Heartless: Episode 2 (Fan fiction)

The second installment in the Supernatural saga from the perspective of the mysterious Taylor.

Heartless 2

“Who’s afraid of the big bad Winchesters?”

        Bobby was counting on yet another quiet day to himself. He figured the day would just wind around like usual; some fixing up around the house, feeding and checking on the dogs that patrolled the junk yard, and then, God-willing, a call about something he could obliterate with a shotgun full of rock salt. Unfortunately for Bobby though, Sheryl Palmer showed up, and she had one hell of a story to tell.

        She flipped through the pages of the old moleskin journal as she spoke intermittently, finishing her sentences with a sigh and another sip of her beer. Bobby nursed his wry nerves with a couple of glasses of Whiskey and tried to keep up. “Now,” He began, “You know why Castiel’s part of the team now,” He said, “You’re up to speed?” He nodded at her and she nodded back.

        “Did Dean ever talk about hell to you?” She asked, trying not to sound too interested.

        “What?”

        “Just wondering,” She said, “I mean, you know, in case I wind up there someday,”

        Bobby grunted, shaking his head. “I’m gunna go ahead and pretend you didn’t say that, Sheryl,” he said, and she laughed it off.

        “Fair enough, Bobby,”

        “So come on now,” He said, sounding a little exasperated, “Tell me about this Taylor girl… and why she’s so special,” he asked and Sheryl flipped through the pages.

        “Alright, here we go,” Sheryl said, and cleared her throat. “December 9^th…”

***

Adapted from Taylor’s journal (continued):

December 9^th 2009

Calopuses aren’t your average B-grade horror monsters. A lot of the time, their barks and howls have them mistaken for werewolves, but going after one of these with a few silver bullets in a revolver will bring your hunting trip to a short and disappointing end. Their names vary as much as their legends do; sometimes they’re called Calopuses, sometimes Chatloups, and other times Aptaleons- most of the time, people just call them hellhounds. With that many names, you can only imagine the kind of research I would’ve had to do to get a real, solid, truthful picture on these giant, furry b******s. And if you know anything about me, you’d know that studying, taking notes and cross referencing isn’t exactly one of my strong points… I’m more of a “too long, did not read” kind of girl. It never really got us into any trouble before though; this was the first time.

        If I had known what the Winchesters knew about these demonic wolf-beasts, I would’ve talked my brother out of going into the woods that night. I would’ve told him that hellhounds (from your average soul-collector kind, to your Calopus: giant-beast-with-antlers kind) were impossible for the human eye to see, and that we would’ve had to create some kind of rock salt and solid iron bomb to actually bring one down. We probably would’ve stayed back at the motel and strategized our next move; trying to figure out where Amon was without going out into the woods looking for him. Then we would’ve probably fallen asleep and left town the next day, hot on the trail of some other long road to ruin. I never would’ve found out that Dean Winchester was a hunter, I never would’ve met his brother Sam, or their very own friendly neighbourhood angel Castiel… and I never would’ve found out I was… different.

“No, you listen to me!” I heard my brother’s voice shouting from the other room as I awoke in some foreign bed. “I’m going to go out there and get my truck, and come back here for Taylor… you do not speak to her, you do not wake her, you do not for the love of God lay a hand on her- you got me?” He was out with a stamping of heavy boots on wooden floors and a slam of the door.

“Geez, guy sure has an attitude,” I heard Sam say.

“Yeah, and this coming from Mr. Sunshine pants over here, huh,” Dean replied. It was an unmistakeable voice; rough, deep and choc-full of testosterone.

“Calm yourselves,” I heard a third voice speak- the one of the dark haired man in a trench coat. “He’s had a difficult night,”

“Yeah, well it could’ve been worse- he could’ve lost his sister out there…” Dean said. “I mean, that there is what happens when you get a couple of amateurs on the job,”

Amateurs? I stirred in bed, as quietly as I could, and turned as much as my sore neck could manage. I flipped over painfully and saw a small light coming from the door to the lounge left ajar. We were in some sort of log cabin, and from the sound of the cars passing by outside, I imagined we were right on the main road running through the small town.

“Should’ve stopped him… crap- it’s snowing outside… can you believe this?” Sam said. Sound of footsteps followed a “Where are you going?” from Sam.

“Check on the girl,” Dean’s voice said and I flattened myself instinctively to the bed, hoping for the mattress to simply swallow me up. “You know, make sure she’s still alive and all,”

“She’s fine, Dean,” The gruff third voice said and the footsteps towards my room door stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief, “Perhaps it’s best if we just leave her be,”

Footsteps moved away from the door. By now I was certain of two things; that the pretty boys were hunters after all… and that they were a lot better at it than us. Who they were exactly was any one’s guess… but they were obviously out here hunting the same thing. Turns out we weren’t the only ones crazy enough to go after a fully grown Calopus.

“I’m not so sure they’re amateurs anyway,” Sam said.

“What’re you talking about?” Dean demanded. I heard them pace through the momentary pause.

“Well, at least she isn’t- I mean, she was saying all that stuff… what was that?” Sam trailed off for a second, and then added; “It’s crazy but… it was almost like she was talking to it…”

“She was talking to a hellhound?” Dean scoffed.

I felt my heart sink; What the hell?

“I mean, is that possible?” Sam asked, the worry in his voice almost debilitating me.

“It is possible,” The third man said, “She is… marked,”

“What?” I whispered to myself before clasping a hand heavy over my mouth. Crap… The voices stopped outside for a moment, and only the sound of the crackling fire filled the air.

“What’re you talking about, Cas?” Dean asked, breaking the silence. I sighed again and continued to breathe.

“She bears the mark of a damned vessel,” Cas replied.

“You know it makes me feel uneasy when you swear,” Dean said.

“No,” Cas retorted, “I meant damned as in… rejected, scorned… in exile,”

“What do you mean?” Sam piped up, “As in she was possessed once? Or-”

“Yes, she was… some time past, but I’m not sure exactly when,” Cas replied.

My mind reeled at their words… could it be possible? Who were these people who seemed to know so much about me?

“By who?” Dean demanded- always an energetic buzz of action in his voice.

“I am uncertain,” Cas said, “But I could find out,”

“And what do we do with that information? Is she dangerous?” Dean asked.

“No, she probably has no recollection of it even happening… she probably has no recollection of attempting to talk to the beast tonight either- she appeared to be in a heavy trance,” Cas said.

I thought about the swirling stars above me and the feeling in my throat after- like I had been screeching at the top of my lungs… even when I don’t remember saying a word. Then I thought of the sound I heard inside my skull; the Caloupe’s beating hearts… in unison… I could hear it…

“So what do you mean when you say damned vessel?” Sam asked.

“It means that a demon once possessed her, and was killed while he was still using her as a vessel…”

“That’s possible?” Sam asked, “I thought that usually means the vessel dies too,”

“Indeed, hence the occurrence is very rare, I’m unsure of how this might have come to be with Taylor. But damned vessels are like open doorways to light and dark, they can at anytime be usurped by a bad or good power, and they’re overtly sensitive to both,” He explained, “Now she exists in a plane between life as we know it, and the other-world; she’s piercing the veil,”

“So she’s practically living in her own personal purgatory?” Sam said, “That’s insane… and she has no idea?”

“It would seem so,” Cas replied.

“No,” I said, standing at the door with the quilt from the bed wrapped around me, “I had no idea…”

“Uhh…” Sam began.

“Yeah, I heard all of that,” I said, “I’m sorry… but… who are you guys?”

It turns out Sam and Dean Winchester were brothers, and they were doing this job since they were in diapers. From the looks on their faces, they were going after much bigger game… it was obvious running into us and the Caloupe was sheer serendipity. They were travelling with Castiel, an angel; the third man in a trench coat.

“So who are you hunting exactly?” Sam asked me.

“Amon,” I said, sitting across from the Winchesters and Castiel at a small rickety table in their cabin lounge. “That’s his name anyway… we just followed the Caloupe because apparently he hangs around them- I mean, those things are rare enough as it is,” I said. “I never saw one in person before… I mean… whoa,”

“Wait, you saw it?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” I said, “Why?”

“You saw… a hell hound?” Dean asked in disbelief, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah…” I repeated.

There was an unnerving stunned silence then, from all three of the men before me. I looked back at them, confused;

“What?”

***

“So the boys know?” Bobby said, sounding a little annoyed. “Damned ijits didn’t even bother telling me about this when I saw them last month? Or all that time in between?”

       

“Calm down, Bobby,” Sheryl said, “I doubt they knew how important she was… or if they have any idea now,”

        “They could’ve said something,” Bobby grumbled.

        “Anyway, here’s where it gets interesting...”

        “More interesting?” Bobby said, “God’s sake…”

***

Adapted from Taylor’s journal (continued):

December 9^th 2009 (continued).

On the way back to our motel, the snow had really picked up, and we were the only ones on the road driving through the powder. Only the sound of the windshield wipers working double time broke the silence between my brother and me for most of the ride. We hadn’t left the Winchester brothers on good terms; when Francis stormed in to pick me up, he was all blood-shot eyes and rage, and he didn’t like the fact that they were talking to me… let alone trying to convince us to stay with them for the night. In all honesty, I thought it was a good idea too… if there was a safe place in Chicago, it was with the Winchesters.

        “That’s why you thought I was safe,” I said suddenly, making Francis turn to me suddenly before sighing and concentrating on driving again. “You couldn’t see it running towards me…”

        “We were careless,” Francis said in that discussion-over tone he inherited from our father. “I should’ve read the research…”

        “Don’t you get it?” I said, feeling my face flush red as tears welled up in my eyes, “Didn’t you hear what they said?”

        “Taylor-”

        “I could see it… I could hear it- and I could talk to it, I had no idea I was talking to it…” I said, a rush of panic surging through my veins. “I’m a freak…”

        “You’re not!” Francis shouted suddenly, rendering me speechless. I stared at him, then the dashboard with wide eyes. “You’re not a freak,” He said, softer. “Those guys are… one of them thinks they’re a freakin’ angel… And I saw hex bags over the front door. Whatever they’re mixed up in- well, I don’t wanna know.” He said, sounding troubled as we pulled into the motel driveway. “We’ll get supplies tomorrow morning and leave the next day,”

        “But we-” I began.

        “We have to keep going, but we’ll take one day off… you need the rest,” He said and got out of the car. I sighed heavily to myself. I guess that’s that…

        The next day was spent in dull silence, we just went about our duties as usual; stocking up on non-perishables, ammo and some new clothes to replace the ones stained with blood. I didn’t attempt any conversation- I think I asked him what the time was once, but that was it. I had my own dark thoughts to wade through, so I didn’t bother to ask him about his. He would be gone for hours at a time without ever leaving the room.

        “Where are you going?” He piped up from the kitchen table when I was sneaking quietly out the front door.

“Just out,” I replied, and waited for a response. I saw his silhouette move in the darkened kitchen, backlit against the moonlit window in front of him. “I need some fresh air… a walk will do me some good I think,”

“Be careful,” He said quietly, the heaviness in his voice was almost enough to talk me out of leaving at all. But I had to get out…

“I know,” I wished there were more to say, but there wasn’t anything else to waste my breath on. I waited for a moment to see if he would say anything else; “This place is a little shifty,” or “Take the truck if you have to,” or maybe even “Pick up some milk, will you?” But he said nothing. I shut the door and made tracks down the snow covered driveway. I felt the burden on my shoulders lift �" though only slightly, as I took in a deep breath of ice cold air and left the musky air of the motel room behind me.

        I can’t believe how many times I had wished to get out of the suburban hell I had grown up in and just hit the road already- all those times I ran away and thought I’d just spend the rest of my life on the road… all those times I dreamt of being anywhere but in the suffocating walls of my family home... I sighed, my breath forming a cloud of mist before me. This had to be the text book example of “Be careful what you wish for”.

        Nowadays, I’d give anything to be back in my cramped, messy bedroom, or fighting over the bathroom with my sister Carrie, or even just sitting at yet another awkward attempt at a family dinner. I guess the grass is always greener…

        I stopped short, hearing something break the silence. I heard the soft beating of wings, and looked upwards, peering through the darkness and expecting to see an owl.

        “Can’t sleep?” I heard a deep voice speak. I whipped around and was met with a dark haired man in a trench coat, standing just a few feet away from me and leaning against a tree. “I can relate,” He said.

        I managed a soft smile, “You know, just magically appearing behind someone in the darkness isn’t exactly good social etiquette,”

        A very faint smile graced his lips, and I wondered if Castiel ever really, truly smiled at all- for he seemed uncomfortable at even attempting to do so. “My apologies,” He said, “Dean complains about this constantly,”

“I bet he does,” I said, scoffing.

        “Is something troubling you?” Castiel asked, furrowing his brow.

        I raised an eyebrow, “Are you kidding me?” I said, “What isn’t troubling me… its winter in Chicago, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’ve only got six dollars in my pocket-”

        “I’m sorry to hear that,”

        “No,” I said, looking up into his blue eyes that were still boring into my skull, “You don’t care, you’re just trying to figure out if I’m bad news or not,”

        There was silence for awhile, and suddenly the conversation turned into a sour stalemate. Of all the bad fights I had picked over the years and this year in particular, picking an argument with an “Angel of the Lord” was easily the dumbest move I’ve ever made. I didn’t really know a lot about angels; only that they came from heaven, they could teleport, and for some reason, they dressed pretty damned snazzy. While I didn’t know much else, I had guessed that rubbing out an insignificant little blemish on the earth like me wouldn’t be hard work for Castiel… and if he wanted to do it, he probably would’ve done it already.

        “You’re wrong,” He said, stepping forward and looking down at the tracks his shoes made in the snow. “I do care …”

        “Why?” I said, looking at him uncertainly.

        He looked up into my eyes again, that tiny hint of a smile on his lips once more. “We are in a war,” he said, “And you are one of the few soldiers we have… you are,” He paused, probably for effect, “Important,”

        I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I just stood there, stared at him and did neither. I was a middle child, a loner at school, and a real-life nobody-in-particular… I never thought I’d hear the word important to describe me, but here I was, standing opposite a celestial being that held unfathomable cosmic power in the palms of his hands alone, and he was telling me I was actually worth giving a damn about. Like I said, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

        “Your brother,” He said, stepping closer until he was standing opposite me in the middle of the empty road. “He doesn’t trust us,”

        “Uh,” I began, searching for the appropriate words, “He doesn’t trust anyone but me and his shotgun… I wouldn’t take it personal,”

        “I guess that is appropriate behaviour given his circumstance,” Castiel said, and he seemed to flit off into a pensive state with his gaze turned towards the dark horizon. “When was your family killed?”

        I looked up at him, my mind reeling in shock as I wondered how he had managed to say something like that in such a clinical, unaffected tone; like he was asking about the weather or enquiring about the selection of pies at a local diner.

        “I’m sorry,” Castiel said heavily, “I was just… making conversation…”

        “Then talk about the weather or cars or…” I paused for a moment. Love it or hate it, Castiel had somehow cornered me into a real conversation about real things… and here I was trying to figure out a way to get out of it. My gaze hit the ground as I felt my buried emotions break the surface. “February 14^th,” I said. “This year,” I realized then that it had been exactly 9 months.

        “What happened?”

        “I don’t know,” I said, “Or at least, I can’t remember… Francis found me,” Small snippets of memories came flooding back like a runaway train that had run out of tracks. “I was the only one who survived,” I said, “Francis thinks it was a demon, he said the place smelled of sulphur and the damage it had done… well, it couldn’t have been anything else. We’ve been tracking it ever since,”

        “Amon?” Castiel asked, and I nodded. “You think he’s here?”

        “I guess,” I sighed, “If it’s not then something else is,” I said.

        “Hmm…” He floated off into pensive thought for awhile, and then looked at me again, “Amon is a dangerous demon,” He said, “He’s mad with rage and power. Going after him is a foolish decision,”

        “With all do respect, Castiel,” I began, “We know,” Castiel cocked his head and I let out a shaky sigh. “It’s become our lives now, and I don’t think we can ever walk away from this without Amon’s head on a stake,”

        “Is that you speaking, or your brother?” Castiel asked. It was the most painful question posed to me in the world. I felt the edge of its blade burrow deep in my skin and its hilt splinter out across my flesh. My heart sank, my stomach twisted up in knots and my body geared into fight or flight mode.

“Are you really an angel?” I asked, sounding bitter as I fought back that horrible choking feeling in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes.

        He looked at me, solemn, “You believe in so much evil, why do you find it so difficult to believe in so much good?”

        It began to snow. I stared at him, the dull street light above us casting a pseudo-halo around him as small flakes of snow cascaded down. For a moment- a split second fraction of time, I truly saw Castiel for what he really was.

He was bathed in a golden hue and his eyes glowed a bright, ice blue… and in a moment so short, I wasn’t sure if it was clarity or delirium, I saw dusty gray wings stretching out from his back and almost encircling me.

        I staggered backwards a little, and the golden hue dissipated. “I told you,” Castiel said as a single tear ran down my face, “You are important,”

***

        “You tellin’ me she saw an angel in his true form and her eyes didn’t explode out of her skull?” Bobby blurted out, “I’m tellin’ you now, this is impossible!”

        “Exactly what I thought,” Sheryl sighed, reclining on the couch with her fingers still stuck in the journal as it flipped shut. It was getting late in the day now and the clouds rolled in across the sky outside, casting shadows across the floors of the living room as the sunlight dissipated. “I told you, didn’t I?” She said.

        “How do you know this isn’t some kind of hogwash anyway?”

        “Because it all adds up, Bobby… wait, I’ll read out the rest to ya’, there’s more you know,”

        “Wait a minute…” Bobby stood up, “If the boys don’t know about these details then they oughta- I’m calling them in right now, and wherever they are, they better get here before you finish tellin’ me the rest of this crazy story of yours,”

        “As you wish,” Sheryl smiled and Bobby walked off to call the Winchesters.

Author's Note

comments much appreciated!!!

Reviews

[joewade]

I am coming back to this, I think this story is great so far, but it does need the tightening that only other eyes can lend it. If you would like to email it to me, I will go over it in detail for you.