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idiasweat · 2 days ago

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caught in inaction

idia | rook catching gn!yuu skipping class in the bathroom warnings: self-deprecating language, anxiety, self-harm (in rook's) word count: 3k (idia) 2.1k (rook)

10:23.

Your phone is dying.

You forgot to plug it in last night... again.

And you've beaten the rest of the battery to death with mobile gaming and the music blaring through your earbuds. You're sure to be half-deaf by next semester, the way this one's been going- the two-thaumark things you found in the bargain bin at a thrift in Foothill Town were the only kind that matched your archaic phone's jack, and every beat felt like your ears were being full-body tackled to the floor. But anything is better than the unforgivable silence of Monday morning. You had just barely managed to convince Crowley that wearing earbuds in every class is an important custom in your world, and you wouldn't be able to function or focus without them.

He was either really gullible, or he just wanted you to get the hell out of his office before his lunch break started (which you had accounted for, of course. You wanted to be there about as much as he did...)

10:25. Six percent left. You're not going to be able to survive the rest of the day without the sweet oblivion of fuzzy earbud feedback and the white noise between tracks. Sigh. Your music taste has really refined itself since the start of the semester- after craftily finding out which music shuffle app was best by listening in on your desk neighbor's conversation, you'd just been letting the songs play without skipping a single one. You didn't know any of the bands from this world, after all. Folk music between classes, classical in the bath, showtunes walking back from the library... right now, it's an ad. Great. You're about to be thrown to the wolves with a vanilla body spray advertisement as a parting gift.

You shift, drawing your knees to your chest on the chipped toilet seat. There's not exactly a lot of space to sit, but that's to be expected from a room that's only designed for temporary use. Most of the boys that come into the desolate hall bathroom are only here to exchange homework answers and sometimes take swings at the hanging lights with socks full of pebbles. Typical teenage boy things, you supposed. You'd spent a good week testing out different hiding spots around campus before settling on the third-floor east-wing bathroom, the smaller one, tucked between a dusty, vacant trophy shelf, and a closet with a rusted lock. You would've really preferred an empty classroom with a view of the courtyards to tuck yourself away in, like the protagonist of a slice-of-life anime, but all of the ones you found (and there were many) were locked with some stupid magic spell you couldn't undo even if you knew how.

So, smelly bathroom is was. You're sure there must be mold in the vents here- no one actually uses this place to pee, it's too far from the actual classrooms, but there's a pervasive musty smell that never worsens nor improves. You're probably going to start hallucinating and having weird nightmares. Well, more than usual, anyway.

10:30. Your phone dies without warning, drained of all life after you hit 3%. Damn it!!! You were really hoping you had a few more minutes. It wouldn't have done you any good but to take the weight of skipping another class off your mind, which was all you wanted, really.

You just couldn't do it today- again- presentations.

Not yours, mind you. Yours is on Thursday. But today you'd have to sit through an hour of watching your talented, smart, funny classmates rake in laughter and applause for their stupid puns and award-winning smiles and Wikipedia-tier research. Which is not as bad as presenting yourself (you'll probably skip on Thursday, too) but it is torture on par with waterboarding. And after ten minutes of imagining the ceiling tiles falling on your classmate's heads, you got kinda bored.

This is infinitely better. You're failing, but failing in style, right?

Somewhere nearby, a leaky faucet drips.

The last light in the room fizzles out and dies.

Now would have been a good time to have your phone. You're not afraid of the dark! It's just... there are puddles of... liquid... all over, and you can't navigate around them in pitch black. The newer bathrooms on the lower levels all have windows, low and close to the ceiling, hugging the helm of the wall and sucking up all the darkness and bad smells. This room has vents full of mold and... puddles. Not really unlike Ramshackle, but it's not like you're crazy about that, either.

Crap. Now what? You can't even check the time, so you won't be sure when class is over unless you venture outside for a clock. It could be an hour from now, or thirty minutes. How is anyone supposed to live like this?!

Creeeeak... click.

You tense. Maybe not being on your phone is best, especially in a dark room anyone else can see in.

The stall you've locked yourself in is the only one with a working-slash-existent door, the others having been smashed in or melted or taken off their hinges and carried into the night, or whatever else happens at this fucking school. That's all to say, if you were blissfully on your phone when whoever just came in came in, they'd see the blue light and know there was someone on the only usable toilet. Then they'd probably say something like, "Woah, dude, it must be huge!" because you won't leave and you'd be shaking so hard from the nerves that it'd rattle the walls.

Please, don't try the door... don't... this bathroom is disgusting!!!! And MINE!! Go find your own mold poisoning!!! FUCK YOU!!

Your bathroom-mate doesn't seem to get the angry memos your mind is rapidly firing at them (who would've thought?) and the sound of sneakers scuffing the damp tile floor follows. DAMN YOU!!!

There's still a door on the stall, sure, but the lock has been busted since you found it. There's a suspiciously rock-shaped dent where it should be, indicating a teenage boy-related event may have occurred there. You shrink into the furthest corner of the stall, hands against either side as if bracing yourself for the walls to collapse in on you. Don't try the door... it's not worth it, I promise!

Click, swoosh. "EEEEEK!"

You should be the one screaming, if anyone, especially since there's a giant blue gumball blocking your only exit. With the lights going out, the foreboding cracks and creaks, and the stranger in the doorway, you could see this as a corny horror movie... if the slasher wasn't sheet-white and shaking.

You blink. "O-occupied..."

His hair falls over his face in waves, a soft, blue light, not unlike that of your recently deceased phone, glowing around him like a halo. He doesn't look much like an angel otherwise.

He stares at you, processing your half-baked response and the sight of a person sat like a spider in the corner of the toilets.

And then... he glares.

"Get out,"

EXCUSE ME??

"Guh?" is all you can manage.

He frowns. "I-I said, get out. This is my hiding spot,"

No way! Who does this guy think he is?! He's really defending this nasty bathroom stall!?

"...Wh-whuh?"

He swallows thickly. "...C...c'mon... please?"

His arms, firmly at his sides, seem uncomfortably stiff. He clenches and unclenches his fists, clearly not as mean or scary as he's trying to come off as. You narrow your eyes.

"I-I found this spot fair and square!"

"I-I've been coming here to hide since my first year! I found it first!"

He shuffles a step forward and the door swings shut behind him, forcing him a little further. It's not a big stall, so he's practically in your lap.

You blink, and he rolls his eyes, turning his back to you and fidgeting with the lock on the bathroom door.

"It's broken," you say, stupidly. The stranger turns it at an angle and then hits it over its top with a closed fist, the click of the lock following.

You stare. "...Ah-ah..."

He turns to look at you from over his shoulder, and you awkwardly slink away from the toilet to give the grimy porcelain seat to him, which he takes with an exasperated huff, crossing his arms and leaning against the graffiti-etched wall.

You do the same, mimicking his posture, but against the door. He blows a strand of hair out of his face.

"...So... skipping, huh?"

It's still dark in the stall, but the light coming from his hair is enough to make out his features. You wonder if he can do the same for you.

You nod, and then: "O-oh, uh... do you have the time?"

The stranger starts to reach for his pocket, but his hand stills at the last moment, and he rolls up his sleeve to show off a pricey-looking digital watch instead. You can't tell if that was to impress you, or if he just didn't feel comfortable taking out his phone in front of a weirdo he found pressed up against the wall of a toilet.

"It's ten thirty-eight,"

You slump. You were somehow hoping more time had passed since he first spoke to you.

The stranger observes your body language, the sweat beading on your upper lip, the awkward, uncomfortable way you shift against the wall.

"Forgot your homework?" he asks, prodding for answers. He's a lot less anxious than he was when he found you- you must make him feel at ease. There's something both relieving and aggravating about that- what's a bathroom-dweller doing judging you, anyway? He doesn't know you!!!! Maybe you're really popular, and you're meeting a lover here... well, you're not, but he doesn't know that!

"I-I just didn't want to go," you mutter.

He looks at his feet. "Yeah, okay. Me, too,"

Figures. You sniffle, crossing your arms.

"Presentations?"

"Whuh?" he says, eyes darting up to meet yours before swiftly away, back at his feet. "N-no, I just... don't go to class in person often, but the wi-fi is down for maintenance, so I..."

He trails off. A spark of envy ignites in your chest. What's he got to complain about?! You have to go to class in person every day! It's not like anyone's asked you if that's what you want to do, either...

You stifle the flicker of frustration tickling your throat and shift again. "But you're not going?"

"No," he says. "...Can't."

Can't is much heavier of a word than want, and you find yourself envious again, at least of his ability to make you feel bad for him. No one feels bad for you, and yet here you are, giving sympathies to a stranger who's life sounds a hell of a lot easier than yours...

You bite down the bile of insecurity.

"...I... me, too," you say, half-wanting to make him feel more comfortable, half-wanting him to feel bad for you, too. For some reason.

"Can't, I mean."

He nods. "Y-you chose a good hiding place, then... I guess I'm not so opposed to sharing it as long as we're using it for the same thing..."

You'll count that as a win. "Thanks..."

"NP," he says, sitting up straight again and rolling his shoulders with a soft grunt. Bad posture. "I-I didn't realize anyone else was, uh... yeah. I'm... Idia."

He didn't give you much to work with, but you're not asking for much, either. You're really just grateful he didn't kick you out.

You give him your name, in no uncertain terms, and he nods, looking away again. The stall suddenly seems so small, with two people in it... Idia seems like he's realizing this, too, the way he's looking around and bouncing his legs like he wants nothing more than to stretch them out... but there is, of course, nowhere else for you to go.

Unless...

No. Those sorts of things only happen in crummy fanfiction written for hormonal losers, and you're anything but that. Obviously!

Idia lasts all of two minutes before he asks you to move, his voice crackling with a renewed twinge of anxiety. "C-could you...?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," you say, telling him exactly what you'd been rehearsing in your head, in case he asked.

Idia swallows a rebuttal and turns around himself in the tight space. There really isn't much in the way of comfort, and by the look on his face, he already feels guilty for making you get up. At least there's that!

"D-do you wanna... could you... um, we just have a lot of time left, and..."

You'd been so quick to dismiss any sympathetic, sappy thoughts like that, but he spoke up so easily... maybe he'd been thinking the same thing? But, no, that'd be...

He's just being nice.

Still, you can't say no, even if you really wanted to. You shuffle closer, suddenly feeling very aware (and very afraid) of your own weight, though Idia doesn't seem too concerned. If anything, the terrified look of anticipation that's on his face tells you he's thinking a lot about his own body. You move slowly, both for his and your own benefit, fitting yourself in his lap with a touch of grace you weren't aware you had. Idia stiffens at first contact, but he doesn't seem completely repulsed by you, which is a relief.

"Is this... are you comfortable?"

Something like that, you think. You nod, sat neatly in his lap like a present under a Christmas tree... or maybe more like a lump of coal in a stocking, but he's nice to sit on, and that's all that matters.

A few moments of familiar silence pass before Idia shifts, the sounds of shuffling fabric following, and he pulls out his phone.

Despite the less-than-charming atmosphere, the musty smell of mold, the incessant drip, drip, drip of the tap, the darkness, the looming threat of moving time and the outside world, this is... strangely... nice. He's watching car crash compilations on his phone (the screen lowered, so you can see, too) with his chin on your head, which is actually somewhat uncomfortable, but it's romantic, too. Dreamy, even. Something you'd see in a romcom, if romcoms were written about people like you.

You sit there in silence, quietly contemplating the nature of time, existence, and foreign-language dashcam videos, until you're suddenly... not contemplating anything.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

You jolt, hand flying to your bedside table to slam your stupid alarm off and cram in an extra ten minutes of sleep, just to punch straight into a metal wall. Ow.

Cradling your sore fist, you sit up, eyes adjusting to the desolate darkness of your room. Not... your room, you remind yourself.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

You blink, reaching out in the darkness for the source of the sound and finding only metal, metal, metal... something soft. Fabric. Hoodie, pocket lining, and then, phone! It's not yours, remember- yours died.

You remember that this pocket is attached to a person, who's happily snoozing through the loudest alarm you've ever heard. You contemplate the situation for a moment, and then decide it would be best not to dawdle. And so you hold the phone speaker right up to Idia's ear and let it ring again.

He wakes with a start, his hips snapping up and jostling you in his lap, and he just barely has the mind to grab hold of your waist and keep you upright before you fall onto the bathroom floor. You hold his phone as if it were a sickly swaddled newborn baby, close to your chest.

bbbbbbrrrrRRRING!

Loud, too loud. You hand the phone to Idia and, in his sleepy stupor, he tries to answer his alarm like a call. It'd be entertaining if you hadn't just been woken up from a... nine hour nap.

No, that can't be right. You squint at Idia's digital watch again, reading the screen as he paws at his phone, trying to turn off his alarm.

Almost evening. You slept in a dirty bathroom with a stranger for an entire day... missed all your classes getting mold poisoning.

...Could have been worse.

Besides, it's not every day a human being willingly touches you.

"That's for dinner," Idia mutters, slipping his phone back in his pocket with an exasperated, sleepy sigh. "Gotta set a reminder or I'll forget to eat... I'm, uh... I get busy..."

He doesn't have to explain anything to you, but the fact that he likes you enough to want to look good is pretty nice.

You nod.

"Y-yeah... me, too..." you mutter.

Idia unlocks the stall door with a jab of his elbow and walks you into the hall. It's already dark, and you can't see anything but inky blackness through the tall, imposing windows of the school, and the air is impossibly clear here. You're going to smell like raw sewage and mildew for a month...

Idia sniffles, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The events of the day haven't caught up to him yet, it seems. You wonder how he's going to react once he's fully awake.

"Eh, uh..." he starts from behind you, and you turn over your shoulder.

In the moon of early evening, where you can make out more of his face and less of the glowy halo that hides it, he looks more... like himself. You suppose that's a nonsensical thing to think, but his brow is knotted, his eyes turned away, his lower lip caught between his teeth, but all in that stubborn side of him you met first.

"...Same time tomorrow?"

You blink. No... not really, does he mean that?

"Uh..." shit... "I have... potionology, this- that time tomorrow. But Thursday! Th-Thursday I'll definitely be here..."

Idia nods, looking mildly relieved that you didn't turn him down (how could you?)

"Thursday, it is,"

You part in opposite directions (even though your dorm is the way he's going), your feet padding against the stone floor, the-

"W-wait!"

You turn. He's staring at you, wide-eyed.

"W-we don't have to do that in the toilets. You can just come to my room,"

Today marks the third time this week you've missed History of Magic.

You really shouldn't be skipping. It's not like you haven't had every opportunity to succeed, after all; Professor Trein has been extending deadlines since the start of the semester, which, as his syllabus would indicate, is strictly against his classroom rules and expectations. You're a "special case". Always have been.

So, he's not totally heartless, but he is pretty oblivious. It would take a blindfolded fool to not notice the way you cower in the back of the class, avoiding eye contact and praying you don't draw any unwanted attention to yourself. There might've been a point in time where you wanted to be noticed, admired, befriended, loved like your classmates were, in this world and the last, but that fantasy had been long abandoned in the abyssal blackness of your mind. Since September, you've been focusing on one thing, and one thing only: staying out of people's way. If you could survive school at home, then you could here, too... or you'd die trying, which wasn't the worst route.

Not like you had much of a choice either way. You couldn't just ignore the main storyline to focus on sidequests, or you'd never move forward. No matter how daunting that was.

But you could allow yourself breaks, and since Monday, every day had been a sidequest day. As evident by the tiny bandages dotting your skin, you had successfully been abdicated to the infirmary for a full three days worth of classes. Of course, the injuries you littered your skin with weren't that serious- a bruise, a scratch with the end of your quill, a paper cut here and there, "accidentally" stapling the soft flesh of your palm... enough to make you bleed, but not to cause permanent damage. It was the perfect plan. And once you had secured ointment and a colorful bandage from the nurse ghosts, you got to wander the halls until class had concluded. You had quite the reputation for being clumsy, but it was worth it- you'll have to milk this as much as you can before Trein bans you from using the pencil sharpener on a permanent basis.

You drum your fingers on the stall door, the steady rhythm and melodic taps motivating you to turn the textbook page you'd been perusing. Who said you have to go to class to learn, anyway? You can just cram for exams from the comfort of your porcelain throne! You'll pass, easy peasy.

And if not...

...You don't want to think about it. A summer course might not be so bad, since there'd be less people, but you're not even sure if NRC offers those.

And to retake this miserable class next year...

Shudder. You swallow your worries and return to the page on ancient sorcery. Midterms are coming, and the last thing you want to do is make an idiot of yourself by having your low scores posted on the corridor wall.

Or, worse... Trein will read them aloud to the class. You'd seen that in a light novel once, though you're not sure if it happens here. But it might, and that's plenty enough motivation to keep you reading.

Each turn of the page echoes in the impossibly empty bathroom. Besides the drip, drip, drip of a leaky pipe somewhere off to your left, the only sound is your own breath, and the flutter of paper. You could be taking notes, too, but this is plenty enough sound for now. You just have to get a passing grade, after all. You're not aiming for points. Just not to be humiliated when the grades are posted...

You swallow. Your throat is dry and scratchy, no doubt from staying up too late again. But who could blame you? Night is the only time when you actually get to be alone, and you don't have to worry about these... things. No textbooks or tests, no snickering classmates, no whispers and stares, no angry Trein demanding to know how you accidentally slammed your hand in the door... again.

You really hope he doesn't report you to Crowley.

Having a heart-to-heart with the Headmage is truly a fate worse than death... or retaking a class. You try to reassure yourself that Trein wouldn't do that, no one truly suspects that you're hurting yourself on purpose... right? You're just clumsy and accident-prone. There's nothing worth reporting there!!!

But, truthfully, you don't know what's going through the old man's head. Or anyone's. You get teased for your clumsiness, but does anyone really mean it, or are they just saying that because the reality is more uncomfortable than a simple lack of poise? You shudder to think of it, your fingers digging into the pages of the book and crinkling the smooth paper. You can't focus on the paragraph anymore, rereading the same line over, and over, and over...

What could they be thinking? you ponder. Maybe Trein will report you, or he'll think you're playing hooky like some idiot kid and give you detention... maybe he'll make you stay after class to catch up.. oh, the horror...

You swallow the painful lump in your throat, your spit stinging the red rawness all the way down.

Don't be ridiculous, you reason, or try to, at least. Trein teaches hundreds of students. He wouldn't take any interest in someone as insignificant as you...

"Helloooo in there~"

What- FUCK!

Someone is knocking on your stall. You didn't even hear the door opening- who the fuck is it?

"O-occupied," you manage.

"Je sais," the voice says. "You cannot hide all day. Come out, now, I will tell you what you missed!"

Threatening. Overconfident. French. Your stomach drops.

The door opens (how did he unlock that???) and there's Rook Hunt. You shrink as far as you can into the corner of the water closet, sitting on the toilet with your feet on the seat and your hands on either side of the stall, your textbook slipping out of your lap and onto the dirty ground.

"C-can you not see I'm busy?"

"Eh?" he hums, looking down at where you had locked the door. "Ohh... oui, I see. I have been sent as your personal aide to class. You seem to have forgotten again. I will escort you!"

Perhaps you would have had some pity for Rook Hunt, the boy who collects friends like they're novelty bobbleheads but never really makes them, never keeps them, if he were not... Rook Hunt. If he had not spent the last few months justifying his want to follow you around like a hungry hunting dog with the excuse that you were... what did he say?

"Mysterious"

Never in your life did you think you'd one day be hoping for someone to regard you as worthless and leave you be.

But you're pressed here, both physically and metaphorically, and you can't summon the confidence to say "no", and so you do something stupid instead.

Run for it.

You were once taught never to turn your back to predators, like bears and big, rabid dogs. Your tablemate had been reading something from his scout book to his friend in first period. They'll see you as prey, he had said, and then to you, with an evil smile: I bet they would run. They're so afraid of everything.

His friend had scolded him for teasing you and ruining your morning, but you hadn't been planning on enjoying it anyhow.

Stupid, you had thought, you would never be caught dead outside of your room, let alone in the woods. Useless information.

There were no angry bears or hungry lions at Night Raven College. But you did have Rook.

Your tablemate should have learned something fucking useful at his stupid scouts training. Like, for instance, what to do when a tall, scary extrovert takes your running as an invitation to hunt you like an animal.

You're so out of shape. When did that happen? You suppose you can only blame your piss-poor diet of noodle cups and sweets for that. You're winded and worn in two minutes, using the wall as a crutch to support your weight down the hall.

For a fleeting, terrifying moment, you have a very scary thought: I wish someone else were here.

And then it goes away, with your energy, with the feeling in your feet, with whatever was left of your pride, and the air in your lungs.

Shouldn't have run... Stupid, stupid, stupid...

SMACK.

Had there always been a wall there? You can only somewhat register the shooting pain in your skull and the purple bruise forming on your forehead as you fall backwards. It's not graceful; you hit your tailbone on the stone floor and curl in the fetal position.

If anything went right in your pitiful life, this is where you'd die. But it's only an ache behind your eyes and a bruise on your butt, and then Rook Hunt crouching over you like you're his latest kill.

"Zut alors... you have injured yourself yet again!" he trills picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, not even flinching once at the weight.

"You are quite the tricky one, you know! And here I was, thinking that your injuries were all faked... tch, it looks like you are a clumsy one... non?" he smirks knowingly at you, paying little attention to where his feet are going but walking gracefully nonetheless.

You don't respond. This is the most anyone has touched you in... years, probably... and it sucks. It's miserable. And uncomfortable.

"Wh-where are we going?" you manage.

Rook tsks. "Ah, the infirmary, of course. You are in no state to study after that fall!"

Maybe running for it wasn't such a stupid idea, after all...

"And I will stay dutifully by your side, nursing you back to health!"

Never mind.

You wince at his words, a sharp sting of panic shooting down your spine and right into your bruised tailbone, making your butt ache. Ow. "Y-you don't-"

"But of course!" he interrupts before you even get to finish. He knew you were going to object, damn it. "It was my doing, was it not? I should have known better than to spook un petit lapin such as yourself... small, easily-startled creatures should be handled in traps, or at long distances!"

He's talking about shooting you now, which honestly isn't the worst thing you've heard about yourself here. At least he's being honest, rather than saying it behind your back.

You don't even try to fight it. What's the point? Besides, your head really does hurt, and you don't have any access to ice in Ramshackle (as Rook would also go on to remind you).

But you could do without the boy at your sickbed, legs crossed, elbows on his knees and chin in his hand as he studies you like a piece of fine art, or, more likely, an ant under a magnifying glass. He bats his long eyelashes at you as you cautiously eat the soup he had "specially prepared" for your health. There's probably something weird in the warm, swirling broth, but you can't find it within yourself to care. It's good soup, anyway.

"...Are you going to sit there all night?" you weakly ask him, your fingers absently feeling over the thick bandage on your forehead. You'd bled a little, when you hit it.

Rook nods eagerly. "Ah, yes, to study such a rare specimen... of course, I would have preferred to do it in your natural habitat, but under controlled conditions is acceptable..."

Like you're a rat, or something. Well, you've been called worse. You set the lukewarm bowl to the side and sink into the bed. Firm, uncomfortable, just like home. Your dorm, that is.

You're not too keen on being... "observed", or whatever he said, but it's not like you have much of a choice. He wouldn't leave even if you asked him to.

"..." you wring your hands, quiet for a moment. "...Can you at least get more ice, then...?"

"Ah, it would be my honor!" Rook says, shooting up from his seat. You're almost surprised that he doesn't salute you, too.

He does, though, return with a bag of ice, place it by your abandoned bowl, and press a fleeting kiss to your forehead.

It's swift and painless, like being decapitated- and not unlike a headless body, it leaves you silent and stunned. You sit there for a moment longer before Rook presses the ice to your head himself.

"Just as I thought," he says. "I will have to take note of this... ah, how my heart leaps at such an opportunity to study an elusive creature such as yourself! Rest easy, lapine, I have many more trials to conduct!"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #rook hunt x reader

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leonenjoyer69 · 8 months ago

Text

After sitting half finished for forever, I finally present Lanyon's Mindscape!

I spent quite a while coming up with everything and developing things in a way that connected very heavily to Lanyon's character (as well as Elias's) for my Lanyon Takes the Potion AU, so I'm very happy to finally share it! I mentioned it a while ago on the QnA with @arythusa , but here's the whole long summary!

I have a reason for each and every detail and choice, so if you have any questions, leave them in the reblogs or comments and I promise you I would LOVE to answer them :3 also, reblogs would be very appreciated, I put a lot of work into this <3

Now, let's begin!

The Mindscape

A twisting mansion of halls, doors, and spiraling staircases, Lanyon's mindscape is a vast, extravagant space.

Most of the mindscape has an inherent purple hue; grand chandeliers also bathe the upper, more "frequented" areas in a golden light. However, the deeper you travel, the more sparse these golden lights become.

Lanyon doesn't have the same odd "compartmentalization" abilities that Jekyll does, leaving his mindscape much messier and more confusing, with very little of it being any sort of "organized". Furthermore Lanyon hasn't ripped himself down to a shell of a person like Jekyll has; nor does he suffer from the same self hatred as Jekyll and Hyde, making his mindscape much more lively.

Residents of the mindscape include mind versions of: Jekyll, Everly, Lanyon Sr., Lanyon's mother (though she acts as more of a ghost,) the shadow people, and the Nightmares™.

THE ROOMS AND LAYOUT

THE HALLS

The halls are long and confusingly twisty, covered in unmarked doors, blurry portraits, and golden chandeliers, as well as other occasional decorations and clutter. There are very few doors that actually stand out enough to know they're special, like the ballroom, greenhouse, library, alchemy room, and Lanyon Sr's office. Most of the special rooms are near the surface, never moving, as their influence on Lanyon's character and memories are too strong to be moved from near the subconscious.

Memories, however, do tend to shuffle around a bit, even moving between floors depending on how much Elias or Lanyon is thinking of it. This shuffling has the ability to bring nightmares up from deeper levels to the more "safe" ones.

Many of the halls tend to lead in circles or straight into dead ends, and some doors simply lead to more hallways.

THE POCKET WATCH

To combat the twisting and turning, Elias eventually realizes that his "broken" pocket watch acts more like a compass, pointing him in the general direction of where he wishes to go. Mindkyll also has a pocket watch like this, being one of the more mobile mind people (despite his slight limp.)

The pocket watch has the normal larger clock face, as well as a smaller one for "seconds". The hands all spin aimlessly until a destination is thought of. The hour and minute hands work together for general direction like a compass, while the seconds tell the level, with straight up/forward being a higher level, down being a lower level, and horizontal being the current floor. Elias only figured this out with Mindkyll's help.

Elias, Lanyon, and Mindkyll all have an inherent attachment to their given watches, and when they're in other hands or removed from their persons, they feel more lost and confused, as if they have brain fog.

THE LIBRARY

Lanyon spends a decent bit of his free time reading and watching plays and productions, so it only makes sense for him to have a grand library filled with the fleeting memories of these pasttimes.

The bookshelves are oppressively tall, and despite the number of books and scripts, most of them aren't quite readable, since their words have been at least partially forgotten. However, there are a decent few books that are mostly filled out, namely favourite stories or plays he's ingested, old school books (thanks to Jekyll's influence,) and partially filled out journals or phrases that stuck with him, either from other people or things he's told himself.

Additionally, there is a reading nook with a fireplace in one of the corners, since reading is a comfort he hasn't abandoned.

THE MUSIC ROOM

The music room is a cozy space with a few chairs, a fire place, a grand piano, other various instruments, and sheet music strewn and hung about. There's also a couple of paintings, but they're covered mostly in music sheets. One of the other notable instruments is a violin, though it doesn't get used until Elias comes around.

This room is where Mind Everly spends most of her time, when not in the greenhouse, of course. Most of the music pieces are either nonsensical, or genuine ones that the real Everly has played for Robert.

This room becomes a sort of safe space for Elias after certain...events.

THE BALLROOM

The ballroom is a large, extravagant 2 story room. The floor/lower space has walls lined with windows, bringing a golden light to the whole room. However, nothing can be seen on the other side of the windows. Pillars sit between a few of them, holding up a large, wrap-around balcony-- I.e the second floor. The lower space also has a large circular design in the middle of the floor.

The second floor also has windows, as well as a few doors-- one of which leads into Lanyon Sr's office, since Lanyon viewed the tie between his fathers work and status so strongly, both becoming his whole life.

Because of how much of Lanyons life was built around balls and gatherings, the room is filled with shadowy upper class folk, all with somewhat blury features. They tend to act quite mindlessly, seemingly at least somewhat under Mindkyll's Beck and call, but they do dance together and murmur nonsensical, unsettling things to each other. They don't say anything that can be made out, but their growing judgement towards anything odd in the ballroom and overlapping voices can cause panic quite easily.

This room is frequented by both Mindkyll and Mind Lanyon Sr. Mindkyll tends to roam around, framing and dancing with the shadow people, while Mind Lanyon Sr stays on the balcony above, ever watching and judging what goes on below.

THE GREENHOUSE/GARDEN

An overgrown greenhouse filled with various vines, shrubs, and flowers (with occasional symbolism). there's an area for plants directly in the ground, as well as tables covered in pots, metal rafters with hanging pots, and a couple of trellises. The room is mostly all glass-- which still can't be seen through, but gives a warm, comforting glow to the room. There's also a glass table, which seats 2, and a little nook in one of the corners.

A lot of the flowers tend to change, as well as "randomly" bloom and wilt.

Elias likes to spend a lot of time just sitting in this room, occasionally with mind Everly. He also likes cutting back the overgrowth, but it always comes back. He eventually starts to keep track of how the flowers change as well.

THE ALCHEMY LAB

Based heavily around Jekyll's office and Alchemy-covered university desk, the lab is a dark, candle-lit room cluttered with alchemy equipment, books, and potions. There's an odd green fog in the air, making it one of the only rooms that isn't bathed in purple or gold.

This is the other room Mind Jekyll tends to frequent, usually experimenting or organizing his things. Lanyon and Elias both try to avoid this room, as the air feels uncomfortably heavy and tainted.

THE OFFICE

Lanyon's personal office, though it's quite lacking in furniture. The room mainly consists of a desk, chair, scattered books, and a lone, curtained window. The walls are covered in portraits (mainly of his father) and the desk is littered with bills and paperwork. The room seems almost abandoned, at least until Elias comes around to it.

THE UNIVERSITY DORM ROOM

A memory of his dorm room with Jekyll. The window seems to give a faint blue light, though the curtain usually covers it (symbolizing how he hid the relationship and his feelings.)

Jekyll's desk has a few alchemy things scattered on it, as well as text books. There are bunk beds, but the top looks unused.

There are various objects in the room that trigger a memory when they're interacted with, since many core memories were made in the room, buried or not.

LANYON SR'S OFFICE

A large, oppressive office, lit primarily by the two windows. The shelves and tables are covered with books and paperwork. Mirrors litter the walls (symbolizing Lanyon's similarities to his father), as well as portraits.

Mind Lanyon Sr obviously frequents this room, doing random work and reading. The room is also directly connected to the second floor of the ballroom, high above everyone else to show how Lanyon believed his father to put himself and his work above everyone else. Lanyon tends to avoid this room, and the second floor of the ballroom in general, as it makes him feel exposed. Elias also tends to avoid this room, as it makes him feel small.

THE CHARACTERS

ELIAS WRIGHT (LANYON'S HJ7 ALTER)

His outfit gives a more "working class" feel, inspired by his father's youth. They're also far more comfortable than Lanyon's usual clothes, so Elias doesn't mind them too much. The outfit somewhat symbolizes Elias's working spirit, as well as his yearning for his Father's approval via following in his footsteps (to a certain degree), acting as a sort of errand boy around the society/for Jekyll. They also make him look ungentlemanly, simple, and weak, making him stand out in the mindscape.

He has a "broken" pocket watch on him at all times, which he instinctively feels very protective over, as it's somewhat linked to his being.

Additionally, in memories he can "take the spot" of Lanyon, letting the memory compulse him on how to move. He likes doing this to feel like he's still Lanyon-- like he's whole again.

Feelings wise, Elias isn't too against the mindscape for a good while, mainly in the beginning. While it is confusing and lonely, leaving him quite on edge most of the time, he does at least find solace in mind Everly, Mind Jekyll, and some of the rooms. He does have a few run-ins with nightmares, though he always manages to flee or be saved somehow by mind Everly or Jekyll. He prefers to stay on the higher levels where it's brighter and safer, though occasionally he does go down to dig through memories, much to mindkyll's masked annoyance.

He initially sticks around Mindkyll quite a bit, dancing and hanging out in the ballroom or alchemy lab with him, even if he occasionally makes Elias kind of uncomfortable. Elias is quick to trust him and his charm, falling into him as a safety since Mindkyll is so kind towards him, and since he resembles Jekyll so much. Mindkyll is also quite touchy and praising with Elias, feeding Elias's yearning for romantic intimacy from Jekyll. Mindkyll usually knows just what cards to play to make Elias either fall for his charm or feel bad for him. They do pursue something of a "relationship", and despite the occasional discomfort Elias feels, he is quite reliant on Mindkyll for a while, using him as a stand-in since the real Jekyll seems so unattainable.

Also, Elias finds Mindkyll's "sparkle machine" ability quite funny, but of course falls for it. On a few occasions he's accidentally sparkled back, shocking Mindkyll and somewhat offending him.

Additionally, Elias hangs with mind Everly a decent bit too, finding her to be a more calming presence among the greenhouse and music room. She gives him advice and lets him talk, acting as a sort of mental therapist. She doesn't like mindkyll. She'll play music for Elias or sometimes just sit with him in the greenhouse.

Elias somewhat avoids mind Lanyon Sr, rarely trying to get to the ballroom's second floor, unless he feels he has to. He also partially tries to avoid his fathers gaze, though sometimes he can't help but look up at Lanyon Sr watching over the ballroom, yearning to make his father proud of him. Lanyon Sr's critical gaze tends to make him feel small, cringing under the judgement.

A mind version of his mother also haunts the mindscape, though she is scarcely seen. She does seem to like Elias far more than Lanyon though, sometimes even holding Elias and calling him her baby. She only really shows up in the greenhouse, from what Elias has seen.

MIND JEKYLL

A resident of Lanyon's mindscape, he's a sparkly amalgamation of Jekyll and Hyde. Wandering between the ballroom, halls, and his lab, he mainly dances, experiments, and charms. He has phantom pains all around his body, stemming from Lanyon's constant fear of Jekyll getting hurt (especially via potion mishaps), and has a limp in his left leg from recurring nightmares of Jekyll stepping in a bear trap on the faithful Bleeding Heart Night™.

Before Lanyon and Elias split, mind Jekyll looked far more like normal Jekyll and acted a bit more awkward. however, after learning of Jekylls duality, mindkyll became a bit more Hyde like, his sideburns growing out, his hair growing messier, and gaining a hole filled cape and green hat, as well as gradient eyes. He hates his new appearance a decent bit, blaming Elias for it.

He spends most of his time in the ballroom, since Lanyon taught him how to act "proper" and he seemingly surpassed Lanyon at that, causing him to become a sort of icon to Lanyon in that sense. In the ballroom he's quite the charmer, going between the shadow people and playing them as he wishes, which stems from Lanyon's jealousy of how Jekyll acted (and still acts) with women at parties while they were together.

Mindkyll tends to feel an inherent hatred for Elias when Elias is around him, as if Elias's presence by itself just causes stabs of anger and resentment in him, though usually he can force this feeling down in order to keep his charming facade up. However, on top of that resentment, when he feels like he has any sort of control over Elias, he gets a swell of pride and power in his chest. He tends to get more inwardly cocky, which mixes with the hatred and makes him increasingly cruel at times, though he does mask that with his charm and sparkles. He's also very much emotionally manipulative, pulling at Elias's weaknesses and the slight inherent attraction Elias has for him, since he looks like Jekyll and such. He doesn't really tend to outwardly show any of his hatred of course, since he wants to keep Elias's trust for the most part, but he does Harbor Lanyon's resentment and repression of all those "weak" emotions and such. Additionally, he holds a lot of Lanyon's "rebellious" stage, feeding off of the power he gets from having control.

He also lets off sparkles as a sort of defense mechanism for when he feels threatened or starts getting impatient/aggravated. They have a somewhat calming effect, most of the time at least, made to distract people from his real intentions and feelings. Occasionally, however, their impact/sway is dulled, like against Mind Everly. Eventually, Lanyon starts becoming more resistant to their sway, and after a certain future event, so does Elias.

MIND EVERLY

Mind Everly tends to avoid the ballroom, so she doesn't really interact with the shadow people unless she has to. She's also surprisingly adept at fighting off the nightmares. When Mind Mumyon randomly shows up in the garden, or on rare occasions the music room, she'll kinda just chat with her and keep her company until she wanders off/disappears again. With Mindkyll, Everly tends to be a bit "low patience" with him, not really playing into his charm and tending to ignore him.

Mind Everly knows she's just a part of Lanyon, being one of his main comforts and someone that he confides in, and she's quite alright with doing her thing and occasionally helping out Elias or Lanyon. She's just as sweet and trustworthy as the real Everly, acting somewhat as a therapist and general advice giver. She's also quite protective of Elias after certain events.

She frequents the Music room and the Garden, only occasionally going into the ballroom if she feels she has to. She completely avoids the alchemy lab, and only goes into Lanyon's office every once in a while to clean it up a bit.

MIND LANYON SR

Mind Lanyon Sr looks quite similar to the real one, just far more oppressive and judgemental, far more emotionally detached than the real one. He has a distressing aura to him, causing discomfort to the shadow people and monsters and annoyance to most of the other mind people that get close to him. Mindkyll seems to be the outlier to this, as he generally tolerates Mind Lanyon Sr's presence quite well, even occasionally seeking it out.

He usually hangs out on the second floor of the ballroom, staring down and judging the people below. He's this ever-watching presence, detached but still close enough to control things-- or at least seem like he could. Otherwise he frequents his office, doing work, reorganizing, or reading.

He'll occasionally hang out with Mindkyll, vaguely talking to him and slipping him praises. He sees him as more successful, fond of him in a "my son should be like you" way. Despite this, he still gets quite judgemental of Mindkyll when he looses his temper or shows his more "mad scientist" side.

His feelings towards Elias are a little mixed. For the most part, Mind Lanyon Sr is constantly judging Elias, disgusted by his emotional vulnerability and how he's everything the real Lanyon Sr tried to get rid of in his son. But, on the other hand, occasionally he can't help but be the *slightest* bit proud of the fact that Elias has at least SOME work ethic.

Were Elias to try and talk to mind Lanyon Sr, he would probably be met with Mind Lanyon Sr ignoring him, silently judging him, and/or verbally jabbing at him, pointing out his flaws. Elias is quite heartbroken at this, but for some reason he tries to get Mind Lanyon Sr's approval a handful of times before finally giving up, cringing under his stern, judging gaze.

Otherwise, he's aware of his state as a concept and is quite fine with it, intent on keeping Lanyon and Elias in line, in his own detatched way.

LANYON'S MOTHER (CELIA)

Cecilia Lanyon (Mumyon) somewhat haunts around the mindscape, quite scarcely seen. Because of her distance and detatchment towards her son, she rarely shows up, and when she does it's usually in the greenhouse, since she mainly "bonded" with Lanyon by having him help tend the garden occasionally. Since at home she was also commonly hysterical, Mind Celia is generally quite blank, but occasionally snaps a bit emotionally.

When Lanyon is around her, she tends to somewhat blankly stare at him, VERY occasionally actually talking or acting motherly towards him. Elias, however, tries to drag a bit more of that motherly persona out. He yearns for validation and affection from both of his parents, and the mindscape if the only place he'll ever possibly be able to get it. She occasionally seems to give him a little of the attention he wants, talking in very short sentences when they're together in the greenhouse, maybe pointing out flowers or their symbolism. Sometimes she does seem quite cynical, however, which tends to throw Elias off.

Her and Mind Lanyon Sr don't really ever interact, unless Mind Celia just happens to silently join him on the second floor of the ballroom for "show". She mostly ignores mindkyll, but has snapped at him at least once. Otherwise, she usually just tolerates him. She likes Mind Everly well enough, it's hard to dislike her, and she enjoys listening to Mind Everly's music.

Most of the time she's not the most aware of things, but she does have her more clear moments.

(Cecilia Eleanor Lanyon was made by my friend Luka ( @lukas-broken-bow ), while mind Celia was adapted by me bc her character EATS, THANK YOU FOR DEVELOPING HER LUKA, I LOVE HER)

THE NIGHTMARES

The nightmares take on a lot of forms, with one resembling Morcant being the most notable. Along with that, however, there's also many "mad scientists", physically ruined by their science, and various magical creatures and monsters, like vampires (there's one with a resemblance to Dracula), other werewolves, and reanimated things (ones that are especially gory, since Lanyon is disgusted by things like exposed innards,wounds, and rot.) There's also a nightmare "Hyde", who is somewhat formless and mainly causes general havoc and stalks around.

With the twisting of the mindscape and so many doors scattered about, the nightmares tend to stay in lower levels, trapped behind said doors or simply lost, especially if Lanyon keeps them off of his mind. However, when thought of or triggered via seeing or hearing something (or occasionally at random), doors will open or memory rooms will move, allowing nightmares to find themselves closer to the subconcious. They're also more active in higher layers in moments of higher stress, or heavy sleep deprivation, as those " doors" become harder to unconsciously keep closed.

Mindkyll is somewhat fearful of them, some more than others, but when they're closer to his ballroom or lab, he tends to be less scared. Or, when he needs to swoop in and "save" Elias from a couple of nightmares, he tends to forget some of his fear. Mind Everly is somewhat scared of them, but is more so annoyed by them. Mind Lanyon Sr. doesn't really have to deal with them, considering his spot on the balcony, and simply watches when they come about.

THE SHADOW PEOPLE

The shadow people are vague, blurry high society folk that remain in the ballroom. They're all dressed very well, their bodies partially see-through as if they're mere ghosts.

The shadow people don't really interact with anyone but each other and Mindkyll, since he somewhat has control over them. They dance amongst each other, muttering nonsensically until their "words" all blur together. They're not very aware of anything, all in all quite mindless, but when there's anything "wrong" or "ungentlemanly", that's when they act more. Their voices start to rise, despite still being mere whispers, growing more cacophonous and anxiety-inducing as they stare. Their judgement of anything odd is ceaseless, usually only calming at Mindkyll's demand or when the oddity leaves the ballroom.

Additionally, mindkyll can manipulate them to react in other basic ways, like acting charmed or shocked, and he usually does it for his own enjoyment. When a nightmare manages to get into the ballroom, the shadow people aren't targeted. Instead they grow more sinister looking, especially expression wise, and their mutterings take on a certain sharpness, their judgements growing harsher. Usually mindkyll needs to remove of the nightmare for them to act normally again.

_______

And that is the basics of the Mindscape! Once again, I'd absolutely LOVE any questions in reblogs, comments, or even my asks :3 thank you so much for reading all of this, I hope you enjoyed!!

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 year ago

Text

Wendigo | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean's a dick but so is the reader

Word Count: 8817

A/N: Happy Saturday! Enjoy the next chapter!! Taglist/Requests are open!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You were curled up against the backseat of the Impala writing in your journal and humming along to Dean’s Foreigner cassette tape when Sam jerked awake in the front seat. You jerked up as well, concerned.

Dean shot his brother a worried look. “You okay?”

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Bull. Nightmare?” you asked.

The younger brother just cleared his throat in response.

“You wanna drive for a while?” Dean asked.

You and Sam gave him an incredulous look.

“Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that,” he laughed.

“Just thought you might want to. Never mind.” He rolled his eyes and returned them to the road.

“Look, man, you’re worried about me,” Sam sighed. “I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay.”

His brother just hummed in response.

“I’ll take you up on that driving offer, though,” you chimed in.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I told you I wasn’t listening.”

“Dick.”

Dean just scoffed in response.

Sam’s unfolding of a map brought the conversation back on track. “All right, where are we?”

“Just outside of Grand Junction,” you answered. You leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the spot labeled “Grand Junction” and drew a trail with your finger over to a spot labeled with the coordinates Dean had found in John’s journal.

Sam hesitated before speaking again. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—”

“We gotta find Dad first,” Sam finished.

“Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence.”

“Wait, showing up again?” you asked. Even after poking around at Stanford, this was the first you’d heard of a previous encounter with the creature.

“I thought Sam would’ve told you,” Dean said.

“Told me what?”

Sam turned to face you. “You remember what I said about my mom dying? She died the same way Jess did.”

You nodded in solemn understanding.

The car went quiet again; the silence only broken by the older brother. “Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do.”

Sam scanned the map again. “It's weird, man. These coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge.”

“What about it?” you asked, putting your chin on Sam’s shoulder to look at the map.

“There's nothing there. It's just woods.” He put down the map, looking past your head at Dean. “Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?”

Dean just shrugged in response.

The three of you found yourselves in a ranger’s station in Lost Creek National Forest just outside of Blackwater Ridge. You and Sam scanned a three-dimensional map of the forest atop a large table in the center of the room.

“So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” The brunet tapped his finger against the ridge’s label on the map. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

However, his brother’s attention could not be pulled away from a picture on the wall. “Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear.”

You walked over to him, and he was right. The thing was massive. The man standing behind its corpse looked like a dwarf in comparison.

“There’s about a dozen or so grizzlies in the area,” you added.

You and the boys were startled by a ranger’s voice coming from behind you. “You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

“Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper,” Sam assured him, laughing awkwardly.

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘I could hit him. Jackass.’

The ranger obviously did not believe him. “Bull.”

Your eyes flicked to Dean, who was unmoving.

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger continued.

“Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger— Wilkinson.” Dean faltered only to read the ranger’s name tag.

“Well I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head.

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will.” Dean paused only for a moment. “Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

“That is putting it mildly.”

You laughed. ‘I’m sure we’d get along great.’

“Actually,” Dean stopped the ranger from leaving the room. “You know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously, but still got him a copy of the permit.

Dean laughed smugly as the three of you left the station, waving the paper around.

“What are you, five?” you asked him.

“Listen, sweetheart, I consider this a major success.” You quirked a brow at him, mildly annoyed he called you that stupid name again. “This eliminates a lot of the groundwork we normally have to do.”

“Fair point,” you shrugged.

Sam broke the somewhat comfortable silence. “Are you cruising for a hookup or something?”

Considering the thought you’d just had, you were taken slightly aback. “What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam was more talking pointedly at Dean and not you. You came to a stop on your respective sides of the Impala.

You couldn’t quite see Dean over the top of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?”

You could practically feel the look Dean was giving Sam.

“What?” the brunet scoffed.

“Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?”

“Since now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the inside of your lip. “Really?’ you muttered, getting down into the car.

***

Sam walked a little further up the walkway to the Collins house than you and Dean did.

“Forty-five minutes in that copy room for this?” you inspected Dean’s small, fake park ranger ID.

“Can’t rush art, sweetheart.”

“Now you’re just working it into every sentence because you know it aggravates me.”

"Yup,” Dean chuckled.

You smirked lopsidedly and Dean knocked on Haley Collins’s front door. A quite beautiful, dark-haired girl opened it moments later.

“You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and (Y/N), we're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley hesitated. “Lemme see some ID.”

Dean held up the ID you’d previously been inspecting to the screen door. The girl looked between the ID and Dean.

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.”

The door swung open, allowing Haley to catch a glimpse of the Impala. “That yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice car.” She began leading the three of you into the home.

Dean looked back at Sam, mouthing something excitedly to him that you couldn’t quite make out. You rolled your eyes. You decided then and there you would push your attraction to him to the side for the rest of the time you were working with the brothers. To you, he was just an asshole playboy.

Sam’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

You took in the sight of the table set for dinner and a young boy who looked to be about thirteen already picking at his plate of food.

Haley entered the room with a bowl and placed it onto the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” you suggested.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

‘Well, there goes that theory.’

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean threw in.

The teenage boy clanked his fork against his plate, sharply stating, “He wouldn't do that.”

You eyed the boy, getting a read on him.

“Our parents are gone,” Haley said. “It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

You nodded in understanding. As much as you were trying to dislike her, it wasn’t working all that well.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked.

Haley pulled out her laptop to show Sam the folder of pictures and videos her brother had sent her. “That's Tommy.” You could hear the sadness in her voice.

She clicked through to the most recent video.

A scruffy, presumably twenty-five year old man appeared onscreen. “Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

Something flickered past outside the young man’s tent. Your brows furrowed.

“Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing,” Dean assured her.

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she answered. “Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel.”

Your eyes flicked over to Dean, growing angry at what you assumed to be an attempt at seducing the girl.

‘She’s mourning the potential loss of her brother, and you’re gonna try and charm her? Asshole.’

The younger Winchester once again broke you out of your thoughts. “Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?”

“Sure.” Haley clicked away on her laptop again.

***

You and the boys wound up at a bar. The table was covered in newspapers, John’s journal, and beer bottles; some full and some half empty.

“So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.”

You gestured to John’s journal, which Sam slid over to you. You began flipping through it.

“Any before that?” Dean asked.

Sam pulled out a newspaper to show his brother. “Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

You leaned across the table, squinting at the headline. You felt Dean’s eyes flick to your breasts that had subsequently been pushed up in your wife beater as you leaned over.

You glared at him. “Stay focused, Winchester.”

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently unable to find his way to a witty response. You turned your attention back to the headline that read, “ GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS! UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA.”

Sam pulled out his laptop. “Before that, 1959 and 1936. Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork.”

“You have WiFi in here?” you questioned.

“Don’t need it. Just wanted to look at Haley’s video.” He pulled it up from a folder on his screen.

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Can I see that?” You hopped off your stool to get between the two brothers. “Watch this.” You clicked through the three frames of the video containing the shadow you’d seen flash across the screen. “That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean reached across you to hit Sam’s shoulder. “Told you something weird was going on.”

Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop. “Yeah. I got one more thing.” He put a newspaper article between you and Dean. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

You skimmed the article briefly. “Is there a name?”

The only survivor of the attack in the article Sam showed you and Dean was a child at the time. He now lived a life of what appeared to be solitude. He drove a beat up truck that was parked haphazardly in his driveway and lived several miles out of the city. You took in the poor old man’s messy house as he led your trio into his living room.

“Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

Sam interrupted him. “Grizzly? That's what attacked them?”

Mr. Shaw lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, and nodded.

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean’s tone was slightly pointed. “What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

The old man continued to take drags of his cigarette. He seemed almost scared to entertain any other explanation aside from a grizzly bear attack.

Dean continued to pressure him. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.”

Mr. Shaw shook his head. “I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” He sat down in his recliner. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

Sam sat down opposite the old man. “Mr. Shaw, what did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like... no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?”

He nodded.

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You tried to keep your face from conveying your intrigue and tinge of fear.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.” You could see Mr. Shaw becoming lost in his mind.

“It killed them?” Sam continued.

“Dragged them off into the night.” The old man shook his head as if to shake away the memories. “Why it left me alive... been asking myself that ever since.” He took a brief pause before reaching to the collar of his wife beater. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled it down to reveal three long, deep claw mark scars. Through morbid curiosity, you were tempted to run your fingers over the jagged edges of the scarring. You couldn’t imagine how painful and angry the marks must have been when the poor man first got them.

“There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. We’re sorry about your parents,” you told him, turning away. “Have a good night, sir.”

Mr. Shaw seemed too caught up in his own head to respond with more than a wave, letting a cloud of smoke slither out of his mouth.

*** Later that night, you and the boys had just booked a room in yet another crappy motel.

‘One of these days I’ll treat myself to a stay in a halfway decent hotel.’

Before the three of you would be turning in for the night, you were headed to Dean’s car to pack your bags for the early morning you were about to have.

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors.” Dean broke your train of thought. “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal,” Sam said.

“Corporeal? Look at you, smartass,” you laughed.

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves…” Dean trailed off. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.”

“True,” you started. “But how are you gonna know what to bring to kill it with if we have no idea what it is?”

“Just trust me on this one,” Dean replied. “There’s not much a gun won’t be able to take care of.” He let the door to the motel almost completely swing shut behind him; nearly hitting you in the face.

You caught it just in time. “Right, right. Just like you ‘took care’ of Constance by shooting her.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Dean raised a brow at you, just barely turning over his shoulder to give you his response. He started busying himself in the weapons box in the back of his car.

“I mean, just barely. Nearly caught me in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”

“Hey!” You shoved his shoulder with yours.

He glared at you in response.

Sam, who had been quiet the last few minutes, spoke up. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

His brother was rummaging through the weapons box; haphazardly throwing guns into his duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

You found a shotgun that was slightly smaller than the rest, giving it a once over before moving to put it in a duffel bag of your own. Before you could fully get it settled in the bag, Dean took it from you.

You went to protest, but Sam cut you off by saying, “Yeah,” as if it was obvious.

Dean turned his attention away from you and your shotgun long enough for you to steal it back.

“Her brother's missing, Sam,” he tried to reason. “She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.”

Dean seemed to notice you had taken the gun back and glared at you. He picked up his own duffel, and you closed the weapons cavity.

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam countered while you closed the trunk. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

You and Dean gave Sam a look.

“What?” he snapped.

You shook your head.

“Nothing,” Dean replied. He threw the duffel bag at him and walked off.

***

You yawned and pulled yourself into a tighter ball on the backseat of Dean’s Impala. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart, we’re here,” Dean told you.

“Fuck.” You grabbed yours and Dean’s duffel bags off the seat next to you and got out of the car to feel loose gravel grating against your boots.

A man who looked to be in his late fifties was up ahead of you next to a Jeep with Haley and the teenager you recognized as Haley’s younger brother. You approached the other three from behind Sam and Dean.

“You guys got room for three more?” the older brother asked.

Haley crossed her arms. “Wait, you want to come with us?”

“Who are these guys?” The older man pointed at your group.

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue.”

Sam headed past everyone, and you followed.

You assumed the middle-aged man was the guide Haley had talked about hiring the previous day. He was very skeptical of the three of you. “You're rangers?”

Dean’s confidence never wavered. “That's right.”

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley was apparently skeptical, too.

“Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.”

‘That’s what he calls me.’ You couldn’t quite understand the pang that went through your chest when he used that nickname for her. You pushed the thought aside once again, reminding yourself that you weren’t special in Dean’s eyes. To you, he was becoming more of a playboy asshole with each passing moment. You hoped your attraction to his beautiful green eyes and sharp jawline would soon turn to disdain.

Speaking of which, he appeared next to you as the guide spoke once more. “What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

You turned around, trying to explain Dean’s attitude away. “He knows that. He just has a funny way of showing it.” You hoped Dean didn’t miss the bite in your tone. And from the way you could feel his glare burning a hole through your skull, you were sure it wasn’t lost on him.

The guide shook his head, brushing past you and the brothers. He headed into the forest, and you followed a few paces behind. You would never admit it, but the woods had always unsettled you just a bit. You tightened your grip on your bag and pushed forward.

Dean had apparently learned the guide’s name from Haley while you were lost in your own anxiety. “Roy, you said you did a little hunting.” He quickened his step to pass you and get up next to Roy.

“Yeah, more than a little.” The response came gruff and disinterested.

“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

You could feel where this was going. ‘Don’t fucking provoke him, Winchester.’

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear.” The disinterest was ever present in Roy’s tone as he continued to scan the treeline in front of him.

Dean passed him up, doing that obnoxiously confident backwards walk again. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?”

Suddenly, Roy grabbed Dean’s jacket roughly. You nearly flinched.

“Whatcha doing, Roy?” Dean’s tone had hardened.

Roy grabbed a stick, and peering around Dean you could see the jaws of a bear trap close around it inches from Dean’s boot.

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.”

‘Damn.’

Roy dropped the stick and took the lead once more.

Dean turned around to the rest of the group. “It's a bear trap.”

You scoffed.

You could hear Haley’s quickened step crunching leaves as she passed you to catch up to Dean. “You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers.” She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. “So who the hell are you?”

The teenage boy passed his sister and Dean. You and Sam hesitated behind Haley, shooting Dean a quizzical look. Dean jerked his head for the two of you to go on. You followed Sam forward, but hung back close enough that you could hear Dean and Haley’s conversation.

“Sam and I are brothers, and we're looking for our father. (Y/N) is—” you were interested in this explanation, “—a friend of ours.”

‘Oh, so we’re friends now.’

“He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?”

“I'm telling you now. 'sides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman. ...ever. So, we okay?”

‘Wonder how many times he’s used that line.’ You caught that same squeeze happening in your chest happening again. You desperately wished to get ahold of yourself and snap out of it. ‘He’s just pretty to look at. He’s a complete douche. Get it together, girl.’

You had missed Haley’s response to Dean’s “heartfelt” admission, but heard “And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?” You heard the rustling of a plastic bag behind you, and remembered the bag of peanut M&Ms he had bought at a gas station before coming here. You heard Dean start walking again, and you hurried ahead to catch up with Sam and not look like you were snooping.

Dean had apparently noticed you were hanging back and chuckled to himself. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He walked up beside you. “Jealous?”

“What?” you turned to him, feigning disgust. “Fuck no.”

“So… you were just snooping because…?”

You wanted to smack the smug grin off his face. His amusement at your aggravation riled you up even more. “I was just curious what she thought of us. And to be frank, I don’t exactly trust your ability to explain things away. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” You knew he didn’t believe you. “That’s all.”

You petulantly stole the bag of peanut M&Ms from him.

“Hey! (Y/N)!”

You marched on.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced after what felt like hours of walking. Your anxiety around getting lost in the forest was only deepening. That was what it all boiled down to. You had a fear of not being in control, and the idea of a place where every “landmark” looked the same, wildlife ruled the terrain, and being alone in it was pretty much a death sentence, scared you pretty severely. Not to mention, the time you almost bled to death in the middle of the woods had another hunter not found you.

You had no means of identifying where you’d come back from. All the trees seemed the same to you. You had no idea how you were going to get back to the car at the end of the day; if you were even going to make it out of here by the end of the day. You had been walking for so long that you were sure you’d be sleeping out here tonight. The thought of that frightened you even more.

What truly unsettled you was that the sounds you had been hearing up until you made it to Blackwater Ridge— crickets, leaves rustling, birds chirping— all of it had been silenced.

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy announced.

The younger Winchester stopped him. “You shouldn't go off by yourself.”

Roy’s snark almost rivaled Dean’s. “That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around and pushed between the two brothers to head deeper into the forest.

Dean turned to the rest of your group. “Alright, everybody stays together. Let's go.”

‘Great. More fucking woods.’ You marched forward, trying to put on a brave face.

Sam’s eyes softened when he caught sight of you. “You okay?”

Apparently, your “brave face” wasn’t as brave as you thought. “Yeah, why?”

“You look… kinda nervous.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m, uh, kinda scared of the forest, honestly.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Dean’s mocking tone interrupted your vulnerable moment. “You’re scared of a little woods?” He jutted out his bottom lip, feigning a pout.

“Fuck off, Winchester. I’m fine.”

“Whoa, touchy. Relax.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Was just poking fun, that’s all.”

“Okay, well, it wasn’t funny. So, fuck off.” You rushed ahead, still white-knuckling the duffel bag on your shoulder.

Before Dean could catch up to you or respond, Roy called out from quite a bit ahead. “Haley! Over here!”

Haley took off in the direction of Roy’s voice, closely followed by you. Haley froze at the sight in front of her. “Oh, my God.”

In the clearing Roy had found, bloodied, torn open tents surrounded mutilated camping supplies and backpacks. Deep gashes in the tent material and the surrounding trees were jagged and stained with blood around the edges. The sight wasn’t making your queasiness any better.

“Looks like a grizzly.”

‘No, it doesn’t, Roy,’ you thought.

Haley’s backpack hit the ground next to you, and she tore through the campsite; screaming her brother’s name.

Sam moved to quiet her down. She kept screaming. A much harsher “Shh!” passed Sam’s lips, finally getting the girl to settle down.

“Why?” she questioned defensively.

“Something might still be out there,” he answered.

Dean called his brother’s name from the other end of the campsite. You followed Sam over to the sound of Dean’s voice.

You crouched down next to Sam. Dean snapped a stick and pointed to a set of drag marks on the ground. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird. I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog.”

The three of you stood and returned to the campsite to find Haley crying on the ground over her brother’s broken and bloodied phone.

“Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean told her. She shot him a confused and slightly angry look.

Out of nowhere, a scratchy male voice started gutturally calling, “Help! Help!”

Roy was quick to run to the shouter’s aid. However, you weren’t so sure it was a real person screaming like that.

“Help! Somebody!” came again.

The brothers started off to follow Roy.

“Wait, guys!” you called, not wanting to be left alone despite your hesitation.

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” Sam called.

You dropped your duffel in your rush to follow Sam’s voice. When you found where the group had gathered, you could see the brothers searching the treeline. You licked your teeth, upset that your intuition was right. Your group had found no one.

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley said, confused.

“Everybody get back to camp,” you ordered.

You followed the path you were pretty sure would get you back to the mangled campsite. Thankfully, your sense of direction was right, but all of your supplies had been taken by the time you returned.

“Our packs!” Haley exclaimed.

Roy grumbled, “So much for my GPS and my satellite phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” Haley was catching on.

“It’s smart. It’s trying to isolate us so we can’t call for help. It knows we won’t last long without supplies,” you stated.

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear.” The guide’s voice was hard and angry.

“I need to speak with you two. In private.” You pulled the brothers aside by their jackets. Dean shrugged your hand off him.

“Can I see your dad’s journal?” you asked. Yours had been taken along with your duffel bag.

“No, why?” Dean asked petulantly.

“Please, dude, c’mon.” You were not in the mood.

“Give it to her, Dean,” Sam chimed in.

Dean rolled his eyes and handed it over.

You flipped through until you found a page marked by a First Nations-style drawing of a tall figure with long claws labeled “Wendigo.” You looked up at the boys expectantly.

“Oh, come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west,” Dean responded.

“Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” you tried to reason.

“Great.” He took his pistol out of his belt. “Well, then this is useless.”

“I told you guns don’t work on everything,” you quipped.

“Shut up.”

Sam took the journal from you and handed it back to his brother. “We gotta get these people to safety.” He led you and Dean back to the group. “All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed pissed. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry.” Roy’s tone was almost patronizing. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam countered.

“One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.” Roy was now getting in Sam’s face.

“C’mon, Roy, chill out,” you told him, pressing a hand to Sam’s chest to keep him from stepping to Roy.

Sam let you keep your hand there, but still bit back at Roy. “We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you.”

“You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.” The guide was so close you could smell the chewing tobacco on his breath.

Sam still refused to back down. “Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed mockingly. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—”

Dean pushed you out the way and shoved his brother back. “Relax!”

Haley got between you, the boys, and Roy. “Stop. Stop it. Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

You considered for a moment the implications of what may happen if you allowed them to stay.

Dean broke the silence. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley asked.

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” you began. “We don’t really have the time for the ‘monsters under the bed are real’ talk. This thing is a Wendigo. I’m gonna start carving some symbols into the ground. No one crosses the circle once I’ve drawn it. Got it?”

Haley nodded at you. “What can I do?”

“Build a fire with— sorry, I never caught his name,” you gestured to the teenager next to her.

“Ben,” Haley told you.

“Ben. You two start gathering enough wood and tinder to keep a fire going. Don’t go too far, though, please.”

She and Ben nodded at you before setting off.

“Thank you,” you called after the Collins siblings. “Sam, Dean, help me with the Anasazi symbols.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. You were surprised at his compliance.

After a while of scuttling across the forest floor drawing a circle of Anasazi symbols around the campsite, the sun had set. Haley and Ben had long since returned and were tending the fire. As you finished the last symbol, you brushed the dirt off your hands on your jeans.

Haley looked up at you from her place by the fire. “One more time, that's—”

“Anasazi symbols. It's for protection,” Dean explained. “The wendigo can't cross over them.”

Roy laughed, feeling the need to assert the fact he thought this was bullshit.

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean told him, clearly fatigued of the man’s attitude.

Roy turned his attention back to the treeline with his gun over his shoulder. You followed Dean over to where Sam sat away from the group at the edge of the campsite.

“You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?” Dean asked his brother.

“Dean—” the younger one began to protest. You sat down next to him.

“No, you're not fine.” Of course, he already knew what Sam was going to say. “You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got enough of that attitude with just him, Sam.”

Dean nudged the tip of your boot with his harshly. You returned his glare petulantly.

“Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?” Sam’s mind was clearly going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek.”

You decided to just sit back and listen for a moment before throwing your two cents in.

“Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?” Sam threw his hands up in frustration.

“This is why.” Dean held out his dad’s journal to his brother. “This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Sam shook his head. “That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

Sam’s eyes began to well with tears. “Dean, no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about.”

“Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me.” Sam looked up at Dean. “You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”

Sam looked away again, still fighting the tears congealing in his water line. “How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?”

You let Dean take that question. “Well for one, them.” He gestured to Haley and Ben. “I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.”

You paused, looking down at the dirt and twigs below you before speaking. “It’s kind of the same for me. I don’t have a family anymore.” You felt Dean’s gaze on you, but kept the burning in your cheeks at bay. “This is really all I’ve ever known. I know I couldn’t go back to a normal life after all this. So, I do what I can to help everyone else’s lives feel a little more normal. Not everybody needs to know what’s really out there. It kinda brings me peace knowing I’m helping somebody else live their life relatively worry-free.”

Dean continued. “I'll tell you what else helps.”

You looked back up at him.

“Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.”

You smiled at Dean genuinely for the first time.

A twig snapped, breaking you and the boys out of the little bonding moment you’d just had. The same, slightly unhuman grainy voice screamed out again from somewhere in the trees. “Help me! Please!”

Dean stands with his gun. You thought about pointing out the fact that it was useless, but decided to keep it to yourself.

“Help!” the strained sound came again.

Sam shined his flashlight through the tree line.

“He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put,” Dean told the group.

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy quipped.

“Shut up, would you?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Help! Help me!” The voice seemed to become more distant before a low growl emanated from just outside the circle.

Roy pointed his gun at the sound. “Okay, that's no grizzly.”

“Oh, now you believe us,” you quipped.

“(Y/N),” Dean warned, still facing the outside of the circle.

Something rushed past where Haley and Ben were standing. She let out a scream.

“It's here,” the younger Winchester stated.

The guide shot at the rustling bushes, and then again. “I hit it!” He took off before you could protest.

“Roy, no!” you immediately ran after him.

You could hear Dean behind you addressing the Collinses, but barely registered it while trying to follow Roy.

“Roy! Come back!” you called.

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” the man called back.

Just as you reached him, something grabbed onto Roy’s shoulders and began pulling him up into the tree above.

“Roy!” you grabbed his ankles, doing your best to pull him back down to the ground.

Roy was screaming above you, and the Wendigo’s strength was too much for you. Roy’s screaming was cut off sharply by a snapping sound. In that moment, you knew he was gone. You let Roy’s legs go and dropped back down to the ground.

The Winchester brothers appeared at that second, rushing to your side.

“You okay?” Sam asked, helping you up. “Where’s Roy?”

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

You and the boys headed back to camp to find Haley and Ben huddled together. Haley was caught off-guard by your return, and nearly took you out with her makeshift torch-weapon. “Shit!” she yelped. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Easy, tiger.”

She threw her torch back into the fire. “Where’s Roy?”

Your smile faded. “I tried to help him. I’m sorry.”

She nodded somberly. A saddened, heavy air fell over your camp as the remaining five of you tried to go to sleep before your undoubtedly busy day tomorrow.

Haley and Ben settled down near the fire with tatters of backpacks and tent material as pillows and blankets respectively. You and Dean forced Sam to lay down and rest because it was evident via the bags under his eyes that he’d had none over the last several days.

“I’ll take first watch,” you told Dean, settling your back against the stump of a tree near where Sam had started falling asleep.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling me that,” you snapped. “Second, it wasn’t a suggestion. I’m taking first watch. Go to sleep.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Why don’t you trust me?” you countered.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the last person to have seen my dad before he ‘mysteriously disappeared’?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting—” you scoffed, and Dean cut you off again.

“Maybe because I don’t even know you. Maybe because you so readily agreed to just hitch a ride with Sam and I the day Jessica died. Maybe those are some good reasons not to trust you.”

“Dean, I had nothing to do with your dad’s disappearance. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m on my own. Sorry that I was just excited to finally have someone willing to take me along with them. And I don’t give a shit about you, honestly. I do give a shit about Sam, though, and I’m not gonna leave while he’s in this headspace. And I wanna help you find your dad.”

“Why do you care so much?” he hissed in retaliation.

“Because I don’t have any family. I want to help reunite yours. Like you said earlier, it helps you feel a little better and sleep a little easier at night.” Your voice had softened considerably, and you turned your attention from Dean to your hands folded in your lap.

“Fine, but after we find my dad, you’re gone,” he responded after a moment.

“Fine.” You turned away from him, hugging your knees to your chest. “I’m still taking first watch.”

“Whatever, (Y/N).” You could hear Dean moving around behind you.

“Goodnight,” you said.

All you got was a huff in response.

At some point that night, Sam was actually the one to take over your watch. He’d woken up from a nightmare, and you knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. You did your best to get some sleep despite your heightened sense of awareness from your unsettling surroundings and the anger you still felt at Dean after your argument.

When you did awaken, Sam was sitting against the tree next to you, Dean was talking to Haley about the origin of Wendigos, and Haley was grilling Dean about how he knows about monsters.

“Kind of runs in the family,” was all Dean answered her question with.

You felt Sam push off the tree behind you. You still hadn’t rolled over from your sleeping position.

“So we've got half a chance in the daylight,” Sam announced to the group. “And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” you heard Dean respond.

“'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours',” Sam explained.

You began stretching while Dean continued educating Haley and Ben. “They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asked.

“Well, it's always the same,” the older Winchester continued while you started to make your way over to them, brushing leaves out of your hair with your fingers. “During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party.” That was the first you’d ever heard Ben speak.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality,” Sam continued.

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry,” Dean finished.

“So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Haley waited for the answer with baited breath.

“You're not gonna like it.”

“Tell me.” Haley steeled herself.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It—” Dean seemed to be searching for the right words, “—uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

You spoke up for the first time, holding an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a can of lighter fluid you’d found from near the camp. “Guns are useless, so, Molotov cocktail, baby.”

You could swear Dean cracked a smile at you, but you refused to acknowledge it.

The sun had risen much higher since your crew had first started walking. You had passed multiple trees with bloodied claw marks on them. It was starting to unsettle you, quite honestly. You’d just passed the seventh or eighth claw-marked tree when you decided to bring Sam’s attention to your thought process.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw marks are so clear and distinct. Not at all as jagged as they were on Mr. Shaw’s scar or the tree where the thing snatched Roy. They were almost too easy to follow.”

Almost as if on cue, a low growl rumbled from above and trees rustled. Haley looked up before jerking herself out of the way. And good thing she had, because Roy’s corpse soon landed where she’d stood.

Dean inspected Roy’s corpse while Sam helped Haley up. “His neck's broke.”

The growling continued.

Upon hearing the sound, Dean started to bark out, “Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!”

You immediately split. You were always quite a fast runner and light on your feet. You and Haley took the lead of the group and could hear the boys’ thundering footsteps behind you.

Before you knew it, the growling had landed right in front of you. You and Haley were brought to a skidding halt before the creature. Haley yelped as the creature grabbed your legs and began dragging the two of you. You took the bag of peanut M&Ms you’d stolen from Dean out of your jacket’s inner pocket. You let the bag’s contents out slowly as sticks and rocks scraped up your dragging body. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain on the back of your head before you vision blacked out completely.

The next time you came to, the first thing you felt were your aching wrists and hands on either side of your face. You could faintly hear Dean calling your name, and your vision began to get less hazy as Dean’s voice became more clear.

When Dean’s annoyingly beautiful, worried face finally came into focus, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper.”

You could hear Sam laughing behind Dean and Dean sighed. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded relieved.

Sam reached above you to cut your wrists down. “You okay?”

Despite your aching joints, you said, “Yeah.”

Sam helped you over to one of the cave’s walls. “You sure you're alright?”

“Yeah. Yep,” you groaned. “Where is he?”

“He's gone for now.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, making Sam laugh a little. “Oh, sweet.” You noticed the stolen duffel bags next to you and started rummaging through yours. Haley let out a shriek, causing you to jerk your head in her direction. She’d found her brother, and thankfully, he was alive.

“Cut him down!” Haley ordered. Sam got to work.

You found a flare gun in Dean’s duffel bag, saying, “Check it out.” to the rest of your group.

“Flare guns. Those'll work,” Sam responded, grinning.

You laughed, throwing one of the guns at Dean who caught it easily. He twirled it around his finger, smirking at you.

“Enough fooling around, let’s go,” Haley urged. She shouldered her brother, and with Ben’s help, started moving down the mine shaft.

You and Sam held up the rear of the group while Dean took the lead. Amidst the clunky shuffling of Tommy’s weakened body down the shaft, you could hear the same deep, low growling you’d heard in the forest.

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” quipped Dean, scanning the corridor ahead of him.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley said.

Dean looked back at you and Sam. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam responded.

“I don’t,” you chimed in.

“You’ll catch on,” Dean shot back. “All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam and (Y/N). They’re gonna get you out of here.”

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asked the older Winchester.

He winked at her, shooting her that same smile he’d shot you one of the first times you’d met him. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He started yelling moments later, walking away from you. “Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

‘I bet he does.’ You surprised yourself. ‘What? What the fuck? He’s an asshole.’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your head. “All right, come on! Hurry!”

Your group rushed down the tunnel. You stayed in the rear, and Sam headed up to the front. He began leading your group down to where you could faintly see a bit of daylight peeking through.

And then, the growling again.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Get him outta here!” you instructed the Collinses.

“(Y/N), no,” Haley told you.

“Go!” you urged her.

She finally nodded and started pulling her brothers down the tunnel with her. You aimed your flare gun at the direction where the growling was coming from.

“C’mon, motherfucker,” you grumbled, scanning the tunnel.

“(Y/N)!” Sam called from behind you.

You wheeled around to come face to face with the Wendigo. In your startle, you missed your shot with the flare gun. Your only other option was to take off after the three Collins siblings, closely followed by Sam.

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam ordered the group. “Get behind me.” Given Sam’s size, he was able to hide all three Collinses behind him. You knew your pistol was no use, but you still aimed it at the creature anyway.

The Wendigo approached, taking its time in getting to you.

“Hey!” you suddenly heard Dean from behind the Wendigo. It wheeled around, only for Dean to shoot it in the stomach.

Flames curled up the Wendigo’s horribly disfigured body in twisted tendrils. The creature let out a howl before collapsing to the ground in a pile of burning embers.

Dean was revealed behind where the Wendigo previously stood. “Not bad, huh?”

Despite yourself, you grinned.

A quite chipper, clearly freshman EMT had patched you up upon your return to civilization. You had an uncomfortable laceration on your neck, a few scrapes above your eyebrow, and your wrists burned from where you had been tied up. You’d survive, it would just take you a few days to recover from.

You watched from a short distance as Haley approached Dean, both of whom had been patched up. You scowled as Dean smirked lasciviously at Haley and couldn’t help the bile rising in your throat when Haley leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek. She said one final thing to Dean before walking toward the ambulance carrying Tommy with Ben.

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” she called to you.

You waved at her with a lopsided smile. She returned your grin before hopping into the back of the ambulance.

Sam motioned for you to come back over to Dean’s car.

“Man, I hate camping,” said Dean as you approached.

“Me too,” you shivered.

“Still scared of the woods?” he asked you, his tone slightly patronizing.

You ignored his tone and answered earnestly. “Definitely. Probably more so, now.” You crossed your arms over your body and hugged yourself.

A moment of silence passed before Dean addressed his brother. “Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean lolled his head to the side dramatically before tossing the keys to Sam. Recalling your fight with Dean at the campsite, you hesitated to get in the car when the brothers did.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Sam asked out of the driver’s side window. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, conceding, and hopped into the backseat. You threw your legs up on the leather beside you and stared out the window. Out of the corner of your eye, you could swear Dean was staring at you.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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