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elderwittyFandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1,748 this chapter/11,124 total
Warnings: Mentions of past violence. Violence. Discussion of a suicide. Shifting POV.
Spoilers: None
Pairings/characters: No pairings. Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC. Gen.
Summary: Not your usual after hunt occurrence.
Chapter One http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/7079.h
Chapter Two http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/7278.h
Chapter Three http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/7471.h
Chapter Four http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/7879.h
Chapter Five http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/8104.h
Chapter Six http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/8232.h
Chapter Seven http://elderwitty.livejournal.com/8499.html
The Gift
That’s it. I’m putting her in protective custody. She’ll be safer and, Lord knows, the crime rate’ll plummet. And unconstitutional, my ass. At this rate she’ll be dead ‘fore she hits 40. Locked up’s gotta be better than six feet under.
There’s a thrum of conversation from her room and I think about coming back later. The slap decides for me and I step into the doorway ready for trouble. She’s hitting her right hand with her left forefinger. Oh, right. I forgot her method of getting attention and making emphatic statements. “Hey!”
She whips around, startled, then smiles and mouths, “Hey,” back. The young guy looks at me, tense. Everybody has a guilty conscience when the sheriff shows up. But just in case, “Is he bothering you, Lee?” as I walk up to her bedside. Quizzical frown, then understanding, a head shake, and a hand flap at the guy, with a silent, “He’s fine.”
Damn, it looks like someone took a cheese grater to her cheek. Right before they whacked her with a rolling pin, by the looks of the goose egg she’s sporting. The band of bruising on her neck is too familiar, sad to say.
“What’s up, then?”
A poke at her collarbone, then both fists shaking and a snarl. Missed the lip reading, though. Points at him, slash of fingers across her throat, double tap on her temple, then back to the collarbone. It hits me. “Oh. You’re frustrated ‘cause he can’t understand you?” A nod, emphatic. “He just doesn’t have our practice. Here, this’ll help,” handing over the whiteboard and marker I brought.
She snatches it and scrawls. I laugh to see she’s written you are a god!
“Nope, just a mortal. ‘Sides, knowin’ you, I’d be one with a cat head or goat’s tail or like that.” She tries to smile innocently, but I’ve known her too long. “How ‘bout you introduce me to your visitor?” She actually opens up and draws breath before giving me the friendly glare and a silent, but clearly sarcastic, “Ha ha,” then waves between us to prompt self-service.
“Mike Henley,” holding out my hand.
“Sam Wexler, hi,” standing to lean over her and shake it. Damn, he’s a big guy.
“Haven’t seen you around town, Sam.”
“Um, yeah. I just got in a couple days ago.”
“How do you guys know each other?” Lee’s writing furiously enough that we stop talking to watch.
helped me get skeleton from dumpster. Brett’s a dick – arrest him?
I snort. “Lee, if that was illegal, the whole firm’d be in jail.” Seeing Sam’s look, “Brett’s a lawyer. And a dick. Just like his old man. I’m guessing he’s the reason you were reported dumpster diving again, Lee?” She bites her lip and nods. Exasperated, “You gotta stop that. You know Brett’s trying to get you in trouble. Why’n’t you call me?”
did - you were out on a call
“And you couldn’t wait. You’re worse than a six year old.”
I was bored
“I rest my case.”
Big grin and whatever. made new friends
“Friends, plural?”
“My brother’s getting coffee,” Sam offers.
“Lee, you need to take this seriously. Brett could make a lot of trouble…” I trail off since she’s paying me no mind, scribbling again.
shouldn't be a problem anymore Showing me, then Sam. He gets the brows up/head tilt/silent “right?” bonus.
He’s startled and a little worried, but slowly nods agreement with a, “Yeah, it should stop now.”
“You’re not a hit man, are ya, Sam? ‘Cause that’s about what it’s gonna take to get Brett off her back.” His hesitation has me making a mental note to run his name through the system later.
tell him to Sam.
“Tell me what?”
tell him!! when Sam hesitates. This oughta be good.
“She was under a curse, but we’re gonna fix it.” He looks defiant, expecting disbelief. He gets it.
“Riiigght. And you know how to do this because…why, exactly? I mean, you know Lee isn’t some gullible rich old lady, right?”
HEY!
“Who’d want to curse her, anyway?”
“Her mom.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah. That I can believe.” All too easily, actually.
what?
“Well, after she tried to kill you, why not?” Lee doesn’t write anything, but I see the question on her suddenly pale face. “Dad told me when I was elected Sheriff. Said I needed to know – to explain why you act…odd sometimes.”
She still looks shocked. Let’s try something. “Hey, now that you know I know, there’s something I’ve always wondered.”
?
“Your mom thought you were in your room, right? So how’d you get out?” She snorts softly, then gets to work on the board. Sam and I watch, exchanging the occasional awkward glance.
she never came in my room. Just sat outside and talked. It got old, so I got an escape ladder. In a box - bolts to the floor? She’d start going on & I’d leave. You can only hear that crap so many times, ya know? So stupid…I did it to avoid boredom. Never thought it’d actually save my life.
“Lucky.”
yeah, lucky she didn’t check
“What’s with the curse, though?”
“She put it on Lee’s ring, so when it touches someone, they’re affected,” Sam matter-of-factly says. Like that’s even a little bit normal.
“Oo-kay, that’s…evil. How are you gonna stop it?”
“We destroy the ring. We need Lee there, so it’ll have to wait ‘til she’s out of here. Then we get people to think about why they’re mad at her. That should snap them out of it.”
“Well, if that’s all it takes, how has this worked for so long? Brett’s been harassing her since the day she moved back here.”
“People don’t think. They like someone or they don‘t, and usually never stop to wonder why.”
I’ve seen enough stupid feuds to know that that’s true enough. “And if they touch the ring again?”
“They get another dose, so the curse would keep going, or get even stronger.”
“No offence, Lee, but - your mom was a bitch.” Not just crazy, like we thought.
yeah, film at 11 with an eye roll that could’ve registered on the Richter scale.
I snort and bump her shoulder with my fist. “You are such a dork. I‘ll see ya later.”
?
“I’m going to see Brett. Start de-cursing him. He’s a slow learner, s’gonna need all the head start he can get.”
thanks
She looks abashed, embarrassed. “Dork. Hey, look on the bright side - no more eau de dumpster for you.” Her smile sticks with me as I head out into the hallway.
---------------------------------------------------------------
By the time Dean calls with the all clear, she’s set up in her own room. I stay while he goes on a coffee run. “Lee, I’m sorry…” I stop in the face of her whirling hands. Is that sign language? “Look, I just want to tell you how sor..” The crack of the slap shuts me up. She points at me, then whips her fingers across her throat before hitting the pale strip on her finger where the ring used to be. Movement in the door sidelines my confusion, and the uniform there makes me forget it completely. Shit!
Luckily, he’s here for her, not me. He studies her injuries, easily translates her jazz hand gestures and forks over a whiteboard. She’s really fast with it, although erasing it with her whole forearm is clearly cheating. Thank god she didn’t bring up the spirit; most law enforcement won’t understand that sort of thing. Naturally, ten seconds later, she’s putting me on the spot to tell him about the curse. Which he’s skeptical about until her mom is mentioned. Nobody is supposed to know what she tried to do to Lee, but apparently there are no secrets in small Southern towns. He’s even taking on the dickhead’s reeducation, which is handy. Once Brett turns around, the rest of the town should follow.
“Lee? What did the Sheriff mean about you ‘having practice?’ Has something like this happened before?”
She nods.
“About four years ago, right?” Dean asks, strolling in a suspicious five seconds after the Sheriff leaves. Lee looks agape at him, while he goes on, “Town football game?”
She nods again, slowly, flabbergasted.
“Polly at the diner said you acted all stuck-uppity. What was the damage?”
She points to her head, eyebrows raised in a question.
“Concussion?” Dean guesses.
A nod, a point at her side, then three fingers raised.
“Broken ribs?”
Another nod, then a gesture to her throat.
“Choked.” Now she’s writing
clotheslined
“Brett?” There’s that bar fight voice again.
Nod.
“Nice. I’m gonna go talk to him.” And by ‘talk’ he means ‘pound Brett’s face into the dirt.’
“Too late, Dean. The Sheriff’s already on his way.”
“You’re no fun, Sam.”
“Which is why I’m always available to break you out, Dean.”
“Whatever, Granny.” I’m surprised his eye roll doesn’t unhinge something.
what did the ring say?
“Well, the Latin’s pretty mangled, but as near as we can tell, it’s supposed to say, “Ungrateful child - no friends, no lover, no trust. Always anger. –Malmamere”
what’s malmamare?
“Never heard of it.” Dean shrugs one shoulder and shakes his head in agreement.
why would she do that?
“Lee, she was crazy. You know how I know that? Polly at the diner said so. The Sheriff thinks so. Both of the Sheriffs think so. And she tried…To…Kill…You. She was crazy. It had nothing to do with you, except you got in the way of it.”
“Dean’s right, Lee. It’s like having lightning hit your house. Nothing you did caused it.”
so now what?
“You get out of here tomorrow, we destroy the ring, we leave, and you go back to your life, only with people acting normal from now on.
why wasn’t sheriff affected?
“Well..he knew. He didn’t know what he knew, exactly, but he knew something. And cops are always re-assessing any situation; that would keep it from hitting him.”
“And I think he likes you.”
“Dean!” My turn for an eye roll.
“What? I can’t have an opinion?” Yeah, that’s Dean. So sensitive to nuance. Sad part is I’m pretty sure he’s right. Again.
“Just how long were you listening at the door? And, where’s my coffee?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I drank it. I thought that guy was never gonna leave.”
It turns out you can laugh (hoarsely) even if you can’t talk.
The end.
