#sometimes the Posts. about him. feel a little “why do bash dead beat dads but never question if the kid has bad vibes.” so.

[astralleywright]

Marisha's comment about how Relvin is one of those parents who ended up with a child they didn't know what to do with really gets to the heart of it, i think, and is such a good way to tie the fantasy element of Imogen's powers into things more tangible. because there are really a lot of parents like Relvin in real life, who have a child with the person they're happily married to and never expect to be left alone with the kid. or who expect a ""normal"" (read: cisgender and heterosexual, able-bodied, relatively neurotypical and obedient, etc.) child and end up with one who's ""difficult"", who demands more or different of them than what they believe they signed up for. and that's not entirely entitlement on a parent's part- many cultures' common frameworks of parenthood and child-rearing do not include space for these children. it makes sense that Relvin was unprepared. raising any child is difficult, and raising a child whose needs you were never taught how to accommodate, who the world is so cruel to, is even more challenging.

and yet. and yet, the person who bears the brunt of the harm in these situations will always be the child. they're the ones who have to live every moment of how the world treats them, without the support that their parent is supposed to provide them. and when asked to care for his child even when she turned out to be ""difficult"", Relvin couldn't. for entirely sympathetic reasons, of course. he tried, in his own way. i don't think he's a bad guy. but he's let his own broken heart bleed onto his daughter. he hasn't been able to give her much else.

[blkgirlcafe]

Home Pt. 6

Viktor Drago x Cyra (Black OFC)

Cyra (Ky-Ra) -Sun or throne

Kazimir (Kah-Zee-Meer) - Bringer or Announcer of peace

Viktor Drago is married to the love of his life, they have a 5 year old son. He is willing to do anything to keep them safe.

Warning: Kidnapping, abuse, mentions of child abuse

Flashback 5

After that encounter they didn't speak for weeks, they caught each other looking at each other, but for the most part they didn't say anything. One night she came in late, just as he was about to leave, he decided to stay and do a few more around. She went from cardio to free weights and finally her sit ups. As she was doing sit ups, a guy approached her, towering over her. 

Viktor couldn't hear what he was saying but could see the panic on her face. The guy reached out to touch her hair, and Cyra tried to smack it away. Viktor abandoned the sparring bag, approaching her. 

“Dostatnʹo.” Viktor spoke (Enough)

“tse vasha poviya Drago?” the guy laughed. (This your whore Drago?)

“Zalysh yiyi, i ya poshkoduyu tebe.” (Leave her alone and I will spare you.)

Viktor knew his reputation, he had a reputation for being an animal. All he knew was violence and no one wanted to mess with that. He had very little regard for life, his own or others, and people were afraid of that. The guy walked away grumbling, leaving Cyra alone. 

“Thanks.” He helped her get up. Cyra dusted her hands on her pants, “Sorry for snapping on your a few weeks ago, I am just, I don't know.'' She gathered her stuff and started to walk out. 

“Wait!” he didn't mean to yell, “I will walk you home.”

She smiled at him, “You don't have to.”

“I want to, let me get my stuff.” Viktor scrambled to grab his gym bag, stuffing his sweaty clothes in it. He opened the door for her, taking her bag as she walked past. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I really am sorry I disappeared for two weeks, I didn't want Ivan to make me.”

“It's so weird to me you call him Ivan and not dad.” she shrugged. 

Viktor shrugged in response, it never occurred to him. 

“I miss home, I miss my brothers.” She said suddenly. The whole walk home, she talked about her home, about her family. Viktor listened intently, he had only left Europe once and that was to fight Creed. 

When they got to her apartment building he didn't want to leave her. 

“Wanna come up, we got leftovers?”

He looked both ways, afraid this was a trick, that Ivan would show up out of nowhere. He followed her up the stairs, the building was a tad bit better than where he lived. He couldn't deny the apartment was warmer in feeling this and Ivans.  Viktor left his bag by the door and sat on the small couch, 

“I will be right back.” She disappeared into one of the bedrooms, coming back a moment later in shorts and a t- shirt. Viktor tried his best not to stare at her but it wasn't working. 

“What are you looking at?” she asked him as she pulled food out of the fridge. 

“Nothing.” he mumbled. She fixed food, warming it up in the microwave. She walked over to him, pulling him off the couch. 

“You don't have to be shy around me.” she said softly. 

Viktor's eyes searched her face, before he bent down and kissed her. They both were surprised, she took a step back, her hand still on his. Viktor snatched his hand away, rushing to the door, grabbing his bag and leaving without saying goodbye. He passed Cyra’s roommate on the stairs as he rushed out.

“What the fuck was Drago doing here, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I was going to give him food but he kissed me and then ran away.”

“Word, bro is weird like leave him the fuck alone.”

“Stop he just, he just...trying.” 

“Yeah, trying to be weird. Anway, I'll eat his food.”

She grabbed the plate and sat down, Cyra looked out the window, he was already gone.

----

The fight was in a week, Viktor was stressed, he was barely eating, couldn't sleep. His trainer and manager were on his ass about the sudden change. Everyone wanted to know where Cyra was, why he had cheated. It pained him to lie, he would ever hurt her, or cheat on her. The sport gossip blogs picked it up, adding to his new persona of him being an boastful fighter. People came out the woodwork to, adding gas to the fire. His social media page had grew overnight, the comments ranged from accepts of his new identify to disbelief. 

Viktor has never acted like this, fame has gotten to his head.

Finally Big Nasty, you have earned it, show them how nasty you can get. 

The BDE is gold.

Cant belive he cheated on his wife, she fine as hell. 

Yo he gone wipe the floor with his oppoent. 

When he win there better be 50 bitches waiting for him in the back. 

His manager shook his head, looking through the post. They had companies wanting to sponsor them at the last moment, but Viktor said no. there was already enough attention on what was going on. He sipped the protein shake that was pushed in his head at some point. He had to make weight. 

Ivan walked into the office, wearing a smile, and Viktor just wanted to wipe it off his face. 

“Lets train.” he said to Vikor. 

“No.”

Viktor wasnt in the mood to train, wasnt in the mood to be around Ivan. The more days that passed without his wife home the worst he got. 

“I wasnt asking you.”

Viktor stood and towered over his  father, “You are a guest in my home, you are not my trainer and you are not my manager, act accordingly.”

If looks could kill they both would be dead, his manager came between them, pushing Viktor out the room. 

“Why the fuck is he even here, I dont understand Vik, you can talk to me.”

Viktor just shook his head and went to his bedroom. He laid on the bed, pulling her pillow close, her scent very faint on it. Viktor ended up falling asleep, dreaming of his family. 

Cyra was just out of his reach, he wanted to pull her close but each time he moved forward she moved back. Just behind her was Kazi, he was holding a toy, reaching out for him. 

“Tata I want to come home.”

“Me too baby.” Cyra said.

“Baby I am sorry, I never wanted this to happen.” 

They both faded away, Viktor looked around, trying to find her and Kazi. They had to be here, he could sense them, he could smell them. 

Viktor woke with a start, drenched in sweat. He sat up, looking for his phone, hoping he didnt miss a call. There were no new notifications at all. He went to the bathroom, then down to the kitchen to find food, normally Cyra and Kazi would be down here, the kitchen and attached family room were their domain, Kazi toys were stored in the corner, Cyra bookcase took up a full wall. 

The patio door was open and small snatches of conversation floated in, it was Ivan talking to someone. 

“Chy dobre vony?” (Are they well?)

Viktor took a step back, moving light on his feet.

“Tak, vin lamayetʹsya, vin zaznaye nevdachi.” (Yes he is breaking, he will fail.)

Viktor heart was beating fast, was Ivan behind this, would he do this? But Viktor already knew the answer to that.

----------

They let her and Kazi out once a day, they would spend hours outside. Sometimes one of the guys would play soccer with Kazi, sometimes it was just them. She never thought of screaming or trying to run away, not wanting to risk Kazi. They would simply kill her, they would make sure he suffered. 

Every few days she was able to speak to Viktor, she was allowed to call Trey, he stayed suspicious of everything. He wanted to see her, facetime her, touch her, anything. She kept the calls short, knowing her brother had the technology to find her. 

Kazi had stopped asking when Tata was coming to get them. She was told his fight was less than a week out, which means they would be fine if everything went according to plan. Viktor kept up his public appearance of being a badass, all the interviews he did he was prideful and boastful, which was unlike him. 

She just wanted to go home, get back to normal, whatever that would be after this. Kazi ran over to her, falling into her lap giggling. She was happy to see the smile on his face, he only smiled when he was out here. In the room he sat there, quiet, holding his toy. 

He stood up in front of her, putting his hands on her cheeks, giving her forehead a kiss. In that moment she broke down crying, because it was the same thing Viktor did to her. 

“Its okay mama.”

“I know baby. Mama sorry.” 

He didnt move, peppering her face in kisses until she started to giggle, she feel back, and they laid on the grass looking at the sky. 

She wondered what Vik was doing, if she knew her husband he was worrying. He didnt say much but boy could he worry. The backdoor opened and that was there cue to head back inside. She gave Kazi a kiss, picking him up.

Flashback # 6

Cyra avoided the gym for a few days but finally went back on Friday night. But there was no one there and that was rare. She approached the front desk, the girl behind her not even bothering to greet her.

“Where is everyone, this place is a ghost town?”

“Drago has a fight tonight, thought you would know that.” she rolled her eyes. 

Cyra was use to the attitude of most of the local people, she get it, she didnt belong. 

“Where?”

“No place for you.”

“I asked where, not your opinion.” Cyra gave the attitude back. 

The girl rolled her eyes again, popping her gum, before writing it down. 

“Starts at 9 Nehr.”

Cyra snatched the paper, knowing the slur that she was just called. 

She rushed home and convinced her roommate to go with her, they had a hour. Cyra changed into jeans and a tee, finding her bomber jacket to wear. They took a cab to the location. They got weird looks the whole time, or she got weird looks. They found a seat third row behind the opponent side. The fighters made there way to the ring and Viktor looked like nothing she remember. His normally shy and bashful expression was replaced with a look of hate and violence. 

The energy of the room was more than she could take, she wasnt use to this. People cheering for others to tear each other apart, people cheering for blood. The fight started, the first 3 rounds passing with hardly any damage. The 4th round his opponent got in a good hit, sending blood flying across the mat. Cyra stood, hands clenched in front of her. 

Her eyes met Vik and he was hit again, she realized that she was distracting him and sat back down. Viktor pushed off the ropes, standing up and getting back in stance. By the 7th round she could tell he was tired, his punches lacked the force from the earlier rounds. 

“End this and now!” Ivan shouted. 

Viktor straightened his back, delivering nasty punch after punch, even when his opponent leaned against him, Vik just pushed him off delivering a devastating uppercut that had his opponent on the ground. The ref counted and the bell rang, the fight over. Ivan bound into the ring, holding up his son arms in victory, you would have thought he made the final punch. 

The two exited the ring, Cyra pushed her way to the barrier that separated the crowd from the walkway. 

“Vik!” he turned to look at her, right eye already staring to close. He walked over, helping her and her roommate over the barrier so they could follow him. Ivan was to busy trying to find the sponsor for his payout to notice. 

Viktor led them to a small dressing room, her roommate waiting outside while she followed him in.

“You okay?” she asked stupidly. 

“I will be fine, what are you doing here?”

“Came to watch you fight, duh, also wondering why you ran after you kissed me.”

His head dropped,”I am sorry…”

Cyra didnt let him finish, standing on her tippy toes and kissing him back. His shoulder sagged almost in relief. 

Cyra bought her hands up to his cheeks, kissing him harder, wanting him to know it was okay, she wanted this too, whatever this was. 

“shcho tse?” (What is this?)

They both looked over, Ivan standing in the door, Anna standing behind Ivan. 

“I just came to congratulate him…”

“I am not talking to you girl. Lets go Viktor.”

“Dayte nam khvylynku, budʹ laska” Viktor spoke. (Give us a moment, please)

“No, lets go.” Ivan looked at her with disgust in his eyes. Viktor mumbled an apology before following Ivan out the door. 

“Damm what the hell was that?” Anna asked. 

“Nothing I guess.” 

That night all Viktor could think of was her. Usually when he won a fight, he floated high off of that for a few days, but even that didnt matter, she did. He snuck out knowing that Ivan was passed out drunk. 

He ended up at her apartment, knocking softly, Sarah answering the door. 

“Ugh you again, its like 3am, little late for a bootycall. Wait here.”

When Cyra saw him, she stopped. Viktor thought she looked gorgeous, in just a tshirt, curly hair everywhere. 

“Vik what are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize for Ivan, he doesn't have a reason to be mean to you.”

“You dont have to apologize for other people Vik.”

“I like you, I’ve never done this before, I dont know what to do.”

She smiled up at him, “You like me?”

“Yes a lot, you make me happy.”

She bounced over to him, hugging him around his middle, he winced from the pain, his ribs still sore. 

“Sorry, you make me happy to Vik. Come.”

She pulled him into her bedroom, the light was flicked off but he could still see the touches of her. The makeup on the vanity, clothes slung over the back of a chair, a picture on her bedside. 

“I swear to god yall better not fuck, these walls are thin as fuck, I can hear giantgtor breathing.”

“Don’t mind her, can you stay?”

Viktor shook his head quickly, not caring that he would have to face the consequences tomorrow. He pushed his sweats down, leaving him in boxers and tshirts and got into bed, she snuggled up to him, trying her best not to touch his bruises. 

“Its fine, I am use to pain.”

“You shouldn't be Vik.” She kissed the underside of his chin, settling into a comfortable silence. 

Viktor got no sleep that night, he stayed up all night watching her sleep, she never left his side. Her scent stayed with him even as Ivan chewed him out the next morning and made him change gyms.

-----------

24 hours before a match 

It was time for the weight in and conference, Viktor always hated these. They obsessively tracked his weight the days leading up, to heavy or light and there was no fight, he had to stay in his weight class. He dropped a lot of weight since all this started, how could he eat without know if his wife and child were. 

After he head the phone call between Ivan and who he assumed was Andriy, he knew that they would be okay, it was all a plan to get him to fold. Viktor would bet his life that both Ivan and Andriy had big money bet on this fight and they needed him to fold so they could get paid. 

All the extra shit was just so he would be embarrass. He thought of he quote that Ivan had always told him when he was growing up, “A fool tells you what he will do, a boaster will tell you what they have done, The wise man does it and says nothing.” He never saw the need to be prideful. It just wasnt his way. 

“You ready?” his manager ask him. 

“Yes.” usually Cyra was here with him, behind the scene, being his cheerleader. He didnt need the huge entourage, the flashy clothes of jewelry, just her. Kazi would be with one of her brothers, watching from home.He wasnt allowed to watch the fights, but the weight ins no problem. All Viktor had on were boxing shorts, he followed his manager to the stage. Dozens of specters watched, cameras out, mics pointed toward the stage. 

The announcer did the usual bout, introducing them. They weighed in, their weight checked before they took their respective seats, this was the part he hated, the interview. 

Drago where is your wife, does she plan to support you even thought you cheated?

She will not be in attendance. 

Why the sudden change, you did a complete 180 on us.

People change.

Needless to say fans are loving the new attitude, they think you earned the right to be boastful.

They are right, I haven't lost a fight in 5 years, I dont have anything else to prove. 

For the most part he kept his answers short, keeping up the facade like he was supposed to.

Finally they were done and Viktor along with his manager and trainer went back to his room, that same room he would prep in tomorrow for the fight. Win or lose he was going home with 2 million dollars. If he won he was looking at 10 million, tack on what he would make from sponsorship it would be a nice purse. 

“Viktor you look dead, I dont believe anything you said on that stage. Man what is going on?”

“Nothing.” he got dress and quickly. 

With Ivan not here he asked to use his trainer phone, he went into the bathroom. 

“Who dis?” Trey answered the phone. 

“I dont have much time, I know who has Cyra and I think my dad is on it. Come by the house tonight.”

“Aigh bruh, Imma be there, but my sis and Kazi better be okay or I will make good on my promise.”

He hung up, deleting the call log. When he came out the restroom still no sign of Ivan, he gave his trainer back his phone and left, wanting to go home.

----------

Both her and Kazi watched the weight in, Kazi was quiet as he watched his tata on stage talking. Cyra hated seeing him like this, he looked awful, not his normal self. His eyes were dark, the same darkness she saw when she met him in the Ukraine. 

He weighted in as normal, did the interview and rushed off of stage. She just wanted to reach out and comfort him. The day before a match she was always by his side, they needed each other in that way. They kept each other grounded.

After watching the weight in, she and Kazi had dinner. But Cyra wasnt hungry at all. They were given a bathroom run, allowed to take a shower, and her kazi sharing the shower to save time. Once back in their room they laid together while Kazi told her a story, like most children he had the most active imagination ever. 

She wanted to tell him that tomorrow they would go home, that everything would be okay. But she didnt, know sure she could handle the disappointment if something went wrong.

[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x01

I promise I’m not dead! I know I haven’t been posting anything lately, but that’s because what I’ve been writing is mostly... well, this. The most ridiculously self-indulgent bullshit I’ve written in a long time, and it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever written, and it’s still not even half way done. I admit, I’m very self-conscious about this, because the nastier side of fandom has infected me with some bullshit prejudices that I haven’t completely managed to exorcise yet, but... I’m tired of being worried it’s not ‘good enough’, and maybe, if people do like it at all, it’ll motivate me to pick it back up. So, here I am, retelling Supernatural right from the start, with a next gen OC tagging along, fixing things here and there. (...Yeah, god, I know how that sounds...) It’s going to start out... sticking pretty close to the Supernatural script, although I tried to limit the amount of times I quoted the show verbatim, it still happens sometimes. The story will diverge from canon more and more as the little changes start piling up and having an effect, but... That’s a long way off, tbh. (For anyone who cares and doesn’t know me well enough to guess, the primary future!ships are Dean/Cas/Gabe and Sam/Mia, but apart from the main character being a Dean/Cas/Gabe baby who loves her parents, there really isn’t that much more focus on romance than there is in the show. For now.)

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Friday 11th November 2005

Landing in the past feels like hitting the emergency stop on a bullet train, like she left her internal organs behind somewhere on the timeline. Meira knows it’s the past because the timeline had felt thick and gooey as she fell. Falling in the other direction would have felt worse, but that doesn’t mean she enjoyed the trip. Add that to the sensation of her grace suddenly retreating to coil up under her skin like a wounded animal, and she thinks it’s no surprise that the first thing she does once there’s solid ground beneath her feet is throw up.

“Oh, son of a bitch.” She groans once her stomach feels like it’s settled mostly back where it’s supposed to be. She braces her shoulder on a tree that’s conveniently nearby, and tries to get her bearings. She’s in a forest, she sees, as she looks around. There are a lot of forests on earth. There are forests elsewhere in the universe too, but she’s… pretty sure this is earth, anyway. And she’s somewhen in the past, although she can’t get any sense of where she actually is on the timeline, and when she tries to reach out with her grace to find out, a sharp, awful pain lances through her soul. She groans and staggers, leaning more of her weight against the tree and forcing her knees to keep her upright out of sheer force of will. She is not trying that again.

The thought that there might be something wrong with her grace is terrifying. She’s stranded, and she can’t get home. She thinks she might be able to manifest her wings, she can still feel them, after all, so they’re not gone, but she wouldn’t be able to fly on them. She can’t fly. She can’t fly.

The panic sits sharp and cloying in the back of her throat, and she swallows hard, as if that might get rid of it. It doesn’t. “Motherfucker.” She swears, and hates that it comes out more reedy than fierce. She has no idea how this happened, either, which doesn’t help. Well, she has some idea, because Heaven, Hell, and everyone in between has been trying to get rid of her for her entire life, and if whatever’s wrong with her grace is why she fell into the past, then she’d say someone finally succeeded. Dad’s going to go ballistic, she thinks, not sure if it makes her want to laugh, or cry.

“Hey, lady.” Someone barks, and Meira flinches so hard she nearly falls over. It’s only a decade of various combat training that saves her from ending up on her ass in the dirt. She has never in her life been unable to sense the people around her before. She’s always felt the shades and shapes of people’s souls. Until now, apparently, with her grace trapped under her skin and unable to reach out to feel the nuances of her environment.

The man standing a little ways off is fairly nondescript, with short-cropped light blonde hair and a touch of stubble, wearing what looked like wilderness gear. Meira has no idea what lies beneath his face, whether she can trust him or not and it makes her uneasy. “What’re you doing out here?” He demands.

“Getting lost?” Meira sasses, because nervousness has never helped shut her up.

And then, another man steps out of the underbrush, but this one, Meira recognises. It’s her dad. Even though he looks so baby-faced and young, she’d know him anywhere. The relief is like a physical blow and she sags against another tree. “And my name’s Meira.” She adds. “Not ‘lady’, thanks.”

Dad quirks a grin, enjoying her sass, and then says, with every ounce of cocky bravado she’s ever seen him use and then some; “Nice to meet you, Meira. I’m Dean.” He glances over at the other guy. “And this is… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” The question is so obviously insincere, and Meira chokes on an incredulous laugh, because she’s seen her dad playful before, even bordering on mean when he’s trying not to admit something’s wrong, but that was something else. It’s macho-posturing, she realises, with a mixture of hilarity and dread. He’s showing off, like a twat, for her.

Oh, god. She’s going to have to nip that right in the bud, or she’s going to throw up again.

“Roy. Roy Roberts.” The other guy replies through gritted teeth, glaring at Dad – at Dean, she’s going to have to get used to that, or she’s going to slip up, and things are going to get awkward real fast – with enough venom to bring down an elephant.

“Hey, mind if I tag along with you guys?” Meira asks, to diffuse some of the angry tension in the air. Absently she wonders if this is before Dean has admitted that he’s into guys, too, because that might explain some of that. Roy is a fairly good looking guy, after all. He reminds Meira of that guy who played Bond in those movies Dad likes from before she was born. That… probably haven’t even been made yet. Damn it. She’s going to have to be careful with things like that. “I have no idea where I am right now.” She adds, because Roy does not look convinced.

“We’re heading further in, not back out.” He warns her.

Meira shrugs. “You’re still a better option than trying to make it by myself.” And she has absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Dad. It’s not really very rational, but he’s her only point of reference right now, and until she can get her feet under herself and figure out what the fuck to do, she could use the illusion of support. So she grins into the face of Roy’s unimpressed glower. “You know I’m just asking as a formality, right? If you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, because what the hell else am I gonna do?”

Roy’s glower shades towards resigned, and Meira knows she’s won. Her grin sharpens, and he rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance. “Come on, then, if you’re coming.” He instructs, heading back the way he came without any further ado, leaving Meira alone with her baby-faced father.

There’s a brief moment where they stare at each other, both of them at a loss, and then Dad – Dean – jerks his head towards the bit of forest Roy disappeared into, and Meira takes that as her cue to fall into step with him. “So, before you were getting lost, what were you doing out here?” Dean asks, looking at her with open curiosity. Then his eyes flicker down and up again, and Meira catches herself before an Enochian exorcism can fall out of her mouth on instinct.

Instead, she switches to the first lie she can come up with that might make her dad stop looking at her like that. “I was running away from a dickbag who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She says without looking at him.

There’s a beat of silence, and a glance shows Meira that Dean is grimacing. “What an asshole.” He comments, just as they catch up with the others again. Roy looks sour, but he’s attentive, scanning the surroundings with a keen eye, which Meira appreciates, and standing nearby is Uncle Sam. Only he’s a squishy-cheeked, smooth-faced, gangly-limbed baby-Uncle now. Meira has to bite back the urge to coo and possibly pinch his cheeks.

The other two in the group are people Meira doesn’t recognise, a teenage boy with close-cropped hair, and a young woman with cute dimples that show when she smiles at Meira in greeting. Meira smiles back with extra warmth. “This is my brother, Sam.” Dean says, taking it upon himself to do introductions. “And this is Haley and Ben Collins. Their brother’s gone missing, which is why we’re here, looking for him.” He explains, gesturing.

“I hope we find him.” Meira says, specifically to Haley. She’s just decided that Haley is her salvation, and she offers her hand to the other woman to shake. “I’m Meira.” Haley takes her hand with just a hint of befuddlement.

“Alright, let’s keep moving.” Roy calls, before Meira can add anything else. She does let her hand linger, though, just a touch, before she retracts it. Their group moves off again, and Meira makes it a point to walk beside Haley.

“Tell me about your brother?” She asks, just to strike up conversation.

Haley glances at her sideways, but obliges. It’s clear she loves her family, just the way she talks about them, and Meira catches herself smiling for real, and not just as a flirtation, although it’s that as well. She does make a point to tell Haley how admirable she thinks it is, that sort of devotion to family, and Haley ducks her head with a rueful smile, bashful.

Behind them, Sam snickers. Meira glances back and catches a disgruntled pout on her dad’s face before he smooths it out into something more neutral once he realises she’s looking. She makes a bit of a show of glancing between Haley and Dean, and then grins, unrepentant, and shrugs in faux-apology. Dean snorts and waves her off, conceding defeat gracefully enough.

When Meira turns back around, Haley is watching her, one eyebrow arched. Meira refuses to feel sheepish at being caught out, and just nudges her with her shoulder, gentle and teasing, and asks her another question about her life. Haley rolls her eyes, but answers.

The conversation carries them on through the afternoon, until they reach a point where Roy stops. It’s almost a clearing, if it wasn’t for the waist-high undergrowth. “This is it.” Roy says, looking about them. “Blackwater Ridge.”

“What coordinates are we at?” Uncle Sam asks at once. Roy answers, and Meira aches a little at just how incomprehensible the numbers are. Before, she would have just known where she was, and she feels a little sick, being made aware of just how little she can tell about the world around her now. She looks around, hating how small she feels, how muffled everything is. She doesn’t dare try to reach out with her grace again, but she wants to, just to make that feeling of wrong go away.

“I’m going to go take a look around.” Roy announces.

Meira whips around to give him an incredulous look. He might not be in the know, might not realise that Sam and Dean are probably on a hunt right now, but even so, it seems reckless for anyone to go off on their own. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.” Sam points out, so Meira doesn’t have to.

“I’ll go with you.” Meira offers, since no one else seems like they’re about to.

It earns her incredulous looks from all quarters, and a disparaging one from Roy. Meira gives him a hard look in return, the sort of ‘do you really want to try me, bitch?’ look that Pabbi has always told her makes her look like her qaada. And she might not be able to bring her grace to bear along with it like she usually does, but she is still an angel, no matter how constrained, and it would take a tougher man than Roy Roberts to not even blink in the face of heavenly wrath.

“Look,” he says in a carefully reasonable tone, “I know these woods, and I’m just going to have a look around, see if I can find any signs of people. I’ll be fine. You’ll be safer staying here.”

“You’d be safer staying with the group, too.” Dean interjects, making no effort to sound inoffensive. Roy gives him a sour look.

“Why don’t we all go?” Haley suggests, all false brightness and impatience.

Roy raises his hands in frustrated surrender, and heads off into the woods. The rest of them follow along like good little ducklings. They do spread out a little as they go, looking for any signs of other people in the area. Meira is not an expert woodsman, but she’d learned a few things growing up with a hunter family, and she tries to pay attention, to be helpful.

“Haley! Over here!” Roy shouts suddenly. Everyone bolts towards the shout, and they come out in a clearing with three tents lying there in mangled wreckages, blood-splattered and torn. “Oh my god…” Haley breathes, sounding horrified. Meira doesn’t blame her. She feels a little bit sick, too, and it’s not her brother’s campsite. The thought of something like this happening to Jace makes her want to smite something, and her grace roils under her skin, pushing at the boundaries of her physical form and aching every time it brushes against the inside of her skin.

“Looks like a grizzly.” Roy remarks, cool and practical.

Meira thinks not. Not only because if it was, it’s unlikely her dad and her uncle would be here, but also because there would be more blood and less wanton destruction if it had been a normal animal. If a bear had been hungry enough to hunt people, there would be a lot more blood, at least, and if it was pissed at them being on its territory, there would be bodies. But there aren’t. Just a bit of blood splattered about here and there, and a lot of claw marks.

Haley begins shouting for her brother, and Meira grabs her arm before she can walk any further into the camp. “Don’t.” She warns, eyeing the surrounding woods warily.

“What?” Haley demands, eyes a little wild. “Why not?”

“Something might still be out there.” Sam interjects, giving Meira a respectful nod. She tries to smile back, but she’s not too proud to admit that she’s scared. She ought to be able to tell what did this, to feel the spirits and souls around her and know. But she can’t.

“Sam!” Dean calls, and Sam heads off at a brisk clip.

Meira heads after him on instinct. Haley follows her for about three steps before Ben calls out in a voice that wavers despite his best efforts, and she turns back to him without hesitation. Meira catches up to Sam just in time to hear Dean saying “-tell you what, it’s no skin-walker or black dog.” Then Dean turns and stalls at the sight of her. “Uh…” He says, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

In other circumstances, Meira might glory in making her dad look like that for once, instead of the other way around, but she’s still feeling unnerved enough that it’s hard to wring any humour out of the situation. “Why are we ruling out skin-walkers and black dogs?” She asks, propping her shoulder on a tree and crossing her arms. It looks less pathetic than curling her arms around her sides, but it still serves to make herself feel better. What would be best would be a hug from her dad, but there’s no way she’d ask for that when he’d probably just take it the wrong way.

“You-” Sam begins, realisation dawning in his expression.

“You’re a Hunter?” Dean demands.

“More or less.” Meira agrees. It’s never been a title that sits right on her shoulders. Not when she’s spent her whole life surrounded by people who actually dedicated themselves to the job, while she’s always felt more like a kid mucking about with a hobby. At Dean’s sceptical, bordering on suspicious look, she elaborates. “I was raised to it, but I’ve never… dedicated myself to it.” She hedged. “I just help out here and there when something crosses my path.”

“Right.” Dean acknowledges, and then jerks his head towards something behind him. Meira comes closer to look, and Dean explains the tracks. It’s almost like being a kid again, with Dad schooling her on this or that aspect of hunting.

“A skin-walker or a black dog could drag a person away, but you’re right, the tracks just stopping like that is weird.” Meira acknowledges, wracking her brains for what could do this. “A phantom cat could, too. Or a wendigo or a moonfiend. Or a harpy, maybe. It’s too early for a werewolf.”

“Werewolves don’t tend to drag their victims off, never mind vanish with them.” Dean points out.

“What’s a moonfiend?” Sam asks.

Meira blinks, reminded suddenly that this is not really her uncle. “It’s a… It’s kind of like a mothman, but less aggressive. They’re mostly harmless, actually, really shy, but if they’ve staked out a territory, you don’t want to go wandering into it.” She explains absently. “It’s just that they can fly, which would explain…” She gestures at the vanishing tracks. “Like Harpies. Wendigos are strong and agile enough to lift a human body, and phantom cats are spirits. It’s possible a phantom cats could transport a victim that way, but they don’t tend to drag people off, either.”

“Phantom cat. That’s the animal version of a poltergeist, right?” Dean checks.

Meira nods. “Yeah, pretty much. Although normal poltergeists generally just want to hurt or kill you, but some legends suggest that phantom cats steal souls.”

“The pattern of attacks would suggest it’s hunting, not protecting territory, so I don’t think it’s a moonfiend.” Sam adds with a grimace.

The three of them look at each other, all of them coming to the same conclusion, none of them actually willing to say it out loud. Before someone can muster their courage, the forest air is shattered with a shout.

“HELP!”

Meira startles, and then lurches into a run before she’s had time to think. Of course, Dean and Sam are already on the move, too, even as a second, and then a third cry echoes through the forest. They converge with the others, a wordless scream that sounds closer than ever egging them on. Then the forest goes silent, and they slow to a stop, wary and alert, listening hard. “It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Haley asks.

Meira feels painfully vulnerable, and she tests her grace, to see if she can conjure her blade. It’s made from her grace, and it’s still there, so the blade should be there, but when she tries to manifest it, a lance of white-hot pain ricochets through her, and she clutches at her wrist, gritting her teeth against the agony.

“Everybody back to camp.” Sam orders, and Meira obeys on instinct. She’s never felt so vulnerable before in her entire life, and it only gets worse when she realises they’ve fallen for a trap and all their gear is gone. Before, she wouldn’t have worried. She’s an angel, she can survive off the ambient energy of the universe if she needs to. It’s not fun, but it’s possible. But now, she has no idea what she can and can’t do. Her grace is still there, warming her bones, but every time she reaches for it, all she gets is pain.

“Alright, listen up.” Sam says briskly, looking around the camp with a tight expression on his face. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten more complicated.”

“What?” Haley asks, incredulous and irritated.

“Kid, don’t worry. Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy says, and Meira’s tempted to deck him for the condescending arrogance in his voice.

“If you don’t even know what it is, you have no idea whether you can handle it.” She snaps. It seems to startle everyone, but Meira doesn’t care. Yesterday, a wendigo wouldn’t have frightened her. She could move faster than it, could burn it to death with just a touch of the holy light in her soul, but today, she’s as helpless as Roy Roberts, and it pisses her off that he’s not as scared as she is.

“Sweetheart, when you’ve been hunting as long as I have, there isn’t much the woods can throw at you that you can’t handle.” Roy retorts smugly.

Meira scoffs incredulously, suddenly hating him. “Oh, that’s what this is. Did Sam taking charge just now wound your fragile male ego? Are you really going to put everyone here at risk because of your god damned pride?”

“How dare you suggest-”

“Hey, relax.” Dean interjects. Even though it isn’t directed at her, Meira can’t help but subside, too used to Dad mediating arguments between her and Jace, or her and Rob, or her and Pabbi that way.

Apparently, Uncle Sam hasn’t gotten the memo, though. “She’s right.” He says, as if Dad hadn’t said anything at all. “You have no idea what’s out there, what it can do. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“You, protect me?” Roy scoffs. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight.” He spits, getting into Uncle Sam’s face.

“Isn’t it about time you retired, then?” Meira snarks.

“You shut your mouth.” Roy barks, rounding on her.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dad snaps, getting between them with both his hands out as if to physically hold them away from each other. “Just chill out, okay?” He prompts, giving Uncle Sam a pointed look. Meira tucks her arms around herself and tries not to freak out any more than she already has. Haley putting a hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but the comforting squeeze she gets helps a little.

“We don’t have time, Dean. We have to get these people out of here before this thing eats them alive.” Uncle Sam protests furiously.

“Look.” Haley speaks up, interrupting whatever Roy had been about to say in answer to that. “Tommy might still be alive.” She states, and Meira knows what’s coming next. She knows, because it’s what she’d say if it was Jace out here, in the claws of a wendigo. It’s what Dad would say if it was Uncle Sam. “And I’m not leaving here without him.”

“Then we’re going to need fire.” Meira says. “Lots and lots of fire.”

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Saturday 12th November 2005

They build up a large campfire, and several smaller fires, too, and Meira helps her dad draw protective symbols around their camp. And then they sit and wait for morning or the wendigo, whichever comes first. The hours draw on interminably, and Meira sits right by the fire, close enough that she feels a little feverish with the heat baking her face, but it’s close enough that she could grab one of the big branches out of the fire if she needed to.

Sitting and waiting isn’t the best plan though, she thinks grimly. For morning, yes. Wendigos don’t really like bright sunlight, so they’ll have that small advantage once the sun rises, but after that? Haley isn’t leaving without her brother, and her brother, if he’s still alive, will be in the wendigo’s lair. Which they’ll need to find, and get into, and get out of, without dying or getting caught themselves.

“What’re you thinking?” Haley asks quietly, nudging her.

Meira glances at her, sees how worried she looks, and musters up a smile. “I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to find Tommy.” Haley blinks, then almost smiles, except not really. Meira knows the feeling, and goes back to staring at the fire. “Even if we kill this thing, we’d still need to find him, and… Shit, that’s a lot of wilderness to comb through.”

“We’ll do it.” Haley insists stubbornly. “I’ll do it.”

Meira smiles, slanting a fond look at her. “I know.” She assures her. “I have a little brother, too. I’d take on a wendigo for him, too.” That wouldn’t really have been saying much before, but now? Like this? She still means it.

“A…” Haley falters, frowning. “I’ve heard of that before. Isn’t that some sort of Native legend or something?”

Meira nodded. “Algonquian peoples, primarily. They tended to live more northward, where the long, lean winters often led to starvation. And starvation sometimes led to people who who looked at their families and friends, and saw not people they loved, but food.” Haley shudders in distaste. “And once they’ve eaten someone, they start craving it, and every time they eat someone else, they turn a little bit more monstrous.”

Haley gives her a sharp look, fear buried under anger. “You mean this thing’s going to eat Tommy?” She demands in a harsh whisper.

“It’s planning to, yeah. But it probably hasn’t yet.” Meira reassures, reaching out to put an arm around Haley’s shoulders. Haley grabs her other wrist in a desperate, unthinking motion, clinging to hope. “Wendigos are born of deprivation, they know what it’s like to go hungry, and they hate it. They tend to hunt in spurts, and hibernate for long stretches of time in between, but they don’t gorge themselves. They’ll take people alive if they can, so they have food for later.”

Haley squeezes her eyes shut. Then she sets her jaw and nods. “How can we kill this thing?” She asks in a hard voice.

Meira looks away. “I’m starting to wonder if we should.” She admits.

“What?” Haley asks, so sharply that Sam and Dean look over at them from where they’re sitting together across the fire, heads bent together and discussing something.

Meira opens her mouth to explain what she’s thinking, what she doesn’t want to be thinking, but before she can, someone out in the woods calls for help. She cringes, even as everyone else leaps to their feet, those with guns aiming them out into the night. She knows that it’s the wendigo, knows that it isn’t some poor bastard getting chowed on, but… well, before, she would have known, would have felt it, would have been able to tell for sure that, no, the only soul out there is the corrupted one of the wendigo. Now, all she has to go on is cold logic. It’s enough to convince her head, but not her soul.

Some part of her still feels the need to go and check, to be sure, because what if she’s just sitting here, listening to someone die when she could have helped them? Then the gunfire starts up. “I hit it!” Roy shouts suddenly, and Meira’s head jerks up just in time to see him dodging around one of their extra fires and rushing out into the woods.

She’s on her feet before she can think about it. Then she hesitates. What is she going to do, without her grace? But she can’t just leave him to his fate, either, no matter how much she doesn’t like him. “Don’t move!” Her dad orders, right before going after Roy himself.

That cinches it, really. Meira’s not leaving her dad out there with a wendigo. She snatches up one of the burning sticks, and bolts after them. “Meira!” Uncle Sam shouts, reaching out to try and grab her, but Meira’s played that game a million times, it’s habit to flex her grace to give herself just a little bit more speed so that she’s not where he expects her to be.

And this time, it works.

It’s such a relief she nearly stumbles, but she doesn’t have time to waste, so she catches her balance and runs on. She’s right behind Dad, and Roy is up ahead, and she can hear the wendigo in the trees. “It’s over here!” The wendigo calls with someone else’s voice, and Meira can see it reaching for Roy. The world blurs as she lunges, practically tackling Roy out of the way just as the wendigo’s hands flash out and the claws sink into her face.

She could retaliate, she has her stick, but she remembers the thoughts that had been plaguing her earlier, and doesn’t.

The wendigo jerks her, hard, but Meira’s grace isn’t gone. It’s just trapped, which means that when her neck snaps, it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Painful, sure, but her grace heals the damage almost as soon as it’s been done. The wendigo gives her another shake, nearly breaking her neck again, and then wrenches the burning stick away from her, tossing it back down to the ground. She lets it, because she doesn’t want to have to heal being eaten, and then plays limp ragdoll as the wendigo darts off through the trees with her. It won’t fool it forever, but it should fool it long enough for it to take her back to its lair.

They drop back to the forest floor eventually, and then further down still, underground, Meira realises. A cave, or an abandoned mine, perhaps. She’s tossed into a larger cavern, lets herself roll limply along the floor, and the wendigo retreats. Meira’s just going to have to hope that her dad and uncle can keep Haley and Ben alive through the night.

“Ugh.” She groans and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. She’s human enough that that sort of damage is still unnerving, and leaves her feeling vaguely squeamish for hours afterwards. So worth it just to know her grace still works, though.

“Holy shit!”

Meira stills, looking around. The cavern is not, in fact, pitch black. There’s faint light seeping in from somewhere above her head, moonlight, and it’s just about enough for her to see by. There’s a man strung up from the rafters that looks enough like Haley and Ben that Meira feels pretty safe in guessing “Tommy Collins?”

“Yeah.” Tommy says breathlessly. “I thought you were dead.”

“That’s what I wanted it to think.” Meira tells him with a shrug, clambering to her feet and dusting herself off. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get you down.” She wishes, briefly but intensely, for her blade. It’s right there, sitting inside her soul, and she can’t manifest it. Instead, she casts about for something in the cave that they’re in, and settles on a broken shard of rock from the floor of the cave. It worked for prehistoric people well enough.

“How- how’d you know who I am?” Tommy asks after Meira’s been sawing at the ropes for a few minutes. They’re starting to fray, finally, which is a relief.

“Your brother and sister have come looking for you.” Meira tells him. “Brought me and a couple others along with them.”

“Oh, god.” Tommy groans. “Are they okay?”

“Worried about you, but otherwise, yeah. Last I saw, anyway. And D- Dean and Sam know how to handle a wendigo. They’ll look after them, I promise.” Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.

“I think this is backwards.” Tommy says in a tone of forced cheer. Meira hums curiously, scowling at the rope as she continues to work at it. “We’ll the beautiful damsel is rescuing the handsome knight from the monster.” He points out.

Meira snorts her way into laughter, and leans back to get a better look at him. “You are cute.” She acknowledges, and in other circumstances, she might have flirted back, because she’s gotten the feeling that both Haley and Tommy are straight. “But your sister’s cuter.” She adds, going back to her work. The rope gives way before Tommy manages to muster up a response to that. He staggers when he drops, having been strung up for so long and deprived of sustenance that his balance is shot to shit. Meira catches him and slings one of his arms over her shoulder. “Do you know if your friends are still alive?” She asks him. There’s no one else in this cave, she doesn’t think, although she can’t be entirely sure of that with her grace locked down like this, but she’s pretty sure this won’t be the only place the wendigo has to stash its snacks.

She feels more than sees Tommy shake his head. “N-no, it-” He stammers out. “Oh god.” He says, and Meira recognises that tone well enough to shift the way she’s supporting him so that when he doubles over and retches, she doesn’t get covered in bile.

“Easy.” Meira soothes, rubbing a hand over his back. He dry heaves a few more times, but manages to regain control of himself after that. “Yeah, I can’t imagine watching something like that was any fun.” She muses, tugging him back upright and setting off. She hopes she can remember the way out. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“What about- about that thing?” Tommy asks her as they stagger along, into the first of several pitch-black tunnels.

“It’s almost certainly out in the woods right now, hunting the others.” Meira tells him, which she is aware is not as comforting as it could be, given that ‘the others’ includes family for both of them. Tommy swears, and Meira grimaces, figuring she can at least help a little bit. “Sam and Dean know how to handle something like this.” She assures him. “And they have plenty of fire. They’ll keep Haley and Ben safe. And I’m going to keep you safe.”

“In normal circumstances, that would sound ridiculous.” Tommy mutters.

“Don’t be sexist.” Meira chides, but she keeps her tone light, and gives him a gentle little jostle with her shoulder to let him know she’s mostly teasing. Then she sobers, because short of actually eating her alive, which admittedly is a possibility, the wendigo can’t kill her, but it could definitely kill Tommy, and if he’s going to play machismo bullshit because she’s a lady, she really does need to nip that in the bud. “But I’m serious. If it does come back, if we run into it, don’t you dare try to play the hero, alright?” She puts a touch of divine command into her tone. “I am not your responsibility, do not wait for me, do not come back for me, do not try to throw yourself into harms way to protect me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy mumbles, resentful and bewildered.

The rest of the slog out of the mines is made in silence, save for Tommy’s ragged breathing and Meira’s occasional curse when she makes a wrong turn and they have to double back. Finally, though, Meira picks out a hint of light and follows it to the exit. It looks like it might have been boarded up once, but the wendigo has made a neat little opening for itself, and she and Tommy stagger out into in the dim grey-blue light of false dawn.

Tommy chokes back a sob of relief. Meira grins at the sound and shifts him higher on her shoulder. “Come on, we don’t want to get caught here if it comes back.” She points out, and that convinces Tommy to pick up his pace. It’s still slow going, because he’s still pretty unhealthy after two days chained up in a cave with minimal sustenance. The wendigo probably wouldn’t have fed him, but they had been known to give captives water. They also have undergrowth to contend with now, and Meira might heal a broken ankle, but Tommy won’t.

“Where… are the others?” Tommy asks.

Which is a hell of a good question. “I have no idea.” Meira tells him, feigning cheer. “Right now our priorities are water and some way of making fire.” She informs him, and Tommy drags them to a stop.

Tommy clearly knows more about wilderness survival than she does, because within a few minutes of her pointing out a need for it, Tommy has somehow managed to get a small fire going. They’re still too close to the wendigo’s lair for Meira’s comfort, but having a weapon that might actually do something to it is more important than trying to escape something that could outstrip a bullet. They build up a campfire, draw some protective sigils, and Meira fashions them both makeshift torches, wishing bitterly that she wasn’t reduced to such primitive tools all the while.

Meira risks leaving Tommy alone with the sigils to protect him just long enough to see if she can find any hint of running water nearby. She does, so they relocate, going through the whole process of warding all over again, this time closer to the water. Tommy looks a lot better for the chance to drink and wash his face, and then they have to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Finding the others ought to be priority over killing the wendigo.” Meira muses. “There’s just the problem of how to actually go about that.”

Tommy nods grimly. “If it wasn’t for the monster out there that wants to eat us, I’d say set up a base camp, search outwards, leave signs.” He summarises. Meira is about to suggest that they should do exactly that, then, when a furious snarl echoes through the woods. Tommy flinches so hard he falls over where he’s sitting, only barely catching himself with one hand in the dirt.

“Think it noticed we’re missing?” Meira asks rhetorically.

They sit, tense and wary, in the ensuing silence, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t for long enough that Meira begins to wonder if she should do something. Then the yelling starts. “Help! Help me!” Meira clenches her hands into fists, heart squeezing.

“You know that’s not going to work, right?” She calls, standing slowly and bringing two of their burning sticks with her, one in each hand. Tommy hisses at her, grabbing at the hem of her coat as if that might make her sit and stop baiting the monster. A snarl answers her words, echoing oddly as the wendigo moves mid-sound and the doppler effect turns it multi-toned. “What? Pissed because you couldn’t kill me? We’re pretty tough prey, I bet you’ve figured by now. All this exertion must be making you kinda hungry.”

The roar that follows shakes the forest, full of fury and malice, and Meira nearly giggles hysterically. She only has the barest idea of what she’s doing, and her hands are shaking with the terror of having a predator that’s bigger than her focused solely on her, but she knows, she knows from painful, bitter experience that making someone angry makes them sloppy in the short term. And any advantage she can wring out of this situation, she needs.

Tauntingly, she steps a little closer to the edge of the protective sigils. And there it is, sprinting too fast for the mortal eye to catch, close enough to make the underbrush rustle right next to where Meira is standing, but not quite close enough for her to hit with one of her torches. Meira doesn’t want to start a forest fire, but oh, boy, is she tempted right now. “Is that supposed to scare me?” She mocks.

The wendigo rushes by again, and then- stops. In plain view. Not even looking at her. Tommy makes a choked noise of horror, and the wendigo doesn’t even twitch. Meira is so tempted to lunge out of the sigils at it, but it’s too easy, and she hesitates. She hesitates like an idiot until it’s suddenly gone, bounding off into the forest, and she realises what must have happened.

It heard something she couldn’t. Something that was easier prey.

“For fuck’s sake!” She explodes, and goes after it, even though it’s probably going to get her eaten.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” Tommy calls.

“Stay in the circle!” Meira calls over her shoulder. “If it comes back, set it on fire!”

The wendigo appears in front of her in an instant. Meira swings on instinct, a little too slow because she’s so off her game right now, but a little too slow is still something, because the flames pass by the wendigo’s emaciated flesh with inches to spare, and it must feel the heat, because it shrieks, an awful, too human sound of pain. A huge clawed hand strikes out, and tears right through the sleeve of her leather coat and into the flesh beneath. “Shit!” She curses, pained and indignant in equal measure, because if she’s guessing right about the limits on her abilities, she’s not going to be able to fix that.

“Meira?!” Uncle Sam’s voice shouts.

The wendigo ignores him, which means Meira succeeded in pissing it off. She ducks the second set of claws aiming for her throat, and then swings both torches up and in. They crash into either side of the wendigo’s head, and the smell of scorched flesh fills the forest just as Sam skids into view. The wendigo screams, rearing back and disappointingly not dead. Meira gears up for another swing, and the wendigo bolts. It’s gone in a flash, and Meira is about to go after it, to press her advantage, but then Uncle Sam is right in front of her, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” He demands, looking between her face and her arm.

“I’ll be fine.” Meira assures him, lowering her arms and hissing when the wound pulls. “My jacket on the other hand…” She bitches, tugging at the shoulder to get a better look at the tears. She whines when she gets a proper look at the damage.

“You bitch-slapped a wendigo in the face with a medieval torch, and you’re just upset about your jacket?” Sam asks incredulously.

Meira considers that. “I… huh. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” Sam snorts, shaking his head like he genuinely can’t believe her. Meira grins, before the situation catches up with her, and she jerks her head back the way she came. “We should get behind the wards I set up if we’re going to catch up.”

Sam, though, shakes his head. “I’ve gotta-” He gestures after the wendigo. Meira is just about to point out that running off half-cocked is going to get him dead, despite the disorientation of having to tell her Uncle that, when he goes on. “It took Dean and Haley.”

Meira stares at him for a long moment, then tips her head back. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” She whines at the sky. “I just got Tommy out!”

“You got Tommy?” Sam echoes, brightening.

Meira nods, and realises there’s really only one thing for her to do. “I’ll wait with him while you go help the others?” She offers, and Sam nods once, sharp and decisive. Meira thrusts one of the torches at him. “Here. Take that.” Sam does, muttering a quick thanks before he’s rushing off again, and Meira goes back to sit with Tommy.

It’s not even half an hour later when she hears footsteps, people moving through the woods, and then the others appear through the trees, all of them in a straggly exhausted group. Haley and Ben both let out cries of relief when they see their brother, and stumble into a sort of run while Tommy clambers to his feet in order to embrace them.

“Wendigo’s dead?” Meira checks.

“Yeah.” Dean confirms. “Shot it point blank with a flaregun.” He adds proudly. Meira whistles, impressed. Dean grins back at her. “Heard you hit it in the face with a torch?” He asks, jerking his head at Sam to indicate just where he heard that. “Pretty awesome.”

Meira shrugs, grinning bashfully. “I did what I could.”

Then she realises that Roy is watching her very intently. He looks more than a little worse for wear, something a bit wild around his eyes that suggests he’s not taking the existence of the supernatural very well at all. “You’re alive.” He says when Meira catches his eye.

“Yeah.” Meira confirms.

Roy swallows. “Coulda sworn that thing broke your neck.” He says, all of a sudden not quite able to look at her and instead staring somewhere over her shoulder.

“Oh, man, it tried.” She replied, grinning in a strange, giddy relief at the memory of how easily her grace had healed her. “Shook me like a ragdoll. But I’m fine.” She adds to reassure him, because he still looks a bit haunted.

Roy nods. There’s a long pause, and then he clears his throat. “You saved my life. When I was being an idiot.” He adds briskly, grimacing at himself. “Thank you.”

Meira shrugs, smiling ruefully. “Just because you’re an asshole, doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

Dean snorts in amusement at that, and interrupts before Roy can say anything else. It doesn’t look like he knows what to say in any case. “Come on, let’s get back to civilisation. I don’t know about any of you lot, but I’m getting a little sick of these woods.”

No one’s going to object to that, so they get themselves organised, and follow Roy’s recovered GPS out of the forest. Along the way they discuss what, exactly, to tell the authorities, getting their stories straight. Meira’s mostly quiet as they hike, trying to figure out what she’s going to do now. Ideally, she wants to stick with Dean and Sam, but she isn’t entirely sure how to go about inviting herself along. She knows from her dad’s stories that he and Uncle Sam had been kind of codependent when they were younger, and trying to insert herself into such a close-knit dynamic is going to difficult.

She still hasn’t come up with any good ideas when they get back to a road and call the paramedics. Then it’s all chaos as everyone asks questions and gets medical attention. Sam tries to point the paramedics at Meira, but Meira dodges them with the excuse that it was just a scratch, she’ll be fine. “Hey.” Someone says behind her, and she turns to find Haley standing there, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Hey, you alright?” Meira checks, touching her lightly on the arm.

Haley nods. “Thanks to you.” Meira shakes her head, but Haley presses the point. “You saved Tommy. You saved my brother.”

Meira relents with a smile, and shifts her hand up to brush her knuckles lightly over Haley’s cheek. “I’m glad I could help.” She says sincerely. Haley huffs, smiling incredulously.

“You never let up, do you?” She asks.

Meira shrugs and retreats. “I do mean it.” She points out.

Haley considers her for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah, I got that.” She acknowledges. Then she glances over to where Dean is finally escaping the paramedics himself. “I should go and say thank you to them, too.” She says, and Meira nods, watching her go. She watches them talk for a moment, before an idea occurs to her, and she hurries off to pickpocket a ranger, talk to Roy, and then circle back around to Haley. She gets there just in time to hear her say “Must you cheapen the moment?”

“Yeah.” Dean replies, as if it should be obvious.

Haley shakes her head, catches sight of Meira, and rolls her eyes. “The pair of you, I swear.” She huffs, and Meira grins. She’s heard it before, mostly from Qaada. Dad always protested that she’s way more like Pabbi, but given that the pair of them are the same flavour of irreverent flirt, she figures that’s one and the same.

Meira flips her stolen pen over in her fingers and proffers it to Haley. Haley takes it with a quizzical expression, while Meira shoves up her sleeve and presents her arm to her. “Gimme your number, and once I can get my hands on a new phone, I’ll text you.”

Haley narrows her eyes playfully. “And why should I?”

For once, Meira doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because then if you get into any other trouble, or if you see anything else weird, you can call me.” She explains. Haley’s eyes widen a little, and then she nods and scribbles a phone number onto Meira’s arm.

“Smooth.” Dean comments, half complimentary, half resentful, and Meira elbows him in retaliation. He elbows her back.

Haley shakes her head at both of them again, and then, surprising the hell out of Meira, she leans in and kisses them each on the cheek, Meira, and then Dean. “I hope you find your father.” She says to Dean, who sobers at that, and then Sam and Ben amble over and Haley guides Ben off to go to the hospital with their brother.

“You going to be alright getting home?” Dean asks, startling Meira out of watching the little family leave in the ambulance.

Meira winces, trying not to think too hard about exactly how far away from home she really is. Dean catches it and raises his eyebrows at her. Over his shoulder, Sam is frowning in concern. “Don’t really have one of those anymore.” She admits quietly, since it’s mostly true. She’s just muddling her tenses a little bit. She swallows and glances sideways at Dean. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys?”

Dean glances back at Sam, who shrugs. “Sure.” Dean says, a little uncertainly. “I guess.”

Relief makes Meira’s shoulders slump. “Thanks.”

“You really don’t have anywhere to go, huh?” Sam asks, sounding sympathetic.

Meira gives a slightly bitter laugh at that. “No, I don’t. It’s… it’s all gone.” She raises her arms a little in indication. “This is everything I have right now.”

“Shit.” Dean breathes. “What happened?”

“What always happens to hunters.” Meira hedges, tucking her hands into her pockets and hunching into her coat uncomfortably. It’s not even entirely a lie. “They missed one, and it came back to bite them.”

“Well, you can stick with us for a while.” Sam offers.

“Thanks. I don’t mind helping you look for your dad for a while as repayment.” Meira replies, and they both nod their acceptance. Then Dean tips his head towards the Impala, and Meira goes, aware of the pair of them following along behind her.

She’s pretty sure she’s not really meant to hear it when Dean says, in an undertone. “Sam, you know we’re going to find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam agrees heavily. “But in the meantime… I’m driving.”

There’s a long pause, long enough for Meira to reach the back door of the Impala and turn to look at them. She’s just in time to see Dean flip the keys across to Sam, and she ducks her head on a smile. As long as she’s stuck here in the past, this is exactly where she wants to be; with her family.

[blacknovelist]

Yet another Ageswap-AU ask because oh my god ever since you said something about Toshinori not being able to control OFA I laugh every time I think about it. I'm just imagining the Alt!1-A kids all being in one room hanging out when there's this resounding CRASH! from some other room. Dead silence. Cue Toshinori yelling that everything's fine he's got it under control and where exactly is the broom again? And everybody just groans. The Human Bulldozer strikes again. (c)

And soon it becomes an in-class joke that you can’t leave Toshinori in a room unsupervised for longer than a minute because he will invariably break something. Even when he swears he didn’t even touch anything. I imagine it only gets worse when he starts shooting up like a weed and putting on muscle like a linebacker. His friends honestly just think it’s kinda funny and they only tease him good-naturedly but he still apologizes 1000000 times anyway.

DAMN, anon, this is like the third time you’ve come right into my inbox (assuming ur the Toshinko/Enji anon?? I’m p sure u are for several reasons but otherwise this makes for an incredibly comical situation where I pretend all anons are one person, in which case it’s more like five times lmao) and known JUST WHAT TO SAY and I friggin LOVE IT my dude.

This is e x a c t l y how it would go tho. Poor Toshinori can’t catch a break. Everyone in Ageswap 1-A learns to get used to ducking beneath his arms or swerving around him whenever he starts sparking with OfA or even just generally moving, because damn the guy can hit even without his quirk and he always feels bad when he smacks someone, no matter how lightly. He starts off really small too (like, almost Canon Izuku size and scrawny-ness), so it’s just so many levels of hilarious that this classmate of theirs is so clumsy with his own quirk and that he keeps messing things up. I mean, heck. I bet even just swinging an arm near things can break them when the swing is also OfA powered. No wonder he can’t be without supervision around delicates, he doesn’t even have to hit them! 

All of Toshinori’s classmates and teachers are aware of the broom’s location in relation to Toshinori at any and all times. Deku is good at taking Toshinori’s hits both during and outside of training (“this is nothing, kid, don’t sweat it”) so he’s fine, and Inko joins the ranks of effortless dodgers (though she’d also be able to take the hits probably) along with Naomasa, Gran Torino, Nana, and all of 1-A.

Eventually he gets it under control, but no one can resist poking so much fun at him when it comes to being around breakables, ever. By the time Sports Festival rolls he’s mostly got it, though he’s still a bit prone to activating it sometimes if he isn’t paying attention. Deku jokes a lot that Toshinori’s penchant for breaking other things is a lot better than his own old penchant for breaking his own bones when he was new to OfA which, is kind of nice to hear but also a little horrifying bc really, what do you mean you broke your arms three times in two months, Deku-san, what the heck

But then the Growth Spurts start.

So like. @guardianlioness is the one who brought it up and thought up most of it back then but among 1-A, everyone gets their growth spurts at completely different times. The result is that at some point classmates like Ken/Cementoss and Toshinori and Enji are towering a foot or two taller than other classmates who get their growth spurts later, like Aizawa and Hizashi and Kayama/Midnight.

Enji has never been the shortest kid in their class but he still gets his first - he grows broad and tall with his body type totally different from his dad’s. At this time Toshi is like, middle to short height in their class. Enji jokes a lot about how maybe he can beat Toshi now, and he’s all “don’t worry, maybe you can catch up to my height someday”. If you remember the first few ageswap posts, you’ll also know why Enji is going to eat his words later.

Except, with OfA to boost his whole body, what would’ve already been a pretty impressive growth spurt gets SUPERCHARGED TIMES TEN and suddenly Toshinori and Enji have to get used to being like… twice the height they used to be. So many mysterious phantom bruises and broken objects from both of them as they adjust. It’s a lot of repetitive motion exercises for them, because there’s no way they’re going back into regular training until they can stop stumbling over themselves.

Unfortunately for Toshi, the Human Bulldozer jokes come back. With a vengeance. Plus, now that puberty has decided to start formally kicking his ass, his control has gone wonky again, which basically means even more stuff gets broken, which leads to more jokes. It’s just a terrible cycle at this point. He knows that his friends and family are just teasing and they don’t mind it that much, but it still makes him feel bad when he breaks things and he’ll apologize for ages if you let him.

He tries to brush off some of his mystery bruises as injuries from accidents or training (“fell down the stairs” is a popular one, along with “punched the bag too hard”) sometimes but it never works. Either the person just knows, or someone conveniently comes along to explain that no, Toshinori did not trip and bump into the wall or banister, he just misjudged his arm length again and instead of bashing it into a shelf, this time he slugged himself in the face. Yes, there are pictures. Yes, they are definitely going all over the internet. No, Toshinori, you can’t stop them, they’re already out there. Sorry buddy.

(Spoiler alert: they’re really not.)

Much like the wheelchair incident, it goes viral. Unlike the wheelchair incident, everyone knows it’s actually All Might when he was a student (as opposed to the mystery of very, very blurry young faces). As expected, once context is added, the world is officially in on the joke that All Might, one of society’s symbols of peace, cannot be left alone at all lest he accidentally bump into something and break everything in the process. Toshinori is long suffering about it outwardly but as with all good memes and jokes, he actually loves it. All of Ageswap 1-A love it.

And that’s the story of how Toshinori becomes famous for his ability to break things (or rather, his inability to stop breaking them), which is a detail that is only vaguely relevant but I thought you’d appreciate nonetheless.