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Madam Mim
One Big Modern Mess
- Joined
- May 30, 2013
"No, please they're suspicious...we'll be caught!"
"You worry far too much. We'll be fine." The sound of amused giggling, the rustle of leaves.
"Gaius? What are you--?" The sound of a struggle, grunting, someone being hit then dragged. Men laughing, dogs barking, then the tortured screaming.
Cecilia took a deep breath when she realized she was fully conscious. Her chest had felt constricted as the screams continued to ring in her ears. She had had the dream for years, yet had never seen Gaius's face; it was always just voices and a blur of green, though sometimes she could get a clear view of the ground beneath her feet. Cecilia sometimes wondered what it all meant, but she had often had a recurring dream of having to reach the surface of a fifty-foot-deep pool too and yet she'd never even seen a pool deeper than twelve feet. Finally she opened her eyes, rubbing them tiredly and stretching. Uncle Bobby's couch wasn't exactly the best for napping, but she'd been up since dawn and needed a little downtime in the early afternoon.
Then the door handle turned. Calmly but quickly Cecilia pulled a shotgun from beneath the couch and crept behind a wall, round chambered but finger off of the trigger. It wouldn't do if she accidentally shot Uncle Bobby. The intruders came in quietly, trying to mask their heavy footsteps.
Sam was concerned when Bobby's door opened with no difficulty. He never left it unlocked. With a glance at Dean he pulled out his gun, keeping it low and ready as they crept into the house. Around the corner to the living room he found two barrels in his face and instantly held up his hands upon seeing who was wielding it.
"Whoa whoa whao! Just us!" Sam put away his gun quickly, in time for a splash of holy water in his face. He squinched his eyes against the water before drying his face on his shirttail. "Nice to see you too, cuz."
"Well don't come creeping up into peoples' homes like that!" Cecilia admonished, lowering the weapon and sliding it carefully back under the couch. "There's such a thing as keys, you know." She pulled both Sam and Dean into hugs in turn, kissing their cheeks as best she could.
Cecilia Singer while rather more petite than the brothers Winchester was nonetheless situated between them both in age and disposition. They had long ago figured that since they both called Bobby Singer "uncle"--regardless that the Winchesters weren't related by blood--they figured they may well be cousins and had almost always treated each other as such. The exception was one unfortunate week in their teens when Cecilia and Dean had in their pubertal confusion attempted dating with the justification that they weren't actually cousins, only to find that family indeed doesn't end in blood. Sam had thereafter teasingly called them "kissing cousins" until his lip was split when Cecilia decided that that was quite enough of that. Every now and then Sam would still bring it up, just to mortify them.
Now in her late twenties Cecilia no longer lived with the man who had raised her but was a librarian in neighboring Harrisburg. Once every two or three months she came to stay with her Uncle Bobby, if nothing else to make sure the old hunter hadn't drunk himself into an early grave. Bobby often complained about these visits, wherein she cleaned, organized, and forced him to eat relatively healthy food, but that was just his way and she knew it was appreciated. This was the tale end of one such week and it showed.
"House looks good," Same commented, looking around. "'Bout time the stacks got dusted off. Where's Bobby?"
"Out preparing for my departure by buying, quote, 'real food.' Meaning prepared foods loaded with salt and saturated fats." Cecilia didn't sound offended. "I'm making a pie to help him get a head start on his determined self-destruction. Though I'm convinced forcing him to eat a salad every few months is the only thing that's scrubbed his arteries clean all these years." She shook her head and padded into the kitchen to take the chilling pie dough from the fridge so she could start a crust. "You boys staying long?" she called over her shoulder. "Or is your creepy-crawly something needs immediate handling?" She was what she liked to call a "part-time hunter," rather like Sioux Falls's own sheriff. While Cecilia was aware of the dangers in the world and had paid close attention to Bobby's educational rants about them, she wanted a 'normal' life and typically tended to only hunt down monsters when they were on her own doorstep rather than crossing the country actually looking for them.
"You worry far too much. We'll be fine." The sound of amused giggling, the rustle of leaves.
"Gaius? What are you--?" The sound of a struggle, grunting, someone being hit then dragged. Men laughing, dogs barking, then the tortured screaming.
Cecilia took a deep breath when she realized she was fully conscious. Her chest had felt constricted as the screams continued to ring in her ears. She had had the dream for years, yet had never seen Gaius's face; it was always just voices and a blur of green, though sometimes she could get a clear view of the ground beneath her feet. Cecilia sometimes wondered what it all meant, but she had often had a recurring dream of having to reach the surface of a fifty-foot-deep pool too and yet she'd never even seen a pool deeper than twelve feet. Finally she opened her eyes, rubbing them tiredly and stretching. Uncle Bobby's couch wasn't exactly the best for napping, but she'd been up since dawn and needed a little downtime in the early afternoon.
Then the door handle turned. Calmly but quickly Cecilia pulled a shotgun from beneath the couch and crept behind a wall, round chambered but finger off of the trigger. It wouldn't do if she accidentally shot Uncle Bobby. The intruders came in quietly, trying to mask their heavy footsteps.
Sam was concerned when Bobby's door opened with no difficulty. He never left it unlocked. With a glance at Dean he pulled out his gun, keeping it low and ready as they crept into the house. Around the corner to the living room he found two barrels in his face and instantly held up his hands upon seeing who was wielding it.
"Whoa whoa whao! Just us!" Sam put away his gun quickly, in time for a splash of holy water in his face. He squinched his eyes against the water before drying his face on his shirttail. "Nice to see you too, cuz."
"Well don't come creeping up into peoples' homes like that!" Cecilia admonished, lowering the weapon and sliding it carefully back under the couch. "There's such a thing as keys, you know." She pulled both Sam and Dean into hugs in turn, kissing their cheeks as best she could.
Cecilia Singer while rather more petite than the brothers Winchester was nonetheless situated between them both in age and disposition. They had long ago figured that since they both called Bobby Singer "uncle"--regardless that the Winchesters weren't related by blood--they figured they may well be cousins and had almost always treated each other as such. The exception was one unfortunate week in their teens when Cecilia and Dean had in their pubertal confusion attempted dating with the justification that they weren't actually cousins, only to find that family indeed doesn't end in blood. Sam had thereafter teasingly called them "kissing cousins" until his lip was split when Cecilia decided that that was quite enough of that. Every now and then Sam would still bring it up, just to mortify them.
Now in her late twenties Cecilia no longer lived with the man who had raised her but was a librarian in neighboring Harrisburg. Once every two or three months she came to stay with her Uncle Bobby, if nothing else to make sure the old hunter hadn't drunk himself into an early grave. Bobby often complained about these visits, wherein she cleaned, organized, and forced him to eat relatively healthy food, but that was just his way and she knew it was appreciated. This was the tale end of one such week and it showed.
"House looks good," Same commented, looking around. "'Bout time the stacks got dusted off. Where's Bobby?"
"Out preparing for my departure by buying, quote, 'real food.' Meaning prepared foods loaded with salt and saturated fats." Cecilia didn't sound offended. "I'm making a pie to help him get a head start on his determined self-destruction. Though I'm convinced forcing him to eat a salad every few months is the only thing that's scrubbed his arteries clean all these years." She shook her head and padded into the kitchen to take the chilling pie dough from the fridge so she could start a crust. "You boys staying long?" she called over her shoulder. "Or is your creepy-crawly something needs immediate handling?" She was what she liked to call a "part-time hunter," rather like Sioux Falls's own sheriff. While Cecilia was aware of the dangers in the world and had paid close attention to Bobby's educational rants about them, she wanted a 'normal' life and typically tended to only hunt down monsters when they were on her own doorstep rather than crossing the country actually looking for them.