Requiem for Snow
Title: Requiem For Snow
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. I also apologize for taking over a year to update this story. Life and other plot bunnies attacked.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Trailer 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eR1JNDxstk
Warnings:Mild violence, language, complete disregard for Mythological Canon
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
TEN YEARS LATER... (June 21, 2020)
Heather stopped waiting for Dean and Sam to come back for her the summer before she started high school. The finishing out the seventh and eighth grade in the same place had made sense originally, but as that June drifted into an airless July, with no word to her or Uncle Bobby about the Winchesters, other than an occasional 'we're all okay' phone call. It would have been nice to have gotten an explanation as to why she was left here in Sioux Falls. It's not that she hated it, but the fact that she knew the brothers were out there, living perfectly normal, happy hunting-free lives in Pennsylvania and Indiana, respectively, that really pissed her off.
It'd have been one thing if they were still hunting, but they weren't.
Then again, that nice, apple pie life she used to have was nothing but a burned out husk in Jasper. Her parents were gone and some days, it felt like she was that abandoned newborn all over again, except this time it was an intentional abandonment, instead of a forced one.
Uncle Bobby told her over and over again that what had happened wasn't her fault, that she had only done what she felt was right - and there was no getting around the fact that she had been trapped between a rock and a hard place. If Sam and Dean wanted to be assholes and not understand, then that was their problem, not hers. It wasn't like any of them had known that when the passageway to Elysium opened up, Castiel would be sucked inside. They'd gotten Lucifer back into his cage, that was the main thing. Bobby was plenty pissed at them too, taking off the way they did. Promising to return and failing to do so.
Melpomene hadn't been able to take care of her either - at least, not completely. Some weird rule forbade her and the rest of her family from visiting the Winchesters to try and find out if there was something more than just the two of them being assholes. Since that route was lost to them, the muse had been rather like an overly generous anonymous donor in Heather's life. Hence the reason that during her junior year in high school, the muse had finally convinced Uncle Bobby to let her do some 'renovations' to the house in the salvage yard. She sent the two of them off on a museum and library tour of Italy for her spring break and they returned to find the house two thousand square feet bigger, with a metal roof, new windows, a completely remodeled kitchen and stucco siding. At first, the old hunter had been borderline livid at what had been done - before he found out that the wards still stood, the workers remembered nothing of the weird things they found, and his vast library of the occult and supernatural now had a large room all of their own.
When he asked why it was in the basement, Melpomene stated that it was better protected from tornadoes.
Heather sometimes suspected something was wrong with the Winchester brothers, and it was reinforced the day her great-grandfather landed in the middle of the family room and they wouldn't return her or Bobby's phone call. Uncle Henry, as Heather called him, now lived his own life of solitude (well, he had a dog) in an amazing bunker in Kansas that was a treat just to walk into. The feeling only intensified when the brothers didn't return her call or show up for the funeral when Uncle Bobby died of liver cancer six months ago.
The salvage yard had changed greatly in the past ten years. Most of the cars were gone - no one seemed interested in repairing their own vehicles anymore, and the automobiles had produced a good chunk of change in scrap metal and recycled plastic. Heather stuffed her hands in her pockets, heading out to check the perimeter before shutting the gate for the night. It was an old habit - and it also helped calm her down after the long day.
South Dakota in June wasn't all that bad. It hadn't gotten horrifically humid yet, and the air was heavy with the scent of grass and what she liked to call 'green' that came from the soybean and corn crops of her neighbors. Fireflies chased each other in the twilight and she yawned and stretched, wincing at the pain in her left shoulder when she did. The injury was four years old and still hurt. As she came to the side of the fence that was nearest the train tracks, she sighed. Ever since Bobby died, Heather kept waiting for the second shoe to fall.
“Heather!” A voice called out from the house. “You out here?”
“Yes.” She replied, smiling faintly. “Nate, if you're looking for the leftovers, they're in the fridge.”
Her cousin jogged out to join her. “I'm not hungry, I ate my dinner at my parents.” He gave her a quick hug. “What are you doing out here?”
“The usual.” She chuckled. “Old habit.”
He mirrored her pose of hands in pockets. “I noticed that you cleaned out Bobby's room today.”
“Yeah. Only took me six months.” Heather kicked at the dirt, biting her lip.
“You could have waited for me to get here. I would have helped.” He sighed. “Then again, you are the most stubborn woman on the face of the earth, so it wouldn't have mattered.”
She snorted. “I know and while I do miss him, he wouldn't want me to get all miserable about it.” She shook her head and was about to speak again when a low rumble of thunder echoed across the sky. “Is it supposed to rain tonight?”
“I'm not sure.” Nate frowned. “Then again, late spring, early summer in the Great Plains, perfect...” His words were cut off by an even louder rumble of thunder and something flashed to their left.
Heather broke away and took a few steps forward, peering through the fence. “Oh my god...” She took off for the gate at a dead run. A moment later, she heard her cousin running behind her. They went around the outside of the fence and over to a lithe figure lying motionless on the grass. “What in the...” She knelt down and turned the body over.
It was a man, close to her and Nate's age, or a little older. He was barefoot, shirtless and his pants were practically rags. Every inch of exposed skin seemed to be covered in cuts, dried blood, burns or bruises. The dark hair on his scalp was patchy, as if someone had been yanking it out by the handful, leaving some spots bare, raw and red - and the rest matted together by blood. Long wounds, most certainly caused by a lash, adorned his back like some sadistic map of rivers. He huddled in a fetal position, trembling most certainly in pain and fear. He slowly uncurled as their shadows fell over him, and he lifted his face towards them - and there was the worst of the abuse.
A thin black cord was sewn tightly through the man's lips. The stitches were painstakingly even; the evil tailor who'd placed it there might have thought the young man's mouth a hem that needed to be perfectly straight. The wounds had crusted and scabbed, and there were trails of blood that went from his chin down to his neck. He let out a whimper as he looked up a them, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear.
Nate, ever the calm one, seemed to recover first and he bent down next to her. “Who the hell would do such a thing? For that matter, what could do it?”
Heather set a hand on the man's forehead, noticing he calmed a little at her touch. “I don't know.” She took a deep breath. “Let's get him inside before whoever did this comes back. With the angels and demons locked away, there's a short list of things that could be responsible - none of which I feel like facing tonight.”
He nodded and they helped the man to his feet, one arm over each of their shoulders. The man let out a pained whine as they came in contact with his wounds. “Sorry, we'll try and get you inside without hurting you too much.”
In response, the man nodded weakly and Heather and Nate half carried, half dragged him back the house, stepping onto the screened porch just as the heavens opened and it began to pour.
To Be Continued...
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This story follows canon up to Changing Channels - sort of - and borrows chunks of the rest of Season Five completely at random. This story has no beta. I also apologize for taking over a year to update this story. Life and other plot bunnies attacked.
Trailer 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8LXZM9nRC4
Trailer 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wijPDaRc9iA
Trailer 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eR1JNDxstk
Warnings:Mild violence, language, complete disregard for Mythological Canon
Summary: The January before he went to Hell, Dean and his brother Sam faced the Last Calusa in Key West, Florida. Following the defeat of this ancient curse, the brothers left, barreling straight into their destiny and the inevitable showdown against Lilith and her minions. But what they assumed was just another hunt was actually a key part in the plans of the Apocalypse. A plan not laid by the powers below, but by the ones up above.
TEN YEARS LATER... (June 21, 2020)
Heather stopped waiting for Dean and Sam to come back for her the summer before she started high school. The finishing out the seventh and eighth grade in the same place had made sense originally, but as that June drifted into an airless July, with no word to her or Uncle Bobby about the Winchesters, other than an occasional 'we're all okay' phone call. It would have been nice to have gotten an explanation as to why she was left here in Sioux Falls. It's not that she hated it, but the fact that she knew the brothers were out there, living perfectly normal, happy hunting-free lives in Pennsylvania and Indiana, respectively, that really pissed her off.
It'd have been one thing if they were still hunting, but they weren't.
Then again, that nice, apple pie life she used to have was nothing but a burned out husk in Jasper. Her parents were gone and some days, it felt like she was that abandoned newborn all over again, except this time it was an intentional abandonment, instead of a forced one.
Uncle Bobby told her over and over again that what had happened wasn't her fault, that she had only done what she felt was right - and there was no getting around the fact that she had been trapped between a rock and a hard place. If Sam and Dean wanted to be assholes and not understand, then that was their problem, not hers. It wasn't like any of them had known that when the passageway to Elysium opened up, Castiel would be sucked inside. They'd gotten Lucifer back into his cage, that was the main thing. Bobby was plenty pissed at them too, taking off the way they did. Promising to return and failing to do so.
Melpomene hadn't been able to take care of her either - at least, not completely. Some weird rule forbade her and the rest of her family from visiting the Winchesters to try and find out if there was something more than just the two of them being assholes. Since that route was lost to them, the muse had been rather like an overly generous anonymous donor in Heather's life. Hence the reason that during her junior year in high school, the muse had finally convinced Uncle Bobby to let her do some 'renovations' to the house in the salvage yard. She sent the two of them off on a museum and library tour of Italy for her spring break and they returned to find the house two thousand square feet bigger, with a metal roof, new windows, a completely remodeled kitchen and stucco siding. At first, the old hunter had been borderline livid at what had been done - before he found out that the wards still stood, the workers remembered nothing of the weird things they found, and his vast library of the occult and supernatural now had a large room all of their own.
When he asked why it was in the basement, Melpomene stated that it was better protected from tornadoes.
Heather sometimes suspected something was wrong with the Winchester brothers, and it was reinforced the day her great-grandfather landed in the middle of the family room and they wouldn't return her or Bobby's phone call. Uncle Henry, as Heather called him, now lived his own life of solitude (well, he had a dog) in an amazing bunker in Kansas that was a treat just to walk into. The feeling only intensified when the brothers didn't return her call or show up for the funeral when Uncle Bobby died of liver cancer six months ago.
The salvage yard had changed greatly in the past ten years. Most of the cars were gone - no one seemed interested in repairing their own vehicles anymore, and the automobiles had produced a good chunk of change in scrap metal and recycled plastic. Heather stuffed her hands in her pockets, heading out to check the perimeter before shutting the gate for the night. It was an old habit - and it also helped calm her down after the long day.
South Dakota in June wasn't all that bad. It hadn't gotten horrifically humid yet, and the air was heavy with the scent of grass and what she liked to call 'green' that came from the soybean and corn crops of her neighbors. Fireflies chased each other in the twilight and she yawned and stretched, wincing at the pain in her left shoulder when she did. The injury was four years old and still hurt. As she came to the side of the fence that was nearest the train tracks, she sighed. Ever since Bobby died, Heather kept waiting for the second shoe to fall.
“Heather!” A voice called out from the house. “You out here?”
“Yes.” She replied, smiling faintly. “Nate, if you're looking for the leftovers, they're in the fridge.”
Her cousin jogged out to join her. “I'm not hungry, I ate my dinner at my parents.” He gave her a quick hug. “What are you doing out here?”
“The usual.” She chuckled. “Old habit.”
He mirrored her pose of hands in pockets. “I noticed that you cleaned out Bobby's room today.”
“Yeah. Only took me six months.” Heather kicked at the dirt, biting her lip.
“You could have waited for me to get here. I would have helped.” He sighed. “Then again, you are the most stubborn woman on the face of the earth, so it wouldn't have mattered.”
She snorted. “I know and while I do miss him, he wouldn't want me to get all miserable about it.” She shook her head and was about to speak again when a low rumble of thunder echoed across the sky. “Is it supposed to rain tonight?”
“I'm not sure.” Nate frowned. “Then again, late spring, early summer in the Great Plains, perfect...” His words were cut off by an even louder rumble of thunder and something flashed to their left.
Heather broke away and took a few steps forward, peering through the fence. “Oh my god...” She took off for the gate at a dead run. A moment later, she heard her cousin running behind her. They went around the outside of the fence and over to a lithe figure lying motionless on the grass. “What in the...” She knelt down and turned the body over.
It was a man, close to her and Nate's age, or a little older. He was barefoot, shirtless and his pants were practically rags. Every inch of exposed skin seemed to be covered in cuts, dried blood, burns or bruises. The dark hair on his scalp was patchy, as if someone had been yanking it out by the handful, leaving some spots bare, raw and red - and the rest matted together by blood. Long wounds, most certainly caused by a lash, adorned his back like some sadistic map of rivers. He huddled in a fetal position, trembling most certainly in pain and fear. He slowly uncurled as their shadows fell over him, and he lifted his face towards them - and there was the worst of the abuse.
A thin black cord was sewn tightly through the man's lips. The stitches were painstakingly even; the evil tailor who'd placed it there might have thought the young man's mouth a hem that needed to be perfectly straight. The wounds had crusted and scabbed, and there were trails of blood that went from his chin down to his neck. He let out a whimper as he looked up a them, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear.
Nate, ever the calm one, seemed to recover first and he bent down next to her. “Who the hell would do such a thing? For that matter, what could do it?”
Heather set a hand on the man's forehead, noticing he calmed a little at her touch. “I don't know.” She took a deep breath. “Let's get him inside before whoever did this comes back. With the angels and demons locked away, there's a short list of things that could be responsible - none of which I feel like facing tonight.”
He nodded and they helped the man to his feet, one arm over each of their shoulders. The man let out a pained whine as they came in contact with his wounds. “Sorry, we'll try and get you inside without hurting you too much.”
In response, the man nodded weakly and Heather and Nate half carried, half dragged him back the house, stepping onto the screened porch just as the heavens opened and it began to pour.
To Be Continued...