Twist of Fate - Chapter 2
2.
Dean sat upright, the gun from beneath his pillow aimed into shadows. A moment passed in silence and the sound came again, a musical giggle from the other side of the door.
Feet bare on the skanky motel carpet, Dean moved silently to the window and pushed back the curtain to peer outside. The night was whitewashed in moonlight and the parking lot appeared to be empty. The Impala was parked in front of the motel door, safe and sound.
He was about to chalk it up to thin walls when a pulsing blue light came from inside the Impala.
“Oh hell no,” he growled and shoved his feet into his boots. “Not my baby.”
Bursting into the night, gun trained on the car, he came to a skidding halt when what appeared to be a small blue flame wiggled out of the open passenger side window. He lowered his gun and smiled crookedly at the little thing.
Another sigh came from behind the car and a second blue flame joined the first. They twirled and danced a moment while Dean watched with awe.
“Never fuck with a wisp, boys,” had been the one and only lesson John Winchester had ever imparted to his sons on the matter. When they’d asked why, he’d only shaken his head and said that any hunter who had ever tangled with wisps had never been the same.
Dean watched them dance until they seemed to turn their attention back to him. They bobbed a little closer and then moved away. When Dean took a step toward them they disappeared, only to pop up again several feet away.
“Hey, you invited me to this party,” he said. The little flames tittered and came closer then moved away again.
“What do you want? I was sort of busy having a family crisis,” he said as another blue flame wiggled free from a crack in the pavement and yet another appeared further down the path.
“What, you want me follow you?” he asked when the first two appeared to be waiting for him.
“Something tells me I’m going to regret this,” Dean muttered and followed the little blue lights out of the parking lot and down the street.
They led him through a labyrinth of backstreets and alleyways, giggling and sighing. Just when he thought they’d disappeared for good, one would pop up again, the blue flame reflecting in puddles and along the walls.
He’d been chasing the little shits for over an hour, and was beginning to wonder whether there was a point to their game or he had just been chosen for tonight’s entertainment.
“Come on, let’s get on with it already!” he yelled, chasing a flame around the corner and coming to an abrupt halt. He scrambled back, narrowly missing the pointy tip of an arrow aimed at his head.
“And what exactly are we getting on with?” a sharp, feminine voice, with a heavy Scottish brogue asked from the shadows.
Dean squinted, assessing the threat and raising his gun. The arrow moved closer and he froze.
“I’d advise ye to drop your weapon, sir,” his assailant said. “Lest I be forced to mar your pretty face.”
“Who are you?” he asked, slowly putting the gun on the ground.
She stepped forward into the light and pulled down the hood of what looked like a cloak, releasing a mass of unruly, red corkscrew curls.
“The better question,” she said, big blue eyes meeting Dean’s. “Is WHEN am I?”
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