❝What Remains of the Old Gods:❞ The 1st Chapter
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Character/Reader
Content/Warnings: Canonical level of blood, angst, swearing, etc., awkward teenagers, john winchester (he’s his own warning)
Summary: Mara’s tried to ignore strange occurrences around her and her family but as she learns more about her lineage and her father’s attempts to reach out to her estranged uncle, Bobby, she’s compelled to contact him on her own. Unfortunately, making herself known to the hunter, and whatever creatures have an eye on him, forces her to enter the hunting world.
This shouldn’t be happening. My family lives in Canton, a half an hour away from Sioux Falls, one of the biggest cities in South Dakota. I never really understood, when I was a little kid, why we didn’t move out of Canton, which has nothing if you don’t count the schools and the courthouse or the church, in favor of Sioux Falls. We, apparently, only had family in Texas. I never knew those cousins very well because I’ve only met them a couple times.
This shouldn’t be happening because I live in a normal town, go to a normal school, and prom is next week! So, I try my best to ignore the whispers I hear through my bedroom wall, I really do, but I manage to hear something about my aunt, Karen. I never met her. She died in an accident when I was only old enough to remember that was the only time I had seen my dad cry.
I inch towards the wall, resting my ear against it.
I hear my mom say, “When are you going to let this go?”
“Let this go?” My dad repeats as if he were scolding her. “How could I ever let this go? Do you hear yourself?”
“You say you’ll finally find it out but you never will and it’s about time you understand that,” She says with a level voice.
“I can talk to Bobby, okay? I’ll get him to talk.”
Mom scoffs. “You ought to stop heckling him or, one day, you ain’t never going to come back home either.”
He lets out a sigh. “Nobody’s looking for Karen. If I don’t, who will? If I don’t, she’s just going to end up forgotten.”
I don’t stay to hear the rest. Instead, I lay in bed, my eyes staring at the ceiling. My mind’s stuck sorting through everything, grasping for straws or mentions of, “Bobby,” an estranged uncle whom I’m related to because Karen married the guy. While I can’t think of much, my mind’s buzzing with adrenaline that makes me want to go out and find him. Maybe Bobby would feel bad for me and tell me anything about her.
I do imagine, sometimes, what holidays may have been like if she never disappeared. There would never be a half empty dining table at Thanksgiving or Christmas photos with just my parents and I. Maybe Karen would’ve liked me enough to bring me on a trip around Sioux Falls. Maybe she would make me call her Aunt Karen; I could have grown up with cousins, always there, just a drive away. Her and Bobby couldn’t conceive but maybe they could have adopted. Anything but nothing. Anything, cousins or no cousins, would have been better than growing up with the rest of my family on the other side of the country, which is why I start thinking about things I shouldn’t do.
How can I talk to Bobby? I don’t have a car, and I’m a lot of things, but I can’t steal my parents car.
Frustrated, the thought of calling a couple girls from school crosses my mind but we’re not close enough to talk about…whatever this is.
I wonder how long the walk would be from my house to Bobby’s. I grab a map on my dresser and draw the route to Sioux Falls. 23 miles. I have to look for a bike. I set my alarm clock for 4AM, early enough to sneak out before school starts.
For now, I lay atop my bed and my parents argument comes back to me.
“You ought to stop heckling him or, one day, you ain’t never going to come back home either.”
What does that mean? Bobby’s dangerous? Dad doesn’t believe that. Even from old photos with Karen, Bobby looks like a normal guy, a little overweight with a baseball cap and a beard.
The alarm blares and I smack it till it turns off. I hold my breath, listening for if someone woke up. The only noise is from the AC unit.
I sneak to the garage to check a bike that hasn’t been touched since last summer. After making sure the gears won’t jam on the way there, I throw on some old clothes I don’t mind getting dirty.
My backpack’s stuffed full of maps, water, and protein bars. My eyes look over my room one last time. I decide to leave a note on the kitchen table so even if mom and dad freak out, they at least won’t think I’ve gone missing. I tell them I’ll be back in the evening, and that I’m staying after school for some project.
With spring, the sun’s already shining so there’s enough light on the two-hour bike ride to Bobby’s. My mind wanders during that time to things I can’t avoid because I’m about to meet my uncle who I’ve really only seen once, after an accident years ago.
Bobby had come to my house to ask about what happened. I told him like I’d told everyone else, that it started snowing the morning of October 3rd, 1988. I got on the school bus, and eventually, a bear ran onto the road.
“The bus flipped a couple times, is that right?” Bobby said.
“So, the bus flipped after the driver slammed the brakes, and then it hits a guardrail when it rolls to the shoulder of the road?”
“And the girl you said was pickin’ on ya, standin’ next to ya, broke her neck but you come out with some scrapes?” He said.
He sighs. “I think I need to speak with your grandmother. Get her opinion.”
“I don’t think she likes you,” I warn Bobby.
I still don’t know why he wanted to talk with Grandma. I wish I had asked ‘cause it makes no sense, looking back, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with Bobby since.
Grandma was a traditional woman, a devout Christian. She was a normal grandma, nagging me to eat my whole plate, baking desserts for the sake of something sweet, and forcing my mother to accept them; the only odd thing about Grandma was her poorly hidden disdain towards Bobby.
I never had the guts to ask why. There are a multitude of questions I wish I had asked before her passing. Being around my mother, who would rather return to normal life, has made me postpone my grief. Until now, with the reminder of the man she despised.
When I get to Bobby’s house, I can feel the skin on my thighs sticking to my jeans and the way a few strands of hair refuse to stay away from my nape. I look to the house that seems to have a junkyard full of scrappy cars, even though a sleek Chevy Impala’s parked at the front.
Not sure if Bobby has company, and no to determine that with so many cars around, I set my bike on my porch and ring the doorbell. Sounds of shuffling, and something hitting the floor, come from behind the door till it opens.
Bobby stares in shock, his eyes studying me.
“What are you doin’ here, girl?” He scowls at me.
“Well,” I say, “You haven’t changed one bit, Bobby.”
“You should know better than to be givin’ me that attitude, comin’ all the here, ya idjit.” He gazes past me to the front yard. “Where’s your car?”
“I biked,” Gesturing to it, laying on the porch.
I hear a boy inside ask, “Do you know who that is?”
Bobby moves to the side, silently inviting me in.
The most shocking thing isn’t the books on top of books, in every corner, or the three guys looking at me like I’m an alien, but rather that the oldest man must have aimed his gun at me whilst I was at the door, because I manage to see him lower it to the ground, although he doesn’t put it away. For a moment, I think Mom must have been right about Bobby, or who keeps as company.
“Bobby, who is this?” The man asks.
“Oh, can it, John. I don’t go ‘round lettin’ just anybody in.” Bobby gestures to me, “This is my niece, Mara.”
I say, “So, do you go pointin’ that thing at everybody you meet?”
“I mistook you for someone else.”
I don’t pay much attention to him. Instead, my eyes wander to the two younger guys, who look about my age.
“Sorry about that,” one of the boy grimaces.
Bobby says, “This is Sam. The older kid’s Dean. They’re John’s sons.”
“Nice to meet you, Mara,” Dean says, lightly smacking Sam’s back.
“What was that for?” Sam complains under his breath.
He and Dean share a look I don’t really understand.
John says, “As nice as the introductions are, we need to get goin’.” He looks at Dean expectedly.
“Goin’, where?” I question.
For a split second, I can see Bobby starin’ John down.
“They’re just visitin’ some relatives,” Bobby says.
But as Dean and John carry duffel bags, a lot of stuff just for seein’ family, Sam sits at the kitchen table alone, keeping his head down as if the wood’s become memorizing.
I take a seat and say, “Are you not goin’ with them?”
His eyes flicker to the door. “Uh, they don’t like me, the family they’re visiting.”
“Thanks,” Sam says, his head still down.
After a few moments only filled with faint conversations between Bobby and John beyond the kitchen, Sam starts picking his nails.
He struggles to ask, “Why was Bobby so taken aback?”
“We haven’t seen each other for a while.”
I answer, “I wanted to talk to him.”
“About what?” Sam says, leaning towards me just the slightest.
“Family trouble,” I give him a look. “That’s all.”
He seems to relax. If he thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions, he’s got to look in a mirror.
I tell him, “You don’ look it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His shoulders tense.
I shrug. “You’re the same height as your brother.”
“He’s nineteen,” Sam says.
He opens his mouth and closes it as if struggling to answer. “He –”
Bobby yells from the living room, “Get over here!”
Sam is the first to move but he looks at me worriedly after I get up as well. At the front door, Bobby gestures me over to him.
“I understand you got a lot o’ questions,” He says quietly. “But right now, Sam needs to be spoken to in private.”
“Oh, okay. Let’s just go to the kitchen.”
“I’d suggest you go upstairs to the guest bedroom.”
I shake my head. “This ain’t a sleepover, Bobby, I don’t need a room.”
“Suit yourself,” He sighs.
As he herds me to the kitchen, I peek back at where John seems to be reprimanding Sam. He holds a finger up to his son’s chest with a face that’s just too serious.
I ask my uncle, “Why’s he so intense?”
Bobby scratches his beard, assuming who I’m talking about. “John’s just a complicated man, but he means well.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Mara, those boys are like family,” He explains. “I got no business tellin’ you what to say at home but while you’re under my roof, you can’t go badmouthin’ their father. Do you understand me?”
“We haven’t known each other long enough for you to be talking to me like that,” I say.
He sighs. “I suppose not.”
I hear John call us over.
“We got off on the wrong foot,” He shakes my hand.
Dean says, “If you come ‘round here more often, we might get to make it up to you.”
John eyes him warily. “Now, we ought to get going.”
I open my mouth to ask, “Why don’t you bring Sam? What’s so dangerous about a nasty family dinner?” but my eyes meet Dean’s, then Sam’s, and I refrain. John doesn’t seem like the type of guy to give straightforward answers, anyway.
We step onto the porch and watch them drive away in that Chevy Impala.
I say, “I knew that care seemed too fancy for Bobby.”
“Ya got me there, kiddo,” He admits.
Sam says, “Dean calls it ‘baby.’”
He nods with a smile that makes his baby face more apparent.
Bobby heads back inside, telling us, “No funny business.”
“And I’m taller than you,” Sam says.
We sit on the floorboards, seeing as there’s no chairs out here, just the birds chirping with the morning sun.
“Why do the real reason your dad don’t want you to go with them?”
“Uh,” He scrambles. “I don’t understand w–”
“Yea, you do, I’m not that dumb,” I say.
“You’re better off not knowing,” He warns me.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to hide but you’re horrible at it.” I exhale, slowing my breathe so I’m less of a hothead. “I don’t mean to start a fight or whatever. But if a girl you just met knows when you’re hiding something, you’ve got to be an open friggin’ book.”
Sam stares in surprise. “Maybe you’re just observant.”
I shake my head in disagreement.
“No, seriously, did Bobby train you?” He asks.
“You can’t just say never mind.”
“Why’s everyone so defensive?”
He says, “It’s not my place to tell you about it.”
“Then what is?” I raise my voice.
“I don’t know! You really want to know?” He yells back.
“Yea, I do, Sam!” I demand.
His eyes avert my gaze. “Just take a good look around Bobby’s, research any book, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You won’t believe me though. That’d be for the best.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I envision Karen, and what might have killed her, or if Bobby had anything to with it.
“There are things you might see, but it’s easier to live if you’re oblivious, okay?”
I stand up to go back inside, and Sam rests a hand on my shoulder.
He says in a hushed voice, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this.”
“I’ll decide that for myself, after I ‘research’.”
The creek of the oven opening blends in with a rickety old fan. I hear Sam writing, his pencil gliding along paper from a notebook. We sit on a couch in the living room.
I peer over his shoulder, where there’s sketches of symbols I’ve only ever seen on some of Bobby’s books.
“This?” He gestures to the notebook, to which I nod. “You should ask Bobby.”
I lean back on the couch and try to ignore the gnawing thoughts going through my head.
What if Bobby did have something to do with Karen’s disappearance? Can the same man who visited after the accident make the love of his life disappear?
I look around Sam and I in case Bobby’s in earshot. I hear something clang in the kitchen, so I hope he’s too busy to walk into the living room.
I blurt out, “Is Bobby dangerous?”
Sam’s eyes open wide in shock until his forehead starts to wrinkle, and he says, “I don’t think you know who you’re talking about.”
“Yea, I guess I don’t,” I respond, moving to examine the piles of books and the strange languages they harbor.
Most of the books have a fair coating of dust, some of them almost solid grey from dust bunnies, so I grab one of the few that seem to be free of whatever’s stick to the others. This one, I realize, not only lacks dust, but it’s spotless pages, aside from dogeared corners, give me the opinion that the book must have been cared for.
Sam continues, “You can’t just come around here as if you know him, which you don’t, and call him whatever you want.”
I refrain from looking him over the book in my hands. “You’re the one acting as if you know me, Sam.”
My hands trace across the title, Slavic Gods and How to Hunt Them, etched onto the book cover. The chapter titles, as stated in the index, are named after gods called Yarovit, Svarozhits, and other names I can’t pronounce. But the names of few, like Veles, “the god of magic, alchemy and the realm of the dead,” are circled with notes of them written in the margins.
Sam says, “That’s got to be Bobby’s only fake book in the whole house.” He walks over to me, cautiously, as if he’s worried I’ll snap at him. “Monsters, demons, I’ll believe. But pagan gods are a hard sell, even for me.”
It’s then that I finally come back to my senses. “Is this a weird joke to you, Sam? Are you some sort of occultist? Or are you just insane?”
Bobby clears his throat, standing at the entryway of the room, straight as a rod with his arms crossed. “What did I say, boy?”
He points to Sam. “I’ll deal with you later.” Bobby gestures towards me. “I think it’s about time you go home, Mara. Don’t want to leave your parents thinking worse of me already.”
“Do you seriously believe all that crap?” I scoff.
“No, and none of us do,” Bobby glares at Sam. “He does this with everyone.”
The boy says, “Just let her take one of the real books.”
I say, “So what? That’s it? I go home, pretend this never happened, we never see each other again? I never even asked about Karen.”
Bobby stiffens. “I should’ve figured she’s the reason you came here.”
I gaze down at the book still my hands, and I don’t look up at him when I speak. “Look, Bobby, I didn’t visit for some family reunion or wiccan voodoo shit.” I take a breathe in. “What happened to Karen? And don’t give me any crap, or sugarcoat it. I’m here for answer.”
His chest heaves and his neck has reddened, just enough to become noticeable. “We ought to do this in private.”
I tell him, “You want the rest of the family to like you again? You want to visit for holidays? Well, you’re never getting there if you don’t talk.”
“You told him of all people?” My voice raises. “He’s a kid!”
The boy mumbles, “Not that younger than you.”
“I never meant for any of this!” Bobby argues. “His father’s to blame for getting him involved in this mess. Don’t go blaming this on me, girl. I tried to fix things with your parents. But they’ll never believe me so there ain’t nothin’ I can do.”
“Stop tellin’ me I can’t handle the truth. Both of you,” I struggle to prevent my voice from cracking. “I’ve been here for half a day, and all I’ve learned is that you two must think I’m a little girl.”
I begin to walk around the room, shoving anything of mine in my backpack. When there’s nothing left, I ask, “Is there something wrong with me? What’s the problem?”
“No,” Bobby assures. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what?” My eyes cloud with tears I refuse to shed, because if I cry, they’ll never take me seriously. And they hardly ever take me seriously as it is.
“You want the truth?” He says.
“Yea,” I yell. “Yea, I do.”
“Mara,” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “If you know the truth, you can’t tell your family.”
I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”
Bobby tells me about the days before Karen’s death. He recalls her behavior with clouded eyes.
“She was herself until she wasn’t,” He admits under his breathe.
Karen had attacked him with an inhuman strength, throwing him around like he weighed next to nothing. Scared to death, whatever demon that possessed her had him running around till he got his hands on a knife.
“She didn’t have to die, I know that more than anyone,” He says.
I take a moment to understand what he has just said to me. “You’re crazy.”
Sam says, “You wanted the truth. This is it.”
He looks at the old man with raised eyebrows, a silent question.
Bobby demands, “We’re not getting her more involved than she already is.”
“She’s involved by relation.” Sam says. “By being here.”
“She ain’t goin’ ona hunt if that’s what ya mean.” The man sighs, his hands on his hips. “But I suppose she could learn how to defend herself.”
I say, “She is right here.”
“Mara,” Bobby’s scratchy voice emphasizes his angry tone. “There are...creatures out there.”
I stare blankly. “What are you saying?”
“Those monsters you thought were under your bed, those might not be real,” He explains. “But that doesn’t mean monsters like them ain’t out there.”
I refuse to acknowledge what Bobby’s trying to tell me, not because I don’t believe monsters from folk tales don’t exist, but because recognizing their grotesque existence would change my view of the world. I’m not ready yet; I’m not ready to grow up.
So I tell them, “Call me when you’re not lying through your teeth,” and grab my packed bag.
“Just listen,” Sam says. “Please, Mara1” He rests his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face towards him. “I know this sounds crazy, we sound insane, but think about it. There are cultures all over the world that tell stories about monsters, over and over again!” His brown eyes beam with excitement. “How can folklore be so similar when most of those civilizations never made contact with foreign society?”
“This isn’t some prank! I mean, why do you think I my dad left me here? You think Bobby wants to babysit me?”
Bobby sighs and sits on the couch, watching us argue.
“I may be dumb,” I yell, “But I’m not stupid enough to fall for whatever scam you weirdos are runnin’.”
Sam says, too quickly to understand, “MydadonlytookDeanbecausethey’rehuntingapagangod.”
Bobby’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
I speak before Bobby can say anything. “What’d you say?”
“Uh,” Sam repeats, “They’re apparently hunting a Slavic god.”
“How in the hell is she goin’ to believe that? Matter o’ fact,” Bobby says, “I wouldn’t believe ya even if ya had ‘GEEK’ written on your forehead.”
I say, “Yea.” I swipe my hand across my face. “I’m going to go now.”
Dejected, the boy mumbles, “Yea.”
Dean’s POV – Later that night – Mara’s House
He hadn’t thought much of Bobby’s niece when they first met. In his mind, Dean dismissed her because Bobby would get pissed if they hooked up and because she’s a little young for him anyway.
But now, his father is yelling till his voice blows and Dean can’t take his eyes off Mara, the girl whose tears stain her sallow face with traces of blood.
“Will you shut up for once?” Sam tells their dad. The boy sits at Mara’s side, a book in his hands.
“Watch your mouth, boy,” John says.
Bobby intervenes. “Hold on now, your son’s right about this –”
“She’s possessed!” John gestures to the girl lying on the wooden tile. “Normally, I’d respect family. I understand that. But you’ve never mentioned this girl before, never warned my boys to stay away. How’s she family to you, Bobby, when ya hardly know her?”
Bobby says, “Of all people, ya don’t get to lecture me about family.” He shakes his head. “I raised your boys. I was there when they needed a real father.”
The boys stare at their father. Dean sees the way his jaw stiffens, although Sam brings his attention back to his book.
Bobby continues, “Walk away, John.”
To Dean’s amazement, the man listens.
He watches his father walk out, like how he left Dean to take care of Sam when he was only a child himself. The image of the back of John’s leather jacket and the sound of his boots stomping on the wooden floors brings him back to those stuffy motels.
Despite this, they have to go with him. They need to. Bobby may have taught him how to play baseball or ride a bike, but his real father is the one he needs. Who are they without family?
Dean tells his brother they need to leave.
“What do ya mean ‘why’?” Dean remarks. “If Dad thinks this is for the better, then we should go with him.”
“In what world is leaving the best option?” His hands scan over the book, Slavic Gods and How to Hunt Them.
“In the world that’s reality.” Dean stands straight.
Sam barely looks at him when he says, “If you’re not going to help, then leave.”
He pauses, realizing his brother and Bobby are telling him to choose between them and John.
For his own conscience, Dean asks, “Do you need help?” He repeats, hesitantly, “I mean, can I do anything?”
Sam’s eyebrows raise in surprise, either at his refusal to leave or his out-of-character awkwardness. “Yea, uh, could you go out and get supplies.”
He tells Dean the plan: Perform an exorcism for a demon in the rare chance it’s not a god called Vele.
“How do you know it’s Vele?” Dean interrupts.
Sam says, “One, it’s Veles, not Vele. Two, who were just hunting?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, it’s just quick about. Must be pretty angry.”
“Yea, he’s pissed you tried to hunt him.” His brother sighs.
Dean changes the subject. “Uh, what do you need me for, then? Extra manpower if it fights back?”
Sam shakes his head. “While we’re handling the…normal exorcism, you’re goin’ on a supply run.”
“An exorcism for a demon isn’t going to get rid of a pagan god, Dean,” He states as if it’s obvious, which it may be, although Dean would never admit it.
He questions, “Well, why don’t we just learn how to exorcise a god?”
“Yea, right,” Sam scoffs. “We’ll just learn how to exorcise a god. Do you understand this is a god, and not just some monster?”
“It’s got to be a demon hopin’ to trick us.” Dean exclaims, “This mornin’, you didn’t even believe they existed. Now you’re into this crap?”
Sam says, “You weren’t here when this started. You –”
“Ya weren’t with her, either! You let her go home, you let her know about everythin’, and then ya just let her run on home.”
Bobby orders, “Shut your traps, the both o’ you!” He takes a deep breath. “You got two options here: either stop your whining or let me deal with this alone. Is that understood?”
The brothers respond instinctually, trained from their years with John. “Yes, sir.”
“You know what you ought to do.” Bobby warns them, “I don’t want to hear one word out o’ y’all unless it’s an incantation.”
Sam insists, “It’s not an incantation, it’s a prayer to Morana.”
Dean hears them talk about praying to a different god to fix the problem with the one that’s making Mara ill. He keeps his opinion, which is that involving more of those things is a bad idea, to himself for the sake of speed. The faster they can get this over and done with, the better.
A/N: Thank you for reading <33 This is just the first chapter so far but if anyone has constructive critique, feel free to reach out!
