"Hell Will Follow" Official

Ray | she/her | Writer | Moodboards Supernatural | Ethel Cain | The Last of Us Writing my OC Supernatural Fan Fiction "Hell Will Follow" Updating Now! Soon! TikTok: @Hell_Will_Follow

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Prologue: And Then There Was You

Read on ao3!

Series Master List

Word Count 15K (i know its long oops)

Summary: Everything changed the spring of 1997. Syrena Grace was told to never use her powers. But when she meets Sam Winchester, a mysterious boy with a dark past, her life changes forever

Author Note: I'm backkk! And with some heavy rewrites. This is a rewrite of my series fic Hell Will Follow. After a year of on-and-off drafting, I feel like I've finally found the story I want to tell. But if you'd like to check out the OG or "the b-sides," I like to call them, they are still linked on the series master list. But not to fear, a lot of the story beats will remain the same in this new version. Feel free to follow for updates or be added as a tag (i'm new to this so lmk if your interested i'd love to make more muts). Hope you enjoy! - Rae

TW: Heavy religious Christian themes, religious trauma, child abuse, physical and emotional, discussion of abuse scars, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of alcoholism, beating from abuse, and canon typical violence.

Spring 1997

The eyes of Christ stared down upon Syrena Grace. His starved, crippled body nailed to the cross, frozen in agony if Syrena looked hard enough, blood not only trickled from his wrist, feet, or the crown of thorns that pierced his head, but from his eyes. Crying crimson tears. The small crucifix hung above the confession room. The details were burned into thirteen-year-old Syrena. She often wondered why this horrifying image was everywhere in her church. If Jesus was saved, no longer in pain, why did the church consistently show him this way? Weren't churches supposed to be peaceful, with paintings of angels playing harps in blue skies of heaven? A place meant to be a beacon of hope. But not here. To Syrena, this image served as a cruel reminder. A reminder of suffering at the hands of men. One thing she knew for sure was that it scared her. She was scared every time she entered this room. 

  The South Dakota spring was coming to an end, and the summer heat rolled in. Despite being the crack of dawn, everything was already baking in the heat. The stained glass windows cast the room in a golden hue. But even the light couldn't disguise the run-down, decaying building. Paint chipped off the cream-faded walls, water leaks stained the ceiling, and brown dust built up in the corners of the window seal. The carpet reeked of mildew and burnt incense, making the air thick and more suffocating than it already was. Pools of sweat formed at the top of Syrena’s head, strands of her dark brown hair sticking to her skin. Her olive skin was sun-kissed, her cheeks burning red. The golden cross pendant offered a cool relief as she dragged the chain along her dampened neck. 

Church was more than going to Sunday mass; it was Syrena’s way of life. Not by choice, but obligation. Her aunt Agnes had not only been a longtime member of the church, but was one of its most loyal staff members. As long as Syren lived under her aunt's roof, there was no protest. 

Outside the confession room, Syrena heard her Aunt Agnes mumbling. She could make out the familiar voices; she was talking to the priest, Father David. Aunt Agnes kept her word that Syrena would attend confession first thing in the morning before heading off to school. She knew there was no avoiding it, especially after yesterday.  Despite the thick wooden door separating them, Syrena could hear the wrath in her aunt's voice. 

“She did it again. I saw it with my own eyes! She’s getting stronger,” her aunt hissed.

Syrena fidgeted with the chain, twiddling the crucifix between her thumb and index finger. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the humidity in the room made her feel faint. Sweat dripped down her temple and onto her cheek. Syrena hissed under her breath when the droplet of sweat seeped into the fresh red cut along her cheek. The salt burned into her skin. As she wiped it away, Father David entered the room. Syrena sat up straight, adjusting the gold necklace so it stayed centered on her chest. 

“Good morning, Father," Syrena mumbled timidly. 

Father David was an older man with leathery, wrinkled skin. The lines weighed down his face, the bags under his eyes purple and droopy. His head was mostly bald, with stubble of white hair along the sides. While he may have looked like an innocent old man, his slow, unsettling demeanor made Syrena feel on edge every time she spoke to him. Father David would take long pauses and stare deep into your eyes, like he knew what you were going to say before you did. 

A small, grim smile rippled through his thin, cracked lips.

“Good Morning, Syrena,” Father David replied gruffly. 

He looked down at Syrena, his gaze lingering longer than a moment. Syrena gently touched the cut on her face, wondering if that was what the priest was looking at. 

“The sunlight brings out the gold in your eyes.” He chuckled in quiet amusement. “Well, one of them, at least.”

Syrena flinched away from the glistening sunlight, pulling back a strand of hair behind her ear.  What made Syrena look so unique was her eyes. They were two opposite colors since birth. One was golden-amber, the other a dark chestnut brown. Though it didn't change much about her, it often warranted nosy stares and double glances from kids and adults. 

The priest slowly waddled to the chair opposite her, where the crucifix hung above him like a halo. His withered, leathery hands holding a worn bible. Syrena took a deep inhale, knowing what was going to follow. 

“Tell me what happened yesterday, child,” Father asked calmly, his hands clasped together on his lap.  

Syrena swallowed the lump in her throat, recalling yesterday's events. 

“I was walking home,.” 

Yesterday was just like any other weekend. After church, Syrena walked into town and spent the day at the library to study, at least thats what she told her aunt. It wasn't fully a lie, so she told herself. Most times she’d walk to the local cinema and catch a matinee screening. She liked the quiet, intimate experience of the movie theatre. She'd watch anything and everything. In the movies, she could live with someone else for a while. Forget about the outside world. She’d take her time walking back home, daydreaming about the movie she just saw. But on this particular day, something happened. 

“I saw a nest in one of the trees near my house. There were baby birds, chirping ”

The priest studies Syrena carefully, watching her nails dig into the palm of her hand, and her lip starts to quiver. He nods for Syrena to continue. 

Syrena’s jaw tightened when her nail dug too deep into her flesh. “But I saw a squirrel. It ran to the nest, and it started…eating them.” 

The memory replayed in her mind. The sound of the nest ruffling and small, distressed chirps cried from inside the nest. The squirrel poked its head out, holding one of the baby birds in its mouth. The squirrel's teeth were dripping bright red blood as it held the decapitated bird in its grasp.  

“And then what?” The priest urged her to go on. 

“I scared the squirrel away,” Syrena replied, her voice trembling. 

“But that’s not all that happened, is it, Syrena?” Father David asked slowly, with a sharp glare that felt like he could burn her with the heat he was putting on. 

Syrena shook her head, “No, Father.” 

“What did you do, Syrena?” His voice crept under her skin. 

Syrena explained how she shoo’d the squirrel away; that much was true. But when the small rodent scurried away, it knocked over the nest in its escape. The surviving baby bird was thrown from its nest.

“When the squirrel ran away, one of the babies was still alive. But then…it fell out of the nest. I ran to catch it, but I was too far. It was going to die,”

Syrena sat up in her seat. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I didn't mean to! I was only trying to help-” 

“What did you do, Syrena?” The priest fired back in a cold demand. 

Tears already threatened to spill from Syrena’s eyes. Her scrunched face made the lashing on her face sting more. 

“I saved it…the baby bird.” 

“How?” The priest demanded. 

“I-I reached my hand out to catch it and I…” 

“But you said you were too far. How could you have caught it when you were feet away?” The priest interrogated.

It was true. Syrena didn't catch the bird in her hands. Instead, she reached out, and the bird froze, mid-air, hovering over the grass that probably would have crushed it upon impact. 

“I don’t know how! I just did it,” Syrena stuttered.

“Lies! You do know!” The priest's voice roared in the tiny confined room. The crucifix shook on the wall.

Syrena shivered at his outburst, her head ducked in shame. By the time Syrena approached the floating bird and held it in her hands, it was too late; Aunt Agnes had seen everything. And hell followed soon after.

“You haven't had an incident in a long time. Have you been praying like your aunt and I have told you?”

“Yes! Yes, of course, Father, every night-”

“Lies! If you had prayed for forgiveness, you would finally be free of these abominations! God only forgives those who seek repentance!”

Syrena couldn't look up and face the priest's fury. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Look at me, child,” Father David commanded.

Syrena slowly looked up, with the sunbeams on one side of her face.

“We're all born with sin, Syrena. It’s our duty to scrub it clean. But you, child… You were born different. You have to work harder to seek forgiveness and salvation, do you understand? God is testing you.”

Syrena didn't know why she had these abilities or where they came from. But it felt like it was a part of her. Aunt Agnes said it was an abomination, something unnatural, a mark of evil.

“Your aunt tried to warn your mother about what happens to those who turn away from God. And look where that led her… that’s why you’re here and not with her.”

The priest's words made Syrena's stomach turn. And in truth, Syrena didn't know what had become of her mother; her aunt never spoke of her. Though every time her aunt looked at Syrena, she was reminded of her estranged sister, Syrena’s mother. A look filled with anger and resentment. Syrena thought her abilities were a punishment for her mother's sins. That it manifested into her somehow. Either way, it was out of Syrena's control. All her life, she asked God to take them away, and yet every year she felt her unique abilities growing stronger, as if they were threatening to spill over, like water breaking through a dam.

“God saves those who want to be saved. Do you want to be saved, Syrena?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I do, Father,” Syrena begged through her coarse voice.

“Then let us pray, Syrena.”

Syrena’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Though she couldn’t show her tears to her aunt, she would not pity her. Syrena slung her backpack over her shoulder. Upon her exit from the confession room, Aunt Agnes sat on the wooden bench. Her aunt reminded her of those old paintings in the museums. Her face was pale, stiff, expressionless. Her dark, silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a tight updo. Despite the hot summer, she was always draped in a dark shawl and a modest button-up dress. Fine lines outlined her strained face and sunken-in cheekbones.

Aunt Agnes slowly rose from her seat, in slow, measured steps. She examined Syrena before snatching up her jaw with her weathered hands. She tilted Syrena’s face up. Syrena didn’t protest or pull away, but diverted her eyes in shame.

“Quit your moping,” her aunt muttered coldly.

Aunt Agnes tilted Syrena's head to look at the red-streaked scratch along her face. The sharp edge of her nail glided over the red scabs.

“You told Father David what you’ve done?” she asked firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Syrena trembled.

Aunt Agnes dug her nail between the cuts. “All of it,” she demanded coldly.

“Yes,” Syrena’s voice cracked, holding back the hot tears forming in the corner of her eyes. But a pit formed in her stomach. She had often wondered if her aunt knew of her white lie about sneaking off to the movies. It didn't cause any harm, but she felt guilty for not being completely honest. Though her time in the movies was the only time she got a break. So she stayed silent.

“You should be so lucky Father David offers you so much grace. Any other church would have you cast out for your abominable acts, you understand that, child?” Aunt Agnes dug the nail of her thumb against the cracks of her broken skin.

“Yes, ma’am.” Syrena nodded.

“This is your final warning, child. Another incident and you will suffer great consequences, do you understand!” Aunt Agnes barked. Syrena shook her head up and down. 

“Maybe this time you’ll listen. Because if you had before, God would have saved you by now.” Aunt Agnes ripped her hand away from Syrena’s jaw.

“You’ll walk directly to the bus stop with Mr. Conner. He’s waiting for you outside,” Aunt Agnes said.

Syrena nodded and made her way to the building's entrance. She didn’t have to turn around to know Aunt Agnes was watching her like a hawk. Syrena disappeared into the dimly lit hallway, and her fingers skimmed over the indents on her skin. And when Syrena was finally alone, she wiped the tears across her face.

A cool breeze swept through the cracks of the church doors as Syrena stepped outside. A breath of fresh summer air was a refreshing relief from the stuffy old building. The bright sunlight blinded Syrena momentarily before she heard some voices murmuring in the distance.

“What did I tell you about playing in the mud?” a voice shouted.

Mrs. Conner, one of the church's fellow staff members, snatched her son, James Conner, by the ear. Aunt Agnes and Mrs. Conner worked together early in the morning, so Syrena and James would often walk to the bus stop together before school. James was a quiet, awkward boy with round glasses and golden blonde hair cut with rounded bangs. Despite knowing each other for years, Syrena found it difficult to befriend James. He was just as naggy and uptight as his mother. And bossy. He didn't see Syrena as a friend, but someone to order around. If his mother bossed him around, he did the same to Syrena. Like it was the only power he had in his young life. Mrs. Conner reminded Syrena a lot of her aunt. They had the same strenuous look on their face. Mrs. Conner had perfectly styled curry blonde hai, and a permanent indent on the bridge of her nose, probably from always scolding James. Appearance was very important to her. So whether James wore the wrong button-up, scuffed up his new dress shoes, or even sneezed too loudly during mass, there was always something for her to get onto him about.

Syrena looked down and saw that James had stained the ankles of his tan khaki pants dark green, the trim soggy and muddy. James' face scrunched in pain as Mrs. Conner pinched his earlobe until it turned red.

“Ow, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he sputtered, hissing in pain.

Mrs. Conner made him beg for a couple of moments longer before noticing Syrena was watching from a distance.

She snatched her hand away. “Get to school, now.”

James soothed his throbbing earlobe and slung his crumpled backpack over his shoulder. But when he saw Syrena standing at the entrance of the church, he whispered to his mother,

“I don't want to walk with her. She’s a freak.”

“Quiet!” She shushed him before whispering to him, “Just get to the bus on time. Don’t you dare be late again!”

Mrs. Conner flattened her floral dress, composing herself as she walked towards the church. She looked down at Syrena with a cold glare, offering no apology for her son's words or the scene she had made before disappearing into the church.

“Come on,” James called impatiently to Syrena.

The cicadas buzzed in the row of endless trees that surrounded the road. The church stood at the top of a small hill a little outside of town, so it was a little walk to the nearby bus stop. The air was humid and dewy from last night's rain. The sun beat down on Syrena's forehead until pools of sweat drizzled down her neck, where her two messy braids sat on her shoulders.

James walked a good six feet ahead of Syrena. James walked urgently, while Syrena took in the peaceful surroundings. Nature had always calmed Syrena. The sounds of birds chirping in the morning, the warm sunlight. Sometimes she’d stare out at the woods, get lost in the trees, dreaming of running into them and never emerging. 

Syrena looked down at the golden cross necklace between her fingertips, tracing her fingers over the engravings. She thought about was what Father David and her aunt had said, wondering if she wasn’t praying hard enough, and that’s why God didn’t heal her. 

There weren’t many houses far outside of town. A couple of small rundown farmhouses here and there, though there was one house that stood out amongst the rest. A giant blue home surrounded by overgrown weeds, beat-up cars, and spare parts. A sign hung over the driveway in giant faded letters, “Singer Auto Salvage.”

Though James never said it, something about the house frightened him. He always picked up his pace as they crossed by the big blue house. But Syrena would look with curiosity. Dead, leafless trees loomed over the scraps of metal. The blue paint chipping away, and weeds grew up the walls as if they were being swallowed whole. Some of the windows were boarded up from the outside. She had often wondered what this house once looked like, before it succumbed to time and faded away. 

James loudly dragged his feet across the gravel, kicking the tiny rocks with his heel. His jaw clenched, making loud kicks on purpose. 

“What happened to your pants?” Syrena asked.

“Why do you care?” he grumbled.

“Why was your mom angry?” Syrena looked down at his soaked pants.

“She’s always angry,” James said. “I was bored, so I went down to the pond. I slipped in the mud.”

“Oh,” Syrena said solemnly, “She shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, if it was an accident.”

James kicked one of the rocks, this time causing dust to fly and sprinkle the tan dust along his shoes.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have been so bored if I hadn’t been waiting around for you all morning. Then she wouldn’t have been angry at me.” James' tiny hand balled into a fist until his knuckles turned white.

Syrena clenched the gold chain in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said softly..

James came to a jolting stop and whipped his head around, “You realize we almost missed the bus last week because of you? What are you doing in there anyway?”

Syrena's mouth hung open, but no words could form. How could she explain all that had gone on in the early mornings in the confession room? Her aunt made her swear to keep her abilities a secret. That was the golden rule.

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“Yeah, right! I know you go into the confession room with Father David. So what did you confess? Come on, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Syrena persisted, her throat going dry as James approached her.

“You know everyone at church thinks it’s because you're a bad kid. You just don’t look like it because you're a girl, and you're quiet,”

“I didn't do anything,” Syrena huffed.

“You're such a liar! Does your aunt know where you go on Sundays?” James said with a threatening edge.

Syrena’s eyes widen, “What?”

“Yeah, after service, I went into town to pick up milk.. I saw you leaving the movies. But I know you tell your Aunt you go to study. ” 

Syrena felt all the blood leave her face, her throat dry. 

“I-” she stuttered.

“So what else do you lie about?” James quipped. 

“Nothing!” Syrena whined.

“Is that why you got that scratch on your face? Your aunt got you this time? Or should I tell her where you really go after church?” James said cruelly.

“It was just a movie, I didn't do anything bad!” Syrena yelled.

“Yeah, I'm right! You always act so innocent. But your the reason we're late, and get in trouble. Everyone thinks you're a freak!” 

“I don’t get you in trouble, you get yourself in trouble and blame it on me!” Syrena yelled back.

James kicked his heel, dust flying onto her legs. “Two-eyed freak!” he yelled, like a burn to the flesh. All of the school bullies gave Syrena that nickname. That's all she was known as—a freak.

“Stop!” Syrena stepped back, trying to dodge the clouds of dust. This time, she kicked back, and dust coated his pants. But James kicked again, harder, and a wave of dust and rocks slashed across her eyes, and she fell to the ground.

Catching herself with her hands, she skidded against the rough gravel. Her knees were coated in dirt, and her pants ripped. Her hands stung from the open, bloody cuts. Through the cloud of dust, James started to walk away.

“Wait!” Syrena cried out, coughing among the mini dust storm.

“I’m not waiting around for you anymore! Walk yourself,” James stormed off into the distance, leaving Syrena alone.

Sitting on the dirt, Syrena dusted off her pants, and blood dribbled on the fabric. She looked down at the now-tethered skin of her palms and clenched her fist. She watched James walk away, and her breath turned heavy. She wanted to slash dirt across his smug face, push him down just as hard. Make him pay. And she knew she had the power to do so. Syrena lifted her hand in fury. For a moment, she let the anger build up inside. She looked right at the back of James golden head of hair. But she stopped herself, realizing what she was doing. She dropped her hand, and tears bubbled up in her eyes.

Meanwhile, inside the seemingly lonely house, Syrena heard voices. Wiping her tears, she sat hidding herself behind one of the garbage cans. But over her shoulder, she noticed something different about the blue house. There was a car in the driveway. A black car with silver trim, a 1967 Chevy Impala. Syrena instantly recognized this car; she had just seen it in town the day before. Right after the movie ended, Syrena walked through town, passing one of the local bars. Syrena had seen plenty of drunk locals stumbling out of the bar in the middle of the day. This time there was a tall man with dark hair, walking with a sway in his step, being held up by a younger man. He was tall like the older man, but with dirty blonde hair. The pair looked similar. She assumed they were father and son. The son tried to help the father in the car. But the older one was so drunk he grew frustrated and snapped at the son. He started yelling at him to get away. A couple of passersby, including Syrena, watched the scene. Eventually, the man willingly got into the car and sped off. 

As Syrena recalled the memory, yelling came from inside. Followed by a loud thud that made her jump. The yelling sounded the same as yesterday—angry voices fighting to talk over each other. 

“You wanna go to school? Go to fuckin school then, but I’m not driving ya!” A voice yelled from inside.

Syrena slowly stood up, cautiously watching the house. The front screen door swung open, smacking against the wall. A young boy, around Syrena’s age, with chestnut brown hair and a worn backpack slung over his slim shoulders, emerged. He pushed past the door, jaw clenched, and his shoulders stiffened up to his neck. Before the screen door closed, someone else swung it open. An older boy stepped out. Syrena reccoginzed him, he was the boy from the bar. Dirty-blonde hair and wearing a tight, dark T-shirt that outlined his broad shoulders. A stark difference from the younger boy. 

“Come on... I can give you a ride, it's fine!” the older boy shouted, watching from the porch.

The younger boy trotted down the porch steps. “I’ll take the bus,” he yelled, never looking back.

The older one propped himself up on the edge of the porch railing. His broad shoulders slumped over, defeated.

“Sammy,” the older boy called out, tired and desperate.

“I’m fine! Just leave me alone,” the younger one yelled, his words meant to sting. The older boy stormed off and walked back inside, the screen door slamming behind him. Meanwhile, the young boy, presumably named Sammy, walked down the porch and turned the corner until he found Syrena. Both of them froze, awkwardly staring at one another in silence.

Syrena could see his features better up close. He was tall, but lanky. Not built like the older boy from the porch. But what captured her was his eyes. They were a green hazel, just like one of her own. The sunlight cast a glow that brought out the yellow in his eyes, shining like gold. But the shadow under his glistening eyes painted a different picture. His eye bags were swollen and puffy, probably from lack of sleep. His knuckles were covered in faint scratches, some fresh and others faded in time. But despite these blemishes, Syrena admired his gentle features. 

The boy looked down to meet Syrena’s eyes. But something changed in his curious expression. He stared deeply into her eyes, entranced, like he was seeing something familiar. His gaze was magnetic. But it all felt too invasive to Syrena. Her stomach started twisting into knots. She assumed it was her eyes that caught his attention. Other kids would ogle at distinct eye colors, mostly out of curiosity. But when they stared too long, it made her feel uneasy. 

“Y-you…” he stuttered.

Syrena's brows furrowed. “What?” she said defensively.

The boy blinked, realizing he was staring. His eyes drifted down to her scraped-up pants and bloodied hands.

“You're hurt,” he said softly, like he was coaxing a hurt puppy.

“No,” Syrena muttered, wiping her hands along her sides, “I-I fell. Tripped actually. Over the uh,” Syrena looked around, “Trash cans,”

Though the trash cans were on the opposite side of her, and standing right side up. The boy looked around and saw no one in sight, just this girl all alone in the middle of nowhere. But he didn’t seem to question her story. 

“Here.” The boy reached into the side of his flimsy backpack and pulled out a water bottle. But Syrena flinched as he approached, like a scared animal.

“You should wash it off so it doesn't get infected. Trust me, it’s not fun,” the boy half smiled, carefully holding out the water bottle.

Syrena cautiously approached. She held out her hands, and the boy poured the cool water over them. She hissed as the water washed through her fresh cuts, but the boy quietly comforted her, and it soothed her pain. Syrena washed her hands until the brown water ran clear. The boy looked up and saw the other cut along her cheek. Before he could say anything, Syrena wiped the water across her cheek.

“It’s from when I fell,” she lied.

“You took a hard fall. Are you lost?” the boy asked, meeting her eyes again.

Syrena shook her head, “No. I’m walking to the bus stop.”

“Yeah, me too,” the boy said, securing the water back into his bag. “I’m Sam.”

“Syrena.”

Another loud crash came from inside, a gruff voice yelling something Syrena couldn't make out. Sam’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbled, and Syrena followed.

The pair slowly walked along the road, Syrena nervously clenching the straps of her backpack. 

“I like your necklace,” Sam stuttered, his hand anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.

Syrena looked down at her golden cross, “Oh. Thank you.”

The pair walked in silence. Syrena hadn't recognized Sam from school, though she didn't have many friends to know everyone. But school was almost out for the summer, so why would someone join so late in the semester? While Syrena was deep in thought, Sam was trying to find the courage to start a conversation. He opened his mouth to speak, but caught himself before he did. Despite how tough he may have looked, he was nervous. 

 “So do you live out here?” he asked shyly.

Syrena shook her head, “No, I walk from the church,” she pointed back up the hill.

“By yourself?”

“No, I usually walk with other kids from church,” she said plainly.

Sam tilted his head, looking along the empty road—no one in sight. 

“But your alone?” he asked sincerely.

A wave of heat flushed over Syrena’s face, remembering why James had left her behind. She looked back over her shoulder and pulled up her backpack.

“Have you always lived in that house?” Syrena asked directly.

Sam shifted his focus to her question. He cleared his throat, “No. It’s my dad's friend Bobby’s place. We’re crashing with him while my dad's on a job.”

“We?” She asked despite already guessing his answer.

“My older brother Dean and I,”

“Oh. He doesn't go to school?”

“Nah, he already graduated, barely,” Sam rolled his eyes, “Now he works with my dad,”

The gravel crunched under their sneakers, and the cicadas' buzzing grew louder, rattling in the branches of the trees. Small pools of sweat were forming at their temples. 

“What does your dad and brother do for work?” Syrena asked. 

Sam’s mouth fell open again. He hesitated, “It’s complicated. We kinda have a family business. But we travel a lot. Never staying in one place for long,”

Syrena looked up at Sam, the sunlight making her eyes squint, “Really? That sounds like fun, traveling,”

Sam shook his head, “Nah. Gets kinda boring after a while. Always on the road, staying in crappy motels. Seeing every lame tourist attraction in America. I think I’ve seen the biggest ball of twine over a thousand times.”

Syrena laughed innocently, “The what?”

“The biggest ball of twine. You really never heard of it?” Sam grinned in shock.

Syrena shook her head, “No. I’ve never been anywhere cool. My aunt doesn’t really like to go anywhere that isn’t church or home. This town is so boring. Well, except for one thing,”

“And what’s that?” Sam asked intrigued.

Syrena shrugged, “The movie theatre isn't so bad,”

Sam’s face brightened, “So you're a movie nerd.” 

“I guess so,” Syrena awkwardly grinned. 

“What do you watch?”

“Anything. Old, new. Action, drama, comedy. I try to see everything. But I only go on the weekends when my Aunt has work and is away for a couple of hours,” 

“I see. So you live with your aunt?” Sam asked curiously. Syrena nodded her head.

“Yeah, she works at the church. She’s pretty strict. I’m pretty sure she’s convinced TV sends evil subliminal messages or something,” she chuckled, Sam did too. 

Syrena looked down at her golden cross, rubbing it between her fingers.

“I wish I could travel.That's why I like the movies, you get to go somewhere else for a while,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” he asked, smiling with his teeth.

“I don't know,” Syrena tilted her head, trying to imagine a place outside her town, “Somewhere in the mountains maybe. With trees that are like a hundred feet tall, and water that's so blue you can see your reflection in it.”

“Sounds like you’d like camping,” Sam teased.

“I’ve never been. It sounds like fun, but also seems kinda scary, being all alone out there,”

“Not really. One time, back in Arizona, I found this abandoned house out in the woods. I stayed out there for a couple of weeks.”

Syrena's eyes widened in shock, “In the woods all by yourself?!”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, it was fun. I wasn't entirely alone. I found a dog, named him Bones. Just me and Bones camping out in the woods, living off chips and soda.”

Syrena’s jaw slackened like it was the most outrageous thing she had ever heard. “But your dad and brother, weren't they angry?”

“Oh yeah, my brother found me eventually. My dad was so mad that he—” Sam paused before he could finish. Though Syrena had an idea of the consequences, one she was also familiar with. “Yeah, he was pissed. But I finally could be on my own. And do whatever I want for once.”

“You're brave,” Syrena said genuinely. 

Sam shrugged, “Nah. I just wanted to get away for a while,”

She looked to her side and out at the woods that surrounded them. While she always imagined running away, she never dared to act on it. She envied Sam’s bravery, but was also in awe of it.

Sam looked over and saw a gap between the trees, and his eyes lit up.

“Follow me.”

Sam walked off the side of the road and headed towards the trees.

“Where are you going?”

“There's a trail we can take,” Sam waved her over.

Syrena planted her feet on the gravel. She had never strayed off the roadside before.

“I-I can’t be late for the bus.”

“It’s a shortcut. Trust me, I’ve walked through these woods dozens of times by myself. Besides, it beats walking in the heat.”

The cool shade did sound nice to Syrena. Sam stood before the small opening. She looked between the straight, narrow path she followed every day, and the mysterious boy who stood between her and the woods. She sighed. Screw it. Syrena slowly approached him, and Sam led the way.

The buzzing of the cicadas and birds fizzled away the farther they got from the roadside. Inside the woods was much quieter, more intimate. Syrena carefully watched her feet. Stepping over the broken twigs and navigating the jagged, uneven path. Her heart pounded in her ears. What would James or her aunt say about this? She was already on thin ice. There was no more room for mistakes. Dried-up leaves fell into her hair, and she swatted them away.

“I-I don’t know, I should go back,” Syrena said shakily.

Sam turned around, his voice soft and soothing, “Hey, it’s ok, we’re not far, I promise.”

The pair walked down a jagged slope when Sam held out his long arm protectively over Syrena, “Whoa, hang on a sec.”

Syrena gasped when she looked down and saw she was about to walk off a ledge; if she had stepped any further, she would have fallen. Sam looked down and saw it wasn't too far of a jump. He carefully leaped down and stretched out his hand to her.

“Come on, I got you,” he said calmly.

Syrena hesitated before reaching for his hand. Despite being so young, the palms of his hands were already starting to blister and callus. But it was his gentleness that calmed her. She slowly stepped down, and it was farther down than she expected. She jumped down, but Sam carefully planted her on the ground. Syrena took a deep sigh of relief, while Sam looked at her with a fond smile.

“See, that wasn't so bad. You're almost ready to be a Girl Scout,” he teased.

Syrena rolled her eyes, “Yeah, right.”

The two kids laughed. Throwing he head back, Syrena looked up at the trees, fascinated by the light that peeped through the cracks of the treetops. The beauty took her: the greenery, the trees, and the wind's whistles. The tree rattled as a natural wind chime. Sam watched her, admiring her true smile. Syrena stepped into the light and felt the warmth on her cheeks. She felt free.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said, awestruck.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Sam said softly. Before turning his head, he pulled down on Syrena's shoulder, “Shh, shh, get down,” he hushed.

“What, what is it?” Syrena ducked with him, her head swinging back and forth, looking for what he was talking about. 

Cracks of a twig echoed in the distance. Sam held his finger to his lips.

“Shhhh, look,” he mouthed, pointing ahead.

And under the light, a deer with large antlers gracefully walked among the grass. Syrena had never been so close, only watching the deer from the window of her room. Syrena watched the majestic deer. It took a step toward them. One crack, and the deer looked over and saw them. It froze. Syrena and Sam remained very still, holding their breath. The deer's large black eyes stared back at them. But it was not afraid. In an instant, the deer leaped away and into the wilderness.

“Wow,” Syrena whispered with a wide smile.

The pair rose from their hiding spot when Sam looked down at Syrena. His hand hesitantly reached towards her face.

“You got a leaf in your hair.” Sam carefully reached forward and politely brushed the dry, crumbled leaves from the strands of her hair. This time, Syrena didn't flinch. But she did notice something new. Sam’s sleeve fell from his arm, exposing a fresh red welt. 

“Your arm.” Without thinking, she reached forward and pushed the fabric of the sleeve away.

Sam yanked back, pulling the sleeve back up to conceal his injury.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over the sleeve. He averted his gaze with shame, his dark hair falling over his face. Syrena's heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces. Turning away, Sam looked up the trail.

“It’s uh, this way,” Sam said quietly, pointing in the direction. He began to walk, but Syrena stayed.

“I lied earlier,” Syrena blurted out. Sam looked up from his arm, his hand still shielding it from her view.

“I did fall. But not from the trash cans, obviously,” Syrena embarrassingly admitted.

A small smile perked from the corner of Sam’s mouth, “I figured,” 

“Me and this other church kid, James, we got into a stupid fight, and I fell. Then he left me.”

Sam stepped forward in disbelief, “What were you all fighting about?”

Two-eyed freak! Ecoed in the back of Serena's mind.

“He was going to tell my Aunt I sneak off to the movies. But if she knew, she’d get angry again,” Syrena’s finger grazed over the scratch on her face. It was then Sam made the connection. Syrena sighed, “And she’d probably make me go to confession,”

Sam tilted his head, “Confession?”

Syrena nodded, “My Aunt Agnes always said I was born with sin. Praying and confessing are the only ways for God to save you. I try to be good, really I do. But I can tell in the way she looks at me, it's like there's something wrong with me. I think that’s why she makes me go to confession all the time. I think I’ve spent more time in that little room more than I’ve spent anywhere else.” Syrena srub her eye, “I know I look different. Two-eyed monster is what they call me at school. I’ve always felt different. Even when I try really hard not to be,”

Sam stood before her, hung on her every word. His eyes grew heavy.

“The movies, walking home, it’s the only time I ever get away.” Syrena admited.

A long moment passed before Sam broke the silence. 

“I hate being on the road. Never staying in one place for more than two weeks. No place to call home. If I talk about school, or college, life. But my dad says I’m being selfish,” 

“Selfish?” Syrena asked, puzzled. 

“All my dad cares about is the family business. He says I’m not committed enough. But not my brother Dean. He follows orders with no complaints. He’s perfect,”

Syrena shook her head in disappointment. But she remained quiet, allowing Sam to feel and say all the things he kept buried inside.

Sam rolled up his sleeve, unclenching his white-knuckled fist.

“So this morning when my dad told me I’m not starting high school in the fall cause we moved around all year and they have no records of my grades or tests...I was so mad. And we got into it. We always do. Especially when he drinks,” Sam clenched his fist, revealing the red welt that trailed up his arm. Scorn filled his tired eyes.

Syrena swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She remembered the yelling, and how he stumbled out of the bar with Dean carrying him back to the car. How could a father blame his son for going to school and wanting a home? Syrena recalled the look on Dean's face watching Sam walk away from him. How defeated he looked, trying to hold it all together. 

“My dad never gave me a choice for what I’m supposed to be. My brother did it, now I have to. I never had a choice.” Sam pushed the sleeve back down his arm. 

Syrena shook her head, speechless.  

Sam tilted his head back and looked up at the trees, “That’s why I like to spend time out here. It’s… quiet.”

A long gust of wind blew past them. But the silence wasn't eerie; it was peaceful, like they were the only two people in the world—the only ones who understood each other. 

“I like it out here, too, Syrena said.

Sam and Syrena stepped out from their secret little world and back into reality. The trail ended and opened onto the road again, where the other schoolchildren waited at the corner. Syrena recognized the usual group. The popular kids, Tyler Barnes and his best friend, Kyle Donaldson. Kyle was tall, with dirty blonde hair, and a star football player in the making. His friend Tyler was smaller, with jet-black hair, always by Kyle’s side like his henchman. Together, Kyle and Tyler rallied with the other boys to pick on easy targets like James and Syrena, who were natural outcasts from the other middle schoolers. James was too scrawny and defenseless to fight back. Syrena just stayed quiet. 

As Syrena and Sam approached, the bullies saw them in the distance.

“Looks like the two-eyed monster emerges from her cave!” Kyle yelled out.

Sam's eyes squinted, watching the bullies with disgust.

“Jerks,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah, they are,” Syrena groaned, unfazed by Kyle’s insults. It was a routine at this point.

Before they approached, Sam tugged lightly on Syrena's backpack, “Hey, don’t let them get to you, alright. You gotta stand up for yourself,”

Syrena shrugged her shoulders, “I just ignore them. They don’t listen to anyone,”  

“They will if you make them,” Sam said firmly, watching how Kyle and Tyler were already making a move on their first victim, James. The bullies taunted him, pushing him around and ruffling his hair.

Syrena sighed, “Come on, let's go.”

Sam shook his head and followed her. As they got closer, James shot Syrena a scornful glare. Then his attention turned to Sam, and his eyes widened. Syrena knew this would be an eventful conversation for later.

Meanwhile, Tyler and Kyle continued to taunt James, who looked down cowardly, with his round glasses threatening to fall off his face.

“You walk through a pile of shit, Conners?” Tyler laughed, pointing down to James’s muddied khaki pants.

James continued to stare down at the concrete, letting the bullies' insults sink in.

“Can’t see where you're going, huh?” Kyle snatched the glasses off James' face and held them high in the air where James couldn’t reach.

“Hey!” James yelled, reaching up to grab them back. But Kyle towered over him, tauntingly waving his glasses above his head.

Syrena's lips tightened into a thin line watching their relentless bullying. She never stood up for herself or him, just watching from the sidelines. The same way she watched the squirrel eat away at the baby bird. She wanted so desperately to knock the glasses from Kyle’s fingers. But she knew she couldn't take that kind of risk. She couldn’t have people questioning. Her aunt would be beyond furious. But anger rose inside her, threatening to burst. She couldn’t take it anymore, so he finally spoke up,

“Leave him be, Kyle,” Syrena said trying to sound tough and confident. Instead, she felt like a squeaking mouse. 

Kyle ripped his attention away from James and to Syrena. His thin lips crept into an amused smile.

He laughed, “So the two-eyed freak finally speaks.”

Syrena's face grew pale, and her palms were sweaty. She felt like a dog with a tail between her legs. Her fighting words caught in her throat. The bullies laughed until Sam stepped forward and squared them up.

“Yeah, leave him alone,” Sam said sternly.

Kyle's eyes widened in amusement, “Oh, and she’s got a boyfriend too. Looks like you’ve been replaced, Jamey boy.” Kyle roughly nudged James's shoulder.

“Aw, how cute,” Tyler laughed sarcastically.

“Give him back the glasses,” Sam ordered, his voice no longer soft or gentle. 

“Yeah? And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Kyle asked, looking him over.

Sam was nearly as tall as Kyle, and he wasn’t backing down. 

“Doesn't matter, give 'em back,” Sam said with more grit in his voice. He didn't look afraid, and everyone was scared of Kyle. No one ever challenged him, until now. Everyone at the bus stop watched. But something did change in Kyle’s expression. 

His jaw tightened before tossing the glasses back to James, who scurried to pick them up from the floor. 

The bus roared from down the street, breaking up the tension, for now. Syrena sighed in relief, happy nothing escalated. But Kyle and Sam committed to their standoff. When the bus pulled over, the other kids scurried off. Syrena tugged on Sam’s bag urgently.

“Come on, Sam, let’s go,” she whispered.

Sam gave Kyle one more long, cold stare before backing up. Kyle wickedly grinned, chuckling to himself. 

“I’ll see you around, Sam,” Kyle spat at Sam’s feet before shoulder-checking him on the way to the bus. Tyler followed behind, giving Sam a similar cold stare. But Sam stayed firm as a statue, unbothered. Syrena saw the two sides of Sam: one that was calm and gentle, and one tough, cold, and even a little scary. 

Sam and Syrena sat in the back of the bus and talked the entire ride. She learned that Sam was a year older and not only liked school; he was good at it. Sam also enjoyed reading, he played soccer growing up, and couldn't wait to get a new laptop. His dad had promised he’d get him one before starting high school, but now that would have to wait. Sam also talked about the many places he traveled to in the last year, how his dad would leave Dean and Sam back at motels while he worked for days at a time. Sam recalled the last 4th of July, when he and Dean snuck out to light fireworks. They nearly burned down a whole field in the process. All of his stories fascinated her. 

Sam and Syrena agreed to meet up after school. All day, Syrena couldn't be bothered to pay attention in class; all she could think about was meet up with Sam after school. She had been so distracted that her teachers even called her out for daydreaming. The day dragged on. Syrena’s foot jumped up and down as she watched the hands of the clock during final period. When the final bell rang, Syrena shot up from her desk and nearly sprinted to the front of the school. Syrena squeezed through the cramped halls until she reached the front courtyard. She skimmed the crowds to look for Sam until she was forcefully yanked backward by her backpack. When she turned around, James stood there with his teeth gritting.

“Where were you this morning? And why were you with that guy?”

“I walked, like you said. And he’s a friend,” Syrena quipped, unbothered by his annoyance. 

“No, you came out of the woods with that weird kid. You know we’re not supposed to walk off the path and talk to strangers.”

Syrena grew flustered, her eyes continuing to scan the crowd, “He’s not a stranger, or weird, he’s my friend. And his name is Sam.”

“What were you doing in the woods?” James asked suspiciously.

“Nothing! Sam knew a shortcut. Besides, I thought you didn’t care?”

Syrena turned to leave when James grabbed her wrist in a tight grip.

“Hey!—” Syrena attempted to pull away.

James leaned forward, his tone serious, “I’ve been hearing things about that guy, and his family. Everyones talking about it. They are sketchy. Why do you think they just showed up one day out of the blue, and live in that ugly old house in the middle of nowhere?”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Syrena shot back, yanking her arm forcefully back. “Besides, he defended you from Kyle! You should be glad someone stands up for us.”

“Doesn't matter! The guy is a freak, and you shouldn't hang around him.”

Syrena scoffed, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

James' face turned red, but Syrena didn't care. She turned to leave until someone yanked her by the straps of her backpack again. This time, Kyle had his grip on her and dug his thumb into the indent of her shoulders.

“Where is your little boyfriend, huh?” 

Tyler stood behind Syrena, blocking her in. She was cornered with nowhere to go.

“Let go, Kyle!” Syrena smacked his hand away.

A couple of kids noticed the rising tensions, and a small crowd began to form around them. Kyle rallied up his audience.

“Hey! I saw two eyes sneaking around the woods with that creep,” Kyle circled her like a shark about to attack. 

“Looks like she ditched Jamey boy finally.” Tyler laughed, pointing over to James, who was already trying to hide in the crowd. Syrena rolled her eyes, but the gullible crowd hung on Kyle’s every word.

“So what kinda freaky stuff did y'all do all alone in the woods? We all know what the innocent church girls are really like.”

The crowd erupts into laughter. Syrena could blow from her ears with pent-up rage. Kyle and Tyler held each other, laughing hysterically until Sam emerged from the crowd and shoved Kyle back.

“There he is! Winchester!” Kyle laughed sarcastically before Sam shoved Kyle backward again, this time stumbling backward

“I told you to leave her alone,” Sam said.

Kyle regained his balance before shoving Sam backward onto the pavement. The crowd chants.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

“No!” Syrena yelled, but Tyler pushed her back into the crowds until she was knocked to the ground.

Meanwhile, Sam picked himself up, dusting off his hands.

“The new kid here might actually be a bigger loser than the Jesus freak twins,” Kyle taunted with an evil grin.

Sam cocked his head to the side, “You think picking on people makes you tough, but you're just some ass who puts down other people to feel better about yourself. You're not tough, or cool, you're just a coward.” 

Sam straightened himself up and turned to the crowd to walk away. But Kyle wasn't finished. 

“Yeah, walk away! Too bad you can’t fight like your big brother, huh?” Kyle mocked.

Sam stopped in his tracks, and he slowly turned back at the mention of his brother.

“Your brother has a reputation. Seems like he gets around. Think he’s a tough guy,”

Sam angled his shoulder back, ready to throw a right hook at Kyle's face. But something was holding him back, trying to resist. But Kyle kept edging him on.

“Sam wishes he could be just like his big brother when he grows up. But he’s a little bitch.” Kyle cooed mischievously. 

Tyler stood beside Kyle, laughing like his little sidekick. 

“But your dad on the other hand,” Kyle said smoothly.

Sam froze, and the crowd quieted down. Syrena's heart pounded inside her chest. The rumors at this school flew around fast, and Kyle was using them all for one final blow.

Kyle let out an evil rumble of a laugh, “Yeah, daddy is just a mean old drunk since mommy died—”

Sam finally broke. He threw his bag off his shoulder and lunged at Kyle. But Kyle threw his best punch. A loud crack against Sam’s face, and blood sprayed from his nose. Syrena yelped in horror.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” Syrena pushed through the crowd more forcefully. 

Sam didn't bother whipping the blood from his nose. He throws a right hook that nearly spins Kyle's head around. Sam went to punch Kyle again, but this time upper cutting him in the stomach. Sam fought hard, calculated, like he was trained to fight. Kyle was messy and rough. Just throwing swings until he lost stamina. Just when everyone thought the fight ended, Sam backed away. Blood smeared across his face. But Kyle wasn't having it; he grabbed Sam and shoved him to the ground again. This time, he gets the upper hand and kicks Sam in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“That’s all you got, Winchester!” Kyle taunted.

Syrena watched helplessly from the back of the crowd, her head feeling light and dizzy. Sam was losing this fight, and it just got more violent and bloody. All the blood dripping from Sam’s nose made her stomach coil. Images of that squirrel eating the bird, its blood-soaked teeth, flashed in her mind. The surviving bird floating in the air with her hand. She saved that bird. It was alive because of her. And she had the power to save her friend now.

Outside the circle, Syrena stepped away and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how, but if she thought hard enough and if she was angry enough, she could channel her mind to do what she wanted. With a deep breath, she held her hand up, her focus on Kyle's fist, which was ready to hawk it back and lay one more punch on Sam. Her ears rang, her heart thundering in her chest.

Stop.

And in an instant, Kyle's arm froze mid-air. His cocky expression whipped from his face.

“Huh?” Kyle grunted, looking up at his seemingly frozen arm. His body jolted as he tried to move. The other kids looked around, confused as well.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Tyler muttered.

“I don’t know! It’s not me,” Kyle grunted, trying to unstuck himself.

Panic started to settle in, and Kyle couldn't unlock his arm. Syrena blinked her eyes in disbelief, her mouth falling open into a shocked smile. The other kids started to laugh at Kyle. Sam slowly stood up, his expression just as bewildered.

Syrena hadn't used her abilities on a person before, so what was supposed to happen next, she wasn't sure. But with a wave of her hand, Kyle went flying backward. Almost too far to look purposeful. The crowd gasped when Kyle flew back a couple of feet and skidded across the ground.

“W-what the fuck!?!” Kyle yelped, looking around. His face flushed, and he was embarrassed. But then, after a long silence, all the kids started to laugh at the bully. Even Tyler started to chuckle. No one could explain what the hell had happened, other than that Kyle Donaldson had finally been put in his place.

Syrena started to panic mildly, but it looked like no one cared to suspect the young, seemingly innocent girl. Syrena looked down at her hands, realizing this ability was stronger than she imagined. She quietly laughed at herself until she looked up to see that James was watching from the side. His jaw was slack, his face pale as a ghost. The smirk on Syrena’s face fell immediately. He saw. He knows.

Without thinking, Syrena ran towards Sam and grabbed hold of his hand.

“We need to go, now!” Syrena yanked him back, and they made a break for the street. Together they ran hand in hand and disappeared.

Though Syrena may have made a series of bold choices for one day, the riskiest was bringing Sam home. Her aunt didn't allow visitors, especially boys. And a boy alone in her room, Aunt Agnes would have a field day with this. But Syrena didn't hesitate for a moment when she asked Sam to come back with her.

It was dusk by the time they made it home. Luckily, Aunt Agnes’s car was still missing from the driveway. Syrena told Sam her aunt would be home from church later in the evening. So they were in the clear, for now. The pair quietly hurried inside. Sam’s nose was still bruised, and dark red blood dried and scabbed along his nose and upper lip. Syrena’s hair stuck out in all directions from her loosely braided hair, and her pants were ripped and stained with dirt. Thick clouds started to form over the pale blue sky, and the sun had already disappeared. The room lit up in an amber glow from the old lamp on the bedside table.

Sam sat patiently on the edge of her bed. His foot tapped anxiously up and down, looking around Syrena’s bedroom. The room was covered with brown wood paneling. Her cream-colored ruffled comforter was carefully made and tucked neatly on each side of the bed. The only decoration was the small wooden cross hung above the wrought-iron bed frame. Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and his ears turned beet red. While Sam seemed to enjoy being in the company of his new friend, he didn't anticipate being alone with her in her bedroom.

Syrena emerged from the bathroom with some wet cloths and bandages.

“You sure you don’t need to go to a doctor?” Syrena asked, her hands shaking as she carefully tended to his face, carefully patting away the dried blood under his nostrils.

“Nah, my dad would have told me to walk it off.” 

Syrena grimaced, seeing the harsh bruising already forming around his nose and top lip. How could any father be okay with what had happened to their son's face, she thought.

“I’ve never seen someone fight like that. Do you take karate or something?” Syrena wrung out the dirtied cloth over a bowl of water. While she’d seen many fights Kyle and Tyler started, they just threw around some quick, rough, and fast punches. But Sam fought tactically; every punch was accurate and hard, like he had done it dozens of times before.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat, “My brother and I just roughhouse and watch a lot of TV,”

Syrena squinted her eyes questionably at his answer. Maybe his older brother taught him how to fight. His brother, Dean, looked tough. He must have gotten into a couple of fights back at Sam’s age. She shivered, thinking about how scarily strong you can get after just growing up a couple of years.

“Yeah, well, you gotta be careful next time! Kyle really had you for a minute,” Syrena scolded.

Sam grinned in the corner of his mouth, “Yeah, well, the guy was a real jerk. He had it coming to him.”

“Hmm, I’d call you a hero if you weren’t sitting here bleeding all over my sheets,” Syrena teased.

Sam just laughed, “Hey, but the way he flew back at the end, that was crazy. How the hell did that happened.”

Syrena’s eyes briefly flickered with panic, but she just went along with it, “Yeah, I don’t know,” 

She continued to clean the blood off his nose. Sam’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down, watching Syrena nursing his wounds. His shoulders relaxed, and he notice the pain. Instead, he observed her every move. How much care and attention she gave him. How gentle she was with every touch, like he was fragile.

She leaned in, enough to make Sam do a double-take. But she had just missed a dried blood speck on the corner of his lip.

Sam slowly moved her hand away, and guilt washed across his face.

“Listen. All that stuff Kyle said about me, some of it might be true. My family is complicated, messy. And I understand if you don’t want to be around me—”

Syrena flicked the tip of his nose.

“Ow, hey—!” He flinched.

“That kid James, when he got picked on by those bullies, you stood up for him. And me! No one's ever stood up for us! But you did,” Syrena said triumphantly.

Sam’s face softened, and his cheeks turned pink. And Syrena’s face beamed with admiration.

“You stood up to a bully today when no one else would. So I don’t care what the hell Kyle Donaldson, or James Conner, or anyone has to say. And if they think you’re a freak, then so am I,” Syrena said confidently. For the first time, the word didn't bring her shame or guilt, 

“You know, you gotta give yourself credit to—that kid who left you behind, James. You didn't have to defend him after what he did. But you did, because you care. You're a good friend too.”

Syrena twiddled the blood rag between her fingers. She remembered how angry she was at James. But defending him, it was the right thing to do. But now that James had gotten a glimpse of Syrena's secret, friendship was no longer on the table.

Syrena continued to wring out the damp cloth over the water. She thought back to the movie theatre, when she saw Sam’s dad stumble out of the bar.

“What Kyle had said earlier about…”

“About my dad,” Sam’s voice lowered.

“No… your mom,” Syrena said softly, bringing the bloody cloth down to her lap.

Sam looked down,“ She died in a house fire when I was a baby. My dad never got over it. So we’ve been on the road ever since.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok…” Sam rubbed the back of his neck before softly saying, “Can I ask you something?”

Syrena nodded yes. Sam looked back at the cross behind her bed.

“I know you said you live with your aunt. But your parents… did they—?” Sam went quiet, but like she could read his mind, she knew what he meant.

“Die? I don’t know.” Syrena set down the bowl of water and the bloodied cloth. “I know nothing about my dad. But my mom, her name is Evelyn, she’s my aunt's younger sister. According to my aunt, my mom wasn’t fit to take care of me, so now she got stuck raising me.”

“She doesn't like to talk about your mom?”

“Nope. Never. I just have so many questions. Why couldn't she take care of me? What was she like? She could have run away, started a new life. Or went to prison. She could be dead. And I wouldn't know. But whatever happened between her and my aunt must’ve been pretty bad.”

“You think something happened between them?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, my theory is that my mom had me out of wedlock. Something super scandalous that my aunt didn't approve of. Because of, well… the obvious reasons,” Syrena pointed obviously up to the cross above the bed.

“Right,” Sam chuckled. 

Syrena and Sam sat side by side on the bed—the mattress dipping from their weight. 

 “Can I ask you something else?” Sam was nervously fidgeting with the fabric of the sheets.

“When you pray, do you feel like it works?” Sam said, stumbling through the question, the vulnerability pouring out of him.

Syrena tried to force a convincing smile. She pondered the answer for a moment. She had never been asked something like that. “I do. But, I think god has a funny way of answering you…” Syrena dryly laughed. Her answer was honest, but why did it feel like a lie? She prays every night. And she does believe someone out there, above the skies, is looking down and listening. But maybe that’s the part that scared her. Someone was listening, but there was no answer.

“Do you pray?” Syrena asked in return.

Sam shrugged, “I do. But it’s not something my family and I talk about. Sometimes, I feel like I’m doing it wrong?” Sam admitted.

Syrena laughed, “Doing it wrong? I don’t think there's a wrong way to pray!”

Syrena fell back in a fit of laughter. Sam’s cheeks burned redder than ever. He fell back with her.

“Sorry, I wasn't exactly taught how!”

Syrena cooled down her fits of laughter, “No, no, it’s ok, I understand. But no, there's no wrong way to do it. You just say what you feel,” she rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Sam followed suit. They stared up at the cracks of the wooden panels, imagining they were stars. A long moment passed, with nothing but the rumbling of the old AC. 

“What do you pray about?” Syrena asked quietly.

“For my dad. He’s always been so… angry at the world,” Sam's chest rose up and down, “And for Dean. I know he blames himself when Dad gets mad. But I just wish he didn't beat himself up over it.” 

Syrena stayed quiet, her hands resting over her stomach. Sam went on. 

 “And maybe one day, a place to call home.” Sam sighed, then turned his head, “What do you pray for?” he whispered back.

Syrena double blinked, trying to make the sting in her eyes go away, “I pray for my mom and dad, wherever they are. For my aunt. After every time I get in trouble, or make her angry,” Her hands clenched over her stomach, “Sometimes I just have this deep feeling that I’m a bad person.”

Sam turned his head over to her, his voice soft, “Hey, that’s not true.”

“How would you know?” Syrena asked genuinely, the hot tears threatening to spill.

“Because I—I just know,” Sam pressed his lips together with a huff, “Listen, this is gonna sound weird but…”

“But?” Syrena sat up, intrigued.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I get these… dreams.”

“Dreams?” Syrena tilted her head.

“Yeah. But sometimes they feel familiar, like I’ve seen this before. Kinda like—”

“Déjà vu?” Syrena finished his sentence.

“Exactly! But when I get these dreams, I always have a feeling. Like if it’s something bad, or something I should be afraid of. But when I saw you at the house this morning, I just felt like… I had seen you before. Like I already knew you. I wasnt afraid,”

Syrena stared at him, completely fascinated.  

“I’ve seen some pretty bad people who have done pretty bad things before. But you…” Sam looked down at her, “You're not one of those people Syrena. I just know it,” Sam said, genuinely.

Syrena and Sam’s hands brushed against each other on the soft sheets. Her fingers gently touched his, flipping his palm up. She felt the warmth of his hand, and she clasped her fingers around his. When she looked up, Sam was already staring back at her. He met her eyes again, and he stared into them unafraid, filled with a look she couldnt make out.

“What are you staring at…” Syrena asked quietly, her voice soft and light.

“Your eyes…” Sam whispered.

Syrena's eyes burned again. She wanted to get defensive, just as she had when they first met, because the feeling was all too much. But before she could speak—

“I think they're beautiful,” Sam said honestly, his breath hitched in his throat.

Syrena leaned in, and Sam met her there. Their foreheads touched, Sam looking down at her lips. Syrena flinched for a moment. She hesitated, but Sam didn't rush. His hand carefully held hers, and Syrena squeezed back. She leaned closer and captured his lips in a soft kiss. It was soft, innocent. They pulled away, both shyly grinning.

“I—” They both spoke until there was a loud slam of the door.

“Syrena Grace!”

“Oh no.” Syrena shot up from the bed, but it was too late. Aunt Agnes swung open the door with a loud bang.

“What on God’s green earth—” Aunt Agnes' eyes looked over her room and pointed over to Sam.

“You. Who the hell are you?! Get out of my house!”

“He’s my friend, we were just—”

“Enough with you, girl! Don’t think I haven't heard about what you've done today. And you, get out of my house before I call the cops!” Agnes yelled.

Sam bent down and reached for his backpack, but he hesitated to leave. Instead, he kept looking back at Syrena, afraid of what was going to happen if he left.

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sam began to say, but Agnes’s screams overpowered his apologies.

“Out!” Aunt Agnes grabbed Sam by the shoulders and yanked him out of the room. Syrena ran after them, screaming and pleading with her aunt until she practically threw Sam out the front door. 

“A boy in your room. You filthy little whore!” her aunt screamed.

“I promise it’s not like that, we didn't do anything—”Aunt Agnes slapped her across the face, hard enough that Syrena hit the floor.

“Tell me what happened at school today,” her aunt asked coldly as she walked around Syrena to the closet by the kitchen.

“W-what?” Syrena asked, rubbing her cheek, trying to catch her breath. Then a sharp pain and a crack echoed around the room.  Syrena cried out in pain. Aunt Agnes hit her with the wooden paddle. The same one she used on her face the day before.

“I-I,” Syrena trembled.

“Mr. Conner informed his mother and me that you snuck off into the woods with some boy.”

“James left me alone!” Syrena tried to stand up.

“And what you did at school!” Aunt Agnes beat down on Syrena’s legs again. She hissed out in pain as she tried to crawl away.

“He said that you used magic to hurt a boy at school! Didn’t I warn you about what would happen if you got caught? You're lucky they haven't burned you at the stake for the witch you are! ”Agnes slammed the paddle down, but this time, Syrena successfully dodged it. Aunt Agnes stumbled over herself.

“They were hurting my friend. I had to save him!” Syrena pleaded before Aunt Agnes yanked her up by the collar of her shirt.

“Save him?” Aunt Agnes bitterly laughed. “This evil in you, child, you’ll save no one!” She threw Syrena against the ground. “We have tried to warn you, child, to contain this evil growing inside you. But it’s too late. God will send you to hell!” Aunt Agnes grabbed the paddle with both hands, holding it high above her head as she took her aim.

Syrena held up her hand and yelled, “No!”

The lights around the house flicked rapidly, and with the wave of her hand, Aunt Agnes went flying back into one of the bookshelves with a loud crash. The bookshelves fell apart, books tumbling to the ground.

Syrena caught her breath and ran over to her aunt's limp body against the bookshelves.

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry!” Syrena cried, bending down to help. But Aunt Agnes' eyes tore open, and she grabbed Syrena by the throat.

“Y-Your mother was right about you,” she said viciously.

The air started to leave Syrena's lungs. Her eyes bulged, and her vision started fading in and out. Syrena's free hand reached for the paddle, but she was too far. Aunt Agnes squeezed with everything she had. Syrena looked in the corner of her eye and used the last bit of strength. The paddle flew into her hands. Syrena smacked down the paddle onto her aunt's wrist until she let go, and she made a run for it.

Syrena ran down the hallway and into her room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. She could hear her aunt’s curses and wails. Syrena choked on her breath until she whipped her head around to the window. She ran over and opened the curtains to see that Sam was tapping on the glass. Syrena yanked up the window.

“Syrena! Are you ok? What happened?” Sam looked down and saw the bruising along her neck.

Then loud pounding thundered on the locked bedroom door. It was so loud she thought the door would fly off its hinges.

“YOU’RE GOING TO BURN IN HELL, SYRENA GRACE!” Aunt Agnes yelled over and over again.

“Come on!” Sam reached out for her and pulled her through the window. She grabbed hold of Sam’s hands, and they ran around the house and into the darkness. Syrena didn't look back once.

Syrena and Sam reached a lone gas station after running for what felt like hours. They walked with a drag in their step, huffing for air. Sam guided Syrena to sit on one of the bus benches underneath a street lamp. Syrena sat, frozen, with a blank stare. Her hands trembled in her lap. Sam bent down to her level.

“Hey, just breathe. It’s gonna be ok,” Sam said calmly, his hand stroking the top of her head.

“I can’t go back,” Syrena broke down in sobs. Her shoulders hitched to her ears. Sam soothingly rubbed her back. He had been roughed up by his dad and brother before, but the marks on Syrena’s neck were something completely different. It frightened even him. Sam looked around the gas station, uncertain. They were on the complete other side of town from his house. It would take all night to walk. And the darker it got, the colder it got.

“Stay here, ok, I’ll be right back,” Sam said gently before standing up and walking to the gas station.

Syrena watched from outside as Sam disappeared into the gas station. She held herself close, wondering what Sam was doing.

After a minute or so, he came outside with a couple of quarters and put them into the pay phone beside the bench. Sam held himself up against the glass with his forearm, anxiously waiting for whoever he was calling to pick up.

“Dean. It’s me, Sam. I’m okay, but I need help. And don’t tell Dad. Please,” he begged.

Sam turned and spoke to his brother quietly on the phone before returning to Syrena, who was already trembling from the cold.

“W-what did you say?”

“I told my brother to come pick us up. I think my dad’s out, so he doesn't have to know. But Dean’s gonna figure something out, he always does,” Sam said hopefully as he joined her on the bench. They huddled for warmth, his hand sprawled over her back. Syrena rested her head on Sam's shoulder. Through heavy breaths, she wondered what Sam’s brother could do. She knew for certain she could never go back to that house. She could’nt forget he sound of Aunt Agnes’s screams, and the yelp she made when she hit the bookshelf. Syrena had never hurt someone like that, and the thought made her dizzy. Syrena silently vowed never to do it again. If that meant suppressing these abilities for the rest of her life, so be it.

Moths swarmed around the fluorescent lights of the street lamp above them. Sam perked up at every car that entered the parking lot, hoping Dean was on his way. Meanwhile, a thought came to Syrena like the flick of a switch. Syrena slowly lifted her head.

“Let’s run away,”

Sam looked at her like he saw a ghost, “What?”

“We can get out of here. Take a bus and go. I mean, you’ve been on your own before. We don’t have to be what our families want us to be. We can go anywhere. Do anything. Just get far away from here,” Syrena said, practically begging. She knew deep down that it wasn't possible. But her eyes twinkled with hope—a future where she could finally escape this place with the one person who understood.

“I-I can’t,” Sam said brokenly. He swallowed the lump in his throat, “But you’re going to be ok, I promise.” Sam gripped her sides protectively, holding her like a lifeline, knowing he was chained to his inevitable destiny. His life path already set, but maybe he could help someone else escape theirs.

A sharp, high-pitched squeal rang throughout the parking lot. A black Chevy Impala zipped into the lot and pulled up to the bench. Sam shot up from his seat, a wide smile spread across his face as he waited for his brother to jump out. But his smile disappeared in a second when the man who got out of his car was not his brother, but his dad.

“Sam, what the fuck—” The man stammered as he marched over to the bench. The passenger window rolled down. Dean poked his head out.

“I’m sorry I tried to sneak out, but Dad—”

“Stay out of it, Dean!” The dad barked at the oldest. Dean dropped his arm out the window in defeat. His jaw clenched as he muttered curses to himself.

Sam’s dad lunged over to the bench.

“Dad, I can explain,” Sam began, his voice deliberately deepened in an effort to be taken seriously as he confronted his dad.

“Oh, you better. Where the hell have you been? And what the fuck happened to your face?”

Sam’s dad barely noticed Syrena sitting back on the bench. But Syrena looked over at his dad, and she remembered him from the day before. But now she could see exactly how they were all related. The dad was tall like his boys, with the same dark hair and battle-ready, stoic expression. Unlike Sam, there was nothing soft or gentle in his features or expression. He had the tough, stoic look like Dean. But where Dean held frustration and sadness, their dad was stone cold. He looked tough as hell, but nothing felt comforting about him.

Syrena shivered and tried to cough quietly into her sweater. But the dad’s head snapped over to her.

“Who is that?” he asked Sam.

“She’s my friend, and she needs help—”

“What did you tell her?!” He hissed, lowering his voice, pulling Sam by the collar of his shirt. Syrena gasped, panicked, and shot up from her seat. She froze, afraid of seeing him get hurt again. But Sam whispered to his dad. Syrena slowly tilted her head, trying to get a better look at what they were saying. But his dad’s cold, dark eyes flickered over to her. Something clicked for him because whatever Sam was stammering about, the dad tuned it all out. He whispered something quietly to Sam. But whatever Sam’s answer was, his dad was upset. He blew out a heavy exhale and cursed under his breath. He finally composed himself before muttering with his teeth gritting,

“Sam, go wait in the car.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, “B-but, Dad—”

“I said, wait in the car! Dean, do a lap,” he tossed Dean the keys, “Give me five minutes, then swing back around.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said more to himself, but he didn't leave room to argue. He unlocked the car and waved for Sam to get in. Sam looked back and forth between the car and his friend. Syrena met his worried look and calmly nodded, signaling that it was okay. She didn't want his dad to get even more upset with him than he already was. Sam made his way to the back seat and slammed the door shut. Dean zipped out of the parking lot. The air was cold and dense, the only sounds were Syrena's quiet breaths and the hum of the amber streetlight. The man carefully approached Syrena, his hands in his pockets as he looked down at her.

“I’m John. My son says your name is Syrena. What’s your last name?” He asked more calmly, the opposite of the way he talked to his sons.

Syrena swallowed, “Grace. I’m Syrena Grace.”

“Damn it,” John said quietly to himself, his hands running over his eyes. But Syrena watched with a confused look.

“Your mom’s name is Evelyn Grace, right?” He asked, looking at her for confirmation.

Syrena’s eyes widened, “Yes. Wait, how did you know—” Syrena went breathless, her heart thundering in her chest. The idea dawned on her.

“Are you my… dad?” she asked quietly.

The man scoffed, “No. No, definitely not.”

“Oh,” Syrena said, slightly relieved.

“But… I did know your mom,” he said hesitantly, staring down at the concrete, his heel digging into the cracks, pondering. Remembering.

“They never told you about your mom?” He asked cautiously, like he was hesitant to reveal something. Syrena shook her head no. But she wanted real answers, the truth.

“No. Please, tell me. My aunt won’t, she never—”

“Did she do that to you, your aunt?” John asked, pointing down to her neck.

Syrena looked down and traced her hands carefully over the bruises. Her neck was sore and tight, and it made her voice crack the more she talked.

“Does she hurt you often?” he asked.

Syrena nodded yes.

“What happened?” John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Syrena blinked her eyes blankly. Though she knew she had to be careful how she worded everything. Syrena explained that her aunt was strict. She had been really tough on her her whole life. Enough to leave bruises and scratches. And on this day, Syrena brought back Sam to study at her house — leaving out Sam and Kyle’s fight, and how Sam got away without being knocked unconscious. But when her aunt found Sam in her room, she finally snapped, got her hands around her neck, and squeezed as hard as she could.

“How did you get away?” John asked, looking over the bruise along her neck.

Syrena pressed her lips together, “I uh…” John took a step closer, watching her carefully. “I just pushed her away, and she let go,” Syrena shuttered.

“You must be pretty strong,” John said, unconvinced, tilting his head to get a better look at the bruise.

Syrena felt all the blood escape her face. Did he not believe her? Did he know she was hiding something? No. How could he assume something so bizarre and be right? A girl with the power to move things with her mind. But Syrena realized why John felt so unsettling. He studied her the same way Father David would listen to her confessions, like he could see right through her.

“What did she say when you left with Sam?” John asked.

“Uh,” she gulped.

You're gonna burn in hell, Syrena Grace.

The pounding of the wood rattled in the back of her mind. Syrena hesitated to tell the truth, but if it helped ensure she would never have to see her aunt again, she told him.

“I’m going to burn in hell,” she whispered.

John maintained his stoic gaze, but something flickered across his face. He tilted his head and slowly reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Drink this,” he ordered.

John held out a silver flask with a cross engraved on the front. Syrena’s eyebrows knit together — kind of an unusual decoration for a flask, she thought to herself.

“It’s water,” John insisted. At first, Syrena didn't feel like eating or drinking anything. But when John presented her the flask, he had thatlook that wasn't going to take no for an answer. Syrena reached forward to take the silver bottle from his thick-skinned hands. But she noticed something that unsettled her; his hands were trembling. John's hands white-knuckled the cool metal. Syrena carefully took the bottle from him and sniffed the rim. It smelled like water. She slowly drank until her face winced. The bruising and strain on her neck made it difficult to swallow.

John’s face twitched, his body going stiff. In the corner of Syrena’s eye, John had a hand behind his back, reaching for something, as if he were preparing for something to happen.

Syrena lowered the flask to her lap, her hand soothing over the purple skin.

“Sorry, it hurts to swallow,” her voice raspy.

John relaxed, his shoulders slumped, as if he were relieved. Syrena couldn't pinpoint exactly why; she had just drunk the water as he asked. She wiped her lips.

“What happened to my mom? Is she alive?” her voice small and her eyes heavy, pleading for an answer.

“Listen,” John’s lips pressed firmly together.

“Please…” Syrena asked desperately.

“Your mom… it was a tough deal, kid,” John shook his head, “You're too young to understand, but your mom was sick.”

“Sick?”

“She had been through a lot. She had a lot of issues and needed help.”

But it wasn't enough. Syrena needed to know more. What kind of sickness? 

Then she remembered what Aunt Agnes had said back at the house. 

“Your mother was right about you.” 

Did she know something was wrong with her? Did she also have unique abilities? Is that why she gave her up? Syrena could think of a thousand more questions.

“But you helped her, right? Didn't she get better?”

John began to shake his head no, his jaw twitching like he wanted to say the answer, but he couldn't.

Syrena slumped into the bench. The world was falling apart around her. Even her past didn't hold any of the answers she needed. All she felt now was empty.

Syrena slumped forward, “That’s what you do? Do you help people who are sick?” Syrena asked genuinely. She had assumed that's what Sam meant when he said they were in a ‘family business.’ However, it didn't make sense. John didn't seem like a doctor or world-class surgeon. He definitely wasn't the police. But what threw her off was that her mother was ‘sick.’ How does he help sick people?

A long moment passed before John instructed her to keep drinking some water while he made a phone call on the payphone. John rubbed the back of his neck. Syrena could tell he was quietly muttering something to himself until someone answered.

“Yes, I have a young girl here who needs help,” was all Syrena managed to hear. John spoke on the phone for a couple of minutes. When he hung up, he paused, tilted his head back, and stared up at the stars. He shook his head and shut his eyes. With a heavy sigh, he snapped back to reality. John walked back into the light.

“The police are on their way. They’ll take care of this mess and put you somewhere safe for the night. But we can’t be here for that. I don’t do cops.”

John pulled a receipt from his back pocket and a black pen. He scribbled something along the thin paper.

“I’m only gonna explain this once, so listen,” John said like a commander giving orders. “I made a promise to your mom and some friends of mine to make sure you were safe. So that's what I’m doing. And the work I do, we don't stick around. We help who we can, but we don't plant roots, and we don’t leave any trace. So, as far as you know, we were never here. And hopefully you’ll never have to see us again.”

Syrena's eyes grew heavy. They were ditching town tonight, all because Sam helped her.

“I’m sorry you got dealt a bad hand, kid. I know your mother would’ve wanted to raise you, if things had been different, but…” John's voice trailed off, like the vulnerability was clawing at him from the inside. “I’m going to leave this with you, on one condition.” John held out the scribbled paper. “This is my number. However, you're not allowed to call unless you're in danger or in some serious trouble. So don’t call for money, I don't have any. Don’t ask about your mom. I don’t have any more information. And as for Sam,.” Syrena looked up doe eyed. 

“Sam… he seems like he cares about you. But he’s got a different life than most kids. He and his brother have other responsibilities. He can’t have distractions. So you won’t be seeing him again. Trust me, it’s better off this way.”

Syrena stared down at the thin paper. She read the number over and over, memorizing it. The wind whistled through the cold night air. Syrena's eyes went blurry, and a single tear dripped onto the paper. That hurt her the most. 

The Impala slowly turned back into the parking lot. John sighed, “Listen, kid. Don’t spend your life trying to find answers to the past. It'll just tear you apart… trust me.”

John shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back into the car. He didn't look back either. But through the tinted backseat window, Syrena could see the faint outline of a hand.

“Sam,” she called before the car zipped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, never to be seen again. The sound of the car’s rumbling faded away, leaving her in the still silence of the parking lot.

Minutes later, red and blue lights flashed from the dark. A Sioux Falls police car pulled up beside the bench. Syrena shoved the little receipt into her back pocket. A dark figure stepped out of the car—a woman in her mid-30s with dark brown hair — carefully approached her.

“Hey, sweetheart, you alright?” the woman said warmly. She knelt carefully by Syrena. 

“I’m Sheriff Jody Mills. What's your name?”

The sheriff carefully looked over Syrena’s neck. Syrena felt safe enough to explain how she was hurt. Jody wrapped her up in a blanket and told her they were going to take a trip to the hospital, and everything was going to be ok. Just like Sam had said. Syrena sat in the back of the police car while Jody made a couple of calls. The moonlight shone through the dim window. Syrena carefully pulled out the now-wrinkled paper — JOHN, scribbled on top with the phone number. Part of her wanted to step out and call the number on the payphone outside, just to say goodbye to Sam, her first true friend. But instead, she tucked the paper back into her pocket. Jody stepped back into the car.

“Alright, sweetie, let’s get you out of here.”

The gas kicked on, and they disappeared into the night. Syrena wondered if Sam was still in the back seat, driving to that blue house. His family getting onto him for what had happened. She imagined Sam staring out the window, ignoring them. She wondered where he was going next. Syrena looked out the window at the night sky and shut her eyes to do the one thing she knew best, to pray. She prayed for forgiveness for what she had done and how sorry she was for hurting people. But she prayed for her mom. For wherever she is and whatever happened to her. She thought John was right, maybe it was best not to look for answers. For whatever reason, her mom had to abandon her for better or worse. And she prayed for John. The anger and grief he carried for losing his late wife. She prayed for Dean, hoping he didn't carry the burden of keeping his family together. She hoped he knew he was a good brother and son. And for Sam. That one day he can find his own happiness. When she opened her eyes, she looked up at the pale moonlight. She hoped that no matter how far apart they were, Sam was looking up at the same moon she was. 

[tankhall]

perverts segment is NOT a bathroom break >:|

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

SUN BLEACHED FLIES PART I MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 1: 1988

CHAPTER 2: 1992 6/16/26

CHAPTER 3: 1995-1996

CHAPTER 4: 1998, I

CHAPTER 5: 1998, II

CHAPTER 6: 1998, III

Suggested listening: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• American Teenager ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Crush ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Family Tree (Intro) ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• House in Nebraska

Back to main masterlist

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Me core

[pbeeanjay]

fish out of water

[raindogs]

happy summer, trailer trash winchesters <3

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow B-Sides

The B Sides, AKA the OG Drafts, written before 4/17/26

Chapter 1 & 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[southernimpala]

wordcount ⤷ 1.4k

⋆˚࿔♱ back to the beginning

next season ⋆˚࿔♱

south dakota gets so fucking hot in the summer. sweaty temples, stringy hair, sticky clothes. it wouldn’t be enough to strip naked in your bedroom for a bit of relief. the ac unit helps; the one uncle bobby installed last summer when you complained so bad, he almost kicked you out. 

but the lake a few miles down the road works so much better. 

the walk is tan fields stretching into miles of open farmland, the expansive body of water just past the old white house, boarded with wooden planks and crawling with ivy. you and sam had named it the termite estate when you were ten. and even eight years later, the name stuck.  

you aren’t sure when your feelings for sam winchester started gnawing at your ribs, but something of the sort always lingered. you didn’t realize it then, when all both of you worried about was scraped knees and the glooming clouds of your futures. but, now, there is nothing left to know.

you’re both different people now. with each beheaded vampire, empty clip, and knife drooling ruby red blood, you’re less the little girl trying desperately to shield her eyes from what she knew she’d become, and more the angsty teenager with her hands tied behind her back, neck deep in sins no bath can cleanse you of. 

there was once a time you and sam envisioned getting out. that dream flickers in the night like lightning bugs, disappearing in daylight, when neither of you can pretend it's possible anymore. 

but, it’s fine, you tell yourself, admiring sam in the corner of your eye as you walk down the dirt path, mud squishy under your bare feet, hot sun beaming, i have him. 

 just not in the way you want him. 

“was the lake always this far?” sam asks, wiping the sweat off his shaggy bangs, hair still so soft underneath the heat, “i feel like we’ve been walking for miles.” 

“i can see termite estate just up the hill,” you respond, reeling to feel the cool damp against your skin. 

he sighs, “remind me why i agreed to come with you again?” 

“because it’s my birthday in two days and you’re leaving tomorrow for minnesota so you’ll miss it,” you ramble, “and not to mention the fact that you, my best friend,  forgot to get me a present but dean didn’t—” 

“okay, okay,” he puts his hands up in surrender, shaking his head with that sheepish smile that makes you go weak in the knees, “well, consider trudging through this heat my gift to you.” 

“it isn’t. this is just your punishment,” you answer sarcastically, bumping his shoulder, “next year, i expect the world, you got that?” 

you didn’t think he’d go quiet, or that the grin would be wiped clean off his face. but you didn’t get an explanation because before you had the chance, he’d already thought of something to say. 

“i promise.” 

you finally make it to the lake, leaning trees dipping their branches in and frogs croak underneath the mossy dock where you’ve ditched your sundress, letting it pool at your feet. sam keeps his back turned while you undress, but you linger just a moment too long in your bra and panties, just to tease if he’d turn around. 

he doesn’t. 

the lake is unsurprisingly warm, but it aids in bringing down your body temperature slightly from the humid air causing a fog to spread across the water’s surface. 

when sam hears you splash, he considers it safe to face you. 

“how is it?” he shouts at you over the frogs. 

you let your muscles relax into the water, tossing your head back in bliss, “amazing!” you answer, ducking your head underneath the surface to wet your face. 

sam watches you, wet, with that smile he’s always told you he loves; the smile you only give him when you're perfectly happy, and something in his eyes shift. 

it’s hard to tell from that far, but they sparkle differently in the sun when you pop back up. your grin gets wider in wonder. 

it completely disappears when he starts to peel his shirt off, though. 

suddenly, you’re possessed, gaze fixed to that one scar on his v-line, to the small birth mark right below his left rib, on the rivulets of sweat dripping off his pecks. abs are just beginning to rise underneath his skin—the influx of hunting his dad has encouraged has certainly left its physical mark on his body—but, your eyes aren’t complaining. 

when his jeans slip off, you force yourself to look away. you’re sure you look stupid, playing with a blade of grass that’s fallen in the water so you aren’t tempted, but the rustle of jeans and the clip of a metal belt intrigue the desire you’ve tried to bury deep. 

the splash when he jumps in is warm and pelting against your back, and when you turn around, he’s right there, dripping wet, smelling of musky sweat and gasoline. 

“have you been working in the lot with dean?” you ask, trying to change your state of mind to something other than how pink his lips look, “you smell like old car.” 

“oh, thanks,” he pushes water toward you playfully, “you smell like grass and—” he breaks, eyeing you up and down, “—and something else.” 

you raise your eyebrow suspiciously, “what else?” 

he shrugs, playing nonchalantly as he swims further away, pressing his back against the rotting dock, “i don’t know… corpses… maybe like you haven’t showered in three years.” 

you press a hand to your chest in fake offensive, mouth gaped open dramatically, “how dare you!” 

water becomes a weapon, and as you start splashing sam winchester into oblivion, unusual laughter erupts between you. it’s rare to hear it come from him, but when it does, your heart beats so fast you can hear it thump in your ears and can almost feel the blood pumping through your body quicker as warmth spreads through your chest. 

you don’t realize how close you get until you can feel his leg brush yours as you wade nearer, breathless and panting. your chest rises and falls above and below the water, and you notice sam’s eyes keep flickering from where your body disappears into reflection, only to pop up again as you intake more air. 

his cheeks are dusty pink, now, and he looks trapped between you and the dock. 

something in his expression reassures you, though, that he’s right where he wants to be. 

you boldly move closer, chests finally almost touching, a graze of lace and bare skin. he licks his lips, eyes darting up to meet yours as you scan over every freckle you rarely get to see so up close. 

“roses,” he says suddenly, “that something else is roses. it always is.” 

your brows furrow, but become softer in realization. 

the perfume you wear—grapefruit, a hint of vanilla, and velvet rose—the one you’ve worn since you were fifteen and found on sale at the drugstore. 

you bought it so he’d notice. 

it’s quiet between you now. save for just the low hum of crickets hiding in the bushes. even the frogs have silenced. 

you almost breathe his name, soft and delicate like his touch when he patches you up after a hunt, or when your fingers brush without warrant. 

you think he’s leaning in. can start to feel his bangs against your forehead, but you then realize you’re the one inching closer. 

his body is unmoving, frozen, almost. 

he whispers your name like it hurts, and you just start to pull away in worry—

the harsh sound of a bike brake screeching and half deflated tires against mud startles him away from you. there, on the dock, dean waits, half out of breath like he’s just ridden at two times the speed he should have from bobby’s. he’s shirtless, dirty blonde hair stringy with sweat, face bright red in exhaustion. 

“sam! dad’s—” he looks between the two of you, flustered faces and awkward stances as you both quickly float away from each other. he turns his focus back to sam, too out of breath and panicked to afford being confused, who’s already gripping the dock leg, “dad’s here early, sammy, we gotta go.” 

from the corner of your eye, sam’s knuckles go white.

tags ♱ @filthgf , @sacr1ficialang3l , @ohangeleyes , @dontlistentodaisy , @andmeiamherdagger , @sploosh805 , @heartoftragedy , @aseafullofstars , (if you'd like to be added, let me know !)

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Life is Strange: "The Film" Aesthetic

Taking my pitch deck design skills to use by creating mood boards. This game is so nostalgic to me, I need to replay asap🦋

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Rebloging now that the tv show is confirmed! Who do you want cast in the show? What choices will be made canon. 👀🦋🌪️

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch . 7 - Supernatural Fic

Summary: Syrena watches Ellie while working her new job at the local bookstore until she encounters a familiar face.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 4,194

“Thanks, come again,” I replied with a half smile for probably the tenth time today—the script of customer service phrases was burned into my brain.

I was lucky to have the local bookstore rehire me. It was a side job during high school that allowed me to earn some money to save for college. And that’s what most of my days consist of now: wandering about the aisles and skimming whatever book seemed most popular at the time.

Yet no matter what distractions I could find, I couldn’t stop thinking about meeting the mysterious boy on the side of the road.

Sam.

I didn’t catch his last name. Or what he did, where he came from. I only remembered his soft hazel eyes and the brief connection we had; we both were running from something. And that was practically the only exciting thing to happen since I’ve moved back.

Sam said he would be around only for a couple of days; he would probably be long gone. Now he’s just a distant memory. His jacket, buried in the back of my closet, was the only reminder that he ever existed.

As for my incident of sleepwalking, it didn’t happen again. My dreams went back to their normal programming. There was no more hidden door to the woods, or the monstrous creature I met that night. His face still haunts me.

I still had no idea what any of it meant. I knew dreams could carry some cryptic meaning, but I was at a loss. This “darkness” in me, not having to “hide it anymore.” It sounded like a scene from a horror book. Maybe that’s all it was, a bad dream and nothing more. I couldn’t think about it for long, or my stomach would twist into knots. 

Things around town also hadn’t gotten much better. Jody had been slammed with work at the station—apparently, more people were being reported missing by the day. All are somehow connected to the church. And FBI Agent Smith was still conducting work outside of town, leaving Jody to pick up the pieces.

For protective measures, the town set an 8 p.m. curfew on the dot. Jody started working the night patrols, so I had been babysitting Ellie to help lighten her workload. It was nice to have Ellie around again; she was like the little sister I never had.

Before going into work on my first day, my truck wouldn’t start—something with the engine. Embarrassingly, Jody gave me a ride to work, and in return, I watched Ellie at the bookstore. Jody said it would be good for Ellie to do some summer reading.

It was slow most of the time; many of these townies didn’t find excitement in reading, and neither did Ellie.

The last customers left, and Ellie wandered around the aisles, mindlessly pulling books off the shelves and examining them.

“You know, if you actually read the book instead of judging it by the cover, you might like it,” I replied with a playful smile as I watched her yank another book off the shelf.

Meanwhile, I hunched over the counter with a book of my own, which I had picked up during my slow shifts. I hated how intrigued I was by it, but any distraction would do these days.

“How will I know it’s even good if the cover is boring?” Ellie huffed as she hopped up on the counter beside me. She peeked over at my book.

“What are you reading?” she asked, looking over my book with curious eyes.

I tilted the cover over to her hesitantly. “ Twilight . Apparently, it’s been pretty popular the last couple of weeks.” I try to explain myself. 

Ellie started laughing. “Ew, isn’t that book about vampires?”

“How do you know about that?” I chuckled, setting the book down.

“My mom likes the movie.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. “No way!” I gasped.

Jody was enjoying a teen romance book about vampires—I was totally going to make fun of her for that later.

“It’s a secret. She won’t even let me watch the movies.” Ellie took the heavy book from my hands and started looking over it. “I heard it’s because there’s a lot of kissing.”

She said it matter-of-factly as she opened it up right down the center.

“Hmm, well, it’s definitely not for kids.”

“Oooo, you like reading books about kissing!” Ellie childishly teased, pointing at me.

I rolled my eyes as I ripped the book from her hands and put it under the register.

“And this conversation is over. And no, I do not.” I stated firmly.

As I walked around her, I collected her small pile of books she deemed unworthy. Ellie sat up on the counter, crossing her legs with a mischievous smile.

“Sisi, can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure.” I wandered the short aisles as I started placing the books back on the shelves.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I nearly dropped a book from my hand. I snapped my eyes back to her. Ellie had never asked me anything so forward.

“Uh, what? Why do you ask?”

Her mouth turned into a mischievous smirk. “Because, aren’t you old enough to have one?”

“Well, just because I’m old enough doesn’t mean I need to have one.” I chuckled nervously.

“But do you want one?”

She kicked her tiny feet off the desk, patiently waiting for me to respond. One of the books fell from the shelf, and I bent over to pick it up. I sighed.

“No, not really, no.”

“Why?” she persisted.

I walked back around to the register. I opened it to count the money, averting her curious gaze. Honestly, the thought of dating, especially around here, wasn’t even a thought in my mind. Even in college, how could I burden someone with all my baggage? Having to explain to them why I didn’t have a home to go back to for Christmas, or why I woke up in sweats most nights. I couldn’t put all of that on someone.

“Because I have other things to think about than boys.” I huffed.

Ellie swung her legs around to face me. She wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.

“I think you should get a boyfriend. That way, you don’t get lonely.”

My brows furrowed, and my heart sank. Did she really think I was lonely? I swept the loose strand that hung over my eyes.

“What do you mean? I’m hanging out with you right now, bug. I like hanging out with you.” I chuckled as I unrolled one of the coin wrappers.

She sighed dramatically and swung her arms up. “Exactly. I’m ten. You’re, like, college age. I never see you with other friends.”

I should have defended myself. Of course, I have other friends! I don’t spend my whole day in an empty bookstore reading about sparkling vampires with a ten-year-old.

But in all honesty, I didn’t have other friends. My only friend right now was Ellie, and occasionally Jody when she was around. And I sure as hell was not going to befriend rookie cop Tyler despite his efforts to try to talk to me during his patrols in town.

I could tell she had sweet intentions, and she was so aware for her young age. But I took care of myself on my own. And a boyfriend was not the answer to my problems.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ellie.” I smiled hopefully, enough to convince her I was truly alright.

Through the window, a group of teenagers approached the bookstore. I tapped my fingers on the desk.

“Hey, go put these back—we gotta make the place presentable again.”

I slid over her stack of unapproved books to her.

She groaned and hopped off the desk. “Ughhhh, fine.”

Ellie scurried away to the other room.

The bell chimed, and a group of teenagers walked in. They were a couple of years younger than me, probably seniors in high school. The three boys wore button-ups and khaki pants, while the two girls wore modest sundresses. In one of the girls’ hands was a paper pamphlet that read The Path of Deliverance Church.

My stomach sank. Damn it. They must have left the afternoon church service. But I didn’t recognize them, so maybe I wouldn’t have to exchange awkward hellos.

“Hi, welcome in,” I called out as I put the coins away and shut the register.

The group made subtle glances at me. One of the girls, wearing a red and orange floral dress, whispered into the ear of one of the boys. The boy’s eyes were expressionless as they glared at me across the room.

I pretended to be organizing some books on the register display as the group disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. I could hear them snickering and laughing at something.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Maybe they were just taking a peek at the erotica books, like typical annoying teenagers—especially the Sunday school kids.

One of the boys, the one the girl had whispered to, emerged from behind the shelves, holding a book in his hand, and approached me. The rest of the group stood back, and the girl in the dress held her hand over her mouth, concealing a snarky laugh.

I was preparing for whatever stunt they were about to pull. I cleared my throat.

“Did you find everything okay?”

The boy leaned over the desk with a cocky smirk. “Oh yeah, just fine.”

He slammed the book on the desk with a thud. I looked down at the book— Carrie by Stephen King. His audience of friends laughed behind him.

I didn’t even know these kids, yet a cruel joke from high school still stayed strong after all these years. 

I rolled my eyes and hesitantly grabbed the book to ring up. I wasn't going to let this stupid joke ruin my day. 

“That’ll be—”

His hand came down and locked onto my wrist.

My eyes shot forward to him. The boy leaned in close so only I would hear.

“Syrena Grace,” he growled.

A wave of fear came over me, and also anger. My fingers gripped the book, and my eyes burned like fire.

He snarled, “We heard about your scene at the diner, with Mrs. Conner. You know her son happened to disappear the minute you came back here. Your aunt tried to warn us, just before she disappeared, too. But everyone knows… you’re a witch.”

The diner? When Mrs. Conner freaked out? Witch? When the lights flickered off… no, that couldn’t be what he meant. That was absurd. Is that what he was implying?

I jerked my hand back, and he stepped away.

A loud crash of one of the books displayed spilled onto the floor and made me jump. One of the boy’s friends had knocked it over. The posse of friends cackled in laughter.

“Hey!” I yelled back as I ran out from behind the desk.

They made their way to the entrance as I bent down to pick up the mess. The boy walked past me and chucked the book down at my feet. Carries bloody gown silhouette stared back at me. 

“Freak,” he spat—until the group stopped in their tracks.

I shut my eyes as the anger coursed through me; my head was starting to pound. A deep voice ripped me from my thoughts and back to reality.

A man stood before us. The sun cast over his silhouette. The boys practically cowered under the man, and the girls looked away in shame.

“Beat it,” he said sternly. 

The teenagers scurried out of the store one by one.

“Are you okay?”

Before I knew it, the man bent down to my level.

It was him.

“Sam?” I asked in disbelief.

And there he was. Long strands of his brown hair fell over his face, and his piercing hazel eyes met mine.

“Hey.” He cracked a friendly smile as he picked up some of the books.

“Here, let me get that,” I mumbled after I caught myself staring for too long.

We both reached for the final book— Carrie —on the floor. I quickly reached for it; our fingers brushed against each other. My face grew hot, and my stomach did a flip.

I swiped the book and withdrew my hand when I saw Ellie’s scuffed-up Converse looking down at us.

“Whoa. What happened?”

I could see the gears turning in Ellie’s head, wondering why all the books fell, and who this random man must be.

We both stood up, holding the books. Sam noticed a piece of paper left on the floor.

“I think they dropped this.” His eyes skimmed over the white pamphlet as he bent down to pick it up. “ The Path of Deliverance Church. Every Sunday and Wednesday. ” He frowned curiously at the details written on the paper.

“You know those kids?” He asked curiously, holding out the paper before me.

I anxiously took it from him. “No. Just pretentious Sunday school kids who have nothing better to do.”

I tried to convince myself that what I said wasn’t entirely a lie. But I think any more strange details about me and my past would surely scare him away this time.

Ellie immediately looked between me and Sam with curiosity. I swallowed, realizing I couldn’t exactly explain the strange circumstances of how we met. 

“Ellie, this is, um, Sam. We met the other night….” Another lie. The guilt pooled in my stomach at how fast the words came from my mouth.

By the look on Ellie’s face, I could tell she wasn’t convinced. She eyed Sam up and down.

“I was walking around the neighborhood and got lost. I needed a ride, haha,” I chuckled nervously as I held the books close to my chest.

Surprisingly, Sam nodded in agreement, going along with my story. I could see his cheeks were flushed red, too. Why was he nervous now?

“Hmm, rightttt,” Ellie smirked and crossed her arms.

The books nearly fell from my hand, and Sam caught them.

“Here, let me help.”

He gently took one of the books slipping from my hand, but I held the Carrie one behind my back along with the church pamphlet.

Sam walked ahead of us with his tall, long strides.

Ellie yanked me by the sleeve of my shirt quietly. “He’s cute!” she mouthed silently while pointing to him.

I swatted her hand away when he spoke.

“Is right here okay?”

Ellie and I paused our banter. He hovered the books over the desk of the register.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.”

I shot Ellie a you better behave look before walking behind the counter.

“So, what are you doing here? I thought you would’ve left town already.”

I threw the books down and leaned over the counter, trying to shake off my nerves from earlier.

He ran a hand through his long hair. “Uh, yeah, I was. But I decided to stay back, get some work done.”

I realized I never figured out what he did for work, one that must have required him to travel a lot. But what brought him to such a boring place like this?

“You know, I never got to ask what you did for work.”

I tried to pass it off as casually as I could, not wanting to pressure him. I saw a nervous glint in his eye, but he masked it with a half-smirk.

He hesitated. “I, uh… I’m a writer.”

“Really?”

I found myself fidgeting with the braid of my hair, and Ellie beamed at this interaction as she hopped up onto the desk.

“It’s kinda unconventional. I do a lot of research on lore—history.” He anxiously ran a hand through his hair again. “ I was actually wondering if you could help me.”

Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out to me.

“I’m looking for this book. I know it’s a little niche—”

“ American Folklore: Demons and Monsters, ” Ellie attempted to read aloud as she leaned across the desk.

“Ellie!” I whispered under my breath to knock off her noisiness.

She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sorry. Here, may I?” I took the paper from his hands.

I pulled out one of our inventory books and started searching for this particular book. Folklore and monsters. He was right, it was very niche. 

Ellie turned to face him and started yapping casually. “So you like to read about monsters?”

“Uh, yeah. Sometimes.” He smiled warmly, entertaining her questions.

“Sisi does too. Especially one about vampires!”

She somehow stole my copy of Twilight from under the desk and displayed it in the air for us all to see.

I shot another glare at Ellie. “What, no!”

My face flushed with embarrassment. Because yes, despite working in a bookstore, instead of reading pretentious classics, I’m reading teen romance books about vampires and werewolves.

I cleared my throat. “It’s, uh—it’s a popular book. I just read it to help pass the time, ya know.”

“Is that why you’re already halfway done?” Ellie quipped, exposing my marked chapter that was split down the middle of the book.

I subtly yanked the book from Ellie’s hand. Sam watched our interaction with endearment, like two siblings bickering.

“Let me check the back for that book.” I held his paper up as I fled to the back room. I walked backwards and nearly tripped over my own feet. 

Once I retreated to the back, I rolled my eyes, hearing Ellie laughing at me.

It took me a couple of minutes even to find the book. And when I did, there was only one copy left, probably because many people in this town didn’t find interest in books on folklore about monsters.

I pulled out the thick book from the dusty shelves. It was heavy in my hands. He must be serious about his research.

I returned to the front desk and saw that Sam and Ellie were no longer there.

“Ellie?” I called out. No one answered. I hesitantly walked out to see where they had disappeared to. 

I turned the corner to the classic books section and saw Sam holding out a book to Ellie.

“This book seems old,” she quipped in her usual smart-remark attitude as she crossed her arms.

But Sam just smiled at her, endeared by her skepticism.

“Well, it is. That’s what we call a classic. It’s good, I think you’ll like it.”

Ellie gently took the book from Sam and examined the cover. In gold engravings, the book said, A Little Princess. A classic book. No way Ellie would go for that, I thought.

She raised an eyebrow. “A princess book? I’m too old for fairytales.” She side-eyed him just like I imagined she would.

But he took no offense; instead, he bent down to her level.

“Well, actually, it’s not a fairy tale. Get this, it’s about a young girl, just like you-”

I leaned against the bookshelf, watching them. Sam captured her attention like magic. He told her the brief introductions of the little girl who grew up in India, moved to America, and her father passed away in the war. Ellie’s eyes widen with every detail he reveals. 

“Then what happened?” she asked, completely captivated as she gripped the book in her tiny hands.

Sam finally caught me lurking in the corner, observing them. He smirked, “Well, you’ll have to read to find out.”

Sam stood back up, meeting my now-mesmerized gaze. I walked over to join them, his heavy lore book under my arm.

“Finally found something, bug?” I asked, looking down at Ellie, who had already started cracking open her new book.

“Yeah, your friend said it’s good.”

Friend. The strange boy I met on the side of the road. He was no longer a fragment of my imagination; he was real. 

“It is, he’s got good taste.” I beamed at him, and he proudly smiled.

“I found your book—our only one, actually. So you’re lucky.” I handed over the book, and he gently took it from me.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

While I was ringing up his book, I couldn’t help but eye Ellie, who sat on one of the benches by the front of the store, nose deep in the pages of her discovery.

“You know, I’ve been trying to help her find a book for days. Now you come in here, and you got her reading a classic. You deserve an award.”

“Nah, after years of reading, I know a good one or two,” he replied humbly.

“Were you a book nerd as a kid?” I teased cheekily.

“Yeah, something like that. You? Assuming you work in a bookstore, that is.”

“Yeah, I used to read a lot as a kid. I’m trying to get back into it.”

“With books about vampires vs. werewolves?” he joked.

And he got me with that one. I laughed. “You know, that kinda seems like your specialty. Monsters.” I nodded down to his book. “What’d you say you write for again?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah, it’s a research project. I write about folklore, unexplained phenomena, things of that sort.”

I glanced down at his book again before I carefully placed it in a paper bag for him. I glanced at Ellie again from a distance.

I lowered my tone to Sam. “Hey, thanks for not mentioning the whole sleepwalking thing.” I laughed anxiously. “I just don’t want her to worry.”

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, don’t mention it. She’s a smart kid.”

He cleared his throat, “Have you been doing ok? Since then?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been good. Must have been a one-time thing.’ I shrugged it off.

Ellie was now walking over to us, book in hand.

“Sisi, Jeanie’s mom is outside,” she announced.

“What, why?” I perked up and looked over at the calendar. I didn’t remember anything about plans with her friends. 

“For our sleepover, duh!” 

I shook my head. “Wait, I thought that was tomorrow.”

“No, it’s today.” Ellie scolded back.

Crap, she was right. I had completely forgotten. All my days had blurred together.

“Oh darn, you’re right. Alright, I’ll see if I can catch a ride with your mom later.”

Ellie had a familiar glint in her eye, the one she made when she was scheming. “Well, Mom said she’s working late tonight. I don’t know when she’ll be off.” She replied nonchalantly. 

I furrowed my brows—she was getting at something. I just wasn’t sure what. “Alright then, I’ll just walk—”

“You can’t walk all alone by yourself! And in the dark!” she said dramatically.

I chuckled. “El, it’s fine. I can—”

Ellie glanced up at Sam, who towered over her. Without any hesitation, she asked in her innocent tone, “Hey Sam, do you think you can give Sisi a ride. Her car is broken and she can't–”

My eyes shot open, and my jaw dropped. “Ellie!” I murmured to her, trying to mask my embarrassment. “Don’t be rude,” I say through a forced, cracked smile.

Ellie completely ignored my protest as she unapologetically smiled at him.

“Of course. I don’t mind.” Sam looked back at me with that boyish smile I could now clearly see in the daylight.

Ellie nodded proudly at her master plan. Before she scurried away after dropping that bomb on me, she tugged Sam’s sleeve so he could hear her little whisper.

“She gets off at 5.”

Ellie smirked at me one last time before feeling the scene with the book in hand.

I stuttered as I yelled back at her, “Um, your book!”

Ellie stopped in her tracks at the entrance and turned away. She frowned at the thought of having to give back her unpaid-for book.

But Sam held his hand up to her. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. You tell me if it’s good,” he gave her a thumbs up as her cue to go.

Sam shyly turned back to me and pulled out some dollar bills. I found myself wanting to argue again, but I couldn’t get a word in. 

“So your car is broken?” he asked casually as he dug in his wallet. 

I was left speechless for a moment, “Yeah uh, something with the engine. It’s old as hell.” I sputter out. 

He leaned across the counter as he held out the money to me, “Really? I can take a look at it if you like.” 

I slowly took the money from his hand. “You're good with cars?”

“Yeah, my broth-” 

Sam cut himself off, and his hands retracted to his pocket. He was gone for a moment, just like when we passed by Bobby’s house. Like an old memory replayed in his mind.  He loudly cleared his throat, “Yeah, I know a thing or two about cars.”

And just like we did in the car, we sat in the comfortable silence. Slowly, I felt like I was chipping away at the cracks of him, just like he was with me. He was a mystery I wanted to figure out. Maybe this was the push I needed. 

“Alright…I get off at 5.”

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Updates 07/28/2025📝🔥

Hellloooo readers! Thanks so much to everyone who checked out the first 6 chapters of my fic!

For those that know this is my first fan fic EVER. I was so anxious to share but so far the feedback has so so great and I can’t wait to keep writing. The last week has been absolutely insane with work but I’m hoping to push out Ch.7-8 this weekend! I have a long road trip ahead so I’ll be binge writing.

But thanks for sticking around! There’s so much more to come and I think you’ll enjoy where this story goes. You can also follow my TikTok where I post chapters/mood boards.

- Ray

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch . 6 - Supernatural Fic

Summary: Syrena gets a ride from Sam after finding her in the middle of the road, and from an unlikely connection.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 2,172

“You were standing in the middle of the road when I swerved out of the way.” I batted my eyes once more to try and get a clear view of where I was. A strand of my hair clung to my neck, still damp from the shower. I must not have been out that long. The last thing I remember was lying in my bed, watching a movie on that shitty little TV. I looked around to see if Bobby’s house was anywhere in sight, some indication that I was close to the house.

“W-where am I?” I managed to sputter out.

“Just outside of Sioux Falls.”

Ok, that was a good sign. I may have just walked down the street while dreaming. My feet were caked in mud and dirt. Was I actually in the woods? The thought of that made my stomach turn.

“Hey, are you hurt?” Sam asked, referring to my bloody nose and stained shirt. It’s as if I’d forgotten to speak, I stood frozen.

Sam put his hand up to shield the glare from his car light to get a better look at my nose. I finally snapped out of it and wiped the remaining blood off my nose.

“No. That’s just, um, allergies.” I reassured him.

“What’s your name?” His tone was soft and gentle.

I was so lost in his eyes; they had flickers of yellow in the light. “S-Syrena. I’m Syrena Grace.”

Why did I just give him my full name? I couldn’t have made this any more awkward.

“Syrena, I’m Sam,” he replied kindly.

Of course, like a normal person, he doesn’t give me his full name. As all my senses started coming back to me, my teeth chattered from the cold, and my feet itched and blistered from the hard concrete.

“Uh, should I take you to a hospital or maybe call someone?” His voice was now etched with concern.

The absolute last thing I need is Jody rushing to a hospital, and word got out that I was sleepwalking in the middle of the road. They might just burn me at the stake for that.

“No! No, it’s alright. I’m alright, I promise. Just sleepwalking, that’s all.”

I’m not sure if that excuse made my situation look better or worse. This probably takes the cake for the weirdest night of his life.

The breeze was picking up, and I was shivering. Sam, without any hesitation, took off his grey jacket and wrapped it around me. I was immediately engulfed in his warm embrace. His large hands brushed against my bare shoulder. His jacket was warm, comforting, and smelled of his scent and cologne.

“Where do you live? I can take you somewhere.” He gently but firmly tightened the jacket around my body so I didn’t freeze.

“I think I’m just down the road. That way, I think, like you're going to town.” I point down the road into the dark void.

“Alright, I’ll take you.” Sam nodded as he reached out and guided me to his car. He opened the passenger door for me, and I sat down. Once he shut the door, I glanced around his back seat just to be sure he wasn't a serial killer. Not that he gave me any reason to think so, but you never know, especially with everything going on. The back seat had two duffle bags, a backpack, and two leather-bound books or journals on the floor. My truck looked the same earlier today. He must be traveling. I wanted to keep looking, but he opened the car door, and I snapped my head forward. He started the ignition and pulled back onto the road.

“Thank you for the ride… and not hitting me with your car.” I scoffed under my breath, hoping to clear the air.

“Yeah, of course. Are you sure I shouldn’t take you to a hospital to get you checked out?”

I brushed him off, “No, no, I promise I’m fine. These things just happen…”

“This… happens, often?” He glanced over at me, his big hazel eyes softened with sincerity.

“Oh no no. I mean not exactly…” I bit my cheek, trying to find a normal way to explain my odd situation. “I just have trouble sleeping, like weird dreams.”

Sam’s brows furrowed, not with shock but with genuine curiosity. “Like nightmares?”

I caved with embarrassment, “Yeah… sometimes. But I’ve never sleepwalked before, so that’s kinda new,” I replied while looking down at my bare feet.

Sam shrugged, “I used to get them too, nightmares.”

His tone was quiet but thoughtful. “I still do sometimes. So you’re not the only one.”

I was taken by this small revelation. It’s comforting knowing I wasn’t the only one who wrestled with this.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only weird one,” I caught myself, and my eyes widened in horror.

I tripped over my words, “Not that that's weird! Or you’re weird, you don’t seem weird at all. I just mean—”

He shook his head and laughed, “Hey. Don’t worry about it, I know what you meant. And you’re not wrong, it is pretty weird.”

I laughed dryly, “Well, it can’t be as weird as sleeping in the middle of the road.”

“To be honest, I’ve seen weirder.” He didn’t seem put off by this, unlike most people. Hell, I would be freaked out if I saw someone else in this condition.

I found myself staring at him once again. I was interested in this kind of stranger; he didn’t come off like any of the stuck-up locals. He was grounded and understanding.

“So, are you from around here?” I asked as I glanced at him, then at the back seat of all his bags.

He hesitated to answer. “Uh, no, not exactly. I travel a lot, but I visit every so often.”

“Oh, so just passing through?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, just for a couple of days.”

And he left it at that, not leaving any room for extra details, but I didn’t pry. He kept taking subtle glances at me, too. Not in an unsettling way. More like he was curious, like he was trying to figure me out.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing living way out here?” Sam asked.

“I grew up here. I just moved back.” My reply was laced with sarcasm as I looked out the window. My tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“You don’t sound super thrilled ‘bout that,” he joked.

“Yeah, not really the biggest fan of this place, to be honest.” I sighed.

“Any reason why, if I may ask?”

“Just, not a big fan of the people here. They're not all bad, but it’s mostly nosy, judgmental, small-town people who have nothing better to do, ya know.”

He smirked. “Yeah, sounds ’bout right.”

Sam furrowed his brows and cleared his throat, his voice deep. “So why did you move back?”

I knew now wouldn’t be the best time to unpack my complicated life story or the exact reason I was here.

I kept it vague as well. “I don’t know, to figure things out. I just feel… lost, I guess.”

Sam didn’t respond; he let me go on, and he listened.

I took a long breath. “Honestly, I spent so long trying to get away from this place, and I did. Then I realized I had no idea what I was doing or what I wanted. For some reason, I thought coming back would give me a chance to figure it out. But instead, I feel like the complete opposite.”

“I get what you mean…” Sam replied as he deeply exhaled and relaxed his broad shoulders. His eyes grew heavy, tired almost. Something weighed heavily on him, but he held it back.

Through the long silence, he finally spoke, “No matter how much you run from your past, it always catches up to you... But that doesn’t mean you can’t make things right...I think.” He kept a steady focus on the road ahead, convincing himself that his words were true.

I smiled faintly. “You sound like you’ve done it before.”

Sam looked down and half-smiled, like a flood of memories played in his head before looking back at me. “I’m working on it.” He subtly gripped the wheel and looked onward to the road ahead.

We drove by Bobby’s giant blue house. Sam perked up in his seat, and his eyes lingered on the lonely house. As we passed, I noticed he didn’t want to look away; he just stared with a haunted look, like he had come across a memory. I wanted to say something, but then my house came into view.

“I’m right here.” I pointed to the driveway of my home.

Sam snapped out of his trance, “Oh, uh, here?” His tone was hesitant, but he slowed down the car and pulled into the driveway.

His hand held the back of my seat protectively as he turned into my driveway. Sam had a gentle way about him despite his massive size.

When he turned the wheel, he hit a stump, causing us both to jump. His hand on the back of my seat protectively went around my shoulder. And instinctively, I reached out and held his wrist. But something shifted, just like my dreams. When my hand touched his skin, an unexpected feeling came over me. Not quite like the wave of sadness when I shook hands with the FBI agent, but like a surge of energy, like we shared a connection. I gasped, neither of us letting the other go.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s okay.” I loosened my grip, and we both broke away.

As we pulled in, Sam stared blankly at the house, and he swallowed nervously. Was it judgment, curiosity, or concern? I wasn’t so sure.

I ran my hand through my hair. “I know…” I smirked nervously at him, but he stared at me like he was lost for words.

Maybe I finally did spook him after all. I laughed, “I swear it’s not as sketchy as it looks—”

His eyes fluttered. He sputtered nervously, “Oh no no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—how long have you been out here again?”

I half-laughed, “It’s my first night.”

“Oh wow, uh, eventful first night.” He joined me in the awkward laughter, and I could see his curious glances, not at my house, but down the street at Bobby’s.

Sam looked between me and the house down the road. “Hey, you sure you’ll be alright?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I looked back toward the house. The car clock said 3:33 a.m.; it was late. Through the window, I saw that my front door was cracked open. I should be going. Our quiet breaths loomed over the rumbling of his car engine. I slowly unbuckled my seatbelt.

“Thank you again for the ride. And sorry if I muddied up your car.” I looked down at my dirty feet once again.

He chuckled, “No, don’t even worry about it. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” I said above a whisper as I opened the door and stepped out onto the dirt driveway.

Before I could walk away and never see this man again, I turned back to him. “Hey, Sam…”

He perked up and looked over to me with those big, puppy-dog-like eyes. “Yeah?” he replied.

“I hope you find your fresh start. Whatever that may be.” Sam’s eyes shifted to a more sorrowful look. His shoulders slumped, and he hesitated to respond again. But I just smiled at him, hoping my words offered any amount of comfort to whatever weight was holding him down.

As he contemplated my words, he finally met my eyes. “Thanks, you too, Syrena.”

For a long time, we stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes. We may not have known what the other had been through or what we were running from, but our feelings were mutual. We had someone who understood the other without having to acknowledge it.

His engine rumbled loudly. We both broke eye contact and shifted back to reality.

“I’ll see you around town,” I said quickly as I cleared my throat.

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” His voice cracked as he sat back up.

Sam nodded, and I shut the door. I quickly walked up the porch and realized I was still wearing his giant jacket.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself. I spun around and reached my hand out. “Wait!”

Before I knew it, his car sputtered out of the driveway and into the night. I sighed as my hand dropped to my side. And suddenly, it was just me again. The air was cool, and cicadas buzzed in the distant trees. I wrapped myself tighter in his warm jacket. His scent still lingered on the collar.

I hesitated to step back inside, the TV noise rumbling from my room. Instead, I stood on the porch, looking out into the vast nothingness. I wanted to stay here in this moment, because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone in this small town.

[hellwillfollowoffical]

shining like gunmetal cold and unsure

Inspired by Ch.2 of my fic

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Supernatural Outfit Ideas ~ Inspired by My Fic 🤎🎚️🔦

Read the first five chapters of my fic on A03 and here!

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch.5 ~ A Supernatural Fic

Summary: Syrena's nightmare forces her to confront an evil entity.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 945

TW: Blood, Nightmare, PTSD, Religious Trauma/Guilt.

Everything was silent. No chanting. No more antagonizing words from my aunt. Just silence. Before me was the red-stained door. The blood-drawn symbol was clearer than ever. I reached out to touch it and felt the maroon liquid drip from the rusty wood. But when I reached out, the door creaked open. I had never gone beyond the confines of this little room. What was out there was a mystery to me. But I didn’t feel afraid or scared—I felt compelled to go. I pushed open the door and stepped onto a dry patch of grass. Trees surrounded me. It was night, and the moonlight lit a path. Then, a small deer stepped out from the bushes. Its wide, dark eyes stared into mine. For a moment, we both stood there in the darkness. In an instant, it ran down the path. I’m unsure what made me go, but I was determined to follow this deer. I ran and ran, but never out of breath. My bare feet tore through the dry leaves and brittle twigs.

“Syrena…” The same voice whispered to me. The voice was so close, like it was inside my head. “Our time is here. He has freed me...” It entranced me. As I ran, my head started to pound again. It beat so loud I thought it was going to tear through my skull. It was agonizing. This alluring voice glossed over the pain. Yet nothing stopped me from running. That’s all I could do—run.

Eventually, the deer ran so far ahead of me that it was out of my sight. I stumbled into a small clearing. The dead trees towered over me as I looked for that deer. There was nothing—no sign of life or anything, like I was in my own world. Then, from out of the shadows, a figure stood before me. Their back was turned, and I could barely make out that it was a person. My determination was now replaced with fear and dread.

“They’ve always been afraid of you. But I’m not...” The voice echoed louder in my ears. But then my movements were no longer controlled by me. I unwillingly walked toward the figure.

“You’ve always had this power… this darkness inside you.” I tried to fight against my feet that kept moving, to stop letting whatever this was take control. It was no use. As I moved closer to the figure, I could make out an outline of a man engulfed in shadows. He was tall—so tall he practically towered over me.

“You don’t have to hide anymore… not from me.” Nothing was in my control anymore. Memories flashed before my eyes as I got closer to the man. The church people are chanting. My bloody fist against the door. My aunt's missing persons flyer. The lamppost is flickering. The deer in the backyard. Mrs. Conner yelling: She is the devil. Agent Smith's voice echoing hell over and over again.

An overwhelming feeling of panic took over me as I stood before this dark figure. It was dread that hundreds of nightmares before couldn’t compare to. It felt so real, I forgot this was supposed to be a dream—this was happening. I couldn’t run or wake up. I was trapped.

Before the man turned around, he spoke out loud, “Soon, we’ll all be together.” But when he turned around, it was a sight I would remember for a thousand lifetimes. It was beyond human. A face—scorned, red, burned, bloody—monstrous. It was the face of evil in the flesh. And its crooked lips turned into a smile. I was frozen in place until its hands reached out to me and gripped me by the shoulders. This dark feeling overcame me. And it laughed—a loud, tormented laugh. But the face of this monster started to flick between one of a human, like it was a mask for this creature's face.

“Hey! HEY!” a human voice called out. Then I was yanked back to reality. My eyes opened to see that I was not in my bedroom, but outside. I was barefoot, in my PJs, in the center of the road. It was cold and pitch black out. I reached up to touch my face. My cheeks were wet—was I crying? Then I wiped down to my nose, and more blood dripped down onto my giant t-shirt. As I started to come to my senses, a man was holding me by the shoulders. His silhouette was cast behind a bright light, which I could only assume was his car. Jesus, he must have almost hit me.

As I tried to pull the pieces back together of how I ended up here, the man spoke again. “Hey, you alright?” His voice was gentle and comforting. I nodded my head but was unable to speak. This man was also extremely tall, because he practically had to bend down to talk to me. I finally caught a glimpse of his face—it was the same one that flashed before me in my dream. Maybe as I started to wake up, his face came into view. His hair was dark, and a loose strand fell over his face; his eyes were a hazel green. Inappropriate time—I thought he was beautiful. All I knew was that his face was not as scary as that creature before. I wasn’t even sure how to unpack all of that right now.

In this moment, I needed to figure out: How the fuck did I get here? Where is here? And who is he?The mysterious but gentle man must have caught me staring, because his large hand soothingly held my shoulder.

“I’m Sam,” he said.

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch.4 ~ A Supernatural Fic

Summary: A quiet evening at the diner takes a dark turn when someone from Syrena's past makes an appearance.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 1,941

TW: Blood, Panic Attack, PTSD, Religious Trauma/Guilt.

“And then I went POW!” Ellie exclaimed as she swatted her hand in a karate chop. She had been telling me about Jody and everything she learned in class today. The diner was busy tonight, but we sat in a round booth tucked away in the corner.

“Alright, alright, don’t be knocking things over,” Jody scolded as she hovered her hand over the water cups so they didn’t fall.

“Seems like you’re ready for anything, huh?” I laughed, poking Ellie’s shoulder.

She smiled proudly after showing off her new moves. “Oh yeah. I’m ready for anything!”

“You’ll have to teach me a move or two,” I chuckled.

“Mom said you’re staying for a while, right?” Ellie asked curiously.

I nodded my head. “Yeah, sure am stink bug.”

“Then I’ll teach you everything I know, as long as you promise not to make us watch those old movies again.”

I scoffed out a laugh. She was harping on me for all the nights I made her watch my favorite 80’s movies on cable when I babysat.

“Hey, they are not old! And don’t lie, you liked some of them too.”

“They are old,” Ellie insisted.

“Well, no promises,” I smirked.

“And I only liked the one with the kids in detention, that one's funny.” Ellie nudged my shoulder.

Jody playfully rolled her eyes before turning back to me. “So, how did things go at the house? You get settled in, ok?”

My lips hovered over my glass of soda before I answered. Part of me wanted to tell her about my brief encounter with my strange neighbor, but I let it slide. I didn’t want her to worry.

“Yeah, everything went good.” I set the cup down and cleared my throat.

“The neighbor, Bobby, lives in a big house.”

Jody nodded as she picked at the fries on her plate. “He sure does. He’s lived out there for God knows how long. All alone in that big house surrounded by piles of beer and scrap metal.”

So that confirmed my suspicion; he was all alone in that big house. But who could have been inside when I was there? Or what was he so anxious about hiding inside?

“How do you know Bobby again?” I tried to ask casually.

“I think I’ve kept him outta jail for, oh, ten years now? He’s a cranky old man, but he means well. And for all the trouble I went through letting him off easy for public intoxication and mail fraud, he let me rent out that old place of his for you. I think the last time he rented that house out was to some guy who came into town every now n then. But that was many years ago.”

My eyes ripped away from my drink and back to Jody. Could this be J. Winchester? The connection between my odd neighbor and this mystery man started to dig at me. Was he an old friend? Were they both paranoid old drunks living out in the middle of nowhere doing sketchy things? Why did he have a gun, and why did he leave it behind?

Before I could open my mouth to speak, a frail voice called out to us.

“Syrena Grace.”

All of us turned our heads to see an older woman in a faded floral dress clutching a small change purse. I recognized her voice, and all the color drained from my face.

The woman approached the table cautiously, her gaze never breaking away from me.

“What is she doing here?” the woman demanded.

“Mrs. Conner.” Jody addressed her with a gentle but firm tone, wanting her to keep a distance.

Beside me, I could feel Ellie’s small hands shift to her attack mode, which she learned in class. Under the table, I gently patted her hand to stand down. 

Mrs. Conner stood at the front of the booth.

“You never should have come back.” Her voice shook in anger, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't help but look away from her. I didn’t dare to face her.

Only he can save you.

“Agnes was right about you! She tried to warn us!” Mrs. Conner's voice rose, and the whole diner was now looking at us. You could hear a pin drop. Jody stood up and tried to guide a frantic Mrs. Conner away.

“Mrs. Conner, I think you should go—”

“It’s because of you! She was right about her! That child is the devil!”

The voices were drowned out by the buzzing in my ears. My face grew hot. And then something unexpected happened– the lights of the diner started to flicker. 

In the frenzy of Jody trying to de-escalate the situation, everyone stopped to look around. My head started to pound. The lights buzzed as they faded on and off. 

A man’s voice broke through Mrs. Conner's yelling.

“Ma’am.” His voice was thick and stern.

When I finally looked up, it was Agent Smith. I took a breath, and the lights in the diner became steady again. 

“I can take it from here,” the agent said to Jody. “Ma’am, let’s take this outside, alright?” He gently guided the woman to the outside of the diner.

He gently took her by the arm before he looked over at me and gave a knowing nod, like he was saving me from this torment.

Before they reached the front door, she made one last remark.

“That girl is the devil!” — and it echoed through the whole diner.

“Sisi,” Ellie's small voice whispered in my ear as she touched my shoulder. I looked down to see drops of blood on my hand and the table. I touched my lip up to my nose, and I was bleeding. 

“Fuck…” I whisper under my breath as I grab some napkins and wipe the remaining blood off my face.

“Are you ok?” Ellie whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s ok, bug.” I gently patted her back.

That girl is the devil.

Jody profusely apologized for the way the night ended. She had asked about my nose, and I told her it was just allergies or the weather. I insisted that everything was fine and I had a good time. Ellie was getting sleepy, and it was past her bedtime now. I waved Jody and Ellie goodbye from the dimly lit parking lot as they drove away. As I made my way over to my truck with my keys clinking in my hand— “Turns out you are pretty popular after all.”

I stopped in my tracks. When I turned, Agent Smith smoothly walked towards me. Did he think this was a funny game?

“Thanks for stepping in, I guess.” I huffed as I wrapped my jacket tightly around me.

The agent still had that smug look on his face as he looked down at me. “Don’t mention it.”

He gestures to my shirt, “You alright there?” 

I looked down and saw drops of blood staining my chest and shirt. The agent hands me a small handkerchief, and I hesitantly take it. 

“Thanks,” I said as I dabbed up the dried blood along my chest. 

“You get nose bleeds often?”

“Not really. It’s just allergies or something.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “So you and Mrs. Conner—not on friendly terms, I take it.”

The silence between us was tense; he waited for me to muster up some kind of answer or confession.

“She was a friend of my aunt, and I knew her from church. I’m sure she’s just upset about everything, is all.”

Something shifted in the agent's face. His smug, cocky glare dimmed to something more serious.

“Mrs. Conner's son went missing a few days ago. So yeah, she is pretty upset.”

The agent pulled out a folded piece of paper—a missing person flyer—with the name James Conner in big, bold text. The picture in the center of the flyer was a young man with a button-up shirt and round glasses.

His glasses struck a memory; he was a kid when I attended church. Mama’s boy and like the rest of them, god fearing. 

I instantly took back my words.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I ran my hand through my scalp again, and the loose strands tangled between my fingers.

“Did you know him well?” the agent asked as he put the flyer back into his suit pocket.

“Only as kids. We weren't that close.”

The agent nodded, and his eyes studied me once again. I could see the gears turning in his head.

“When I spoke to Mrs. Conner, she mentioned your aunt had some trouble raising you. That’s why she brought you to church frequently. What does she mean by that?”

Troubled. I couldn't hide the disdain on my face.

“I wouldn't put it that way.” I scoffed, maybe with more attitude than I hoped.

“Then how would you put it?” he challenged.

I could imagine what he was thinking: What did this girl do to frighten a sweet old woman? This girl must be a terror. It’s what everyone in this damn town thought. That I was some pig-blood-soaked freak. I was tired, and I was angry. Coming here was a mistake.

I took a firm step toward the agent. In the corner of my eye, the lamppost started to flicker, “Look, my ‘faith’ wasn't up to the standards of my aunt or her church. She thought that made me a bad influence, a sinner, or whatever you want to call it. Therefore, they thought I was troubled, and I turned away from god. If I weren't faithful, I’d go to…” The words were on the tip of my tongue. I couldn't bring myself to say it.

“Hell.” The agent replied, like he understood this well. 

“Yeah. But I kept my head down, I left for school, and I didn't look back.”

The agent’s gaze didn’t flinch for a second. But through the cracks of his tough demeanor, I think I finally broke through to him.

I backed down my stance. “And then all of this happened, I decided to come back. Jody’s helping me out, and once we find my aunt… I’ll go.” I shrugged, hoping this answer was satisfying to him.

The agent noticed the flickering lamp post before turning back to me, “Do you believe that still? That you’re damned—going to hell?”

I wasn't sure what took me back more, his question or why he’d ask such a thing. Weren't FBI agents supposed to be factual and realistic, not philosophical? But I guess he wasn't some run-of-the-mill agent.

“I don’t know…”

The agent turned back to me, “Listen, kid, there’s evil out there, I’ve seen it. And I doubt you're any of that.”

I looked down at the floor. I never had anyone say something like that to me. The agents shoved his hand in his jacket pocket. “I’m following some leads in a nearby town for a couple of days. Give me a call if you need anything.”

Honestly, that was underwhelming. No more pressing questions or suspicions. Maybe I was off the hook, for now.

“Thank you. Have a good night.” I rustled with the keys in my pocket and opened my truck door. I revved the engine a couple of times before it finally kicked on, and I swerved out of the parking lot and into the night.

“Ahhh!” A sharp pain struck the back of my head. Another migraine was coming on once again. I rubbed my eyes as I concentrated on the road. As I looked through my rearview mirror, for a brief moment, the lamppost at the diner switched off. 

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch. 3 - A Supernatural Fic

Summary: Syrena explores her new home. But when she gets locked out, she must confront her strange neighbor Bobby Singer.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 1,843

Jody wasn't kidding when she mentioned the house was far and secluded. I drove past the edge of town until I saw the tiny house on the side of the road. It was a long way from any of the other houses, but I didn’t mind. The driveway had a dirt opening surrounded by patches of dry grass and leafless trees. The back of the house led into the open woods. It was an old, modest home. The white paint was starting to chip away, and the wood on the porch was beginning to rot. Sitting on the patio were two wooden rocking chairs and a couple of empty beer bottles. It wasn't glamorous, but it was enough for me.

The cicadas buzzed in the trees, and a cool breeze signaled that dusk was imminent. I approached the patio with one of the duffle bags slung over my shoulder. The floorboards creaked under the heel of my boots. I pulled out the silver key, but it didn’t fit. With a frustrated groan, I threw my duffle to the floor and fumbled with the key again—but it was no use. With no mat by the front door to hide a spare key, I ventured around to the back porch. After plowing through piles of dead grass and weeds, I found the back patio. The key was no use again.

Damn it. It was getting cooler, and all I wanted to do was shower and change.

In the distance, down the street, was a massive blue house. The fence wrapped around piles of scrap metal. That must have been the owner Jody had mentioned. I reached into my pocket for my phone and the crumpled note Jody had given me earlier. Although Jody had warned me, this neighbor, Bobby Singer, didn’t like being bothered. I debated what I should do, then dialed Jody’s number, and it rang twice before the line went silent. I ripped the phone away from my ear. The battery was dead.

Maybe I could open a window, but I didn’t want to break it—then I’d really piss off the owner. I glanced between my phone and the massive house looming in the distance. It was him or being trapped out in the cold, and I had enough excitement for one day. I hopped off the back porch and made my way to the blue house.

The gravel crunched under my shoes, and dust covered my feet. I wasn’t used to not being surrounded by neighbors or rowdy college students in a stuffy dorm. Right now, it oddly felt like camping. Nothing but woods, dirt roads, and the constant buzzing of cicadas. I wondered if this guy lived alone or if he had a family. It was a big house for just one person. Was it lonely? Or maybe he liked being alone. 

Once I got closer, I noticed the rest of the property was littered with beat-up cars and spare parts. It looked like an auto shop—or maybe a junkyard. The house towered over me. I peeked around the corner of the driveway to see if maybe this Bobby guy was outside. No one was there. I stood at the front of the patio, hesitant to approach.

I knocked on the door quickly.  I was met with the stench of something awful. The smell was so strong it nearly burned my eyes, almost like a musty, rotten egg smell. I turned away and coughed into my jacket until someone jerked open the door. An older man with a beard, wearing a trucker hat, poked his head out but kept the door cracked. He didn’t bother to show his whole face.

I pulled myself together and cleared my throat. “Hi! I’m looking for Bobby Singer?” I said, a little too chirpy.

“Yeah…” he answered with a thick Southern accent.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I'm Syrena. I’m friends with Jody. I’m renting your house… down the street…” I pressed my teeth together in an awkward smile, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible.

The man blankly stared at me, then looked back into the house and back at me again, clearly distracted by whatever was happening inside. “Now’s not a good time,” he huffed.

“Right, sorry! This key didn’t work. I think it’s the wrong one.” I rummaged through my pocket and pulled out the silver key. Without a word, he nodded and slammed the door shut.

I was lost for words. What the hell was that? I debated just turning around and going to Jody’s for the night. Then Bobby popped open the screen door. For a moment, I stepped forward, thinking he was going to invite me in—until he stepped outside, holding out a golden key.

That same stench hit me like a bus. It must have been coming from inside the house. Did he not notice it? Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

“What’s your name again?” he asked sternly.

“Syrena. Syrena Grace.”

“Call… before you come by next time,” he said, handing me the key.

“Yes. Sorry, I was going to call but my phone died and—”

As I rambled through my lame excuse, something crashed inside the house and startled both of us. Someone, or maybe a pet, must be inside. 

“I gotta go.” Without hesitation, Bobby slipped back inside. With a slam of the door, he was gone. I stood on the porch, holding onto my new key.

“Okay then…” I scoffed. And everyone said I was the weird one.

I was back on my porch, hoping this was the right key—and thank God, it was. I kicked open the creaky door and carried my duffle inside.

I stepped into a tiny kitchen, a round table with a couple of chairs. The space opened into a living room with a brick fireplace, a worn leather couch, and a large dark rug. But as I passed through the room, that god-awful smell from Bobby’s house lingered around me. I looked down and smelled my jacket, making sure it wasn’t me. No, it couldn’t have been me.

Down the hall was a small bedroom with a bed, white sheets, and a plaid blanket. It didn’t smell musty, so I stepped inside and kicked on the window AC. I threw my duffle onto the bed and flopped down next to it. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my new home. The soft hum of the AC made me sleepy. My body and mind were exhausted from the day.

It took me until sundown to unload everything from my truck. In my room, I started putting away my clothes, books,  my 80s DVD collection, and extra blankets, since it was probably going to be a cold night. I opened my last box, which held my Polaroid camera. It was my first real camera—one I got when I left for school.

I sat on the edge of the bed and examined the lens and the stack of pictures I kept stored in a small album. I took that camera everywhere. One section of the album was filled with photos of my college buddies at a campfire before we all left for summer. I captured them in such a happy, carefree moment in our lives. Deep down, I knew I’d probably never see most of them again. They were all off, starting their lives—moving to new cities, getting jobs, maybe getting engaged.

And then there was I. Staying in a musty house in the middle of nowhere, South Dakota.

It was weird seeing this version of myself—laughing, a couple of drinks in, surrounded by friends. It hadn’t been that long ago, but she already felt like a distant memory. I had to decide what I’d make of myself now.

I opened the nightstand drawer to stash away the camera—until I heard a metallic clunk. Inside, I saw a brown cloth covering something underneath. I hesitated, then lifted the cloth to find a silver pistol. Two loose bullets rolled beside it. I stood up and gently lifted the gun. The weight was heavy, which meant it had to be loaded.

Jody had taught me how to shoot a couple of times, so I knew how to be careful. I popped open the barrel, and sure enough, it had a full round. I examined the gun to see if there was any clue about who it belonged to. I couldn’t imagine Jody leaving one here without telling me.

I flipped the gun over and saw, etched in small letters: J. WINCHESTER.

I squinted at it. Winchester. I knew Winchesters made rifles, but this was only a handgun. Maybe it was the owner’s name? Someone who lived here before? Or maybe Bobby left it behind by accident. It would make sense for a paranoid guy like him to be armed, especially way out here. But who was J. Winchester?

While I was still inspecting the gun, I heard something shuffling from outside. I walked to the back patio and slowly opened the door, the pistol armed by my side. I stepped out and scanned the trees for anyone—or anything.

A sound came from the bushes, and I gripped the gun tightly. In an instant, I clicked off the safety. I stepped down, cautiously moving toward the noise. The rustling grew louder, and my heart was pounding so fast I could hear it in my ears.

“Hello?” I called out. I slowly raise the gun. Was I actually about to fire? I imagined if someone-or something ran out of the woods at me, would I pull the trigger? 

Just as I reached the bush, a small deer sprinted back into the woods. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, slumped my shoulders, and clicked the safety back on. I didn’t want to have to explain to Jody that I shot at an innocent deer.

The last bit of sunlight shone through the trees, casting everything in a golden sheen. My thumb brushed over the ridged engravings on the pistol.

J. Winchester.

I snapped back to reality when a car drove by in the distance. I looked around and quickly shielded the gun by my side. My phone started to ring from inside—it must be  Jody. I marched back inside, locking the back door behind me. The bedside clock read 7:46 p.m. It was getting late.

I answered the call. “Hey! Yes, I’m on my way right now.”

I pressed the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reached for my jacket. That’s when I realized I was still holding the pistol.

Part of me knew I should go back and return it, but dealing with my odd neighbor again was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. Soon, it would just be me, this cold house, and the darkness of the night. This J. Winchester guy would have to wait. 

“All right, see you soon.” I hung up and tossed my camera in the drawer along with the gun.

[hellwillfollowoffical]

Hell Will Follow Ch . 1 & 2 ~ A Supernatural Fic

Summary: Syrena hasn't returned to Sioux Falls in years. But when she arrives in town, she meets some old friends and a mysterious FBI Agent who is taking over the investigation of local disappearances.

Series Master List

A03

Word Count: 4,101

TW: Panic Attack, PTSD, Religious Trauma/Guilt, Religious Symbolism, Child Abuse.

Chapter 1

“You're gonna burn in Hell, Syrena Grace!”

That’s how all the dreams started. My hands pounded against the bolted door. My nails scratched at the splintered wood until they broke under the skin. Most kids’ time-out was in their rooms or a corner of the wall, but mine was in a tiny room to pray, repent, and think.

My Aunt Agnes’s voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“You pray, Syrena!”

“Only He can save you!” the members chanted in haunting unison.

Hell. I’d have a lot of time to think about that place.

Some say Hell is a fiery pit of constant torture and terror. Others believe it’s your worst nightmare relived for all of eternity.

But to me, this was Hell. Trapped inside the cold, dark room.

Usually, I’d wake up, and my dream would end there.

But this time, something changed. As the scene played out like it did each night, something else made its presence known…

“Syrena…” a voice whispered.

But not the frail, cracked voice of my aunt. No, this was something else entirely. It was almost... alluring. My vision narrowed to the door, where my nails and fists had left dents in the rusted wood.

“It is time…” it whispered as the room darkened around me. The door was now etched in blood, a symbol I didn’t recognize. A triangle—maybe a pentagram of some sort. Whatever it was, the voice got louder.

“We are FREE—”

BUZZZZZZZ!

I choked on the air leaving my lungs when I snapped out of my daze and saw myself drifting off into the dirt road.

“Shit shit SHIT—!”

I yanked the steering wheel back into my lane on the open road. The gravel crunched underneath my tires, leaving a trail of dust. My heart felt like it sank straight to my ass.

The sun glaring through the front windshield burned my cheeks.

“Come on, get it together, Syrena,” I muttered, shaking my stiff shoulders and opening my sweaty palms after white-knuckling the wheel.

It was the summer of 2009. I had just graduated from college with my whole life ahead of me, and yet I had no idea what I wanted to do or where to go. Everyone I knew packed up and moved to the big city to start their summer internships. When my friends asked if I was driving back home, I brushed it off. I’d lie—say I was doing one big road trip. But the truth was, I didn’t know where my home was—my real home.

It was the same summer when the world went to shit. Endless news headlines with reports of strange weather, earthquakes, and even virus outbreaks. No credible scientists or experts could explain why. But if you ask any of the conspiracy theorists, they’d say it’s the end of the world. Great. Just what I needed.

I never dreamed of returning to Sioux Falls, the town I grew up in. I didn’t have a traditional family to welcome me back with open arms. The only blood family I had was my aunt, along with her righteous community of church members. And I’d doubt they’d celebrate my return. No amount of therapy or meds could undo their years of torment. I’m pretty sure it’s why I have these dreams—and why I can’t escape them.

And it was the same summer they all went missing. One by one, they vanished—my aunt, her faithful followers—all gone without a word or trace.

I thought at least the drive to Sioux Falls would give me some time to take it all in. The sudden plot twist in my dreams, my missing aunt, and the world ending—no big deal. But I couldn’t untie the knot in my stomach to concentrate on the endless road.

It was miles with no one in sight, until now. A police car swerved out of a nearby ditch and flicked on its lights, the siren blaring in the distance.

“Oh, come on. Seriously,” I cursed to myself.

The patrol car trailed right behind me as I slowed down to park on the side of the road. When I reached behind me to dig out my wallet, I noticed which town the cop car was from. Sure enough, “Sioux Falls” was plastered across the side of the patrol car. I found it odd that they had patrols this far outside of town. Of course, this would be my luck.

The officer’s eyes inspected my rusty truck under his dark shades, and he loudly knocked on my window.

“You almost swerved off the side of the road, ma’am. You know how fast you were going?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s been a long drive. I’m coming from out of town and—”

“License and registration,” he barked sternly. Without hesitation, I handed him my license. The officer seemed like a younger guy. I was secretly praying he was a rookie and he’d let me off with a warning. Instead, he lifted his shades and looked between me and my license. In an instant, his police officer persona broke.

“Wait a minute, Grace—I know that last name,” the officer pondered.

“Oh wait, I remember you!” His eyes flicked down to read the name across my ID.

“Yeah, Syrena, right? We went to high school together, remember?”

My memory of this guy completely escaped my mind until I read the name on his badge. Tyler Barnes. I remembered now. He was a star football player, prom king, and a massive douchebag. I think the only reason he remembered me was because of the nickname he gave me behind my back—“Scary Carrie,” like the Stephen King novel, after we did a project on it in sophomore English class. Even outside of church, I didn’t have a chance to at least appear normal.

“That’s me.” I painted a fake smile.

“I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see you ‘round here again.”

“Yup. Me neither.” I sighed.

Tyler leaned across my window, poking his head in casually. Behind me was everything I owned, packed away in trash bags and cardboard boxes. To say my back seat was a wreck was an understatement.

“You got quite the load. You coming back to town?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m here to see Officer Mills.”

“Ahh, you’re here to see the boss. Let me call it in and let her know you’re coming!”

“No, it’s okay. That’s not necessary—”

Before I could put up a fight, Tyler whipped out his radio like a kid with a new toy.

He cockily leaned against the side of the window. “Will you let the sheriff know Miss—uh—Syrena Grace is on her way to the station?”

The officer on the other line confirmed before he handed over my license.

“I’ll escort you back to town. Follow me.”

I reached out the window for my license, but his grip didn’t let go. My eyes flicked up to his as we both held the ID.

“I’ll let you off easy today, Miss Grace. Just this one time.” For a moment, he seemed serious, his tone stern. But his smirk betrayed his firmness, and he laughed as he let go of my ID.

“Or, next time you’ll be riding in the back of the cruiser.”

He slid his shades down from his head and jogged back to the patrol car.

“No. Thank. You.” I muttered to myself as I twisted my keys back into the ignition. My truck engine sputtered as I swerved back onto the road, following the patrol car. With the radio still busted, I was left with nothing to listen to but my thoughts. The only thought cursing through my head;

We are free.

Chapter 2

Once I drove past the faded "Welcome to Sioux Falls" sign, it was like traveling back in time. The 24/7 diner was bustling with locals getting their afternoon coffees, school kids playing in the town courtyard, and the old bookstore on the hill had a fresh coat of blue paint. Everything was exactly how I remembered it. It was comforting and eerie all at the same time.

I swerved into the police station along with my escort. My hundred-year-old engine didn't make my arrival discreet. I winced at the thought of everyone turning to stare at who could be driving this loud piece of shit. And in a town this small, you can spot new and old faces. I twisted the keys and shut off the engine as light rain drizzled against the windshield. The warm summer turned into an overcast that darkened the station around me like a haunting silhouette. I pulled my jacket tight around my neck and braced myself.

I made my way to the front doors when Officer Tyler raced up to join me as if we were buddies. "How do you and the Sheriff know each other?" "She’s an old friend." He whipped off those tacky shades again, now eyeing me up and down. "You sure changed a lot since school. I like the new style; it suits you."

For a brief second, I glanced down at my outfit. He wasn't entirely wrong. Since high school, I traded the frumpy sweaters and ankle-length Amish dresses for jeans, boots, camis, and this brown flight jacket that matched my hair. I was never allowed to wear anything remotely form-fitting, especially tops. Aunt Agnes said I’d draw "sinful attention" to myself if I did, given my figure. But I couldn’t help it back then; I was just a kid. The one thing I kept relatively the same was the French braids, swept to the side. I tightly wrapped my jacket around my chest and kept walking.

The cool A/C of the lobby made me shiver. At the front desk, a secretary with a pristine updo, wearing a fitted blouse and matching pencil skirt, typed away on a computer. She hardly noticed me until I cleared my throat. "Hi, I’m here to see Sheriff Mills."

The secretary nodded and told me to take a seat. Behind me was a bench, and above it a large bulletin board. Smack dab in the center was a flyer with a familiar face. I slowly walked toward the board and read the giant text: MISSING PERSON: Agnes Anne Grace, Age: 68, Height: 5’5", Hair: Brown, Last Seen: June 16th, 2009.

The photograph captured her perfectly. Her posture was straight as a board, and her dark hair was pulled back in a modest updo. Her expression was strained, emotionless. Even through a photo, I could feel the glare of her piercing eyes. But hers wasn’t the only one. Dozens of missing person flyers were stapled to the board. Some of them I recognized from church. Was I happy I didn’t have to see my aunt? Yes. Did I want her and all these people to go missing? No. From children to the elderly, all were gone, with my aunt's photo in the center of it all.

"Sorry to hear about your mom," Tyler said in a hushed tone. His sudden appearance knocked me out of my trance. "My aunt. She was-is my aunt." I slumped down onto the bench, and he took the spot beside me. Could this guy seriously not take the hint? Jody should be turning up any minute, and I needed something to distract myself from more small talk.

"Strange, isn't it? We’ve been turning this place upside down trying to figure out what’s going on." "I can imagine," I huffed, half listening to him. My foot started to shake impatiently as we sat in the awkward silence. Then Tyler looked around the lobby and ducked his head down to me. "Did the Sheriff tell you the feds are about to take over the investigation?"

I stopped my fidgeting. "Feds, like the FBI?" Jody bringing in the FBI? Nothing this exciting happens here to warrant that kind of attention. But given the state of the world and these people disappearing by the day, I guess it was getting serious. All of this to bring her home.

"Syrena!" A familiar voice came from around the corner. I turned and saw her—Jody Mills, in full uniform and that same warm smile. Not much had changed, aside from the gold star on her chest that now read "Sheriff." Jody was promoted around a year after I left. No one was more deserving than her. She is the best damn officer in this town. It made me feel better knowing she was in charge.

"Hey, kiddo." She walked over, arms open. I returned her hug and fell into her warm embrace. "Wow, it’s so good to see you again. Look at you!" Jody took a step back to look at me, pulling forward the braid of hair that rested on my shoulder. Behind me, Jody glanced over to Tyler.

"Officer Barnes," she called to attention, and he practically shot out of his seat. "Did you get those reports printed?" "Uh, no, ma’am." "Well, let’s get a move on!" She ordered, and Tyler scurried away.

"New guy," she rolled her eyes before patting me on the shoulder, and we turned to face the bulletin board. I couldn't look away from all their faces staring back at me.

"Any updates?" I asked quietly. Jody’s voice softened. "No, not at the moment. I have patrols running twenty-four seven. Something will turn up soon." 

She patted my back again. "Why don’t we go to my office?"

I followed Jody to a small office tucked into the front of the lobby. The space was way bigger than her old desk, but kept in the same Jody fashion—a little cluttered. Two coffee cups lined up beside her stack of reports. She lived and breathed this job. 

I  noticed the picture frames on the corner of her desk. 

“Wow, is that Ellie!” I leaned forward and examined the picture. It was a school picture of a young girl with a carbon copy of Jody’s smile. Ellie was Jody’s daughter, and her perfect mini-me. I used to babysit her back in school. She was so little then, now she was all grown up. 

“What grade is she in now?” 

“About to go into sixth grade. She’s 10 going on 16!” Jody exclaimed as she started tidying up her desk. 

The other frame was a family photo with her late husband. He passed away a couple of years ago in a car wreck. Ever since then, Jody’s been keeping things afloat. 

I carefully sat into a seat across her desk, “Thank you again, Jody, for letting me stay. I swear I won’t be a bother.” 

She chuckled, “No, never! You were such a big help with Ellie when I needed it. I couldn't have done it without ya.” Jody opened a drawer beside her and tossed me a pair of keys. 

 I fumble before I catch them, “What’s this?” 

“Keys to your place.”

My eyes widened. “No way, seriously!” 

“I called in a favor. It’s furnished, with the first month's rent paid. I thought you should have a space of your own. And I owed you one.” 

I trace the keys' cool edges with my thumb. “This is perfect; thank you, Jody.” 

A large group of officers and detectives walks by.. I’d never seen the station so busy like this. Jody walks to the door and gently cracks it shut. 

“Hey, I heard something about the FBI being involved. Is it true?” 

Jody hesitated before she answered, “Yes. Didn’t have much of a choice, we could use the extra help. But I’ve dealt with these agents before…”

 “Dealt?” I laughed, “Are they bad at their job or something?” Jody walks around her desk and takes a seat. “They've been around town before, digging their noses around small cases here and there. It’s two guys, young. A real good cop, bad cop duo. They have a strange way of working their cases. But by law, they haven't done anything wrong besides giving me a headache.”

“Interesting.” I caught myself glancing at the door as well. 

“And you trust them with the investigation?” 

“Trust, I’m not sure. But it seems like that’s the only option I have.” 

I could see the strain in Jody’s face. But for the first time in all my years of knowing her, I’d never seen her scared. 

“Speak of the devil.” 

I turn my head to see a black Chevy Impala drift into a parking spot at the front of the station. 

“Who’s that? Nice car.” 

Jody huffs, “Bad cop.” 

A tall, chiseled man in a suit stepped out of the car. The man was younger than I thought, maybe late twenties or early thirties. I’ll admit he was good-looking; he looked more like a movie star agent than a real one. And he certainly played the part. With a smug smirk, he glided to the desk and leaned down to talk to the secretary, and even from afar, I could see his eyes lingering on her outfit. He spotted us through the window and made his way over to the office. 

 The agent waltzed in with a charismatic, cocky smile, “Mornin’, Sheriff.”

 “Good morning, Agent.” I could feel the heat coming off in Jody’s tone.

“I see there’s only one of ya. Will your partner be joining us today?” The agent cleared his throat. “No, he will not. He’s been assigned a case out of state.” I could see the ripples of annoyance under his smirk-clearly that struck a nerve in him. “I was told you have a list of witnesses for me.”

“Yes, I do.” Jody digs through her stacks of reports before gesturing to me, “Agent, this is Syrena Grace. She just drove in from out of town.” “Agent Smith, FBI.” He flashed his badge at me as I stood up from my chair. “Hi.” I reached out and shook his hand. His grip was firm. “Miss Grace, I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”  His grip was firm, but when our hands touched, I got an uneasy feeling again. A heavy feeling came over me, like a sudden wave of sadness. It must have been from the long day of driving. 

“Thank you,” I mumble as I unclasp his hand. I mumble as I unclasp his hand, and my uneasiness starts to fade away.    

“Agnes Grace– from what I understand, she was your guardian.”

“Yes, she was my aunt.”

The agent clears his throat, “I’m conducting witness interviews as part of the investigation into the local disappearances. Collecting information from family, friends, and anyone who might have some insight. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a few questions regarding your aunt. ” 

“I doubt I’d be much help. I haven’t spoken to her or seen her in years.” 

“I understand. Were you at any point involved with the “Path of Deliverance” church?” 

My throat turned dry. “I was…a long time ago.” 

“And you attended church frequently with your aunt?”

“Yes.”

The agent straightened his stance, practically towering over me, “From what I understand, she was well known among the congregation?” 

I shifted awkwardly in my stance, and the blood started to leave my face. 

“Yes, she was a very dedicated member.” 

“And yourself?”

“No. Not in the way she was…”

“How do you mean?” The agent's expression shifted slightly; he was more intrigued. He didn't take notes or write anything. Just staring, like he was studying me. 

 “Wasn’t much of a church person, I guess.” 

“Any particular reason why?”

His forwardness caught me off guard. I hesitated to answer. I cursed myself internally for not coming up with some bullshit excuse.

“You weren't part of any of the church groups? Youth groups? Sunday School? Choirs?”

I shook my head no, and my hands felt clammy.

“Syrena, was there anyone your aunt didn't get along with?” 

I shake my head, “No, not that I can think of.” 

“Anyone you didn't get along with?”

I shook my head no again. My face started to feel hot.

He persisted, “For someone whose life revolved so much around this church, you sound pretty distanced.” 

“I guess my experiences were just different then her’s.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. 

I blinked as my mouth fell agape, but nothing came out. 

Only he can save you.

Only he can save you.

Jody stepped forward and handed him a manila folder. “Here are your witnesses. I suggest you get a head start; you've got a lot of ground to cover.” 

The agent grabs the folder from Jody, but doesn’t break his gaze from me. It was like he was looking right through me. 

Before he could persist with his question, I blurted out, “Agent, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to the church or talked to any of these people. I hardly remember any of it. I’m sorry.” 

The agent let off, for now. He reached inside his suit pocket and pulled out a small white card. “Well, if you do remember anything, give me a call.” 

I take the card from him and shove it into my jacket pocket. 

Jody guides him to the door, “Our officer will have the rest of your paperwork by the front.”

The agent smacks the folder in his hand and scoffs, “Yeah, about that, is there any way you can assign me a more experienced officer?” 

Jody crosses her arms with an amused expression. “What’s wrong with the one you have now?”

The office door swings open, and Tyler smacks the agent in the arm with the door.

“Ooo, sorry, boss. Here’s your reports!” Tyler pokes his head in and hands the agent a stack of papers. Agent Smith snatches the files from Tyler and shoos him away. 

Jody smacks the agent on his hurt shoulder. I cover my mouth trying to contain my laugh.

“Guess you don’t need your partner after all, you got all the help you need!” Jody shuts the door behind him.

“You see what I gotta deal with all day!”

Before I could respond, the office door swung open again, causing Jody and me to jump.

“Sisi!” A small voice squeals. Ellie, in karate uniform, runs up to me and I catch her. 

“Hey bug!” I embrace her hug as her glasses nearly fall off her small face. 

Jody puts her hands on her waist. 

“El, I told you to wait for me to come pick you up. I don’t want you walking by yourself right now.” 

“Mom, it’s fine. Jeanie's mom gave me a ride.” She huffed, annoyed. Ellie never lost that attitude. “Besides, I wanted to see Sisi!” 

“It’s good to see you, too, bug.” 

I set her down and examined her uniform. “Look at you, tough girl! What is this karate?” 

“Yup. Mom said I could do any sport I want this summer,” Ellie exclaimed proudly.

“And of course, she picks the one where you get to kick and punch people.” Jody rolled her eyes playfully before taking Ellie's backpack off her shoulders.

“How about we let Sisi settle down in her new place and then we have dinner at the good ol’e diner?” Jody looks at me as I take the backpack over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

The station was getting busier again, with officers walking in and out. We escape the chaos inside and walk towards the parking lot.

“Here’s the address.” Jody reaches into her pocket and hands me a crumpled note. 

I opened it and read the address while Jody gave me directions to get there. At the bottom of the note was a phone number.

“Whose phone number is this?” 

“That’s the owner, Bobby Singer. He lives down the road from the house. But try to call me first if you have any issues. He’s an alright guy, but he likes to keep to himself.”

“Alright, then.” I chuckled as I folded the note into my pocket. Inside, I could feel the smooth business card from Agent Smith. As I make my way to my truck, I take another glimpse at the black Chevy Impala. It was getting all too surreal, having the FBI investigate a mystery that turned this whole town upside down, along with my life. My mind kept slipping back to our conversation, his questions about the church. The heavy feeling from when I shook his hand washed over me again. I couldn't explain this feeling.  Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of being back. Or maybe it was his determined glare, like he was reading me for something besides just intel on my aunt. It was a feeling I couldn’t explain or turn away from.

Authors Note: AHHH THANK YOU IF YOU READ THIS FAR. This is actually my first fic ever, and I'm so excited to be writing this story. I'll be posting chapters actively on A03 and here on Tumblr. This will be a slow burn/long fic with much more to come. I hope you stick around for the ride! <3 -Ray