The Huntress -Epilogue
A/N: This is it, my friends! Hard to believe I’m finally done with this verse -for now. I invite you to read the very important note at the end of the fic, but most importantly, let me say a word about my beta reader, disneymagics. This fic wouldn’t be half of what it is without her precious help, incredible beta work and constant cheers. If you have a minute, you should totally leave her a message because she deserves so much praise!
Also, thank you all for the support, the comments, the cheers. It really is important for me and keeps me going, making me want to write good enough stories that won’t disappoint you, and in the process, it helps me improve as a story teller.
Now, back to the story.
Freeport, September 11
The fire took almost immediately and Sam warmed his hands over it. Nights were getting colder.
“Everything ready?” Dean asked, joining him to rub his hands over the pale flames.
“Yeah.”
They were on the beach, in a quiet corner that couldn’t be seen from the house where Bobby and Ellen were watching over their daughters, ready to get rid of the curse once and for all.
Sam felt like this was some kind of big milestone in their lives. He was a little melancholy, he guessed. Not that he wanted Dean to go through another pregnancy, not after everything. Still, he’d always remember this time in their lives as one of wonder despite everything that had gone wrong.
This time in their lives in which they were granted two daughters, thanks to a witch’s curse that had evolved in way no one could have predicted.
Sam took the bowl with the assortment of herbs. Soon, it would be over. For good.
He had an image in his mind of Dean destroying a motel bathroom after taking three positive pregnancy tests. It made him smile.
“Let’s get it over with,” Dean said, lying on his back on the blanket they had brought with them.
He sounded calm and peaceful, maybe a little wistful too? Still, he was smiling.
“Need some blood.”
“Of course,” Dean grunted. “These spells always need some fucking blood.
He offered his hand to Sam who made a light cut into his palm. Dean winced, but didn’t pull away as Sam let the droplets of blood fall into the combination of herbs. He held the bowl over the fire and started the incantation, which he repeated three times until the herbs were smoking.
Then, he poured the mixture on Dean’s belly. It was hot, but not enough to burn him. Sam pronounced the second part of the incantation and they both watched as the herbs and blood started agglutinating together, forming the familiar patterns on Dean’s skin, the sigils that had once been carved on it and leaking blood.
Dean giggled suddenly, then slapped his hand over his mouth under Sam’s amused gaze. “What, it tickles, shut up,” he murmured.
When the patterns were well formed, Sam pronounced the last words of the spell and they suddenly sparked, turning into ash that rose from Dean’s stomach before disappearing into the night.
“That’s it,” Sam said.
“Done?”
“Done.”
Dean lowered his shirt and sat up, crossing his legs in front of him. “So, we’re sure the curse is gone for good?”
“According to Bobby, yeah.”
Still, Sam had the strong impression that Dean wouldn’t be too eager to bottom for him from then on.
“We should go back inside,” Sam whispered, watching the dark waves crash on the shore.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed just as quietly, looking away as well. “Fuck, I’ll miss this place.”
“Me too. But hey, we’re not gone yet.”
“Well, eventually… And if you ask me, the sooner the better.”
There were so many things to think about. They'd had a long conversation with Bobby who thought Canada would do the trick, as long as they didn’t settle in a town near the border. Sam had suggested British Columbia, mostly because it was the only province in Canada he had ever visited. He'd gone there on a skiing trip with Jessica and friends from Stanford, so many years ago it seemed.
Moving to Europe would have been much more complicated, and expensive. Canada had the advantage of being close enough to the U.S. to share a lot of their laws. Obtaining good quality fake papers for them and the girls would be easier.
They would have to give up their surname. Sam thought Dean would be more resistant to this particular issue, but he had barely shrugged. “Hey, we'll still be Winchesters, even if we’re the only ones to know. Maybe we should take mom’s maiden name, Campbell. It’s common enough.”
Sam had agreed. Whatever shape or form their family took, it would still be them. They had spent their life using false names and identities, after all. It didn’t change who they were at the end of the day.
“You think we can trust this Frank guy Bobby is asking to help with the papers?” Dean asked.
“He won’t know more than he needs too. And apparently he’s so deep inside his own paranoia he couldn't care less about two random guys and their daughters.”
Dean sighed, still looking far away at the ocean.
“Leaving everything behind for good. There's no turning back, Sammy.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I’m not stupid enough to think we’ll never face anything supernatural ever again, but…” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind never hearing another rumor about a haunting ever again.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh, hearing Dean say those words so casually. He moved on the blanket until he was sitting close enough to feel his brother’s body against his own.
“What’s so funny?”
“Whatever happened to us.” Sam murmured, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulder, pleased when his brother let him get away with it. “Here we are, ready to start a new life with no hunting whatsoever, fathers of two little girls and it was all your idea, even the part about being a gay couple.”
Dean frowned. “So what?”
“It was hard, in the beginning. Remember our first time?”
“I remember I came in my pants like a freaking teenager,” Dean tried to joke.
Yeah, he had. Their first time… Three months after Dean had been saved from hell. What Sam remembered was the desperation. He’d been the one to initiate it, to break the sexual tension that had been building steadily between them. He’d pressed Dean against the wall of some anonymous motel room and had yelled, “Tell me you don’t want this! Tell me, Dean!”
Dean had stopped fighting him and had looked into his eyes, so much emotion passing through them, like he had hoped Sam would understand because he couldn’t, just couldn’t say out loud what he had been feeling, not yet.
They had rutted against each other, kissed and bit and moaned and groaned. Afterwards, Dean had locked himself in the bathroom, had turned the shower on, and cried. Sam had waited for him to get out, sitting on the floor with his back against the door, and had cried too.
How different things were now. How much better.
“I don’t regret anything,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on Dean’s temple.
“I don’t either, you big girl,” Dean replied.
He turned toward Sam and ran his fingers through his hair, kissing him on the mouth until they were both out of breath.
“We really should get back inside,” he rasped.
“Yeah.”
But neither of them moved. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was soothing, like some violent lullaby.
“I can’t picture it, you know?” Dean said after long and peaceful minutes of silence.
“What?”
“Our future. I mean… Where will we be in say… seven years from now.”
“We’ll be together with the girls,” Sam answered easily.
“And that’s enough for me.”
It really was.
::: :::
Seven years later
Nora Jenkins was in her office, sorting out some papers like she did each day before going home. The school was empty and quiet, although less than ten minutes ago, it had been resonating with the joyful chaos of a couple hundred kids invading the corridors, eager to go home. She had been a secretary at this elementary school for more than ten years and she never tired of being surrounded by children. She didn’t have any of her own, was still waiting for the right man even though she was well into her thirties.
Still, in the meantime, she enjoyed her job.
The door of her office was open and, once every minute or so, she would raise her eyes to look at the two girls sitting on plastic chair just outside the corridor, facing her.
The principal, Miss Thompson, was in the library, meeting some guy from the parent’s council. Nora had no doubt that the atmosphere would change as soon as she got here.
The girls were speaking quietly amongst themselves, one blond head cocked toward a darker one. This situation had become a common occurrence basically since Sue had started school, but it had worsened when her sister had arrived, one year later.
Nora smiled despite herself. Those two had a way of getting into trouble like no one else. Still, she was very fond of them and could admit to herself that they were favorites of hers. Whenever she could save them from the principal’s office, she would. This time, though, the transgression had happened during lunchtime, near an opened window, and Miss Thompson had been right there to witness it all.
The old cow had always been prejudiced against the Campbell girls, all the teachers knew it. Each time she mentioned their fathers’ “alternative lifestyle” her mouth would kirk in a disapproving grimace.
Luckily, this was Thompson’s last year here, since she was retiring at the end of the school year. Nora smiled to herself, remembering Mr. Campbell's - Dean's- victory fist when she’d told him. “You know, I’m going to celebrate that day, Nora,” he had told her, smiling that incredibly sexy smile of his.
“You and me both,” she had answered, blushing a little.
She always blushed when Dean Campbell was around. Lily, the librarian, was way less subtle. “He’s got an ass to kill for. And his husband, gosh, he has those gigantic hands… Just imagine a threesome with them.”
Yeah, Lily was known to speak her mind.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sue was saying a little louder.
“I know, but still. You should have let it go,” Angie answered quietly, looking straight into her sister’s eyes with this serious expression she sometimes had. “Papa is going to ground us.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll tell him. You don’t deserve to be punished.”
Sue’s tone was filled with emotion. God, that girl didn’t do anything by halves.
Those sisters were so different from each other, and still so close. The deep bond between them could be felt the first time you met them, like there was more to them than just the normal sibling relationship. Nora had a sister, two years younger than her, and they’d never been close. Sometimes, looking at Sue and Angie, she wished things had been different.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sue was asking, frowning at Angie.
“Because I didn’t care.”
“She was mean.”
“You didn’t have to do anything. I can defend myself.”
“I’m your big sister. I have to protect you.”
“You’re only one year older,” Angie snapped, looking annoyed.
“One year and two months.”
Yes, Sue was the eldest, but looking at them, you would have thought it was the opposite. They were approximately the same height -Sumiko was of a delicate shape, thin, with a small, oval-shaped face. Angie’s face was rounder and, even if she was as thin as Sumiko, it was evident that she would outgrow her eventually.
Sumiko had blond, straight hair, as soft and thin as a baby’s, where Angie’s dark strands were thicker, curling softly around her face. They would get off the bus every morning wearing the school uniform, clean and with their hair done. Sue usually wore hers in a braid most. Her hair was long and the braid’s tail brushed against the middle of her back. Angie kept hers shorter, just below the ears, and she always wore a hair clip to keep it away from her forehead.
Still, at the end of each day, Angie would look exactly the same as in the morning where Sue gave the impression she’d been fighting some kind of kid’s war. Like right now, strands of hair had escaped from her braid and one long piece was falling right in her face. Her white tights were stained with dirt and grass at the knees. She had some kind of half hand print on her jumper in bright yellow paint and a scratch on her left cheek that hadn't been there this morning. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Sue couldn’t stay clean and tidy.
Long footsteps resonated in the hallway and, by the sound of them, Nora knew that this time it was Sam Campbell coming to meet the principal and get the girls. She saw both of them tense a bit just as their father’s large frame appeared in the doorway of Nora’s office.
“Hey,” he said, a little short of breath.
Professor Campbell was a sweet looking, very tall man in his mid-thirties with semi-long brown hair and soft eyes behind light framed glasses. He always wore the same, almost cliché outfit of a university teacher - well pressed pants and a sweater vest under a worn out coat, carrying a briefcase with him. His husband, on the other hand, usually wore well-worn jeans and a tee-shirt with a button-up flannel shirt over it, sometimes with trails of sawdust all over him, even in his hair. He was a carpenter, and a good one according to Olivia Benton, the third grade teacher for whom he had made a dresser last year.
“Hi, Professor Campbell.”
“Is she here?” Sam Campbell murmured, pointing at the closed door of the principal’s office.
“Not yet. She’s with a parent in the library.”
He rolled his eyes comically. “Great. We’ll wait I guess.”
“I’m sorry. Really, Sue wasn't the only child at fault.”
“I figured as much. Not her style to do something like this without provocation. Anyway, I’m just glad Dean couldn’t come.” He smiled a little awkwardly.
They both knew why he was saying that. Last year, Sue had accidentally triggered the school’s fire alarm, causing a general panic and, as a punishment, Principal Thompson had told her that she wouldn’t be part of the Christmas play. The next morning, Dean Campbell had barged into Thompson’s office, looking so mad it was actually a little frightening. Nora had heard him tell Thompson in a cold, well controlled tone, that his daughter would be part of the play and that she really didn’t want to see what would happen if she stuck to her decision. When he had exited the office, the old woman’s face was as white as a sheet and her hands were shaking.
“Hey, Nora,” he’d said casually, taking a Christmas sugar cookie from a plate she'd left on her desk. “Have a nice day.”
Then he'd left and Nora had made sure to tell everyone how he’d shut the old cow’s trap. Still, she knew what his husband was afraid of, that someday, he would go too far and really lose his temper. Sam had been the one to deal with Thompson ever since. “Listen, this is a good school, the teachers are great and I’d hate to have to get the girls transferred just because of one person. I know they’re happy here. “
Nora had reassured him that the teachers were used to the principal’s attitude and, most of the time, they tried to shield the girls from her, as well as other kids who had the misfortune to displease her in some way. The elementary school was the only one in their little town. Transferring the girls would mean a much longer bus ride and other complications.
“There's one month left to the school year,” Nora said to Sam Campbell, smiling reassuringly.
“Thank god for small favors,” he answered.
Then he turned back to face his daughters.
“It wasn’t Angie’s fault,” Sue immediately said.
“Okay, calm down, I haven’t said anything yet,” the tall man said soothingly, kneeling in front of them.
“But it wasn’t, papa.”
“You wouldn’t have done anything if she hadn't called me a freak,” Angie interrupted in a calm, reasonable voice.
“Bethany called you a freak?” Sam asked, and there was something deeply hurt in his tone.
“I don’t care. I was just…”
“Talking to yourself like you always do,” Sue mumbled.
“So what?”
“It makes you look weird. I wish you’d stop.”
Angie didn’t say anything but gave her older sister a thoughtful look.
“Still, that isn’t a reason to do what you did, Sue,” their father cut in calmly.
“But Bethany is a bitch,” Sue protested, and Nora repressed a laugh.
“What did I said about the “b” word?” Sam asked more severely.
“Daddy says it all the time!”
There was a long sigh from Sam. “Dean is an adult. And I already told you, Sumiko Campbell. Just because daddy says something doesn't make it right for you to do the same. Anyway, what happened after? You pushed her?”
“I barely touched her!” Sumiko protested, tears filling her eyes. “She fell on purpose, just to get me in trouble.”
“It’s true, papa,” Angie said. “She knew Miss Thompson was looking through the window and she did it on purpose.”
“Okay, okay, both of you calm down.”
The man slowly unraveled his body as he stood up and brushed his hair away from his face. He turned back to Nora. “Listen, I don’t feel like wasting my time. Just… tell her I had an appointment, and to call me at home.”
“Perfect,” Nora said, thinking with delight how pissed Thompson would be, coming back and finding the girls gone.
“Thanks.”
Sam Campbell stretched out both of his arms, holding his hands open. “Come on, girls.”
Sue and Angie exchanged an excited look and stood up, Sue tip toeing like she was doing her own little happy dance and grabbing Sam’s left hand while Angie walked more slowly, but still couldn’t repress a lopsided smile.
Nora watched them leave and then got back to her work although she couldn’t help but hear their conversation as they walked away.
“Doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences,” Sam was saying.
“You can punish me, but Angie didn’t-“
“I know.”
“I should be punished too. She’s right, I was talking to myself.”
“Angie, speaking to yourself doesn’t give anyone the right to call you a freak.”
“What’s wrong about being a freak anyway? Daddy calls you a freak all the time. It just means I'm different and you say nothing is wrong with that.”
“And you’re right, baby.”
“And that bitch Bethany should mind her own business.”
“Sumiko! Geez, what am I going to do with you…”
Nora giggled silently. She waited for Thompson to come back and kept on smiling.
The end… or is it???
::: :::
A/N:No, it really is the end of this story, but I have to tell you guys that in the French version, I’ve written several timestamp happening between the epilogue of Sam and Dean getting rid of the curse and the “seven years later” post epilogue. Those timestamp follow the Campbell family, we get to know more about Angie’s powers and the way the girls consider their fathers, if they know anything about the supernatural world and the way they were born.
I won’t spoil anything, though, but I have the firm intention of writing those timestamps. That’s why I remained voluntarily vague in the “seven years later” epilogue, and used an outsider POV.
Thanks again for reading!
<3
Petite Étoile
Also, thank you all for the support, the comments, the cheers. It really is important for me and keeps me going, making me want to write good enough stories that won’t disappoint you, and in the process, it helps me improve as a story teller.
Now, back to the story.
Freeport, September 11
The fire took almost immediately and Sam warmed his hands over it. Nights were getting colder.
“Everything ready?” Dean asked, joining him to rub his hands over the pale flames.
“Yeah.”
They were on the beach, in a quiet corner that couldn’t be seen from the house where Bobby and Ellen were watching over their daughters, ready to get rid of the curse once and for all.
Sam felt like this was some kind of big milestone in their lives. He was a little melancholy, he guessed. Not that he wanted Dean to go through another pregnancy, not after everything. Still, he’d always remember this time in their lives as one of wonder despite everything that had gone wrong.
This time in their lives in which they were granted two daughters, thanks to a witch’s curse that had evolved in way no one could have predicted.
Sam took the bowl with the assortment of herbs. Soon, it would be over. For good.
He had an image in his mind of Dean destroying a motel bathroom after taking three positive pregnancy tests. It made him smile.
“Let’s get it over with,” Dean said, lying on his back on the blanket they had brought with them.
He sounded calm and peaceful, maybe a little wistful too? Still, he was smiling.
“Need some blood.”
“Of course,” Dean grunted. “These spells always need some fucking blood.
He offered his hand to Sam who made a light cut into his palm. Dean winced, but didn’t pull away as Sam let the droplets of blood fall into the combination of herbs. He held the bowl over the fire and started the incantation, which he repeated three times until the herbs were smoking.
Then, he poured the mixture on Dean’s belly. It was hot, but not enough to burn him. Sam pronounced the second part of the incantation and they both watched as the herbs and blood started agglutinating together, forming the familiar patterns on Dean’s skin, the sigils that had once been carved on it and leaking blood.
Dean giggled suddenly, then slapped his hand over his mouth under Sam’s amused gaze. “What, it tickles, shut up,” he murmured.
When the patterns were well formed, Sam pronounced the last words of the spell and they suddenly sparked, turning into ash that rose from Dean’s stomach before disappearing into the night.
“That’s it,” Sam said.
“Done?”
“Done.”
Dean lowered his shirt and sat up, crossing his legs in front of him. “So, we’re sure the curse is gone for good?”
“According to Bobby, yeah.”
Still, Sam had the strong impression that Dean wouldn’t be too eager to bottom for him from then on.
“We should go back inside,” Sam whispered, watching the dark waves crash on the shore.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed just as quietly, looking away as well. “Fuck, I’ll miss this place.”
“Me too. But hey, we’re not gone yet.”
“Well, eventually… And if you ask me, the sooner the better.”
There were so many things to think about. They'd had a long conversation with Bobby who thought Canada would do the trick, as long as they didn’t settle in a town near the border. Sam had suggested British Columbia, mostly because it was the only province in Canada he had ever visited. He'd gone there on a skiing trip with Jessica and friends from Stanford, so many years ago it seemed.
Moving to Europe would have been much more complicated, and expensive. Canada had the advantage of being close enough to the U.S. to share a lot of their laws. Obtaining good quality fake papers for them and the girls would be easier.
They would have to give up their surname. Sam thought Dean would be more resistant to this particular issue, but he had barely shrugged. “Hey, we'll still be Winchesters, even if we’re the only ones to know. Maybe we should take mom’s maiden name, Campbell. It’s common enough.”
Sam had agreed. Whatever shape or form their family took, it would still be them. They had spent their life using false names and identities, after all. It didn’t change who they were at the end of the day.
“You think we can trust this Frank guy Bobby is asking to help with the papers?” Dean asked.
“He won’t know more than he needs too. And apparently he’s so deep inside his own paranoia he couldn't care less about two random guys and their daughters.”
Dean sighed, still looking far away at the ocean.
“Leaving everything behind for good. There's no turning back, Sammy.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I’m not stupid enough to think we’ll never face anything supernatural ever again, but…” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind never hearing another rumor about a haunting ever again.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh, hearing Dean say those words so casually. He moved on the blanket until he was sitting close enough to feel his brother’s body against his own.
“What’s so funny?”
“Whatever happened to us.” Sam murmured, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulder, pleased when his brother let him get away with it. “Here we are, ready to start a new life with no hunting whatsoever, fathers of two little girls and it was all your idea, even the part about being a gay couple.”
Dean frowned. “So what?”
“It was hard, in the beginning. Remember our first time?”
“I remember I came in my pants like a freaking teenager,” Dean tried to joke.
Yeah, he had. Their first time… Three months after Dean had been saved from hell. What Sam remembered was the desperation. He’d been the one to initiate it, to break the sexual tension that had been building steadily between them. He’d pressed Dean against the wall of some anonymous motel room and had yelled, “Tell me you don’t want this! Tell me, Dean!”
Dean had stopped fighting him and had looked into his eyes, so much emotion passing through them, like he had hoped Sam would understand because he couldn’t, just couldn’t say out loud what he had been feeling, not yet.
They had rutted against each other, kissed and bit and moaned and groaned. Afterwards, Dean had locked himself in the bathroom, had turned the shower on, and cried. Sam had waited for him to get out, sitting on the floor with his back against the door, and had cried too.
How different things were now. How much better.
“I don’t regret anything,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on Dean’s temple.
“I don’t either, you big girl,” Dean replied.
He turned toward Sam and ran his fingers through his hair, kissing him on the mouth until they were both out of breath.
“We really should get back inside,” he rasped.
“Yeah.”
But neither of them moved. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was soothing, like some violent lullaby.
“I can’t picture it, you know?” Dean said after long and peaceful minutes of silence.
“What?”
“Our future. I mean… Where will we be in say… seven years from now.”
“We’ll be together with the girls,” Sam answered easily.
“And that’s enough for me.”
It really was.
::: :::
Seven years later
Nora Jenkins was in her office, sorting out some papers like she did each day before going home. The school was empty and quiet, although less than ten minutes ago, it had been resonating with the joyful chaos of a couple hundred kids invading the corridors, eager to go home. She had been a secretary at this elementary school for more than ten years and she never tired of being surrounded by children. She didn’t have any of her own, was still waiting for the right man even though she was well into her thirties.
Still, in the meantime, she enjoyed her job.
The door of her office was open and, once every minute or so, she would raise her eyes to look at the two girls sitting on plastic chair just outside the corridor, facing her.
The principal, Miss Thompson, was in the library, meeting some guy from the parent’s council. Nora had no doubt that the atmosphere would change as soon as she got here.
The girls were speaking quietly amongst themselves, one blond head cocked toward a darker one. This situation had become a common occurrence basically since Sue had started school, but it had worsened when her sister had arrived, one year later.
Nora smiled despite herself. Those two had a way of getting into trouble like no one else. Still, she was very fond of them and could admit to herself that they were favorites of hers. Whenever she could save them from the principal’s office, she would. This time, though, the transgression had happened during lunchtime, near an opened window, and Miss Thompson had been right there to witness it all.
The old cow had always been prejudiced against the Campbell girls, all the teachers knew it. Each time she mentioned their fathers’ “alternative lifestyle” her mouth would kirk in a disapproving grimace.
Luckily, this was Thompson’s last year here, since she was retiring at the end of the school year. Nora smiled to herself, remembering Mr. Campbell's - Dean's- victory fist when she’d told him. “You know, I’m going to celebrate that day, Nora,” he had told her, smiling that incredibly sexy smile of his.
“You and me both,” she had answered, blushing a little.
She always blushed when Dean Campbell was around. Lily, the librarian, was way less subtle. “He’s got an ass to kill for. And his husband, gosh, he has those gigantic hands… Just imagine a threesome with them.”
Yeah, Lily was known to speak her mind.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sue was saying a little louder.
“I know, but still. You should have let it go,” Angie answered quietly, looking straight into her sister’s eyes with this serious expression she sometimes had. “Papa is going to ground us.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll tell him. You don’t deserve to be punished.”
Sue’s tone was filled with emotion. God, that girl didn’t do anything by halves.
Those sisters were so different from each other, and still so close. The deep bond between them could be felt the first time you met them, like there was more to them than just the normal sibling relationship. Nora had a sister, two years younger than her, and they’d never been close. Sometimes, looking at Sue and Angie, she wished things had been different.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sue was asking, frowning at Angie.
“Because I didn’t care.”
“She was mean.”
“You didn’t have to do anything. I can defend myself.”
“I’m your big sister. I have to protect you.”
“You’re only one year older,” Angie snapped, looking annoyed.
“One year and two months.”
Yes, Sue was the eldest, but looking at them, you would have thought it was the opposite. They were approximately the same height -Sumiko was of a delicate shape, thin, with a small, oval-shaped face. Angie’s face was rounder and, even if she was as thin as Sumiko, it was evident that she would outgrow her eventually.
Sumiko had blond, straight hair, as soft and thin as a baby’s, where Angie’s dark strands were thicker, curling softly around her face. They would get off the bus every morning wearing the school uniform, clean and with their hair done. Sue usually wore hers in a braid most. Her hair was long and the braid’s tail brushed against the middle of her back. Angie kept hers shorter, just below the ears, and she always wore a hair clip to keep it away from her forehead.
Still, at the end of each day, Angie would look exactly the same as in the morning where Sue gave the impression she’d been fighting some kind of kid’s war. Like right now, strands of hair had escaped from her braid and one long piece was falling right in her face. Her white tights were stained with dirt and grass at the knees. She had some kind of half hand print on her jumper in bright yellow paint and a scratch on her left cheek that hadn't been there this morning. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Sue couldn’t stay clean and tidy.
Long footsteps resonated in the hallway and, by the sound of them, Nora knew that this time it was Sam Campbell coming to meet the principal and get the girls. She saw both of them tense a bit just as their father’s large frame appeared in the doorway of Nora’s office.
“Hey,” he said, a little short of breath.
Professor Campbell was a sweet looking, very tall man in his mid-thirties with semi-long brown hair and soft eyes behind light framed glasses. He always wore the same, almost cliché outfit of a university teacher - well pressed pants and a sweater vest under a worn out coat, carrying a briefcase with him. His husband, on the other hand, usually wore well-worn jeans and a tee-shirt with a button-up flannel shirt over it, sometimes with trails of sawdust all over him, even in his hair. He was a carpenter, and a good one according to Olivia Benton, the third grade teacher for whom he had made a dresser last year.
“Hi, Professor Campbell.”
“Is she here?” Sam Campbell murmured, pointing at the closed door of the principal’s office.
“Not yet. She’s with a parent in the library.”
He rolled his eyes comically. “Great. We’ll wait I guess.”
“I’m sorry. Really, Sue wasn't the only child at fault.”
“I figured as much. Not her style to do something like this without provocation. Anyway, I’m just glad Dean couldn’t come.” He smiled a little awkwardly.
They both knew why he was saying that. Last year, Sue had accidentally triggered the school’s fire alarm, causing a general panic and, as a punishment, Principal Thompson had told her that she wouldn’t be part of the Christmas play. The next morning, Dean Campbell had barged into Thompson’s office, looking so mad it was actually a little frightening. Nora had heard him tell Thompson in a cold, well controlled tone, that his daughter would be part of the play and that she really didn’t want to see what would happen if she stuck to her decision. When he had exited the office, the old woman’s face was as white as a sheet and her hands were shaking.
“Hey, Nora,” he’d said casually, taking a Christmas sugar cookie from a plate she'd left on her desk. “Have a nice day.”
Then he'd left and Nora had made sure to tell everyone how he’d shut the old cow’s trap. Still, she knew what his husband was afraid of, that someday, he would go too far and really lose his temper. Sam had been the one to deal with Thompson ever since. “Listen, this is a good school, the teachers are great and I’d hate to have to get the girls transferred just because of one person. I know they’re happy here. “
Nora had reassured him that the teachers were used to the principal’s attitude and, most of the time, they tried to shield the girls from her, as well as other kids who had the misfortune to displease her in some way. The elementary school was the only one in their little town. Transferring the girls would mean a much longer bus ride and other complications.
“There's one month left to the school year,” Nora said to Sam Campbell, smiling reassuringly.
“Thank god for small favors,” he answered.
Then he turned back to face his daughters.
“It wasn’t Angie’s fault,” Sue immediately said.
“Okay, calm down, I haven’t said anything yet,” the tall man said soothingly, kneeling in front of them.
“But it wasn’t, papa.”
“You wouldn’t have done anything if she hadn't called me a freak,” Angie interrupted in a calm, reasonable voice.
“Bethany called you a freak?” Sam asked, and there was something deeply hurt in his tone.
“I don’t care. I was just…”
“Talking to yourself like you always do,” Sue mumbled.
“So what?”
“It makes you look weird. I wish you’d stop.”
Angie didn’t say anything but gave her older sister a thoughtful look.
“Still, that isn’t a reason to do what you did, Sue,” their father cut in calmly.
“But Bethany is a bitch,” Sue protested, and Nora repressed a laugh.
“What did I said about the “b” word?” Sam asked more severely.
“Daddy says it all the time!”
There was a long sigh from Sam. “Dean is an adult. And I already told you, Sumiko Campbell. Just because daddy says something doesn't make it right for you to do the same. Anyway, what happened after? You pushed her?”
“I barely touched her!” Sumiko protested, tears filling her eyes. “She fell on purpose, just to get me in trouble.”
“It’s true, papa,” Angie said. “She knew Miss Thompson was looking through the window and she did it on purpose.”
“Okay, okay, both of you calm down.”
The man slowly unraveled his body as he stood up and brushed his hair away from his face. He turned back to Nora. “Listen, I don’t feel like wasting my time. Just… tell her I had an appointment, and to call me at home.”
“Perfect,” Nora said, thinking with delight how pissed Thompson would be, coming back and finding the girls gone.
“Thanks.”
Sam Campbell stretched out both of his arms, holding his hands open. “Come on, girls.”
Sue and Angie exchanged an excited look and stood up, Sue tip toeing like she was doing her own little happy dance and grabbing Sam’s left hand while Angie walked more slowly, but still couldn’t repress a lopsided smile.
Nora watched them leave and then got back to her work although she couldn’t help but hear their conversation as they walked away.
“Doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences,” Sam was saying.
“You can punish me, but Angie didn’t-“
“I know.”
“I should be punished too. She’s right, I was talking to myself.”
“Angie, speaking to yourself doesn’t give anyone the right to call you a freak.”
“What’s wrong about being a freak anyway? Daddy calls you a freak all the time. It just means I'm different and you say nothing is wrong with that.”
“And you’re right, baby.”
“And that bitch Bethany should mind her own business.”
“Sumiko! Geez, what am I going to do with you…”
Nora giggled silently. She waited for Thompson to come back and kept on smiling.
The end… or is it???
::: :::
A/N:No, it really is the end of this story, but I have to tell you guys that in the French version, I’ve written several timestamp happening between the epilogue of Sam and Dean getting rid of the curse and the “seven years later” post epilogue. Those timestamp follow the Campbell family, we get to know more about Angie’s powers and the way the girls consider their fathers, if they know anything about the supernatural world and the way they were born.
I won’t spoil anything, though, but I have the firm intention of writing those timestamps. That’s why I remained voluntarily vague in the “seven years later” epilogue, and used an outsider POV.
Thanks again for reading!
<3
Petite Étoile