#when you have to stop your husband from murdering the annoying kfc across the table

[py-dreamer]

Y'know when you have to stop your husband sworn brother from vapourising your other sworn brother smack talking the both of you from across the table?

Have I mentioned that I don't really like Peng?

yea, quick wip I finished in my stacks of other wips, not much else to say

I do still appreciate @emerialyncodevenice's Peng cause that's honestly one of the only times I've liked their character: as a tired dad

But man do I wanna tie him to a skewer and grill him like a rotissarie

And fun update ig: I just went to a lego convention yesterday!

I saw lego friends, city, ninjago, lego movie

But no monkie kid.

And under normal circumstances I would've gone and went feral there but sadly my pikachu was leaking strawberry jam and it thunderbolted my tummy so I spent most of the convention clutching my stomach in agony

I got some corn though!

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part nine Word count: ±3300 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part nine summary: After splitting up, each hunter has their own part to play in order to solve the case. But when Sam has a vision, things go south real quick. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Bored out of her skull, Zoë flips the page of her newspaper for the third time, pretending to read it. She found a good spot on the terrace of a Pizza Hut restaurant. Traffic drives by on Highway 412 constantly, but from her table she has a clear view of a house on Magnolia Drive. Taylor Dawlson, Laura’s former teacher, lives in the suburban home.

     It’s 14:30 and Zoë has been guarding the Dawlson residence for over an hour now, but nothing has happened so far. She hasn’t had a call from the boys yet either, so she presumes everything is quiet at the Shire place, and Dean is probably talking to doctor Hughes.

     Taylor Dawlson is home, busy maintaining the household while keeping her daughter entertained. The husband, whose name is Jeff, is working the lawn at the moment, a sprinkler system watering the pink magnolias by the white wooden fence. On the table in front of her, next to the slice of pepperoni pizza, Zoë installed her Macbook, which shows some information about the Dawlson family, just so that she knows who she’s dealing with. Taylor is a teacher at the Woodrow Wilson Elementary School, Jeff is into sportswear and merchandise. They’ve been married for seven years  and have a three year old daughter named Lesley. No criminal records on the parents, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a happy family, living in a normal neighborhood, right next to a church. One thing doesn’t show up on her screen, though, and it’s something the huntress knows for a fact; the mother happened to be in one of her flashbacks.

     She lets out a bored sigh and takes another bite of her pizza, but then feels her phone vibrating in her pocket. Quickly, she takes out her Nokia and checks the screen; it’s Sam.      “What’s up?” She yawns.      “Your stake out is that exciting, huh?” Sam responds sarcastically.

     Sam is comfortable in the driver’s seat of the Chevrolet Impala, which he parked across the street of the Shire residence, located on Reynolds Park Road. He has the window rolled down and rests his elbow on the door as he holds his phone to his ear. The streets are almost empty in this neighborhood just outside the downtown area of Paragould. A beautiful house by the lake seems like a fairytale to live in, and yet this place was the setting for violence and abuse for many years.

     “It’s like watching a documentary on snails,” she comments, after which she bites off a piece of pizza.      Sam can hear her chewing food and furrows his brow. “Are you eating again?”      “Dude, you sound like my dietician,” Zoë responds with her mouth full.      Sam chuckles and realizes how stern he must have sounded. “Burgers again?”      “No, I like a bit of variation in my cuisine,” she claims, putting up a snooty voice. “I’m having Italian right now.”      “Let me guess: pizza?”      Zoë laughs. “Pizza Hut to be precise.”

     “How do you do it?” Sam wonders, still chuckling.      “Do what?”      “Eat so much, without… well, you know--” he starts carefully, instantly regretting it. He’s on thin ice.      Zoë can’t help but grin, deciding to mess with him. “- getting big? Are you fucking kidding me, Sam? Someone who had a long term relationship should know this; clothes, weight and age are the forbidden subjects.”      Quickly, Sam sets things straight. “I’m sorry, I just think it’s extraordinary.”      “What? The weirdness of women or the fact that I eat so much?” she jokes.

     Sam chuckles, now that he can detect the trace of mockery in her voice.  “Seriously, though. How can you consume so much food and still look - you know - like you do?”      “Because I kick ass,” she answers, sassy.      Her response might have come out rapidly, for a brief moment there, Zoë analyzed that sentence. Was Sam’s remark a compliment or a flirt? She’s not sure what to think of it, but presumes the flirtation wasn’t intentional, considering he’s clearly still struggling to deal with his ex-girlfriend’s death. And come on, she has given him a pretty hard time; she’s been anything but charming.

     Zoë changes the subject before an awkward silence follows. “How’s it going over there?”      Sam glances through his windshield at the two individuals up at the house. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs. Shire seems to mourn by cleaning up the entire house and her son is sitting by the lake, just staring out over the water,” Sam describes.      “The guy was an asshole, but he was still their family,” she realizes, after which a beep sounds in her ear; she has a different call coming in.       “Gonna put you on hold for a sec, Sam,” she notifies the hunter, and pushes the green button on her phone. “Sullivan.”

     “Doc ain’t talking.”      Dean walks down the stairs of the Arkansas Methodist Medical Center. He unbuttons his blazer and loosens his tie.      Zoë narrows her eyes, even though the recipient on the other end of the line can’t see it. “What do you mean, he isn’t talking?”      “He got all nervous when I started asking questions. There’s no way I can get a word out of his mouth. But he does know something, alright,” Dean explains.

     “Did you try everything?” she checks, questioning Dean’s interrogation skills.      “Well, I didn’t torture him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t tell him the truth either,” he admits.      Zoë realizes it’s a good thing he didn’t reveal his true identity. If Dean starts talking about killer ghosts and the guy freaks out, they might have a serious problem, considering that they are identified as FBI. A call to their chief at the Bureau will ultimately result in a blown cover, which will not make solving any future case any easier.

     “You have the death report, right?” she threatens with a tone.      “Who the fuck do you think I am? Of course I have the death report,” Dean ensures cockily, as he takes out the report from his inside pocket. “Stole it from his file case. Piece of cake.”      Zoë doesn’t bother to compliment him for his deed. “Anything interesting in there?”      “Not really,” Dean presses his phone between his ear and shoulder and leafs through the pages, which contain a lot of medical talk that he doesn’t understand one bit. “It says that Laura Shire was brought in by her father around 11 PM, yada yada. Cause of death…” Dean pauses as he reads the line again and halts. “Didn’t you say that both dear daddy and Van Dyke broke their neck?” he recalls, looking up from the file.      “Yeah.”      “Laura broke hers too. Robert Shire claimed she fell down the stairs.”       Zoë scoffs. “Well that’s complete utter bullshit.”

     “One other thing,” he points out as he continues his way down the street. “Shire wasn’t just a colleague, he was his boss. Guess who the second signature on Laura’s death report belongs to.”      “Shire himself?” she assumes, stunned.      “The one and only.”      “But he’s a family member of the victim, he should have been excluded from the examination!” Zoë exclaims in disbelief.      “That’s why he got Hughes to do the autopsy. All they needed was his signature as Chief of Staff.”      The huntress gets the point now and rolls her eyes skyward. “Which makes the report valid.”      “So, what now?” Dean questions, his current mission having been completed.      “Hughes played a part in this cover up, so he might be her next candidate,” Zoë ponders, glancing at the Dawlson residence, where it’s still quiet. “There is no way you can keep an eye on him in that hospital, is there?”      “We don’t need to. Laura only attacks when her victim is alone, right?” Dean mentions.

     Zoë thinks about that for a second, her mind going over the first two murders. She didn’t notice it before, but he’s right. There were people in the house when Shire and Van Dyke were killed, but never in the same room.      “Now that you mention it. As long as the doc stays amongst people, he’ll be safe. When does he get off?”      “Already checked that; not until 6 PM,” Dean informs.      “Good, so we don’t have to worry about him until six,” she concludes, trying to think of a plan.      “Everything nice and quiet over there?” Dean wonders.      “I’m wasting my time. I’m not sure if Laura would target her anyhow.”      Dean walks into the parking lot of the Kentucky Fried Chicken only blocks away from the hospital. “And Sam?”      “Do I look like a fucking mailman to you? Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she returns annoyed.

     He enters the KFC and takes a look at the menu, even though he always goes for the classic. When Dean ignores her remark, the silence however ignites a reaction from the huntress nonetheless.      “You two had a fight or somethin’?”      “Sort of,” he admits with a mutter.      “Ah, brotherly love. What did you fight about?” Zoë asks nosy.      “That’s none of your business,” Dean returns defensive, stunned by her boldness. “Damn, you’re not curious at all, are you?”      “I’m not curious. I just want to know everything.” She shrugs, her correction sassy. “C’mon, spill it.”

     Dean sighs somewhat agitated. He doesn’t owe her an explanation, but he figures that once she knows, she might stop poking him. He keeps it as short as possible, though. “It was about Dad. Sam and I have different ideas on how to find him.”

     Surprisingly, there’s no smart counter that follows up his words. Instead, Zoë swallows back a mean remark and decides not to respond for their own good. They are finally having a conversation without yelling at each other, and although the fighting doesn’t bother her since she has no interest in becoming friends with the older Winchester, she’d rather keep it civil. Like it or not, she can use their help, so now would not be the best time to counter the hunter.

     Dean breaks the deadly silence. “Still there?”      Zoë clears her throat. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted.”      “Want some chicken?” he jokes, as if he could teleport it to her place.      She laughs, guessing where he is. “Where are you? KFC?”      “Ahuh,” he confirms, and turns to the guy behind the counter. “One bucket of chicken wings, please.”      “Is that all?” Zoë comments.      “You’re right,” he agrees, looking back at the restaurant worker. “Could you add a Crispy Colonel Sandwich and a coke?”

     He pays for his second lunch of the day and tells the employee to keep the change.      “Did you eat?” Dean asks Zoë, as he walks out to the terrace and settles down in the sun.      She smiles at her phone. Apparently they have found common grounds.      “Yeah, pizza,” she mentions. “Which reminds me, I still have Sam on hold. If you wanna crash some place, feel free to break into my motel room.”      “Alrighty, you didn’t boobytrap it, did ya?” he checks first.      “Unless you’re a demon or a ghost you’re free to waltz in,” Zoë replies, referring to the demon trapping pentagram under the doormat and the salt lines in the windowsills.      “Room number?”      “Seventeen. Don’t break anything.”

     With those words, she disconnected her call with Dean and returns to Sam. “I’m back,” she lets him know.      But there’s not a sound on the other line. He didn’t hang up on her, she can still hear static.      “Sam? You there?”      Then she hears Sam’s voice, but it’s not comforting. A painful moan sounds from the other side of the line.      “Sam, answer me! What’s going on?” Zoë calls out, sensing something is wrong.      Sam groans. “I’m here.”

     He has the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead, eyes shut firmly. He doesn’t know what just happened to him, but a stabbing pain in his head almost knocks him out cold. The images that flashed before his eyes a moment ago remain on display, but he cannot place any of them. Visions in his sleep are one thing, but he has never experienced them during the day before.      “What’s happening?”      He hears Zoë’s voice and presses his Blackberry against his ear. “I - I think I just had a vision.”      Zoë’s eyes grow large. It has started. “What did you see?”      Sam looks up, stunned. By the sound of her words, she experienced this too. “You had one of those while awake?”      “That’s not important right now. What did you see?” she repeats firmly.      Sam thinks back, trying to recover the recollections behind closed eyes. “I saw a house, white woodwork,” he remembers. “A woman inside is terrified, screaming, and I heard a child’s voice, saying ‘You didn’t stop it’.”

     Zoë’s eyes drift from her laptop screen to the house across the street; the Dawlson home has white woodwork. Her eyes widen as she realizes what might be going on.      “It’s Laura. What else did you see, Sam?!” she pressures while getting up so abruptly, that her chair tumbles over.      “A guy mowing the lawn, sprinklers... and a church, right next to the house,” he recalls, concentrating on possible clues.

     Zoë’s runs down the terrace, leaving her Macbook behind on the table. As fast as she can she crosses the street and is barely missed by a car, but she doesn’t have eyes for it. Her eyes are fixated on the front door and she knows; Laura is here.      “Get to Magnolia Drive, now!” she orders Sam, putting away her phone right after.      Adrenaline rushes through her body as she grabs the doorknob, but the door seems to be jammed. She pulls as hard as she can, but there’s no movement whatsoever.

     “Hey! What do you think you are doing?” Jeff Dawlson exclaims at the intruder. He left his lawnmower on the grass and now approaches her with large steps.      “Your wife’s in danger! We need to get inside the house,” she tells the man straight forward.      The facial expression of the tall man changes from mad to worried, his gaze shifting to his home. “Who are you?”      “Jeff, I don’t have time to explain! We need to get in the house!” Zoë cries out, losing her cool.

     She puts her shoulder into it and tries to lift the door from his hinges, but it won’t budge. Frustrated, she looks around for another way in.     Jeff hastens to the back door, but returns soon after, panicking. “I can’t get the back door to open! My daughter is in there too!”      The huntress curses, ramming into the door again. Laura is doing this, she’s shutting them out so that she can work over her victim without being interrupted. It’s amazing how fast this little ten year old developed into the monster she is now. This isn’t a ghost problem anymore, this is a poltergeist.      Without hesitation, Zoë draws her gun from behind her waistband and aims for the kitchen window. She pulls the trigger, but instead of breaking the glass, the shell flings back as if it just hit bullet proof glass.

     “Taylor!” Jeff calls his wife's name, desperately.      But they don’t hear a sound, not even a horrific scream and Zoë wonders if that is a good sign. Not willing to give up, she creates some distance between her and the door and drives her shoulder into the wood again and again, until she feels sore to the bone.      “Goddamnit! Let us in!” she yells, furiously.

     In the meantime, Jeff got his hands on a shovel and starts hitting the windows, but none of them break. While he keeps calling out for his wife and daughter, Zoë hears the roar of a V8 engine coming around the corner. With screeching tires Sam stops the car and jumps out, rushing for the trunk.      Without pausing her efforts to get in, Zoë calls out. “You better have a bright idea, Sam!”      With two loaded shotguns in his hands he runs up the lawn, but stops in his tracks when he glances at the window. “Zoë?”

     She looks over her shoulder and sees the staggered expression on his face, triggering her to back up glances at the second story. In front of the window stands a young girl, but the sight is anything but endearing. This time she isn’t the sad little innocent kid, she looks terrifying. Here eyes seem to have sunken deep into their sockets, blood and bruises cover her pale body. Her head is tilted to the right in an unnatural way, twisted at the base. The image distorts, then she disappears.

     The next moment, they hear the sound of shattering glass. The hunters’ attention is drawn to the kitchen window; Jeff managed to break it. Hastily Zoë rushes for the door, knowing it’s unlocked now and enters the house. Sam is right behind her and hands her the shotgun in the hallway, just in case.      She looks at the gun for a moment. “This isn’t gonna help.”      “Loaded with rock salt,” Sam elaborates.      Her eyes dart to the rifle again, this time appreciating the weapon. She heard of many ways to fight ghosts, but this is a new technique. It must be a Winchester invention, seems like those lumberjacks aren’t that stupid afterall.      “You get their daughter,” she orders.      They split up and when Sam glances into the living room, he sees Jeff's and Taylor’s little girl. She doesn’t seem to realize what is going on, apparently she didn’t hear a thing. The child is playing with her dolls, as her mother told her to.

     While Sam picks up Lesley and takes her outside, Zoë rushes to the second floor. Quickly she climbs the stairs, her shotgun ready to fire. Alert, she scans the corridor; all clear. Knowing Laura might still be inside, she takes a deep breath and busts the door to what she assumes to be one of the bedrooms. What the huntress sees inside makes her stomach turn, even though she has seen her fair share of blood and violence.

     What she feared the most has happened. Laura made her teacher die an even more horrible death than her own. Taylor has collapsed against the wall, her eyes stare at the ground, as if she was unpleasantly surprised by her attacker. But she doesn’t move, she doesn’t flinch; she’s dead. Her arms and neck seem to be broken, a bad head injury that cracked her skull giving Zoë a glimpse of her brain. Blood prints of her head and hands are smeared over the pink wall paper of her daughter’s room. Crimson stains the carpet, the teddy bears on Lesley’s bed, the covers, even the ceiling.      “Damnit, Laura,” Zoë says, breathlessly.

     Footsteps echo from the staircase behind her. She looks back and sees Jeff, running onto the corridor.      “You don’t wanna see this,” she warns, trying to keep him from the doorway.      But as she would have done, he steps inside anyway. As soon as his eye catches the sight of his wife in the state that she is, he freezes. Unable to say anything, unable to move like a deer in headlights, he looks down at her dead body as tears well up in his eyes. Zoë watches him, but she can’t get a word out of her mouth. After she swallows apprehensively, she averts her eyes away from the heart wrenching scene.

     “Taylor…” Jeff whispers as tears run down his face. The cry that follows      gives Zoë chills. “Taylor!”      In a blink of an eye this family’s life has changed forever. The woman Jeff loves dearly, the mother of his child, just got ripped away from them, murdered, and there is nothing he can do to reverse that. Zoë knows the feeling, she knows it way too well. He falls down on his knees in her blood, but he doesn’t hit the floor. He hits rock bottom.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter ten here