even a first kiss.”
Of course, she had always wondered what that would be like, but she didn’t really get the time to fantasise about it, let alone think of when it could possibly happen for her.
Sam shrugged off the jacket he had on and draped it over her shoulders before he looked at her again. For a moment, it was just silence and them looking at each other, till Sam began to bridge the gap between them. Before she knew it, Drew felt his lips against hers. It was tender, and probably quicker than she imagined it to be, but considering it was her first, it felt like slow motion. She supposed that the fact that she had once had a major crush on Sam Winchester made it feel different. A good kind of different.
Once he had pulled away, he was smiling. Drew’s lips were tinglign and she kept replaying the moment in her head, almost too distracted to hear most of what Sam said next. “Just to cross off one thing on that list,” he explained. “And to show you that it’s never too late.”
PART V
present day
present day
Never too late.
Drew had waited twelve years for this moment. She wasn’t going to wait any longer.
Gun in hand, she shared a look with Sam before moving down the dirt road, toward the abandoned farm house. The couple had long since disappeared inside, but Drew saw no lights on anywhere, and she hadn’t heard any sounds of distress yet which led Drew to believe that maybe the witch enjoyed toying with her victims first, giving them a slow, painful death. She shuddered to think that it might have been what her father was subjected to.
“I’ll go around the left side and see if there’s a back door,” Sam told her, nodding to the direction he would be heading. Drew nodded and within moments, he was gone. She headed straight for the main entrance, only to see that one of the two barn doors were pulled open slightly. Drew inched along the side of the door till she could peer inside, through the gap. She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath till she looked inside and saw who she was looking for.
The woman’s back faced Drew. The man she was with was nowhere to be found, but she was busy looking to the back door and speaking some incantation. Her voice perfectly matched the one she had heard twelve years ago, saying a spell right before her mother was killed. From where she stood, Drew had a clear shot of her. She was thinking of going straight to using the witch killing spell instead of using the gun to incapacitate her, but before she could reach into her pocket, she suddenly felt chills running up her spine. She felt like she was being watched.
She turned to see the man that the witch had been with but Drew now noticed something that hadn’t been there before. Fangs.
Drew ducked on instinct, just as the man jumped. It made quite a racket when he hit the door instead and Drew spun around quickly, and held the gun out. It would only be a temporary solution since vampires could only be killed with a good beheading, but considering Drew hadn’t thought to bring a machete, she just aimed at his neck and fired three rounds.
It wasn’t enough to properly kill him, but she did loosen the lid, so to speak.
The man fell to the floor, muttering something that sounded like a name.
“Malia?” Drew echoed, wondering if she had heard it right.
“Yes, Malia. The woman who is fed up of you and your family continuing to kill members of my coven.”
Drew’s head snapped up, her gaze quickly shifting to see the woman now standing at the doors. They were wide open now, and with a fleeting glance, she noticed Sam inside the barn. He seemed to be stuck to the wall, a few inches above the ground. He was awake, and struggling, but unable to move, like an invisible force was keeping him in place.
“Now, put that gun down so you don’t make a bigger fool of yourself.”
Drew made no attempt to move or pay heed to anything she was saying.
“Do it… I’ll do to your boy toy what you did to mine. And I’m quite sure he won’t survive it the same way,” she spoke again, appearing dangerously calm. She seemed quite confident that there was no way she was losing this battle. It made Drew even more determined, but she also knew she couldn’t take any chances.
So, slowly, she let go of the gun and it fell to the grass with a soft thud. “Move along inside. It’s far too cold out there.”
Before Drew could even make a move, she was suddenly lifted against her own will. Her feet were inches from the floor, and her arms were stuck to her side, but she continued to move forward till she was at the center of the barn.
“Hopefully with you, it’ll be the end of the line. It’s getting so tiring to have to deal with this every few years,” Malia continued, walking up to where Drew was levitating. With a simple hand gesture, Drew collapsed to the floor. She only then realised that she was in some sort of circle. And then it hit Drew.
“You knew I was coming.”
Malia smiled. “Of course I did. Did you think I wouldn’t know that you killed my only two coven members?”
“What was the vampire for then?”
“A monthly treat,” Malia shrugged. “I like them exotic.”
“Meaning the more gory the better?”
Malia opted to ignore that comment. “I will admit, I didn’t expect you to have company. But that’s no problem. It seems like he’s new to the game.” She glanced to Sam. “Who bothers trying the back door?”
Drew took the moment to try and figure out what to do. The vampire was still out cold, Drew didn’t have her gun, but she could quickly grab the bottle from her pocket. There was just no way Malia would let her speak the incantation.
“Anyway,” Malia’s voice derailed Drew’s train of thought and the witch was facing her again. “I should get on with this. You’ll be the perfect sacrifice to the goddess.” She seemed almost giddy with excitement.
Malia didn’t seem to want to beat around the bush anymore. She began to speak, saing something in latin that Drew didn’t understand. The circle that surrounded her, made of white sand, began to glow purple and Drew quickly looked to Sam. Fortunately, he understood what she was thinking.
“Furor divina virtute-“
Malia stopped her spell midway, seeming annoyed. “Stop that.”
But Drew only continued, speaking the lines at the same time as him. “-in infernum eam detrude.”
It was a quick spell, but to complete it, they had one more thing to do. Drew reached for her bottle but Malia sensed what was going on. She stepped forward, into the circle, to stop her, and it felt like an invisible hand had wrapped itself around Drew’s neck. She began to choke, and while she grabbed the bottle from her jacket, she was unable to do much with it.
But then suddenly, a crash sounded. Drew wondered if she had managed to somehow throw it after all, but the moment the sound came, so did fire. Malia was engulfed in flames and it caused Drew to crawl away, coughing and sputtering as she took in large gulps of air. She turned around to see Sam was down on the ground again, not too far away from her, and she remembered she had handed him a bottle for the witch killing spell before they got into the barn.
Looking back to the witch, Drew watched as she withered away, now surrounded by smoke, before imploding into a mixture of blood and ash.
Silence surrounded them for a long while till Drew managed to get to her feet. She felt sick and grimy but she also felt a sense of triumph. The witch was finally dead, after twelve years.
Remmbering the vampire, Drew looked around and found a bent crowbar lying on the floor. She quickly picked it up to finish off the vampire. It was messy, and she got blood all over her favourite boots, but she wasn’t willing to wait till she went back to the car to get her machete.
Sam and Drew cleaned up in silence. They dragged the remaining body of the vampire into the barn and set it on fire before slowly making their way back to the car. It was still dark out, but wouldn’t be long till morning came. Neither of them got into the truck. Instead, they leaned against the hood of it, just staring at the trees ahead.
“How do you feel?” Sam asked Drew after a long pause of silence.
Drew gave it a moment’s thought, to try and find the right words. “Accomplished,” she said softly. “But also… a bit disappointed. I thought killing her would make more of a difference but it isn’t going to bring my parents back. I’m just comforted with knowing that the world has one less bitch of a witch to worry about,” she let out a humourless chuckle.
Sam smiled a little. “What now?”
Drew looked up at him. “I’m not really sure. I stayed in the hunting game to see this through. Maybe now I can take your advice and do something else. That’s what Dorian did,” she explained. Her brother was currently finishing off his final year of high school and getting ready to go to college. He gave up the whole hunting game after their dad died. It was just Drew that wasn’t able to. She turned into her father. “So, do you have to explain your whereabouts to anybody?” She asked him curiously after a short moment of silence.
Sam tilted his head to the side for a bit as if he was trying to figure out the best way to respond. “I wouldn’t say we’re quite there yet. But it’s heading there. Jessica is… She’s amazing.”
Drew nodded. “I should probably see if I can find something like that. I’m still curious as to how it would go,” she said before letting out a small sigh and getting into the driver’s seat. Sam followed suit, getting in beside her. Just as she started the car, he turned to her. “It’s like I said before,” he reminded her. “It’s never too late.”
Drew didn’t know what he implied when he said it, and she supposed there was more than one way to look at it since she had no idea what the future would old, but she had to nod and echo his words in agreement because the words rang true.
“Never too late.”
.
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𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿: 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍
natasha.
𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
a journey for a friend
harry potter fandom
canons only
hedwig the owl (pov)
assignment
1,316 words
A/N: this is a little challenge i created for myself to write from hedwig's perspective since i believe she was an important character in the books! this is a scene not played out in the books, but was mentioned, explaining that Hedwig went to deliver a birthday present to Hermione while she was on holiday with her parents in France. I thought it would be interesting to write a scene in Hedwig’s perspective as she travels to a new land, and better yet, a scene we don’t know much about.
The sudden breeze was welcomed by the snowy owl as she soared over a beautiful looking town. It definitely helped propel her forward, getting her to her destination faster.
Well, she didn’t exactly have a proper destination, but rather a person she needed to get to. Hedwig had been entrusted with a task, and she would carry it out to the best of her abilities. Granted, it was one of the hardest she had gotten in a while. Usually when she was asked to deliver something, Hedwig wasn’t required to leave the country. This time though, things were different. She’d crossed borders, the weather had changed, and the language people spoke were different. Hedwig rarely dipped down for a break in cities she flew over, mainly because she was determined to finish delivering her parcel. She was on a deadline. A girl’s thirteenth birthday depended on it!
That was what Hedwig kept telling herself to keep her wings flapping, and to get her mind off of the fact that her claws were getting painfully sore from having such a firm grip on the package Harry had given to her. All he had told her was a name. That was the only thing Hedwig needed before she was on her way. There was no shifting on her talons hesitantly, nor did any sound of protest leave her beak. This was what Hedwig was supposed to do. She did anything and everything to be a good owl to Harry, and she felt, quite frankly, her relationship with her person was much better than the relationship shared with many other wizards and their owls. Hedwig liked to think she was more than just a messenger. She was a companion. A companion especially during hard times, like in that horrible nest occupied by the Dursley’s.
If Hedwig were to protest at all for taking on the task Harry assigned to her, it would only be because she was unsure about leaving him alone with his aunt and uncle. This was just another reason why she was determined to finish her job quickly. So she could return to him as quick as possible.
Hedwig wasn’t entirely sure where she was now. In the distance, she saw a tall looking structure that looked a lot like the letter ‘A’. She had seen Harry scribble it onto papers all the time, so Hedwig liked to think that she was a bit familiar with the language. She also noticed that this tall structure would give her a good vantage point, and some time to rest, so she flapped her wings a little faster to get there, and perched herself on one of the ledges. It was hard to balance with the package still in her clutches, but somehow, she managed.
From up there, Hedwig could see a lot, and better yet, she was able to focus on a lot. Like a bunch of people making their way up the very structure that Hedwig had decided to use as her resting place for a few minutes. She also spotted a few bakeries nearby and cobblestone pathways that she was sure were lined with mice or rats. It reminded her of just how long it had been since she went on a hunt for some food for herself. For a moment, she forgot about her task, when she spotted a frog leaping around in a pond a bit of a distance away. The very sight of it made Hedwig want to dive right in. Poor thing wouldn’t even know what was coming, but it would make a nice meal…
No. No, Hedwig couldn’t take a break. Not till she found who she was looking for. So she resumed her search, letting her large eyes scan the area. She knew she was close. She could sense it.
And then, after a few moments, there she was, walking behind an older man and woman, hair still just as bushy as Hedwig remembered. Harry’s term at Hogwarts had not ended very long ago after all, so she didn’t look very different. The snowy owl gave a small shriek of excitement before she left her perch, so as to not lose the bushy haired girl.
It hardly took her time to near the family of three, and soon enough, Hedwig had flown ahead of Hermione, only to stop right in front of her, still flapping her wings to try and hover in the air. Hermione came to a sudden stopped, seemingly surprised, till she recognised the owl in front of her. After that, her expression shifted and Hedwig knew she was happy to see her.
“Hedwig!” She held her arm out immediately, which Hedwig was thankful for because she didn’t know how long she could hover in the air. Owls were not hovering birds.
She perched herself on Hermione’s arm, being careful not to let her claws dig into her sweater, while Hermione reached out to take the package from between her talons. After looking at the front, where Hedwig knew Harry had scrawled something onto it with his quill, Hermione grinned wider.
“Hermione?” Hedwig now looked away from Harry’s friend, to see her parents, who were approaching with curious looks on their faces.
“Harry sent me a present!” Hermione told them with a gleeful tone. “Thanks Hedwig. That must have been a tiring journey for you to come all the way to France.” Hedwig did not know where France was, but she was right. It had been a long and tiring journey, but Hedwig was happy that she had been able to make it on time, and make Hermione happy.
She gave a small hoot of agreement and affectionately nibbled the top of Hermione’s ear before Hermione spoke again. “Oh, hold on for a moment, I should write something for you to take back for him,” she said, and Hedwig took that as a sign to leave her hand so she would be free to move around. Instead, Hedwig perched herself on the window sill of what looked like a restaurant, considering she could see people inside eating. Hermione went into that very restaurant, followed by her parents.
Hedwig couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but soon enough, she came back out, putting a piece of paper in an envelope. Before she handed it to Hedwig though, she pulled a small paper bag that had been wedged underneath her arm. Reaching into it, Hermione pulled something out and held it out to Hedwig. It was oddly shaped, kind of like an oversized earth worm. Hedwig knew about those little critters that lived in the ground, because when she was exceptionally bored and found nothing to hunt, she would try to play around and catch them when they were peeping out from the earth. This was not the same, but whatever it was, Hedwig thought it looked very appetising, so she gobbled it all up. And it tasted divine.
Hermione chuckled. “You’re in France, so it only makes sense that you eat like the French. Escargot. It’s French for Snails. I didn’t know if you’ve eaten it before but I read that owls eat snails.”
Hedwig had never eaten snails, but she now knew that she loved them, so she gave a loud, excited hoot. Hermione, hearing this, offered her more till there was none left in the bag. She felt satisfied now. She had her meal, she delivered the package, and she was ready to go back home to her person.
“Thanks again, Hedwig,” Hermione said, handing her the envelope that she was meant to deliver back to Harry. “I’ll see you when the new term begins!”
And, with yet another hoot of approval, Hedwig took off into the air. It was a long journey back home, but the exhaustion and the hunger was worth it if it meant she would be eventually reunited with her best friend.
The sudden breeze was welcomed by the snowy owl as she soared over a beautiful looking town. It definitely helped propel her forward, getting her to her destination faster.
Well, she didn’t exactly have a proper destination, but rather a person she needed to get to. Hedwig had been entrusted with a task, and she would carry it out to the best of her abilities. Granted, it was one of the hardest she had gotten in a while. Usually when she was asked to deliver something, Hedwig wasn’t required to leave the country. This time though, things were different. She’d crossed borders, the weather had changed, and the language people spoke were different. Hedwig rarely dipped down for a break in cities she flew over, mainly because she was determined to finish delivering her parcel. She was on a deadline. A girl’s thirteenth birthday depended on it!
That was what Hedwig kept telling herself to keep her wings flapping, and to get her mind off of the fact that her claws were getting painfully sore from having such a firm grip on the package Harry had given to her. All he had told her was a name. That was the only thing Hedwig needed before she was on her way. There was no shifting on her talons hesitantly, nor did any sound of protest leave her beak. This was what Hedwig was supposed to do. She did anything and everything to be a good owl to Harry, and she felt, quite frankly, her relationship with her person was much better than the relationship shared with many other wizards and their owls. Hedwig liked to think she was more than just a messenger. She was a companion. A companion especially during hard times, like in that horrible nest occupied by the Dursley’s.
If Hedwig were to protest at all for taking on the task Harry assigned to her, it would only be because she was unsure about leaving him alone with his aunt and uncle. This was just another reason why she was determined to finish her job quickly. So she could return to him as quick as possible.
Hedwig wasn’t entirely sure where she was now. In the distance, she saw a tall looking structure that looked a lot like the letter ‘A’. She had seen Harry scribble it onto papers all the time, so Hedwig liked to think that she was a bit familiar with the language. She also noticed that this tall structure would give her a good vantage point, and some time to rest, so she flapped her wings a little faster to get there, and perched herself on one of the ledges. It was hard to balance with the package still in her clutches, but somehow, she managed.
From up there, Hedwig could see a lot, and better yet, she was able to focus on a lot. Like a bunch of people making their way up the very structure that Hedwig had decided to use as her resting place for a few minutes. She also spotted a few bakeries nearby and cobblestone pathways that she was sure were lined with mice or rats. It reminded her of just how long it had been since she went on a hunt for some food for herself. For a moment, she forgot about her task, when she spotted a frog leaping around in a pond a bit of a distance away. The very sight of it made Hedwig want to dive right in. Poor thing wouldn’t even know what was coming, but it would make a nice meal…
No. No, Hedwig couldn’t take a break. Not till she found who she was looking for. So she resumed her search, letting her large eyes scan the area. She knew she was close. She could sense it.
And then, after a few moments, there she was, walking behind an older man and woman, hair still just as bushy as Hedwig remembered. Harry’s term at Hogwarts had not ended very long ago after all, so she didn’t look very different. The snowy owl gave a small shriek of excitement before she left her perch, so as to not lose the bushy haired girl.
It hardly took her time to near the family of three, and soon enough, Hedwig had flown ahead of Hermione, only to stop right in front of her, still flapping her wings to try and hover in the air. Hermione came to a sudden stopped, seemingly surprised, till she recognised the owl in front of her. After that, her expression shifted and Hedwig knew she was happy to see her.
“Hedwig!” She held her arm out immediately, which Hedwig was thankful for because she didn’t know how long she could hover in the air. Owls were not hovering birds.
She perched herself on Hermione’s arm, being careful not to let her claws dig into her sweater, while Hermione reached out to take the package from between her talons. After looking at the front, where Hedwig knew Harry had scrawled something onto it with his quill, Hermione grinned wider.
“Hermione?” Hedwig now looked away from Harry’s friend, to see her parents, who were approaching with curious looks on their faces.
“Harry sent me a present!” Hermione told them with a gleeful tone. “Thanks Hedwig. That must have been a tiring journey for you to come all the way to France.” Hedwig did not know where France was, but she was right. It had been a long and tiring journey, but Hedwig was happy that she had been able to make it on time, and make Hermione happy.
She gave a small hoot of agreement and affectionately nibbled the top of Hermione’s ear before Hermione spoke again. “Oh, hold on for a moment, I should write something for you to take back for him,” she said, and Hedwig took that as a sign to leave her hand so she would be free to move around. Instead, Hedwig perched herself on the window sill of what looked like a restaurant, considering she could see people inside eating. Hermione went into that very restaurant, followed by her parents.
Hedwig couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but soon enough, she came back out, putting a piece of paper in an envelope. Before she handed it to Hedwig though, she pulled a small paper bag that had been wedged underneath her arm. Reaching into it, Hermione pulled something out and held it out to Hedwig. It was oddly shaped, kind of like an oversized earth worm. Hedwig knew about those little critters that lived in the ground, because when she was exceptionally bored and found nothing to hunt, she would try to play around and catch them when they were peeping out from the earth. This was not the same, but whatever it was, Hedwig thought it looked very appetising, so she gobbled it all up. And it tasted divine.
Hermione chuckled. “You’re in France, so it only makes sense that you eat like the French. Escargot. It’s French for Snails. I didn’t know if you’ve eaten it before but I read that owls eat snails.”
Hedwig had never eaten snails, but she now knew that she loved them, so she gave a loud, excited hoot. Hermione, hearing this, offered her more till there was none left in the bag. She felt satisfied now. She had her meal, she delivered the package, and she was ready to go back home to her person.
“Thanks again, Hedwig,” Hermione said, handing her the envelope that she was meant to deliver back to Harry. “I’ll see you when the new term begins!”
And, with yet another hoot of approval, Hedwig took off into the air. It was a long journey back home, but the exhaustion and the hunger was worth it if it meant she would be eventually reunited with her best friend.
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