Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"What's going on, Margie?"

You couldn't help it; on the ride to her place, you had gotten yourself worked up over everything that had happened in the past few hours. The Winchesters had appeared out of nowhere after years of no contact whatsoever and were in need of questioning your mother, who talked to them with so much clarity, it was hard to believe she was even in an institute in the first place. And then Margie called and suddenly seemed not only to know the brothers, but also invited them into the important conversation of which she needed you in person to proceed with.

You were clearly left out of the loop, and the longer the day went on, the more it seemed it was intended. You were having no more of it.

"Oh, pumpkin', don't be like that. At least have a seat. How about a drink? Boys, anythin' for you?"

"Margie, please, I just...no drinks, no distractions. I need answers. From all of you."

You turned your gaze from the older woman to first Sam, then Dean, holding his gaze for a good moment.

"What the hell is going on?"

There was a long silence that followed, the brothers looking to each other before looking to Margie as if she would be the ultimate decider in what would be said. You followed their gazed and watched a sigh leave the southerner's red painted lips. There was a slight nod of her head, a confirmation of sorts, and all eyes were suddenly on you.

"Your friends here are what their group call Hunters," Margie began slowly, allowing you to process everything. "Hunters are people brave enough to face the mostly hidden horrors of the world and find ways to...get rid of them. It's almost like what I do, except their not as attuned to those that have passed on, and their specialties don't end at the paranormal level."

"We hunt down things," Dean cut in, "like witches, vampires, all that crap you ever thought was just a child's nightmare waiting to happen. It's all real, and we make it our job to hunt them down."

You looked to Sam as if needing his input on the subject, though the thin line of his lips said all you needed to know. If this was a joke, it was a good one, cruel and over twenty years in the making.

"So you guys...what, go out and find these things to kill them?"

"Our main concern is helping the people who are in danger of becoming the next target," Sam supplied. "If we're quick enough, we can stop the attack before it happens and prevent it from happening again, by any means we know of."

"I've worked with them, twice before," Margie added, "to help find some vengeful spirits that were terrorizin' people. It is my area of expertice, so it was only natural for me to help in any way I could."

You felt like laughing. Really, you did. It all sounded so ridiculous and even worthy of a joke, like a scary story told around a campfire. No one else was even close to expressing the humor you felt, however, and even cracking a grin seemed just on the side of hysterical.

"Why am I just now hearing of any of this? I mean, ghosts and stuff I understand because of Margie, but witches? Vampires? You all sound like you're...like you're-"

"Crazy? Insane? Trust me, we've heard it all before, but it hasn't stopped us from trying to help those people in the past, and it sure as hell won't stop us now."

You looked to Dean with wide eyes, the severity of what was happening finally starting to sink in. This wasn't a silly pass to pull one over on you, this was real.

"You guys are serious, then. But that means...Mom! Oh my God, there's something after her, isn't there?"

Margie made to reach for your hand, but you pulled away from the gesture. You were beginning to panic; the last thing you needed was the anxiety of someone holding you down.

"Now, sugarpie, you need to calm down-"

"Are you kidding me right now? You guys just drop all this monster mumbo-jumbo on me and expect me to stay calm, knowing that something's out there, after my Mom?!"

"Honey, please-"

"You guys told me to trust you, so what the hell are we doing here when we could be getting her out of that-"

"(Y/N), shut up for just two minutes and let us explain!"

Your voice suddenly gave out at the demand from Dean, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your somewhat harsh breathing as you tried to get it under control. It was enough silence that you startled at Margie's landline sounding off in twittering notes, the southern woman excusing herself to answer the phone.

"Look, we don't know if there's anything after May," Dean began, "but there's definitely something very strange about her position in all this."

"What do you mean?"

Sam stepped up then to explain.

"We initially came here to ask her a few questions, mainly about Simon Atkins."

"Simon Atkins?"

"You might know him best as 'Greg' or 'Dad' or whatever you called him," Dean chimmed in, and for a moment, you were confused.

"Greg? Wait...Dad? What do you need to know about him?"

"We think he may know something about what's going on in the, uh, supernatural world. We had to see if May knew anything about what he's been up to or where he might be."

"He's been dead since I was two," you said, though even you were beginning to doubt your words. It was the story your mother had told you since you were little, that he had passed away while out doing whatever his occupation required of him.

"Oh, he's alive," Dean assured, his jawline tightening slightly. "The bastard's been wrecking havoc everywhere he's been. So much for being a senior Hunter."

"May knows he's still alive," Sam gave as an explanation. "She never told you because she was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Sam looked to Dean a moment, turning back to you once more with a defeated sigh.

"We don't know. There's just...too much and not enough information. We can't figure out where he is, what he's trying to accomplish, or even how May is tied into any of this-"

"Oh, darlin', it's the institute," Margie interrupted suddenly as she reached out the cordless phone for you to take, "They said it was urgent they speak with you."

You took the phone and held it to your ear, eyeing the brothers a moment before answering.

"Hello? Hello?"

There was a moment of static silence that followed. It was enough for you to call out a greeting once more, though you stopped as you heard the voice over the line, almost childlike and chanting as it spoke. You listened closely to what was being said, and with each word spoken, your heart felt as if it were steadily speeding up in tempo, soon to burst from your chest with the level of sheer terror you were feeling at that moment.

You dropped the phone and made a mad dash for the door, ignoring Dean's call of your name and the worried questions coming from Margie as you jumped into your car and sped off the same way you had come.

Something was wrong, something was terribly, horribly wrong. Your mother was in danger, and it was that voice over the phone that made you finally realize that everything you had learned in the past few hours was the unbelievable truth of a world you suddenly knew little about.

That voice...the things it had said....