Disclaimer: Let this serve as a disclaimer for all subsequent chapters that I do not own anything from the Gossip Girl nor the Supernatural franchises.
A/N: This is something that came out of my vault written waaay back in September. Completely experimental and just keep an open mind, yes? Let me know what you guys think.
For the first time in her twenty-three years, Blair Waldorf had no idea how she got there, but she held on as if her life depended on it. The water beating down on her was turning cold and she pulled her knees closer to her chest. If she put her head down, forehead to her knees, she could pretend like it never happened, like her world wasn't falling apart. She was good at that - pretending. Pretending that her mother loved her, that Nate loved her, that Serena loved her, Chuck... that anyone at all ...
This time, though, out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't stop the scene from replaying before her eyes. The scene that effectively made her movie a tragedy. Everything else that had happened, the lying, the cheating, that had all just been plot points and drama but this... this changed everything. This turned her Love, Actually, even in all its messed up. backstabbing glory, into Beaches, or even worse because at least Barbara Hershey had Bette Midler to mourn her. She had no one... and she would be a shitty single mother.
The beeping on her full message machine demanded attention and, without turning off the shower or getting out of the tub, she reached out a trembling arm and pressed PLAY. A slender finger poised over the delete button, she listened as the voices of the two most important people in her life in the past six years echoed off the tiles.
"Blair, I'm so sorry. You have no idea-" delete.
"B, I made a mistake. Please-" delete.
"Baby, you're scaring me. Just call-" delete.
"We didn't mean to, B. I swear. Please don't-" delete.
"It didn't mean anything, Bear, I swear. I lov-" Crash. The machine laid on the ground, smashed with the wiring now peeking through the black plastic. Still, the voices wouldn't stop echoing. She was going mad, she was sure of it. So she finally stood and turned off the shower, her body covered in goosebumps, lips trembling from the cold. Her usually coiffed locks stuck to her face and she looked at herself in the mirror, pale and stout. Her hand rested on her stomach - a habit that came naturally since learning of her secret a month ago - and it was no wonder her own fiance didn't want her anymore.
That's when she saw her and in her fear and grief, she had forgotten to scream. She only looked into the mirror as she saw her wide, dilated pupils, her scale covered body rising from the bath water. A burst of wind rushed through her abdomen and there it was again, for the second time in one week, uncertainty lulled Snow White to sleep.
"Hi, Dr. Jack Lanchester." A quick flash of fake ID, a handshake and the most artificial smile he could muster. "I was called in to check on a..." Pretend to look at all important looking notepad even though he could probably spell the name backwards, he knew it so well. "... Ms. Audrey Ranch?"
The male nurse looked confused. Good. "Um... Ms. Ranch was medically cleared by Dr. Rivers an hour ago. Are you sure-"
"Listen, I'm just here to do my job." Not bad, Dean. Not entirely a lie. "Now if that Dr. Rivers missed something and that poor woman, who just lost her baby by the way, ends up dead or in a coma, are you going to take responsibility because she didn't get the chance to have a second opinion?" The guy was pretty much shaking in his boots at the thought of getting in trouble. Dean guessed that the sucker had probably never been responsible for anything in his life.
"Uh, Room 314, Doc. Down the hall on your left." He hoped that the nitwit was intelligent enough to give him the correct room number. The three white letters on the door stared back at him and with the confidence bestowed upon him by the white coat that he'd purchased at some obscure Halloween store a couple miles back, he flipped through the file marked "confidential" in a tray by the door. Yup, Audrey Ranch, 27 years old, single, miscarriage. All right, where was the good stuff?
He flipped to the last page. Ah, psych eval. There we go. "The patient displayed classic signs of post-traumatic..."
"Classic signs my ass," he muttered under his breath.
His head snapped up and there stood a pretty little blond. The charmer smile turned up automatically and he extended his hand. "Dr. Jack Lanchester. Are you Ms. Ranch's family?"
She had soft hands. "Yea. Abbie. I'm Audrey's sister. I thought the other doctor said that my sister's okay."
This other doctor was a serious pain in his ass, apparently. "Of course. I'm just here for a routine check. A follow up on the psychological evaluation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with your sister alone."
The girl grabbed his forearm. "Listen, my sister isn't crazy. She's just going through some things, all right? Her boyfriend is apparently married, she was hormonal from the pregnancy. Just, please. She's having a difficult time as it is."
"Don't worry. I just need to speak with your sister alone. I am trained at my job, miss." He gave her a quick wink before entering the room, effectively stunning her before she could say anything else.
The room was depressing. Typical. The curtains were drawn and the girl sat in motionless on her bed, limp blonde hair hanging around her face, her stare fixated on a point on the wall. He cleared his throat and her head snapped up at him. "Hi. Dr. Jack Lanchester. I'm just here to ask you some follow up questions about exactly what happened."
Her eyes flashed and moved back and forth rapidly, as if something had appeared. He recognized that look. "Don't worry. You're not crazy. I just need you to tell me exactly what you saw."
Of course it had to be an ancient mythical creature. A run-of-the-mill angry spirit would be way too easy. All signs pointed to the lamia - a creature dating back to Greek mythology, serpentine lower-body, crazy woman up top. One version of the story included Lamia as one of Zeus' mistresses. When Hera found out, she slaughtered Lamia's children, causing her to turn completely off the rocker and start kidnapping and devouring children.
The strange thing was that they haven't been heard of since a wave of disappearances dating back to 1859 in London. What caused it to re-emerge? In New York of all places. Dean didn't even think that children existed in a place like Manhattan. The ones who grew up there probably had a more messed up childhood than he did.
Something else bothered him - lamia were supposed to kidnap and devour children, as in full grown, independent living breathing beings. Why was this one going after unborn children?
He was just about to get the cute nurse's number when he saw a group of doctors rush towards a gurney that was coming from the ER. He grabbed the arm of one of the overexcited interns. "Hey, what's going on? Did the mayor die or something?"
"Haven't you heard? It was a miscarriage."
"A miscarriage have all of you running like kids on Christmas morning? Come on now-"
"It's Blair Waldorf. She pretty much owns the Upper East Side. No one even knew she was pregnant."
Ah, so it's one of those. "Okay, I still don't get what the big deal is."
"Her fiance, Chuck Bass, is the VP of Bass, Inc. They're our biggest investors." With that, the kid ran off. As the gurney passed him, even Dean had to admit that the girl was gorgeous. Not like a model - her limbs weren't quite long enough. Not exactly girl next door, either - her features were too doll-like and delicate. She didn't have a particularly large bust, but he had to admit that those lips, pale as they were, were to die for.
Then he saw it. Amidst her chocolate curls, something reflected off the florescent ceiling lights.