So long, farewell pt. 2 - Pieces of She and Golden Eyes
BTW, all of this is so unbetaed it's not even funny.
Disclaimer: Wyatt, Chris, and the world of Charmed belong to Constance M. Burge, Brad Kern, and Spelling Entertainment. The concept of The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. McKenna and Lorelai are mine.
Author’s Note: This is completely AU. In this future Wyatt is good and Chris never met Bianca.
Chapter One
“Chris! You’re photo shoot is in one hour, man! You’d better be awake!” Wyatt Halliwell bellowed, staring at the top of the empty staircase. He only waited for a few minutes. When no answer came, he climbed the stairs and pushed open his younger brother’s door.
Chris Halliwell was still asleep, the covers pulled over his head. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. His alarm clock beeped loudly on the nightstand beside his head, yet he showed no signs of hearing it.
“Chris, you’re getting too old for this,” Wyatt grumbled as he tore the covers off the bed. Chris never stirred. Sighing, the older Halliwell grabbed his foot and pulled him off the bed. Chris hit the floor with a thud, causing his eyelids to flutter open.
Wyatt bent over, grinning at him. “Morning, sleepy head,” he said.
“What time is it?” Chris mumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Wyatt stood up and peered over at the clock. “It’s seven am. Your photo shoot’s at eight, right?”
“It’s seven?!” Chris’s green eyes flew completely open. He jumped up, almost stumbling over the sheets and comforter balled up in the middle of the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.”
“Oh, man.” Chris raced towards his closet and started sniffing clothing to see if they were dirty or clean.
“Breakfast is downstairs,” Wyatt said. He then turned and headed back down towards the kitchen.
Ever since their parents had moved to a warmer climate and quieter town in California, Wyatt felt he had been rearing Chris on his own. It wasn’t much rearing, though, as Wyatt had been twenty-two and Chris had been twenty when they left. Five years later, things hadn’t changed much. Chris still couldn’t hear his alarm clock, and Wyatt had to make sure he wasn’t late for work as well as getting himself to work on time.
Reaching the kitchen, Wyatt placed some eggs and bacon on a plate for Chris and then made a plate for himself. While Chris had to hurry that morning, he was thankful he didn’t have to go into the police station until nine.
Chris finally appeared, fully dressed. He carried his camera on his shoulder and nearly knocked over the flowers that sat in the middle of the dining room table. He grabbed a fork, leaned against the counter, and started shoveling in food.
When he took a break to gulp down some orange juice, Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “You were at Lorelai’s last night, weren’t you?”
“Where else would I be?” Chris replied with a wry grin.
“I thought that might be the reason you overslept. You always oversleep when you see her the night before.” Wyatt took a bite of bacon. “How long has it been now?”
“Eight months.”
Wyatt chewed his bacon thoughtfully before he posed his next question. “Have you told her yet?”
Chris stopped in mid-chew, almost choking on his eggs. He carefully swallowed before answering. “Told her?”
“Yes, told her. If you’re serious about her, you should at least give her the choice. Remember, our lives aren’t exactly normal.”
Chris sighed. He knew that all too well. All their lives, both boys knew that they were witches. Well, half-witches, half-whitelighters. While some rather interesting powers came with those genetics, so did a string of nasty demons constantly wanting to get their hands on them. Constantly, the boys faced some horrible creature that was either killing innocents or coming after them, and this excluded the human perps that Wyatt saw on a daily basis.
“I guess I just haven’t found the right moment yet. I can’t just walk in and say, ‘Lorelai, I’m a witch. Let’s order Chinese.’”
Wyatt chuckled. “No, but at least she’ll know.”
“And then she might not stay, like Karen.” Chris closed his eyes the minute the words left his lips. Karen had walked away from Wyatt the minute he had told her. She couldn’t handle it, and she had broken his heart in the process. Chris looked up to see the dark look pass over his brother’s brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Wyatt put his empty plate in the sink. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at the clock. “You’d better go before you’re late.”
Chris finished the last of his eggs and dumped his plate in the sink. As he grabbed his camera bag, he turned back to his brother. Wyatt stopped him before he tried to apologize again.
“It’s been three months, man. It’s okay.”
Chris nodded and grabbed his car keys. He then headed out the door, leaving Wyatt alone. The minute the door shut, the phone rang.
“Halliwell,” Wyatt answered.
“Wyatt, we need to get down to the station right now,” DJ Morris, his partner, said urgently. “Dad just called; we’ve got a Jane Doe.”
He didn’t have to say anymore. Wyatt hung up the phone, grabbed his keys, and headed for his car.
Lorelai Sandburg’s right hand gracefully lifted towards the ceiling, almost as if she were reaching for the sky. At the same time, she balanced herself on the tips of her toes. She then moved her left arm out, leading herself as she swept into a series of turns. Closing her eyes, she listened to the music, letting the soft melody guide her across the floor. At that moment, she was lost in the rhythm, feeling her next move instead of thinking about it.
McKenna Ellison leaned against the door jamb and watched her. She loved to watch her best friend dance, exercising a grace that McKenna knew she herself would never have. That knowledge used to bother her as a child, but at twenty-seven, she was learning to accept the gifts she did have.
Once Lorelai reached the end of her routine, McKenna immediately applauded. “You just keep getting better and better,” she commented as she walked in.
Startled, Lorelai whirled around. Her look of shock immediately melted into a grin when she saw who it was. She grabbed a towel draped over the bar on the left wall. “Are you sure? That last kick didn’t feel right.”
“I’m positive,” McKenna replied as she helped the shorter girl gather her things. “Besides, you know I’m jealous of you, right?” She stood up and ticked off things with her fingers. “Great dancer, handsome boyfriend, loyal friend.”
“Oh, stop,” Lorelai laughed. “I’m the one who should be jealous. You can hear someone’s heartbeat from across town.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps me from concentrating so hard on that heartbeat that I lose the use of all my other senses,” McKenna responded.
Lorelai cocked her head to the side as she let down her long red curls. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
Since their fathers were best friends, Lorelai and McKenna had known each other all their lives. Like her father Jim, McKenna had the ability to hear, see, touch, smell, and taste better than the average person. Unfortunately, though, those enhanced abilities came with a price. If she concentrated on one sense for too long, then she would become catatonic.
That was where Lorelai came in. Lorelai had the unique ability to pull her out of those almost catatonic moments, just by touching and talking to her. Her father Blair said it was because the two girls had a connection that was closer than best friends, almost like sisters. Lorelai didn’t understand it herself; she just knew she had to be there for McKenna.
Smiling, the redhead let her hair fall past her shoulders. “So what brings you to the dance studio this early?”
“It’s my morning off from the hospital, and I thought you might want to grab some breakfast.”
“Sounds peachy.” Lorelai packed up her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder.
McKenna’s blue eyes widened. “What?” She asked sarcastically. “No Chris this morning? I get to be honored with your presence?”
“Funny,” Lorelai stuck out her tongue. “And if you must know, Chris had a photo shoot this morning so I won’t be seeing him until tonight.”
“Oh, well, lucky for me.” She gestured towards the door. “After you.”
Chapter Two
Wyatt crouched beside the corpse. She had been a pretty girl with long brown hair, green eyes, and ivory skin. Looking no older than twenty, he guessed that she was probably a college student having just moved to San Francisco. He lifted an arm and examined where the hand had been cut off at the wrist. The cut was clean, no jagged edges anywhere. He examined the other arm, which also had a hand missing. There was only one other marking on her, other than the mutilation, and that was a deep gash in her chest. It was investigations like this that made Wyatt wish he had his cousin’s power of premonition.
“Any clues on the body?” DJ asked as he crouched down beside him.
Wyatt shook his head. “Nothing that I can go on yet; she didn’t even have any ID on her.” He pointed to the chest wound. “Obviously, she was stabbed, but I can’t tell what with.” He looked up, meeting DJ’s dark eyes as he lowered his voice. “Experience tells me it might have been an athame, but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions just yet.” He returned his voice to normal. “Any luck around the perimeter?”
“Nothing, no murder weapon or signs of a struggle. She obviously wasn’t killed here.” He then lowered his voice. “This could be another one of your unsolvable cases.”
Having grown up together, DJ knew about the Halliwell witches and the strange monsters they always fought. In fact, Wyatt had saved his life on many occasions just like Wyatt’s mother and aunts had saved his father. Their partnership had been Captain Morris’s idea, and DJ still kept Wyatt’s secret from the other inspectors. Any time they came up against something unnatural, he always helped Wyatt cover it up or cause a distraction. The young witch couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Wyatt sighed as he stood up and pulled off the latex gloves. “I’m not going to throw out that theory, but it’s rare for a demon to leave a body lying around. They’re usually tidier than this.”
He and DJ stepped away from the body to let the forensic investigators begin their part of the investigation.
“All right, so what do we have so far?” DJ began. “We have a naked body lying out in the middle of a field with the hands sawed completely off and a major stab wound. Hands and a murder weapon that we didn’t find, by the way.”
They reached their car, and Wyatt pulled open the driver’s side door. “We’ll have to wait and see what forensics comes up with. They might be able to ID her by dental records. Maybe that’ll at least give us somewhere to start.”
DJ nodded as he slid in next to him and shut the door.
“Chris, I have to go. You know I have a class to teach in twenty minutes,” Lorelai Sandburg laughed as she pushed her boyfriend away.
Chris Halliwell smiled, advancing on her once more. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you just call in sick and stay with me tonight?”
“Oh, yeah, that would be real romantic,” she replied, rolling her blue eyes. “You and me in here while your brother sleeps in the next room. I don’t think so.”
She pushed on his arms and successfully freed herself from his hold. Unfortunately, the success was short-lived. No sooner had she stood up than Chris had caught her again. He quickly turned her around, and she found herself looking into his big, blue eyes. His mouth crushed against hers, causing her heart to flutter. She could feel his warm fingers wrap themselves around her red curls, and all she could do was melt into his arms.
She knew that resistance was futile. It always had been since the day they met. She had literally run into him backstage at the San Francisco Ballet. She was heading towards the dressing room, and he was late taking pictures of the rehearsal for 415 Magazine. She remembered not liking him one bit, but Chris wasn’t about to let her go. The next day, he had hung around the Ballet, waiting for her. When he found her, he offered to take her to dinner. Admiring his persistence, she took him up on his offer. Nine months later, she couldn’t be happier.
Reluctantly, she tried to pull herself away. “Chris, in fifteen minutes, I’ll have twenty beginning ballerinas waiting on me.”
Chris groaned. “Can’t they wait just a few minutes more?”
“No, they can’t.” She laughed at the pout that he gave her.
“All right,” he murmured as he let her go and fell back onto his bed.
After gathering up her things, Lorelai pulled Chris from the bed. They climbed down the stairs and sauntered across the foyer until they finally reached the door.
Chris pulled her to him and kissed her again. He then stepped back, allowing her to open the door.
“Call me when you get home tonight,” he ordered.
“You’re worse than McKenna,” she teased, “but I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
With that, Chris closed the door. Lorelai turned away from the front door of the large, mauve manor house and ambled to her car.
Starting up the motor and putting the car in drive, she took a few moments to savor her alone time. Sharing an apartment with her best friend McKenna Ellison and spending a lot of time with Chris, Lorelai hadn’t had very much time to herself. Both people were very protective of her, especially McKenna, who was convinced that she had inherited her father’s ability to find trouble. While they had encountered a few incidences back home in Cascade, Washington, nothing had happened here. Not yet, anyway.
The drive to the studio didn’t take long at all. As soon as she parked, Lorelai climbed out. She stood there for a minute and breathed in the crisp, fall air.
Just then, someone grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, a cloth covered her mouth and nose. Blackness overcame her before she knew what happened.
* * * * *
Lorelai groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. A plain, white ceiling loomed above her with a solitary light hanging from it. She could feel soft sheets and pillows under her. ‘A bedroom?’ She thought. As she struggled to piece together her fractured thoughts, Lorelai sat up and peered at her surroundings.
Like the ceiling, the walls were plain white, almost an off-white. Nothing adorned them so she knew it wasn’t her bedroom. The only other pieces of furniture were a wooden table and two chairs. The floor was covered with a hideous shag green carpet.
Panic swirled in her stomach. What the hell happened? Where was she? She climbed to her feet, ignoring the wobbly feeling that almost threatened to knock her down. She ran for the door and grabbed the knob. It turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder. Her hand slipped and she fell backwards, landing hard on the fuzzy carpet.
Standing again, Lorelai pounded on the door with her fist. “Let me out!” she screamed. “Hello!”
Soft footsteps echoed outside her door. She pounded harder. When she heard the distinctive click of a key, she stepped back and let the door open.
Three men stood in her doorway. The two on each ends were large and dressed completely in black. The one in the middle was smaller with jet black hair and a nasty gleam in his brown eyes. He walked forward, his eyes trailing down her body and resting on her legs.
“I can’t see much through the jeans, but I can tell that she’ll be perfect. Good, strong dancer’s legs,” he said.
Lorelai stood her ground. “Who are you? Where am I?” she asked, wincing at the quaver in her voice.
He met her eyes and moved closer to her. He leaned over and sniffed her hair. Smiling, he spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Well, boys, I might be able to use more of her than just her legs. I smell Shaman blood in her.”
When he turned to look at his cohorts, Lorelai kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over as she ran past him and smacked into the chest of one of the larger men in the doorway. He grabbed her by the forearms and lifted her off the ground. He tossed her like a rag doll into the right wall. She crumpled to the floor.
“No!” the smaller man gasped. “Don’t damage her. We need those legs.”
She looked up to see a pair of feet coming towards her. For a fleeting moment she thought she could grab them and make the man fall. Even if she could, though, she wouldn’t be able to get past the other two.
The smaller man crouched down beside her. “Don’t worry, my dear. We still need another part before we can begin the ceremony. You’ll have at least a few days to live.”
He then stood up and quickly returned to the door. Lorelai laid her head on the shag carpet as the door slammed with a sickening thud.
Disclaimer: Dean and Sam and their world belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Charleston and Tradd Street are real. Dani is mine.
Author's Note: Unlike most SPN stories, this one isn't based on a local legend. Instead the villain stemmed from a personal experience a friend of mine had on Tradd Street. No one knows if what she saw was real, but she insists it happened. Everything else developed purely from my imagination.
Part One
Beth Parker crossed her arms over her chest as she started down the sidewalk. Despite the humidity of a September night in Charleston, South Carolina, she felt a chill run up her spine. Her eyes darted from left to right. Historical plantation-style houses sat sideways on each side of her. Some were made of brick while others were painted wood. Each had their porches facing the back of the house in front of them.
Silence filled the street, but the occasional engine of a passing car would break it. Beth noticed a few other people on the sidewalks, but most of the natives were already tucked in their beds at that time of night. She wished she were home already herself. Something about Tradd Street at night gave her creeps.
Of course, the police finding the bodies of two women in the past week on Tradd Street didn't help the creepy feeling either.
Shrugging off her nerves, she readjusted her backpack and continued down the sidewalk. Soon, she'd reach the turn which would lead to her parking garage, and she wouldn't have to worry about the creepiness of the street anymore.
In an effort to ignore the silent buildings surrounding her, she focused on the homework awaiting her. Why she chose to be a doctor was beyond her. But she enjoyed the classes and the sense of accomplishment it gave her. Besides, the Medical University of South Carolina was one of the best medical schools around. She knew she'd have a good education.
She jumped at the loud pop of a car backfiring in the distance. Damn it; she should've taken her roommate's offer of a ride, but Carrie had a test in the morning and needed all the study time she could get. No, Beth wouldn't worry about calling her roommate. She only had one block to go.
“Excuse me, miss, would you happen to know where the slave market is?”
Beth jumped and whirled around to see who had asked the question. Standing behind her was a young man wearing an outfit from the seventeen hundreds. It seemed authentic from the buckled shoes to the tri-corn hat. He stood a couple of inches taller than she did. Beth narrowed her eyes. A re-enactor out at this time of night? Odd. She turned around and kept walking, the memory of the news article about the dead girls flashing through her mind.
She stopped and dropped her bag. The strange man stood in front of her. She glanced behind her to see no one, then looked back. He was now close enough to touch. She took an involuntary step back.
Mustering her courage, she picked up her bag. “Excuse me. I have to go.”
He grabbed her arms. She tried to struggle, but his grip was too tight. She looked up. The minute her eyes locked on his she couldn't look away. His eyes were a swirling golden color, and none of the contacts she had ever seen could turn them that color.
She tried to look away and move, but her muscles wouldn't obey. She stood, rooted to her spot. Why couldn't she move? A warm feeling came over her, and her thoughts grew sluggish. Her muscles relaxed and he relaxed his hold on her arms. He then reached out and took her hand.
“Why don't you come with me?” he said quietly.
Beth dropped her bag and obeyed. Yes, why not? Together, they disappeared into the shadows.
A few minutes later, her scream echoed across the empty street.
* * * *
Sam Winchester gasped as he sat up. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He made out the shape of a desk in the dark leaning against the wall across from him. To his right, his brother snored in a double bed with a brownish floral-print comforter. Sam glanced down at his own matching comforter. A hotel room somewhere in Tennessee. Not a humid street in South Carolina. He rubbed a hand over his face as his breathing returned to normal.
Making sure he hadn't woken Dean, he pushed down the covers and swung his long legs to the floor. His bare feet touched the rough carpet and he hissed as the cold hit his bare skin. Standing, he crossed the room to his computer bag. He pulled out his laptop and crept to the bathroom. He closed the door, turned on the light, and sat down cross-legged against the wall. He then booted his laptop and prayed he could find a connection in there. Luck was with him and the browser appeared without a problem.
The details of the dream were still fresh in his mind. He was beginning to get used to telling visions from regular dreams. Like the others, this one had been vivid, every detail appearing in sharp focus. Uncertainty still crept into his mind, and he had to know for sure.
He brought up a search engine and typed in “Charleston newspapers.” A link to The Post and Courier popped up. He clicked on it and waited for the page to load. His breath caught when he saw the headline. “Death Strikes Again on Tradd Street.” Biting his lower lip, Sam scrolled down to see the article.
“Police found the body of a second woman behind one of the houses on Tradd Street. It had no visible signs of damage except for a large burn mark on the chest. Police questioned the residents of the area, but they still have no suspects,” it read.
He closed his blue-green eyes, leaning his head against the wall behind him. After weeks of dreamless sleep, he had no question his visions were back. If he was right, the woman he dreamed about would be the next victim. He didn't know if this woman's death had anything to do with the demon he and his brother were looking for, but he knew their next stop had to be Charleston. He turned off the computer and closed it. He would tell Dean in the morning, but for now, he would have to try to get some more sleep.
* * * *
“Charleston, South Carolina? Are you sure?” Dean Winchester lifted his eyes from the computer screen to meet his brother's.
Sam nodded, his mouth completely dry. If the news article he read last night hadn't confirmed his vision, then the morning addition of The Post and Courier would have. He'd logged on that morning to find a new headline along with the picture of the woman in his dream.
Dean returned to the article illuminated on the screen. “Strange burn marks, three women dead.” He handed the laptop back to Sam. “Well, looks like we're headed to the coast.”
Sam narrowed his eyes as he took the laptop. “How can you be so chipper about this? I saw this woman die last night. I saw it, Dean, and I couldn't stop it.”
“Hey, this isn't your fault, Sammy. You didn't know she died last night,” Dean answered. He shoved his clothes into the open bag on the bed. “Besides, now we know so we can stop it from happening again.”
So, it's done. I now only have two WIPs I intend to finish - a Charmed/Supernatural crossover and Inheritance (Charmed genderbend). Boo and yuh!
Disclaimer: Wyatt, Chris, and the world of Charmed belong to Constance M. Burge, Brad Kern, and Spelling Entertainment. The concept of The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. McKenna and Lorelai are mine.
Author’s Note: This is completely AU. In this future Wyatt is good and Chris never met Bianca.
Chapter One
“Chris! You’re photo shoot is in one hour, man! You’d better be awake!” Wyatt Halliwell bellowed, staring at the top of the empty staircase. He only waited for a few minutes. When no answer came, he climbed the stairs and pushed open his younger brother’s door.
Chris Halliwell was still asleep, the covers pulled over his head. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. His alarm clock beeped loudly on the nightstand beside his head, yet he showed no signs of hearing it.
“Chris, you’re getting too old for this,” Wyatt grumbled as he tore the covers off the bed. Chris never stirred. Sighing, the older Halliwell grabbed his foot and pulled him off the bed. Chris hit the floor with a thud, causing his eyelids to flutter open.
Wyatt bent over, grinning at him. “Morning, sleepy head,” he said.
“What time is it?” Chris mumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Wyatt stood up and peered over at the clock. “It’s seven am. Your photo shoot’s at eight, right?”
“It’s seven?!” Chris’s green eyes flew completely open. He jumped up, almost stumbling over the sheets and comforter balled up in the middle of the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.”
“Oh, man.” Chris raced towards his closet and started sniffing clothing to see if they were dirty or clean.
“Breakfast is downstairs,” Wyatt said. He then turned and headed back down towards the kitchen.
Ever since their parents had moved to a warmer climate and quieter town in California, Wyatt felt he had been rearing Chris on his own. It wasn’t much rearing, though, as Wyatt had been twenty-two and Chris had been twenty when they left. Five years later, things hadn’t changed much. Chris still couldn’t hear his alarm clock, and Wyatt had to make sure he wasn’t late for work as well as getting himself to work on time.
Reaching the kitchen, Wyatt placed some eggs and bacon on a plate for Chris and then made a plate for himself. While Chris had to hurry that morning, he was thankful he didn’t have to go into the police station until nine.
Chris finally appeared, fully dressed. He carried his camera on his shoulder and nearly knocked over the flowers that sat in the middle of the dining room table. He grabbed a fork, leaned against the counter, and started shoveling in food.
When he took a break to gulp down some orange juice, Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “You were at Lorelai’s last night, weren’t you?”
“Where else would I be?” Chris replied with a wry grin.
“I thought that might be the reason you overslept. You always oversleep when you see her the night before.” Wyatt took a bite of bacon. “How long has it been now?”
“Eight months.”
Wyatt chewed his bacon thoughtfully before he posed his next question. “Have you told her yet?”
Chris stopped in mid-chew, almost choking on his eggs. He carefully swallowed before answering. “Told her?”
“Yes, told her. If you’re serious about her, you should at least give her the choice. Remember, our lives aren’t exactly normal.”
Chris sighed. He knew that all too well. All their lives, both boys knew that they were witches. Well, half-witches, half-whitelighters. While some rather interesting powers came with those genetics, so did a string of nasty demons constantly wanting to get their hands on them. Constantly, the boys faced some horrible creature that was either killing innocents or coming after them, and this excluded the human perps that Wyatt saw on a daily basis.
“I guess I just haven’t found the right moment yet. I can’t just walk in and say, ‘Lorelai, I’m a witch. Let’s order Chinese.’”
Wyatt chuckled. “No, but at least she’ll know.”
“And then she might not stay, like Karen.” Chris closed his eyes the minute the words left his lips. Karen had walked away from Wyatt the minute he had told her. She couldn’t handle it, and she had broken his heart in the process. Chris looked up to see the dark look pass over his brother’s brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Wyatt put his empty plate in the sink. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at the clock. “You’d better go before you’re late.”
Chris finished the last of his eggs and dumped his plate in the sink. As he grabbed his camera bag, he turned back to his brother. Wyatt stopped him before he tried to apologize again.
“It’s been three months, man. It’s okay.”
Chris nodded and grabbed his car keys. He then headed out the door, leaving Wyatt alone. The minute the door shut, the phone rang.
“Halliwell,” Wyatt answered.
“Wyatt, we need to get down to the station right now,” DJ Morris, his partner, said urgently. “Dad just called; we’ve got a Jane Doe.”
He didn’t have to say anymore. Wyatt hung up the phone, grabbed his keys, and headed for his car.
Lorelai Sandburg’s right hand gracefully lifted towards the ceiling, almost as if she were reaching for the sky. At the same time, she balanced herself on the tips of her toes. She then moved her left arm out, leading herself as she swept into a series of turns. Closing her eyes, she listened to the music, letting the soft melody guide her across the floor. At that moment, she was lost in the rhythm, feeling her next move instead of thinking about it.
McKenna Ellison leaned against the door jamb and watched her. She loved to watch her best friend dance, exercising a grace that McKenna knew she herself would never have. That knowledge used to bother her as a child, but at twenty-seven, she was learning to accept the gifts she did have.
Once Lorelai reached the end of her routine, McKenna immediately applauded. “You just keep getting better and better,” she commented as she walked in.
Startled, Lorelai whirled around. Her look of shock immediately melted into a grin when she saw who it was. She grabbed a towel draped over the bar on the left wall. “Are you sure? That last kick didn’t feel right.”
“I’m positive,” McKenna replied as she helped the shorter girl gather her things. “Besides, you know I’m jealous of you, right?” She stood up and ticked off things with her fingers. “Great dancer, handsome boyfriend, loyal friend.”
“Oh, stop,” Lorelai laughed. “I’m the one who should be jealous. You can hear someone’s heartbeat from across town.”
“Hey, you’re the one who keeps me from concentrating so hard on that heartbeat that I lose the use of all my other senses,” McKenna responded.
Lorelai cocked her head to the side as she let down her long red curls. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
Since their fathers were best friends, Lorelai and McKenna had known each other all their lives. Like her father Jim, McKenna had the ability to hear, see, touch, smell, and taste better than the average person. Unfortunately, though, those enhanced abilities came with a price. If she concentrated on one sense for too long, then she would become catatonic.
That was where Lorelai came in. Lorelai had the unique ability to pull her out of those almost catatonic moments, just by touching and talking to her. Her father Blair said it was because the two girls had a connection that was closer than best friends, almost like sisters. Lorelai didn’t understand it herself; she just knew she had to be there for McKenna.
Smiling, the redhead let her hair fall past her shoulders. “So what brings you to the dance studio this early?”
“It’s my morning off from the hospital, and I thought you might want to grab some breakfast.”
“Sounds peachy.” Lorelai packed up her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder.
McKenna’s blue eyes widened. “What?” She asked sarcastically. “No Chris this morning? I get to be honored with your presence?”
“Funny,” Lorelai stuck out her tongue. “And if you must know, Chris had a photo shoot this morning so I won’t be seeing him until tonight.”
“Oh, well, lucky for me.” She gestured towards the door. “After you.”
Chapter Two
Wyatt crouched beside the corpse. She had been a pretty girl with long brown hair, green eyes, and ivory skin. Looking no older than twenty, he guessed that she was probably a college student having just moved to San Francisco. He lifted an arm and examined where the hand had been cut off at the wrist. The cut was clean, no jagged edges anywhere. He examined the other arm, which also had a hand missing. There was only one other marking on her, other than the mutilation, and that was a deep gash in her chest. It was investigations like this that made Wyatt wish he had his cousin’s power of premonition.
“Any clues on the body?” DJ asked as he crouched down beside him.
Wyatt shook his head. “Nothing that I can go on yet; she didn’t even have any ID on her.” He pointed to the chest wound. “Obviously, she was stabbed, but I can’t tell what with.” He looked up, meeting DJ’s dark eyes as he lowered his voice. “Experience tells me it might have been an athame, but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions just yet.” He returned his voice to normal. “Any luck around the perimeter?”
“Nothing, no murder weapon or signs of a struggle. She obviously wasn’t killed here.” He then lowered his voice. “This could be another one of your unsolvable cases.”
Having grown up together, DJ knew about the Halliwell witches and the strange monsters they always fought. In fact, Wyatt had saved his life on many occasions just like Wyatt’s mother and aunts had saved his father. Their partnership had been Captain Morris’s idea, and DJ still kept Wyatt’s secret from the other inspectors. Any time they came up against something unnatural, he always helped Wyatt cover it up or cause a distraction. The young witch couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Wyatt sighed as he stood up and pulled off the latex gloves. “I’m not going to throw out that theory, but it’s rare for a demon to leave a body lying around. They’re usually tidier than this.”
He and DJ stepped away from the body to let the forensic investigators begin their part of the investigation.
“All right, so what do we have so far?” DJ began. “We have a naked body lying out in the middle of a field with the hands sawed completely off and a major stab wound. Hands and a murder weapon that we didn’t find, by the way.”
They reached their car, and Wyatt pulled open the driver’s side door. “We’ll have to wait and see what forensics comes up with. They might be able to ID her by dental records. Maybe that’ll at least give us somewhere to start.”
DJ nodded as he slid in next to him and shut the door.
“Chris, I have to go. You know I have a class to teach in twenty minutes,” Lorelai Sandburg laughed as she pushed her boyfriend away.
Chris Halliwell smiled, advancing on her once more. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you just call in sick and stay with me tonight?”
“Oh, yeah, that would be real romantic,” she replied, rolling her blue eyes. “You and me in here while your brother sleeps in the next room. I don’t think so.”
She pushed on his arms and successfully freed herself from his hold. Unfortunately, the success was short-lived. No sooner had she stood up than Chris had caught her again. He quickly turned her around, and she found herself looking into his big, blue eyes. His mouth crushed against hers, causing her heart to flutter. She could feel his warm fingers wrap themselves around her red curls, and all she could do was melt into his arms.
She knew that resistance was futile. It always had been since the day they met. She had literally run into him backstage at the San Francisco Ballet. She was heading towards the dressing room, and he was late taking pictures of the rehearsal for 415 Magazine. She remembered not liking him one bit, but Chris wasn’t about to let her go. The next day, he had hung around the Ballet, waiting for her. When he found her, he offered to take her to dinner. Admiring his persistence, she took him up on his offer. Nine months later, she couldn’t be happier.
Reluctantly, she tried to pull herself away. “Chris, in fifteen minutes, I’ll have twenty beginning ballerinas waiting on me.”
Chris groaned. “Can’t they wait just a few minutes more?”
“No, they can’t.” She laughed at the pout that he gave her.
“All right,” he murmured as he let her go and fell back onto his bed.
After gathering up her things, Lorelai pulled Chris from the bed. They climbed down the stairs and sauntered across the foyer until they finally reached the door.
Chris pulled her to him and kissed her again. He then stepped back, allowing her to open the door.
“Call me when you get home tonight,” he ordered.
“You’re worse than McKenna,” she teased, “but I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
With that, Chris closed the door. Lorelai turned away from the front door of the large, mauve manor house and ambled to her car.
Starting up the motor and putting the car in drive, she took a few moments to savor her alone time. Sharing an apartment with her best friend McKenna Ellison and spending a lot of time with Chris, Lorelai hadn’t had very much time to herself. Both people were very protective of her, especially McKenna, who was convinced that she had inherited her father’s ability to find trouble. While they had encountered a few incidences back home in Cascade, Washington, nothing had happened here. Not yet, anyway.
The drive to the studio didn’t take long at all. As soon as she parked, Lorelai climbed out. She stood there for a minute and breathed in the crisp, fall air.
Just then, someone grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, a cloth covered her mouth and nose. Blackness overcame her before she knew what happened.
* * * * *
Lorelai groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. A plain, white ceiling loomed above her with a solitary light hanging from it. She could feel soft sheets and pillows under her. ‘A bedroom?’ She thought. As she struggled to piece together her fractured thoughts, Lorelai sat up and peered at her surroundings.
Like the ceiling, the walls were plain white, almost an off-white. Nothing adorned them so she knew it wasn’t her bedroom. The only other pieces of furniture were a wooden table and two chairs. The floor was covered with a hideous shag green carpet.
Panic swirled in her stomach. What the hell happened? Where was she? She climbed to her feet, ignoring the wobbly feeling that almost threatened to knock her down. She ran for the door and grabbed the knob. It turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder. Her hand slipped and she fell backwards, landing hard on the fuzzy carpet.
Standing again, Lorelai pounded on the door with her fist. “Let me out!” she screamed. “Hello!”
Soft footsteps echoed outside her door. She pounded harder. When she heard the distinctive click of a key, she stepped back and let the door open.
Three men stood in her doorway. The two on each ends were large and dressed completely in black. The one in the middle was smaller with jet black hair and a nasty gleam in his brown eyes. He walked forward, his eyes trailing down her body and resting on her legs.
“I can’t see much through the jeans, but I can tell that she’ll be perfect. Good, strong dancer’s legs,” he said.
Lorelai stood her ground. “Who are you? Where am I?” she asked, wincing at the quaver in her voice.
He met her eyes and moved closer to her. He leaned over and sniffed her hair. Smiling, he spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Well, boys, I might be able to use more of her than just her legs. I smell Shaman blood in her.”
When he turned to look at his cohorts, Lorelai kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over as she ran past him and smacked into the chest of one of the larger men in the doorway. He grabbed her by the forearms and lifted her off the ground. He tossed her like a rag doll into the right wall. She crumpled to the floor.
“No!” the smaller man gasped. “Don’t damage her. We need those legs.”
She looked up to see a pair of feet coming towards her. For a fleeting moment she thought she could grab them and make the man fall. Even if she could, though, she wouldn’t be able to get past the other two.
The smaller man crouched down beside her. “Don’t worry, my dear. We still need another part before we can begin the ceremony. You’ll have at least a few days to live.”
He then stood up and quickly returned to the door. Lorelai laid her head on the shag carpet as the door slammed with a sickening thud.
Disclaimer: Dean and Sam and their world belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Charleston and Tradd Street are real. Dani is mine.
Author's Note: Unlike most SPN stories, this one isn't based on a local legend. Instead the villain stemmed from a personal experience a friend of mine had on Tradd Street. No one knows if what she saw was real, but she insists it happened. Everything else developed purely from my imagination.
Part One
Beth Parker crossed her arms over her chest as she started down the sidewalk. Despite the humidity of a September night in Charleston, South Carolina, she felt a chill run up her spine. Her eyes darted from left to right. Historical plantation-style houses sat sideways on each side of her. Some were made of brick while others were painted wood. Each had their porches facing the back of the house in front of them.
Silence filled the street, but the occasional engine of a passing car would break it. Beth noticed a few other people on the sidewalks, but most of the natives were already tucked in their beds at that time of night. She wished she were home already herself. Something about Tradd Street at night gave her creeps.
Of course, the police finding the bodies of two women in the past week on Tradd Street didn't help the creepy feeling either.
Shrugging off her nerves, she readjusted her backpack and continued down the sidewalk. Soon, she'd reach the turn which would lead to her parking garage, and she wouldn't have to worry about the creepiness of the street anymore.
In an effort to ignore the silent buildings surrounding her, she focused on the homework awaiting her. Why she chose to be a doctor was beyond her. But she enjoyed the classes and the sense of accomplishment it gave her. Besides, the Medical University of South Carolina was one of the best medical schools around. She knew she'd have a good education.
She jumped at the loud pop of a car backfiring in the distance. Damn it; she should've taken her roommate's offer of a ride, but Carrie had a test in the morning and needed all the study time she could get. No, Beth wouldn't worry about calling her roommate. She only had one block to go.
“Excuse me, miss, would you happen to know where the slave market is?”
Beth jumped and whirled around to see who had asked the question. Standing behind her was a young man wearing an outfit from the seventeen hundreds. It seemed authentic from the buckled shoes to the tri-corn hat. He stood a couple of inches taller than she did. Beth narrowed her eyes. A re-enactor out at this time of night? Odd. She turned around and kept walking, the memory of the news article about the dead girls flashing through her mind.
She stopped and dropped her bag. The strange man stood in front of her. She glanced behind her to see no one, then looked back. He was now close enough to touch. She took an involuntary step back.
Mustering her courage, she picked up her bag. “Excuse me. I have to go.”
He grabbed her arms. She tried to struggle, but his grip was too tight. She looked up. The minute her eyes locked on his she couldn't look away. His eyes were a swirling golden color, and none of the contacts she had ever seen could turn them that color.
She tried to look away and move, but her muscles wouldn't obey. She stood, rooted to her spot. Why couldn't she move? A warm feeling came over her, and her thoughts grew sluggish. Her muscles relaxed and he relaxed his hold on her arms. He then reached out and took her hand.
“Why don't you come with me?” he said quietly.
Beth dropped her bag and obeyed. Yes, why not? Together, they disappeared into the shadows.
A few minutes later, her scream echoed across the empty street.
* * * *
Sam Winchester gasped as he sat up. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He made out the shape of a desk in the dark leaning against the wall across from him. To his right, his brother snored in a double bed with a brownish floral-print comforter. Sam glanced down at his own matching comforter. A hotel room somewhere in Tennessee. Not a humid street in South Carolina. He rubbed a hand over his face as his breathing returned to normal.
Making sure he hadn't woken Dean, he pushed down the covers and swung his long legs to the floor. His bare feet touched the rough carpet and he hissed as the cold hit his bare skin. Standing, he crossed the room to his computer bag. He pulled out his laptop and crept to the bathroom. He closed the door, turned on the light, and sat down cross-legged against the wall. He then booted his laptop and prayed he could find a connection in there. Luck was with him and the browser appeared without a problem.
The details of the dream were still fresh in his mind. He was beginning to get used to telling visions from regular dreams. Like the others, this one had been vivid, every detail appearing in sharp focus. Uncertainty still crept into his mind, and he had to know for sure.
He brought up a search engine and typed in “Charleston newspapers.” A link to The Post and Courier popped up. He clicked on it and waited for the page to load. His breath caught when he saw the headline. “Death Strikes Again on Tradd Street.” Biting his lower lip, Sam scrolled down to see the article.
“Police found the body of a second woman behind one of the houses on Tradd Street. It had no visible signs of damage except for a large burn mark on the chest. Police questioned the residents of the area, but they still have no suspects,” it read.
He closed his blue-green eyes, leaning his head against the wall behind him. After weeks of dreamless sleep, he had no question his visions were back. If he was right, the woman he dreamed about would be the next victim. He didn't know if this woman's death had anything to do with the demon he and his brother were looking for, but he knew their next stop had to be Charleston. He turned off the computer and closed it. He would tell Dean in the morning, but for now, he would have to try to get some more sleep.
* * * *
“Charleston, South Carolina? Are you sure?” Dean Winchester lifted his eyes from the computer screen to meet his brother's.
Sam nodded, his mouth completely dry. If the news article he read last night hadn't confirmed his vision, then the morning addition of The Post and Courier would have. He'd logged on that morning to find a new headline along with the picture of the woman in his dream.
Dean returned to the article illuminated on the screen. “Strange burn marks, three women dead.” He handed the laptop back to Sam. “Well, looks like we're headed to the coast.”
Sam narrowed his eyes as he took the laptop. “How can you be so chipper about this? I saw this woman die last night. I saw it, Dean, and I couldn't stop it.”
“Hey, this isn't your fault, Sammy. You didn't know she died last night,” Dean answered. He shoved his clothes into the open bag on the bed. “Besides, now we know so we can stop it from happening again.”
So, it's done. I now only have two WIPs I intend to finish - a Charmed/Supernatural crossover and Inheritance (Charmed genderbend). Boo and yuh!