3Disclaimer: As many of you know, I have absolutely no rights to the show Supernatural. I do, however, own the character Deirdre Kavanagh, as well as her family, and will be very displeased to see any of them reproduced by anyone else.
Rating: I'm rating this M to be safe, since there is rough language, and there will be sexual scenes in later chapters.
Author's Note: Okay, this is the second fanfic I've ever written, and the first of the Supernatural kind. So please be nice. I would absolutely love reviews. Anything to better my story starts off somewhere at the beginning of season two. Spoilers will be thrown in as the season progresses.
Summary: Still trying to find themselves again after the events of In My Time of Dying, Dean and Sam run into a witch while hunting in Louisiana. Something about her exotic purple eyes pull Dean in. Can he be swayed from his rogue-ish, loner ways? And what does the future have in store for him?
Red River, Louisiana
The nightmares had begun to take their toll. They plagued her every night, keeping her from getting the rest she needed. Real sleep had become a forgotten memory. The darkness and terror filled her, always at the back of her mind even in her waking hours. Yet never could she remember exactly what took place. It was like trying to grasp water in your hand as it drips away.
Deirdre Kavanagh lay on the lumpy motel bed, staring up at the dingy grey ceiling, tracing the water stains with her enchanting violet eyes. Yet again she'd woken from the nightmares, and she was far too exhausted to try to sleep again. Depressed at the thought, she sat up a bit, thinking of what she needed to do. It would be dawn in a few more hours, which meant she'd be able to leave and find the nearest grocery store. She needed to stock up on some things before she left town to continue her search.
Restless, she reached for Sully, her big collie-husky-wolf mix. He whined a bit as she scratched his ears, knowing it meant she wasn't asleep, and worrying about her. She smiled at him sadly. Sometimes she swore he was more than a dog.
Leaning back against the pillows again, she began to count the cracks in the ceiling. Maybe it would last her to daybreak.
Dean Winchester was delighting in the sounds of his purring engine and Blue Oyster Cult. It had taken some work, but the Impala was back in fine condition. Sam dozed beside him, catching some sleep after the long night they'd put in. Werewolves were a bitch to deal with. So now he was putting some distance between them and their last hunt.
Sam shifted and opened his eyes, blinking a bit as he looked around. "Where are we?" he asked groggily.
Dean glanced at him briefly. "Just a few minutes outside Red River, Louisiana. We'll stop there and fuel up, maybe catch some sleep." God knew his ass was dragging.
Sam paused, thinking back. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
"I have no idea." He took a hand from the wheel to rub his face. He was too tired to play Sam's guessing games.
But Sam was already reaching over to grab their dad's journal from the back seat where they'd tossed it earlier. He flipped through the pages, trying to find the entry he'd seen before. Maybe it was because he was so tired, but he just couldn't find it.
They drove in silence for another five minutes, which was all it took to find themselves in the center of town. Dean looked around before pulling into the gas station across from a little grocery store. The Impala needed gas, and he wanted a look around before they searched for a motel. The sun had finally peaked the horizon and he stared off at it while leaning against the car. But then he was distracted as what he was pretty sure was a '71 Plymouth 'Cuda pulled up behind him. Though it was purple, it still managed to scream muscle. He looked over to watch a beautiful woman, not quite Sam's age, step out of it. Black hair rained down her back in waves. He couldn't see the color of her eyes, but the dark bruises of many sleepless nights were blatant beneath them.
Sam got out on the other side, thinking of running across the street quick to pick up some provisions. Then he saw the look on his brother's face. He followed the line of vision, and sighed as he saw the woman too. He shook his head at Dean, wondering how, even after all that had happened in the last few months, he still managed to think like always. But because he knew his brother so well, he didn't bother to distract him.
Dree looked up as she felt a prickling along the back of her neck. Hearing thoughts of herself she looked up to see a pair of green-hazel eyes staring at her. Maybe three years ago she would have been interested, but now she had other things to worry about. Men were only fantasy. So she looked away and went about filling her gas tank.
A bit of shock ran through Dean as he saw that her eyes were purple, like the chunks of amethyst they sometimes used. But then her gaze left his, and he felt himself sag a bit, like a little energy left him. He shook himself, weirded out a bit. He wondered what was going on about this chick. Finishing up with his baby, he wandered over to her. "Need some help?" he asked her, even though he could perfectly see that she knew what she was doing. She glanced over and glared at him. He started to smile just before he got the shit scared out of him by a loud bark and a huge paw being smacked against the window. The woman smiled as he backed away from the mammoth of a dog that sat in her car. "Nice dog," he murmured.
She reached down and tapped on the window. "'Tis alright, Sully," she told him, a faint wisp of Ireland flowing through her voice. The dog backed down a bit, but still kept his blue eyes pinned on Dean. Laughter filled the woman's as she looked at Dean again. "He's rather protective." She finished gassing her 'Cuda, then went to walk inside to pay. Dean followed, needing to do the same.
Dree didn't like being followed, even if he had something else to do. Unfortunately there was a line inside, which didn't make sense this early in the morning, but she'd stopped questioning her bad luck at this point. While she waited she wandered around, figuring she might as well get things here instead of going across the road to the grocery store. She was grabbing some bottles of water when she accidentally knocked a can of soda out of the fridge and it fell to the ground, cracking open and spilling out all over the floor. Rubbing her temples, she looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone seemed to be in line. Turning back to the mess, she closed her eyes and began to mumble words in a strange language. Slowly the soda seeped back into the can. Once all of it had, the can sealed itself. She opened her eyes again and picked up the soda. "Much better," she said to herself.
"That's quite a trick."
Her eyes widened and she spun around, coming face to face with the man from outside. His face told her nothing, and she refused to look into his mind. "What are you talking about?"
Dean studied her in a detached way. He wasn't sure what language she had used, but it had definitely sounded like a spell; which meant she wasn't another child like Sam, but a witch. And witches tended to creep him out. "Well, since the last time I checked soda cans don't have their own built in cleaning system, I'm talking about the mess you just got rid of. I'm not blind sweetheart."
She could fix that, but it wasn't really an option at the moment. She shot a glance to the door, measuring the distance and obstacles in between. She'd never make it without pulling a few more tricks, and she really didn't want to cause more attention. So she went with denial. "I'm sorry; I really don't know what you're talking about." Bottles in hand, she skirted around him. But as she did his hand shot out and wrapped around her upper arm. Her eyes darkened immediately. "Let go of me," she said quietly.
It was interesting, watching what those eyes could do. He wasn't really sure why he was pushing this. It wasn't like him to mess with a witch. But something about her pulled him. He was about to say something when she spoke a word and he felt his hand spasm. He gasped from the pain and had to let go. She went straight to the register, which was finally free, and paid for her gas and waters. She was out the door before he completely got over the shock of it.
Seconds later, after paying for his own gas, he slammed out of the station and rushed over to the Impala. Sam already sat in the passenger seat, waiting for him. Seeing his brother's face made him straighten a little. "What?"
Dean said nothing. He got in and started the car, then pulled out, following the witch. He really wanted to talk to her now.
Thoughts? Suggestions? Next chapter should be up soon.