My Lady Nimue - Chapter 1
I totally suck at the lj cut.
This fan fic contains blood, guts and gore. No pairings. I guess that'd be gen?
My Lady Nimue
Fandom - Supernatural
Pairings - None
Rating - Pg13/R
Warnings - for blood, guts and violence
Disclaimer - I do not own Supernatural or any known characters. All I own are my Original Characters
Summary - Dean and Sam Winchester travel to Colorado Springs, Colorado, in order to investigate what is apparently a string of un-connected homicides.
* * *
Chapter 1 - Orphan’s Silence
~Poetry is an orphan of silence; the words never quite equal the experience behind them. Charles Simic~
* * *
Take one step,
Take another,
Do not mind the pool,
So vast and red,
Orphan, who never knew,
True love so true,
So take the knife, there it’s glinting…
And slit the throat that’s due…
The girls burst out of the door, laughing and stumbling. The three held onto each other as if it was the end of the world and nothing could break their grasp. Simply, this grasp was brought on by the sudden waxy dizziness that always came with a bit of binge drinking. Their high-heels clicked over wet pavement. The deep-summer storm whirled around them; the rain unblindingly thrashed them as a whip to a naked back.
One girl noticed; “Damn, I didn’t know it was going to rain tonight,” her words came out slowly, as if she were trying to pronounce each syllable correctly so as not to confuse her companions.
“Yeah,” the second agreed, “I think we should go home,”
“Can I stay with one of you,” the third girl asked, “My parents will kill me if they catch me sneaking in smelling of booze!”
“Can it, Jenny!” the first glowered; her good humor in the wake of liquor evaporating as ice in the summer sun.
“But Sarah!” Jenny stomped her feet, “I’ve covered for you before!”
“Well, not this time. I’m going to Barry’s,” Sarah sniffed.
“What about you, Chelsey?” Jenny pouted at her other best friend.
Chelsey shook her head; “I can’t, my parents think I’m staying with my Grandparents,”
“You guys suck!” Jenny sniffed, her eyes started to leak.
“You can get a cab,” Sarah said, at this point they had come to the black SUV that Sarah’s parents owned. She climbed up behind the wheel and Chelsey took the passenger seat.
“Guys, come on! Why can’t I get a ride?” Jenny asked. She didn’t want to be stuck in Down Town Colorado Springs without her friends. Bad things happened to people her age.
“Jenny, please!” and Chelsey slammed her door. The SUV’s engine roared in tandem with the thunder. Jenny was all ready sobbing. Her masquera ran down her face in thick lines. Her friends left her there sobbing. She thought briefly of calling her parents and getting grounded for a whole month/year, but, decided against it.
She started walking down the street. It wasn’t too late, maybe she could find one of her High School friends to take her home. Sarah and Chelsey weren’t her only two friends in the world; in fact, when she thought about it, she had a good round number of fifteen.
She was just about to call the first number on her phone when the honk of a horn and the call of her name made her stop and turn; “Jenny!”
“Alexandra!” Jenny squeaked. The car was an old Ford Mustang of a deep, burnt orange.
“Hey, come on in,” and Alexandra opened the passenger side door for Jenny. She slipped in with a sigh.
“Sorry to get everything so wet,” she swept blond strands of hair out of her eyes and found a napkin to dab at her makeup with.
“It’s no problem, hun,” Alexandria shrugged as she pulled back onto the abandoned street.
“Sarah and Chelsey are so mean, I don’t know why I hang out with them,” Jenny explained.
“I wonder the same too,” Alexandria shook her head.
“Hey…” Jenny said, changing the subject suddenly, “what is this?”
“Oh? That’s a new group I’m head singer for,” Alexandria replied with a pleased smile, “The ‘My Lady Nimue’,”
“Are you guys any good?” Jenny asked.
Alexandria took the album, with one hand she was able to lever it open and popped the CD into the console. It was a good thing that no other cars were on the street. The music started playing. The rift of a solos electric guitar filled the car, and Jenny’s head. She could feel the thrums at the back of her skull. It made her shiver in a good way. She liked it.
Later, at a detention cell at the Police Station, she wouldn’t be able to explain why she had gone to her home, and shot both of her parents in the head.
* * *
“So,” Dean smiled down at Sam as he sat down opposite his brother. The booth was roomy and the cushions squashed in the most pleasing way. Sam gave Dean a brief eye brow lift.
“So…what?” Sam asked.
“Have you found anything interesting, yet?” Dean asked. They’d all ready investigated three towns that could have held some sort of Supernatural Case for them. However, each was a bust and Dean was getting antsy to start shooting rock salt at ghosts.
They sat at a small road side dinner with bad coffee and worst food. Though that was all the boys had known while on the road with their Father. Sam had the fortunate grace to have some home cooked food when he went with Jessica to her parent’s house in Orange County, California. It’d been so new to him, that every time Janet saw him, she had a little something for him; cookies, or a casserole. It always made Sam feel part of Jessica’s family. It always made him feel normal.
Dean, on the other hand, didn’t know how that felt. Probably didn’t want too, seeing as how he’d rather hunt nasties than settle down with a nice girl and have a couple of kids. Sam couldn’t imagine his brother being a Father, though he knew Dean would take it as seriously as he did being a Hunter or protecting Sam.
“Maybe,” Sam replied when Dean snapped his fingers in front of his face.
“You had that far away look again,” Dean pointed out, for the moment ignoring his own question.
Sam blinked, “Yeah, sorry,”
Dean reached over the table and ruffled Sam’s mop of dark brown hair; “It’s fine, kiddo, what’s going on in the world then?”
“I think Colorado Springs should be our next stop,” Sam replied, “From what the papers say; there have been a rush of matricides,”
“Oh? And why are these kids apparently killing their folks?” Dean asked.
“That’s the thing, they can’t explain it. Most of them loved their parents and from what friends and family members had to say, they know that those kids would never kill their parents. The other half are the ones who sneak out, do drugs and have promiscuous sex, they’re the ones that went bonkers on their parents,” Sam replied, “The latest one, Jenny Frederick, just shot her parents, but the five kids before her, they…” and here Sam stopped. He wasn’t exactly sure how to explain it.
“Are we talking stuff like Saw or is it more B-Movie horror?” Dean asked.
“Saw,” Sam replied.
“Wow…” Dean whistled, “Do you think there’s anything Supernatural about it?”
“Maybe,” Sam shrugged, “but I haven’t found much,”
Dean waved a dismissing hand at Sam -“We’ve investigated things on less information. I think the memory loss is pretty weird though, wouldn’t these kids come up with some elaborate scheme or story to explain the death of their parents?” - And didn’t that explain a lot?
“Yeah, all the papers say is that the kids remembered being someplace else, and then being in the middle of the crime scene or in the Police lock-up,” Sam shrugged.
“Damn,” Dean shook his head, “That is weird,”
“So, you want to drive that far?” Sam asked.
“Yes, Mr. Obvious,” Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam shook his head.
* * *
Night claimed the peaceful city. A star splashed backdrop danced above the mountain peak, giving campers a natural source of entertainment. The city lights, as well, could be seen from such a huge climb. The Impala roared down the road, un-noticing of these wonders. In her front seat Sam was sleep against his side of the car, while Dean hummed Led Zeppelin to himself.
Unbeknownst to the boys, a group of people gathered in a house located in the Suburbs, several miles from Colorado Springs. They chanted, wore dark hooded robes and lit their multi-coloured candles to the goddess. The chanting reached a high crescendo when one black-hooded-robed person took up a knife. It glinted in the soft candle light as it danced across pale skin. The river of blood was the brightest colour in the room. It contrasted in such a way that it glittered like diamonds.
The blood filled a silver chalice. Then the black-hooded-robed person swept a hand and arm before the Followers; “Silence, for a moment,” the voice was feminine. The chanting stopped, not abruptly, more to the point it slithered out through cracks in the walls and ceiling.
“Our work here has just begun,” the woman announced, “Join me as we give thanks to our Goddess Nimue,”
There was a smattering of claps. It was respectful.
The Coven, after another hour of chanting and blood letting/drinking, dispersed to their places of residence, after changing and binging self-given injuries.
* * *
They didn’t stay in a motel. Instead, it was a motel cosplaying a hotel. Its rooms were lined in pink/gray stripped wallpaper. The beds were lumpy and creaked at all the right moments to make it sound pornographic. The sun had barley passed the horizon, glinting euphoric orange and red over snow capped Pikes Peak.
Dean and Sam didn’t admire the view; they stumbled blearily into their hotel room. The weapon bags placed between the beds before Dean and Sam, respectively, fell asleep atop covers; ignoring everything but their exhaustion.
TBC