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Free Supernatural Fanfiction – Chapter Summary:

The hunters attempt to stop a vengeful witch, only to discover a second. Analina defies orders to join the chaotic battle.

Rating: PG-13
Contains:  Supernatural Conflict & Action, Implied Threats, Mild Language, Thematic Elements
No Explicit Content: Lacks graphic gore, explicit sexual content, or pervasive strong language.

CHAPTER TEN:  
Saving People

WE RACED OVER TO JENNY’S, just barely making it in time. She was choking on one of her homemade cupcakes that had a live heart in it. Sam found the coin in the kitchen and shot it, which stopped the spell. Jenny was pretty shaken up by it. After her panic attack, we found out that she was not having an affair with Don as suspected. Either way, all spells were pointing towards Maggie. At least, we found out who was behind it. Next, we had to stop her before someone else got hurt. Don seemed like a good target, so we decided to head back over to check on him.

While watching Don from a distance, Bobby finally got back to us with a spell that should stop the witch.

“Hey, Bobby. What do you got?” Dean asked on the cell. “Yeah? You think it will take her out… Alright… No, I don’t need to write it down. I’ll remember. Go ahead… Mmhmm… The—wait. Hang on. Hang on.” He motioned to Sam for a piece of paper and pen.

“Yeah?” Dean said, as Sam was pulling out something from the glove compartment. “Wait. Wa—ho-ho-hold on. Hold on. Hold on.”

Sam gave him a diner menu and a pen.

“Okay, what was the, uh, what was the last one?… Right. Uh-huh. I’ll remember. It’s fine.”

I sat in the back of the Impala, just completely amused.

We stopped for a quick bite to eat. Sam went to get the ingredients for this spell while Dean and I stopped back at the motel. A little later, Sam called and said it was going to take a little longer than he thought to collect everything, so Dean and I took a walk. We found a little bakery down the block that was having a huge sale. He bought a lemon meringue pie. Apparently, their refrigerators just broke, and they wanted to get what they could from refrigerated stock. We brought the pie back to the motel.

“You sure you don’t want a slice?” Dean asked, already with his mouth full.

“I’m good, thanks,” I said. Never get in the way with Dean eating pie, I thought to myself.

A short while later, Sam came back in with a plastic bag.

“Dude,” Dean called out. He held up a forkful of pie and grinned. “Pie.”

Sam—used to Dean’s pie addiction—just set the bag down next to him. Something smelled off. Like, really smelled bad.

“Ugh. That is…” Dean started but stopped.

“Chicken feet, just like the recipe calls for. Butcher’s fridge is down.”

“I can smell that,” Dean said.

“Uh, he says the power’s been wonky and that he’s lost so much product, he probably won’t make rent. Ditto every shop on the block—nothing but burst pipes and blackouts.”

“Huh,” Dean said, still distracted from the feet.

“He says it’s like all of a sudden the town ran out of luck,” Sam continued.

“So, coincidence, right?” Dean asked. Not taking it anymore, he picked up the bag of chicken feet and walked over to Sam, who sat on the sofa.

“Uh… yeah. We’re past the point of dead flowers,” Sam said.

“I’d rather have the dead flowers,” I said. I covered my nose. It was making me sick.

“What can I say? I guess the witch is pissed. All right, let’s, uh—we better get a move on here. Why don’t you just….” Dean held out the bag. “C-can you take the feet?”

Sam held out a bowl, and Dean dropped them in.

The motel room was seriously going to need to be aired out, air conditioner running or not. I opened a window in the meantime. They finished putting the ingredients together for the spell. We piled into the Impala again and rode off to stop Maggie before she could hurt anyone else.

SEEING SIGNS THAT MAGGIE was having an art show, we pulled up to the auction house. As we came closer, we noticed flashing lights, police cars, and ambulances.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, as he parked the car.

Going inside, we flashed our badges to the cops and went around the corner to find a dead woman covered in blood.

“Whoa! Cleanup on aisle seven,” Dean said, as we got closer.

“I don’t think she would do this to her own auction,” I said, staring down at the corpse.

“Obviously, it was someone who hated her guts and wanted her party trashed,” Dean agreed.

“Don Stark,” Sam stated.

Well, that changed things. We left the auction house in new pursuit.

“So the mister’s a witch himself. That means we got not just one pissed-off witch. We’ve got two. It’s full on ‘War of the Roses’,” Dean said, getting into the Impala.

“Bewitched just got a lot less funny,” Sam replied.

“It’s like when they switched Darrins,” Dean said, starting the car.

“So we’re going to have to wait until they are both together to do this?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m not getting any more chicken feet,” Sam said with a sour look.

“I’m sure the witch is on her way over to Don’s right now,” Dean added. “I don’t think it should be a problem getting them together.”

We made it to Don’s house. It didn’t look like Maggie was there yet. If Dean was right, Maggie should approach Don soon.

“Where is she?” Sam asked, after a few minutes.

“She’ll be here,” Dean said. He glanced around the neighborhood again. “They’ve been throwing thunderbolts at each other’s favorite toys. There’s nothing left to destroy but each other. This is basically ground zero… Speaking of which, Analina, I think for this next part you should stay out here.”

He looked back at me in the rearview mirror.

“But,” I started.

“Just until you are a little… more seasoned,” Dean said carefully. “This isn’t some ghost or demon that you can do your Jedi mind tricks on. These are humans—and I use that word loosely.”

I considered it for a moment. What he said was true. I wouldn’t be able to stop them with whatever power or gift I had. I was better at defending myself and using a gun (and other such weapons), but I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to use it on someone. I wanted to help, but I also didn’t want to be in the way.

A car approached the house.

“Analina?” Dean asked, with a warning tone that there wasn’t time to fight with me. “I will tie you up if I have to.”

Not that that would work for a long period of time. They taught me how to get out of such situations.

“I’ll give you 9:45,” I said, looking at the clock that read 9:23. “If you’re not back out here by 9:45, then I’m coming in.”

That should give them plenty of time to say the spell which should solve this problem. Dean watched as the car pulled up—we ducked down.

“Fine. You promise?” he agreed.

I nodded.

He turned back to Sam. “Screens up, Captain.”

They watched as Maggie huffed into the house, and then they got out, grabbing their items for the spell.

From the car, I could partly see into the house. I saw Don stand up in the front room when Maggie stormed in. Sam and Dean made their way up to the front door. I could see the hostility rolling off the couple from here. I didn’t even need to be in the room to feel it.

Sam and Dean quietly entered the house. I saw them sneak into the room. They were subtle about it. I supposed that as long as they could say the spell, then it really shouldn’t matter afterwards. But from the looks of things, I don’t think they quite made it through the whole spell. They were suddenly flying backwards. Yeah, that worked out well, I thought.

I peeked at my cell—9:29. Well, I would have to break my promise, which I didn’t want to do. I started to argue with myself whether or not I should go in. I watched as the boys were flung about inside while the couple looked to be arguing with each other as well.

Now that was indirect anger in full throttle. I sighed. I was going in. I stepped out of the Impala and made my way up to the house, hoping that they didn’t notice me as I came to the open front door. I crept in. They seemed to be engaged with whatever battle they were doing.

Maggie yelled something to which Sam replied, “Okay, okay, look, I got to say I-I don’t think Don was lying when he said he regrets the whole Wendy thing.”

“Thing?” Maggie repeated furiously. “Sit down.”

Sam was flung down hard.

No one noticed me! I managed to get just outside the room. The bowl still contained the contents of the spell. The matches were closest to me, so I grabbed them first. The argument still ensued as I tried to pull the bowl towards me without going fully into the room.

“Oh! Oh! You’re one to talk. 1492 ring any bells?” Don yelled.

“The man was about to set sail! He could possibly fall off the edge of the earth. I took pity. So, what’s your excuse?”

Dean, who happened to be directly on the other side of the doorway, was getting up. He noticed me. He first gave a look of surprise and then a brief moment of reprimand before he realized what I was trying to do.

“Jenny? Nothing happened with Jenny. She’s just my assistant,” Don said.

Dean walked further into the room, away from the entranceway where I ducked behind the wall.

“That’s true,” he said. “She, uh, she told us. Just an assistant.”

I grabbed the bowl as Maggie waved her hand, and Dean flew backwards with a “Whoa!”

I crawled into the room and crouched behind a large chair that was surprisingly still upright.

I hoped I remembered the incantation correctly. Sam repeated it many times to himself before we came.

I whispered, “Furor divina virtute in infernum eam detrude.”

I lit the match and dropped it into the bowl. It was like an explosion. A bright light filled the room, and I heard Don and Maggie fall. Sam and Dean no longer looked trapped by their spells.

I breathed a sigh of relief if only for a moment. The spell didn’t kill them. It took their powers away.

I heard them get up.

“Who?” Maggie sputtered.

“That’s right,” Dean said smugly. Sam joined him on the other side. I decided it was safe enough to emerge from behind the chair. “Your powers are gone, witch.”

She glared, and Don swung his hand as if doing a spell. We tensed out of reflex, but nothing happened.

“You, too, Dumbledork.” He pulled out his gun. “Now you guys can work out this domestic dispute like normal people, or we can do this the hard way.”

Sam looked a little uncomfortable with the current situation, and I couldn’t blame him. If prompted, I was sure Dean would actually fire that gun on them. Luckily, it wasn’t needed. A little while later, after a short spat and a longer discussion, we left unharmed. And, surprisingly, they also remained unharmed.

We walked to the Impala.

“I thought you were giving us until 9:45,” Dean said. “You broke your promise.”

I paused for just a beat. “Did I give a standard time?”

“Excuse me?” Dean stopped and turned to me.

“I never said 9:45 Central Standard Time. I’m from Pennsylvania, so I’m used to Eastern Standard Time. Hence, 9:45 would be 8:45 time here. Technically, I didn’t break my promise since I didn’t give a standard time zone.”

It was a weak excuse, but it was the best I could think of on short notice.

“Well, that’s just bull…”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted. “Does it really matter? She managed to help. Again. I think you should give her some props on that.” He noticed the look Dean gave. “I’m not saying she’s ready to go full on or by herself, but she’s good enough to be able to handle these things.”

Dean sighed. I remained quiet. “Alright,” he conceded as we came to the Impala. He turned to me. “You seem to have the instincts of a hunter, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of training yet.”

I smiled slightly. “That’s fine with me… and thanks.”

He nodded, and we got in the car.

Image by Copilot

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