#my uncle: why r people just looking at the stock market LOOK AT THE BONDS!!

[femmesandhoney]

love chatting w my uncle bc hes so knowledgeable about finance and politics so we just spent like half an hr complaining together about trump and hes livid how stupid the american people are. and how misogynistic so many of them are, like he was reciting to me various elections he's lived thru and hes like every damn time the democrats have to come in and fix the disaster of an economy the republicans made 😭

[huntershelper25]

The Path of the Chosen: Chapter 4

PotC: Ch 4

Summary: Brooke is a 21 year old girl who’s life is flipped upside down when she receives a phone call from someone she hasn’t heard from in years. This phone call leads to events that cause her to get sucked back into the lives of two young men whom she hasn’t spoken to in years. Her life is never the same. Along the way she learns a secret about herself that not even her father had known. She is forced to face her destiny. Which path will she choose: duty or family?

A/N: I suck at summaries. I started writing this fic YEARS ago. It was posted here on Tumblr, but I have made some edits recently and have decided to repost it. This requires some introduction though. I had a thought one day of what the show would look like if there was a female character that was brought in that actually stuck around for longer than a season or two. And because the thought wouldn’t go away this story and Brooke were born. I had a lot of good feedback the last time I posted this years ago so I decided to repost it for my new followers with some edits.

Disclaimer: There is a LOT of direct quotes and scenes from the show. Especially in the first few chapters. I do not own any of it. I only claim the character of Brooke and how she fits into the story. All else is credited to the writers and copyright holders of the show Supernatural.

Warning: There is some smut thrown in randomly for the first 5 chapters as flashbacks to establish timeline, character building, and relationships, but after that the smut dies off.  Also, let’s just assume condoms are implied. They aren’t mentioned, but let’s assume they are used.

Pairings (through entire story): Dean/Brooke (OFC), Sam/Brooke (OFC)(in later chapters)

Word count: 1700

Previous Chapters:

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter Four

She awoke the next morning with the inevitable headache of someone who downed half a fifth of whiskey in less than an hour. As she walked to the bathroom, change of clothes and toiletries in hand, she could hear Bobby snoring away down the hall.

A blinding pain shot through her brain as she flicked on the bathroom light. She stood there blinking for a minute or two, allowing her eyes and her hangover to adjust to the blinding light. She set her things on the toilet seat and stood to examine herself in the mirror. Her two-day old makeup was showing its age. Her eyeliner had decided to finally dislodge and smudge down her cheeks following the trail her tears had taken the night before and her foundation was nearly nonexistent and flaky. She sighed as she took her disheveled self in. She hardly recognized herself anymore. In just two days she had gone from a young, almost pretty girl with such life, to this mess. She hated what she saw in the mirror: a helpless, scared, pitiful girl who couldn’t hold herself together, everything that she was not.

“Pull yourself together.” she told her reflection, “No one is going to hold your hand through this, you’re in this alone now, so suck it up.”

Brooke watched as the girl in the mirror turned from a frightened child into a determined young woman. Satisfied with what she saw, but still unsure of how long it would last, she turned to take a shower.

After she quickly and quietly showered, dressed and put fresh makeup in place, she made her way slowly and quietly down the stairs.

She hadn’t forgotten her plan to leave and start her life anew, but she wanted to do something nice for Bobby before she just took off on him. So, she cleaned the kitchen and straightened things up a little bit. Tossing empty whiskey bottles in the trash and giving things a good dusting. As she put an unopened beer back in the nearly empty fridge, she remembered that she had planned on doing some real grocery shopping. She looked at the clock and saw that it was 8 AM. There had to be a store open somewhere. So, she quickly made a list of what she knew Bobby ate and headed out the door.

After some driving around town she finally found a tiny family run market that was open. As she walked through the automatic doors, she grabbed a shopping cart and instinctively headed toward the produce aisle. She smiled when she found herself surrounded by apples and carrots, knowing full well that Bobby would not eat this, but she grabbed a few apples anyway.

She ran into a few employees stocking shelves, obviously surprised anyone was in the store at this hour. She politely smiled and walked by, not wanting to start up any small talk. She wanted to get this done with and get out on the road to her new life as fast as she could. The less time she spent idling in this one the better. However, you can’t escape the cashier. She sighed when she saw the ear to ear smile of the young gal that stood at the register as she approached.

“Hi there. Did you find everything alright?” she asked as she slowly began to ring things up.

“Yeah, thanks.” If she kept her answers short, she may get the hint.

“Haven’t seen you around before. You new in town?” she continued to scan and bag at a glacial pace.

“Just visiting.”

“Oh? Who? I know just about everybody here in Sioux Falls.” This time she paused. Brooke’s patience was running thin with this one. She made a note to herself to avoid small towns as she searched out her new home.

“Just my uncle, who’s expecting breakfast when he wakes up so if you wouldn’t mind.” Brooke gave her a quick smile, which seemed to do the trick because the girl nodded and hurried up the rest of the transaction.

Bags in her arms, she walked out to her car, as she was about to unlock the door, she caught a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a little girl, not much older than seven dancing around saying, “Please Daddy? Please!” Brooke’s heart sank as she saw her dark curls bounce around her tiny little face, and saw her fierce green eyes smile up at her as she waved when she caught Brooke looking. She reminded Brooke of herself.

She looked up at the father, who was also waving with a “What can ya do?” look on his face. He too had dark curls and green eyes, just like her father. She tried to conjure up a memory of her own that resembled this interaction, but she couldn’t. She and her father didn’t see much of each other when she was that age, much less ever have that kind of relationship. She learned at a very young age that when Daddy came home you left him alone.

She used to stay with Aunt Julie whenever her dad was off on a hunt, who to this day she didn’t think was actually her aunt. When he would come back, he would be either injured or in a bad mood. He would shut himself up in Aunt Julie’s study and not come out sometimes for days. She remembered the first time she had entered without knocking. She must have been six:

She had just made a batch of yummy cookies and wanted to share them with her father. She slowly opened the sliding doors leading to the study and slid into the room without making a sound. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the walls had been covered in photographs and newspaper clippings depicting some very terrible things. She remembered them because they had never been there before.

Her father was at the desk with his back to her. She slowly walked towards him captivated by all the photographs. As she drew closer she saw a picture of her mother on the wall directly in front of him, she only knew her from photographs he had shown her, it made her smile, but not for long. Alongside her photograph were newspaper clippings and more photos depicting her mother in gruesome circumstances; lying on the floor in a precarious position, covered in blood. She gasped and dropped the plate of cookies.

Her father spun around in surprise, “Brooke, what are you…” then he followed her gaze to the photos of her mother and his expression changed from surprise to anger. He walked around from behind the desk and escorted her out of the room, his grip on her arm tighter than it had ever been. “How many times have I told you to never come in here!” The first time he had ever raised his voice to her.

“But Daddy, why do you have pictures of Mommy like that? What happened to her?” tears welling up in her eyes, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her.

“That is not of your concern. Stay out of this room!” and he slammed the doors in her face.

She knew now that he thought anger and firmness would protect her from the truth and keep her curiosity at bay for fear of angering him again, but that day shaped their relationship, from that point forward she always feared angering him. She never fully trusted him with anything. Whenever he would come home, she would steer clear of him and let him do his job. They never had father-daughter moments, they never bonded. They were just two people who coexisted. When she became old enough to help him on hunts, once John had convinced him to allow her to, she became his soldier, his partner, not his daughter. A partner he never fully trusted. She could never seem to move fast enough, think sharp enough, or aim sure enough for his satisfaction. He left her behind more often than not.

It pained her seeing this father-daughter interaction and not being able to conjure up her own memory with her father. She gave them both a quick smile and quickly unlocked the car and got in.

She pulled up to Bobby’s just as he was walking out the door.

“Let’s go.” He motioned towards the tow truck the second she got out of the car.

“Good morning to you too,” She said as she heaved one of the grocery bags into her arms.

“Put that stuff in the house and let’s get a move on.”

She gave him a quizzical look as she walked past him into the house. He seemed a little nervous about something. She peeked out the window as she set the bags on the counter and saw him almost pacing by the truck. She became a little concerned. Bobby almost never showed his panic. He always managed to appear calm in even the direst of situations. She quickly put away the perishables and left the rest for later.

“What’s the deal, Bobby? Why so in a hurry?” She asked as she locked the back door behind her.

“I’ll tell ya on the way.” He watched her walk around the back of the truck to the passenger side, a contemplative look on his face, before he opened the driver door and got in.

They sat in silence as he pulled out of the driveway and drove through town, a look of determination on his face. Every few minutes he would look over at her like he was about to say something and then turn back to the road.

“Bobby, seriously, you’re starting to scare me a little. What’s going on?” Brooke finally asked as he pulled onto the freeway.

He sighed and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Sam called. They found John, he was possessed by the demon,” her heart stopped, “It didn’t stick around for long, but it apparently did a number on them all before it took off. They were on their way to the hospital when they were hit by an 18-wheeler. Sam didn’t give me too many details, just that we need to get the impala from the impound lot before anyone sees the arsenal they got in there. We’re meeting Sam at the hospital on our way.”

She turned and looked out the window. They couldn’t be that hurt. Sam was up and around enough to join them at the impound lot, so they had to be fine… right?

She started fidgeting in her seat as they pulled off the freeway and started following the signs to the hospital. The entire drive she had wanted to call Sam to get the full details, to find out if everyone was okay, but she didn’t want to be stuck on the road feeling helpless if the news had been bad, so she refrained.

She was about to explode when they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. She saw Sam standing just inside the automatic doors and leapt from the truck before Bobby had come to a full stop. It took every fiber of her being not to run across that parking lot. She walked at a controlled steady pace, listening to her heart pound in her ears. He was up right, standing on his own. He didn’t seem to be using the wall to hold himself up. That was a good sign. As she drew closer his face began to come in to focus. She saw the swelling of his eye, the busted lip, and the multiple cuts on his face. He gave a crooked smile when he saw her, but it wasn’t his smile, she could tell it was for her benefit, the pain in his eyes gave that away.

The three of them had always been a tight knit family. They cared for each other more than anything in this world. They would each die for one another without hesitation. Brooke knew that Sam was feeling a thousand times more fear and anxiety over this than she could even imagine. When she was within arm’s reach, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She thought maybe more for her sake than for his, she wasn’t sure, all she knew was it didn’t seem to make a difference for either of them.

“How are they?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Dad’s okay, a little beat up, but okay,” he started to fidget a little and avoided eye contact.

The smile he had given her as she approached, the way he hugged her tighter than normal, and the way he was avoiding her gaze already answered her question, but she had to ask, “and Dean?”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave her told her everything she needed to know.