Disclaimer All recognizable characters/settings belong to their creators. The stories listed here are transformative works, from which I've made/am making no financial profit.
Warnings Language; references/allusions to torture and non-con.
1. And They Call It Puppy Love
Had Missy Bender ever set foot in Hibbing's one middle school, she would have learned a couple or three words that described her to a T.
The first of those words was industrious, but because Missy hadn't ever set foot in Hibbing's one middle school she wouldn't have had a clue what that word meant.
Sam Winchester would have known that this meant assiduous, diligent – because he'd been that way himself pretty much all through his life and certainly latterly, applying himself to his law books very industriously in order to make sure his full ride carried him all the way to the station stop he'd set his heart on all those years ago, watching LA Law reruns while his 14-year-old brother and/or surrogate father applied himself – pretty industriously – to cleaning the guns and honing the blades of their impressive collection of Knives For Every Conceivable Occasion.
In fact, even at ten years of age, Sam knew what industrious meant – and he had the personification of that word close by at all times as his brother diligently broke down, oiled, reassembled, loaded, and then carefully packed the guns away in preparation for that night's fugly, while their dad did God knows what God knows where. And even now, at twenty-six, Dean was still diligence personified as he lived and breathed Sam… watch after Sam, guard Sam, protect Sam, take care of Sam, throw himself in front of a bullet for Sam, sacrifice all for Sam.
The second word that had Missy sprinkled all over it was capable, though she'd never heard that word spoken by any of her kin. It was true though. Pa Bender may not have learned his child-rearing skills from Parents magazine but he sure as heck raised a can-do kid in the years after he took a tire iron to Ma Bender's skull when his Sunday morning pancakes turned out like hubcaps yet again. Missy could cook up those meaty stews Pa, Jared and Lee loved to warm their bellies with after the hunt, she could keep house, hotwire a car, pick a lock, wring a chicken's neck by fisting its head and twirling its body around one-handed, and swing that tire iron just as effectively as Pa had that Sunday morning. She could hunt in the dark, bring down a deer, a pig or a human bean at 100 yards with a gun, an arrow or her trusty slingshot, and happily warm her hands on the flames as she burned whatever was left after Pa and Jared took the meat off whatever – whoever – they'd hunted that night.
In fact, wash her, buzzcut her, and dress her in 501s and biker boots, and she'd have been nothing so much as a small female version of Dean Winchester, and had John Winchester been her father he'd have been proud of her. Only more artistic than Dean if truth be told – Missy carved with care: a slash to the left, a matching slash to the right, a poke in this eye, a poke in that eye, bullet to the left knee, bullet to the right knee; all nice matching pairs. Pa was awful proud of it and called it her feminine side, said his little girl was getting all-growed-up and was a real lady.
And there was another big difference. Even though Dean talked the talk he really only killed because he had to. He was cold-blooded and ruthless in the doing of it, and he got a degree of pleasure and satisfaction out of the fact it was one less fugly preying on innocents in the dark. But it wasn't that kind of visceral pleasure Missy got from feeling a knife glide through fat, slice through muscle, and grind through bone, or from knowing that in a split second that screaming, weeping, snot-dripping, blindly staggering long pig's head was going to explode in a cloud of blood, hair, and skull as her bullet plowed into it.
Those vital life skills – being industrious, being capable, and all of the collateral talents they'd blessed her with – ensured that Missy Bender wasn't still in the closet when Dean Winchester tried in vain to beg a ride from Deputy Kathleen Hudak. In fact Missy wasn't even in the house. And that was how she knew exactly where the boys were headed.
As to the why of Missy thinking to hunt them down in the dark just like her Pa and brothers had shown her how to, that was another word entirely. Obsessive. A word that would have appeared pretty regularly in Missy's file had she ever gotten within a country mile of Hibbing Middle School's guidance counselor.
When Missy set her mind and heart to something she was powerful caught up – and industrious and capable in pursuing it. And right now, Missy had set her mind and heart to something. For Missy was in love. It didn't matter that she'd never read one of those teen magazines, or whispered and giggled about that special boy in the bathroom between lessons with her classmates. She knew it was love: love at first sight, like Pa always said it was when he'd seen Ma for the first time, and joked that it was when Jared had seen Patsy the cow for the first time.
Truth was, she'd never clapped eyes on anything as purty as that boy, standing all tall and clean and strong amid the dirt and squalor. He shone, she thought dreamily, as she sat there in the dark just behind Deputy Hudak's car, just like those pictures of angels in Pa's bible. So shiny and glowing there in the dark, his eyes liquid and long-lashed, like all the deer she'd ever marked in her gunsights. He even looked purty after he'd come round from Pa braining him with the skillet, all panicked eyes and eyelashes spiked with sweat and tears after Pa branded him with the poker. And especially after he thought Lee had shot that other boy, eyes wide and huge, panting breaths and little snuffling whimpering noises. It didn't matter that he'd been working away at the knots behind his back as she drowned in his eyes and though about how goldarn purty he looked all hurt like that, and how much purtier he'd look even badder hurt.
It didn't matter that he'd launched himself at her, grabbed her bodily and thrown her in the closet. Missy was in love. Missy wanted. And what Missy wanted, Missy got. So once she'd clocked the deputy on the back of the head with the same skillet her Pa had used just a couple of hours ago to knock Dean Winchester into the middle of next week, Missy set out to get what she wanted.
Hibbing Middle School's guidance counselor had come out of the DC schools system and had that good woman gotten the opportunity to spend time with Missy Bender, obsessive wasn't the only thing she'd have noted about the child. Sky west and crooked was how Pa described it.
Having come out of the DC schools system, Hibbing Middle School's guidance counselor would have used a way more simple description.
She'd have chosen the word insane.