𝗠𝗔𝗗 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡       ♱       𝗦𝗨𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗟
000   /   CARDINALS   APPEAR   WHEN
"ANGELS"                ARE               NEAR

Daintily, a cardinal hopped along the porch swing, seeming unbothered by October's chilling winds. An old porch light gleamed above it, the bulb flickering and casting a soft glow over the bird as the sun rose in the east.

Carolina hummed to herself, closing her eyes as she wallowed in the calming silence, allowing the wind to blow through her red hair. It had been a few weeks since she escaped her father's insistent grip. He had become so obsessed and driven with the idea of catching some demon that he hadn't noticed his little girl making arrangements.

A smoke cloud billowed out of Carolina's mouth and into the pale October sky. The chilling morning air made her shiver despite her large coat wrapped tightly around her. The screen door cracked open, a small smile curving along her lips as Sam peeked out at the woman.

          "It's freezing, Callie." He stated, eyeing the woman as if she were insane. It was Halloween morning, and wickedly cold in California, which was unusual for the golden state. A light laugh fumbled past her shivering lips as she nodded at his astute observation. "Come on—Jess made breakfast." The shaggy haired boy pushed the door open, gesturing for his younger sister to hurry inside.

Carolina immediately did so. She shrugged her coat off as he closed and locked the front door, shaking his head in disbelief at his little sister's unusual ways. It was one of the many things he admired about her though—her ability to simply enjoy things; standing in cold weather, admiring the frost along the lawn was definitely one of those things.

          "So," Sam chirped, rubbing his hands together as a poor attempt to warm himself whilst leading Carolina towards the kitchen. "Any plans today?" He asked, opening the fridge before leaning down and reaching for the orange juice.

His question elicited a soft sight from the young girl. She shrugged, causing him to huff. "Seriously? It's your birthday and you have no plans?" He turned around, reaching into a nearby cabinet for a few cups as Jess wandered into the kitchen, smiling sweetly at Carolina.

"Happy birthday, Callie!" The blonde turned, enveloping her into a loving hug. Carolina thanked her, hugging her tightly before they departed. "We are going all out—and I don't want to hear a single thing about it. You only turn twenty-one once." She pointed her index finger at Carolina in a warning manner.

Sam smiled, pouring some juice into one of the three glasses he had grabbed. Jess gave Carolina's arm a reassuring squeeze, winking at the girl before joining Sam's side and reaching for the full glass. "I don't want to be a bother, guys. I am already overstepping by living here—."

Immediately, Sam's movements stopped and Jess nearly choked on her drink. "You are not overstepping." Sam said reassuringly, a hint of sternness in his tone. Jess nodded in agreement, "Jess and I enjoy having you here, Callie...We really do."

"Thank you, both of you." Carolina mumbled, flushing softly at the attention. She sighed softly, "Alright, I guess...we can go all out." The words had barely left her mouth before Jess erupted into a gleeful cheer. She approached Callie, enveloping her into a bone-crushing hug as she laughed, promising that the young girl would not regret it.

For the first time, Carolina felt that what's past is past.

Dean's calloused hand reached out, pulling Buffy back by her leather jacket. Her leg raising, boot colliding with his chest as he tumbled back into the wall. Before he could lunge or attempt any sort of escape, she managed to grab the dropped gun. She huffed, racking the shotgun with an exasperated force.

A pastel bruise traced along her cheekbone, chest dramatically rising and falling with each heaving breath she took. Her intel was wrong—or at least it had to be. The man she was looking for was supposed to be in his early fifties by now, and yet the man she had been pointing her gun at couldn't even pass for thirty.

He held his hands high in surrender, breathing deeply as blood trickled from his nose. She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head in disbelief at the whole ordeal.

"Where the hell is John?" She asked, ignoring the stabbing pain in her leg from the knife that scathed her just minutes prior. He remained quiet, causing her to step closer, his eyes practically staring down the metal barrel. "Where. Is. John." Her demanding tone didn't faze the man, as he simply titled his head and met her wild gaze.

"Who's asking?" His smug expression was enough to make Buffy want to pull the trigger then and there but she remained strong. She stepped back, kicking aside the various weapons they had dropped throughout the fight. "Listen," He went to get up, causing her to stiffen and adjust her aim on the male. He hesitated, quickly keeping his hands in her view before slowly continuing with his movements.

He sighed deeply, wincing at the pain that stung alongside his left rib cage. "My name is Dean Winchester." He groaned softly, "I'm his son—If you just tell me your business with him then...I can try and help you, alright?" He was out of breath, and Buffy thought for a brief moment before nodding and lowering her gun.

"He promised he would help with something." Buffy revealed, her eyes never leaving his anxious gaze. "My sister is missing—she's possessed by this...thing and he promised he would help." Dean's features softened as he nodded, swallowing hard as he slowly lowered his hands. "He helped before." She added, "It was frequenting my neighbor when I was younger and he was able to get rid of it. He promised that if it came back that he would help."

Dean nodded, slowly turning to face the wall with a look of disbelief. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before kicking the wall in anger. "Son of a bitch." He scoffed, wincing as he grabbed his side again. Buffy watched, a sinking feeling in her heart as she reluctantly asked.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I don't know." Dean sighed tiredly.

Her eyebrows furrowed in response. "You don't know?" She repeated his words, laughing to herself as her eyes glossed over. "You don't know!" She scoffed, shaking her head as her bottom lip quivered. "Just my fucking luck." A shaky breath followed her words as she propped the gun against the wall.

The two remained in silence for a moment. Buffy couldn't believe it. "Wait—What if I help you look for him?" She asked, eagerness prominent in her tone and shaky actions. A soft sigh pushed past Dean's lips.

He didn't know the woman, but she was obviously in the same business as him; hunters can always tell other hunters apart. He knew it from the moment he saw her in that bar just hours prior. He analyzed her for moment, watching as her doe-like eyes were practically begging him. He had been looking for the guy for nearly a week by himself—he couldn't do it alone.

"Alright," He nodded, "Just don't hit me again." He reached up towards his jaw, wincing at the slight ache that her small fists had somehow made. He limped towards the motel door, throwing it open as the cold air rushed in. Buffy trailed behind him, squinting at the sunlight. In the distance, a soft chirping could be heard. A cardinal sat atop the Impala's hood, turning its head in every direction before flying off.

Buffy furrowed her eyebrows at the pain settling in her shoulder; far too focused on applying pressure to the scratch along her leg that she couldn't be bothered to notice the red bird.

It was easy to mistake her eagerness as desperation for wanting to aid her sister, but the truth was Buffy's sister had ran away some time ago—by all accounts she was happy in Manhattan, living her dream city life. She didn't need John's help, in fact she wanted anything but. She had her own agenda, and if using the man's son to find him would get her to him, then she would do just that.

Buffy Masters had one goal, and that was to kill John.