Disclaimer - I do not own the characters of the TV Show Supernatural, Original characters belong to me and to themselves. I am making no monery gain from this piece of fiction. The storyline is entirely an idea from my mind, and will later include some of the details and scenes from Season 5. I am not claiming to have come up with those details. None of this story is true in whole or in part. I am merely a fan of the great show and want to try and show respect that I have for said show.
This is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic, so please be kind ;) There will include; profanity, sexual situations and violence. If you are offended by such things, then please press your back button now. With that being said; this is unsuitable for anyone under the age of 18 years.
Please enjoy, and don't forget to comment - otherwise there won't be no more. Enjoy. :D
Say It (If it's Worth Saving Me)
Written By; HarleyMac. Date Started; 12.05.2011.
2..00 – AM;
Coming home was the best part of the night. Quickly locking the door to my apartment, and by the time I turned around, the lights were on and the sound of the bath was running.
"Thanks Jesse, make it hot please?" I called out to my resident ghost.
I flopped down onto the large love seat in the middle of the large open plan living area. My feet were aching, my hips sore from the performing that I had done all night. What a night. But I couldn't complain about the money that I had made – I was good at my job, mainly because of my little 'gift'. I was what most people called an empath. I could feel and read emotions just as well as normal people read books.
Being a stripper definitely gave me the advantage to make a good living; I could pick the customers who were weak enough to exploit. No I am not evil; I just have rent to pay. If it means that I have to take advantage of some schmuck who comes into the strip club, then I was prepared to do it.
Sliding my feet out of my metal spiked heel boots and wiggled my toes to get the circulation flowing again then I padded my way through to the kitchen and pulled the chilled bottle of wine that I had placed in the fridge earlier out and poured myself a fish bowl sized glass of the red liquid and then moved into the bathroom just as Jesse turned the taps on the bath off.
"You're a God send Jesse," I sighed, placing my glass on the ledge that surrounded the floor sunken bath and began to light a few candles, turned off the light, "ok private time now Mr." I said to the thin air.
I had only ever seen Jesse once – it was when I had first moved in, he had made his presence known by way of loud banging and moving my things around, eventually I had confronted him with a spell that I had learned from my, now estranged, Father, Bobby Singer. Turns out that after the convent had been knocked down, a boys home had been built where apparently the boys were tortured and abused beyond recognition, and when one too many deaths were reported – they knocked the home down and only recently, the ground had been turned into condo's. When Jesse and I had talked, he had explained that he was stuck here, under the buildings, where the ma'am had buried him and he had no where else to go. So we came to an understanding – he could stay if he stopped trying to scare the Hell out of me. And in return, I wouldn't continue to call him names or curse him to Hell.
Sliding out of the barely there outfit I had to wear for work, I climbed into the hot water, and slid underneath the surface feeling every single muscle in my body relax with the soothing bath salts that Jesse had apparently added to the water.
"Thank you Jesse," I called out, once I had raised out from under the water, and was given a loud knock in reply.
Reaching for my glass, I sank back to lean against the base of the tub; feeling more and more relaxed as the moments went on. It was impossible to actually feel the emotions of a ghost; but when they were pissed they sure let you know.
My thoughts turned to my Dad – Bobby Singer, hunter and deadbeat Dad; extrordinaire. I hadn't seen him in a few years; he hadn't been married to my Mom; in fact from the way she had told it, he was a sperm donar and nothing more. I had met him a couple of times when I was a kid, but hadn't seen him since I was 18 years old and he found out that I was working in a strip club.
It wasn't exactly my fault that I had ended up living the life that I did – my Mother had been a call girl, it was all that she could do to make a living, especially considering the fact that she was a hunter too. Turning tricks in whatever back water town she took us too – paid for food and a roof over our heads. We were never in one place long enough for me to go to school and get an education, so my Mother had taught me everything that I needed to know. It was around the age of 19 that my Mother had a run in with a demon who took her mind and made her literally a vegetable. I had promised her that I would find a way to bring her back. I had done all the research that I could and still came up short, and for a while I got lost in my misery of life without her.
From the moment that I was born, she was the only constant in my life. We were more like friends than anything else. In fact she was the only best friend that I had ever had in my life. I didn't play nice with others, it was due to the empath thing and then the fact that I had never been properly socialized. I worked hard in the strip club to be able to maintain my life and to keep her in care where she could be cared for in the appropriate manner. I wasn't ashamed to admit that I occasionally extended my services to call girl status if it was a slow week, or if I needed extra one month for anything else. I didn't do it regularly, but when the need took, I wasn't ashamed to do it.
Sex for me wasn't anything special – I had been raped by one of my mother's clients when I was 13 years old, and from there I just knew how to use myself to a great advantage. If I wanted it, I'd turn on the sexual charm and work it until I had what I needed. I was alone and that was the way I liked it – I didn't have to worry about what anyone thought of me, I didn't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings and I didn't have to answer to anyone. One night stands were different – I did those because I liked sex and I felt a particular itch that needed scratching. Everything was on my terms and no one elses. Just the way I liked it.
And if a man didn't want to stop when I was ready for him to stop – I knew how to protect myself.
Up until I was the age of 13 – my Mother hadn't wanted me involved with the hunter life, she had refused to teach me how to look after myself, she refused to let me actually go out on a hunt with her and she refused to me even research for her. Then after I was raped, she saw things completely differently, she started teaching me how to fight and how to use weapons to my advantage. It had all been useful, especially in this line of work. One couldn't be too careful.
A few months back, I had felt this unbearable pain; at first it had been so sharp and so isolated that I had thought that it was my appendix bursting. I had even been unable to stop myself from losing control of my bladder and my guts – it was so bad that I hadn't been able to find relief for it and then all of a sudden – it was like it just disappeared and my legs felt numb; like I couldn't feel them at all. I couldn't even stand, I mean I knew how to stand, but I just couldn't because I had no feeling below my waist. Thankfully, I had Jesse around, to look after me otherwise I would have been completely isolated.
A few days later and a chick that I didn't know, called Brittany, had phoned me out of the blue to tell me that my Dad was in hospital and had been in an 'hunting' accident and had been left permanently disabled.
I could feel my Father's pain – being that we had the blood bond and all. I could feel him sinking into despair and depression. But I had told Brittany that it wasn't my concern and hung up. After all the times that I had been sick as a child, or had needed a Dad he hadn't been there – I didn't owe him a damn thing in my mind. So I had moved on with my life, but lately – it's like the depression that he is feeling just wants to smother him. I can switch it off if I chose, but sometimes my mind block slips and I can feel all his emotion pushing through into my subconscience.
I never caved though – I remained firm in my decision to not call him or go to see him.
Now it was barely even a tickle in my mind – and I had forgotten about it for the most part. The fewer people that were in my life, the easier it was for me to control the feelings that came from people. Especially making close connections with people – those were the worst, because even being miles apart I could feel their emotions, and the things that they dealt with. And it drove me close to insanity as it was – if I were to deal with that on a constant daily basis then I don't think that I would have lasted this long without spending a lengthy time in a mental institution.
Being that my mother was a hunter, I knew all about the supernatural world and how to fight it. I had never chosen to go into the family business however. I was finding it hard enough to deal with the horrors in real mundane life, without having to deal with the horrors of the supernatural world on top of it. It was a decision that my Mother had supported whole heartedly. She hadn't wanted this life for me, she hadn't even wanted it for herself, but when her husband had been killed by a Vampire; she had taken it to heart and gotten into the business for revenge, not exactly a healthy attitude to have when you're going into something this big. From what she had told me about her husband – he had been an amazing man and would have been the perfect Father for me.
My mom nor, Bobby knew why I had been born with this 'gift' but they had agreed that they didn't want me in the life. Like Bobby had a say – he hadn't bothered with me, so why the hell should he have a say in my life and what I did? I had steered clear of hunting, unless it involved me directly. Just like my Mom had wanted – she had always told me that she had hunted to make the world a better place for me and for my kids (not that I planned on having children), so I had done as she had asked of me and I had stayed out of it.
I missed my mom; she had been the only thing in my life that I could count on; and with the empath deal – she had been a God send. It had been because of me that she had ended up being attacked by that thing that night. I had become so messed up because I was feeling so many emotions from people that were around me and it was making me a nervous wreck, so my Mom had gone in search of something...of anything that could give us insight into why I had been given this 'thing'. Usually I missed talking to her, but whenever I got that feeling – I would talk to Jesse, who was amazing company to be perfectly honest, especially for a ghost.
We had worked a system – if he agreed with me or if he a yes answer, he'd knock once, and twice for the opposite. When he was alive; he had been of Serbian descent and if the mood took him; he was able to write things on the large white board that I had purchased to communicate with him – of course, it had meant that I had needed to learn the Serbian language.
"Jesse?" I called out and got the usual one knock to tell me he was listening, "can you please turn up the heat for me?" I began to slide out of the bath, and reached for the large bath towel that Jesse had placed over the heater, "thank you!"
Once I had rolled my hair into a towel, I moved out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. It was at this moment the building felt like it was shaking from the foundations up – I had to grip the table in the centre of the kitchen to stay standing.
"Jesse stop it!" I called out automatically. One knock, followed by 2 and then 3 and so on. So I figured that meant that it wasn't Jesse doing this – I moved shakily out into the front room where the white board was hanging on the wall and I read the message that he had put up...
'Ne ja - đavoli vrata se sastanku!' translated – 'not me – Devils gate is being hammered!'
Great – that of course meant one thing only – I had to call Daddy dearest; he was the only other person that I knew who dealt in this world. I was not giving up my apartment, but it was another reason why the place was so cheap I guessed. First the ghost and now this Devils gate that Jesse had mentioned.
Grabbing the phone from the end table next to the love seat where I had sat down upon coming home from work. I moved back into the kitchen as the sound of nails on a chalk board seemed to pierce through my ear drums – I wanted to scream out, but it was important that I got in touch with someone to help me. Biting my tongue and swallowing my pride; I dialled the number that my Mom had written down on a piece of paper and waited for him to answer.
The Following Evening;
I hadn't slept all night; the tremoring in the apartment had continued – and my things were literally lying askew or wrecked on the floor after falling from their rightful place. I had given up trying to save anything and just pulled everything from the walls and bookcases and shelves; placed them all on the floor in an attempt to ensure they weren't broken anymore. It hadn't worked, around 7am in the morning – it had gotten so much worse; my bed had literally been lifted from the floor and shaken so badly that I felt like I was going to throw up.
I couldn't wait until Bobby got here – he had assured me that he would be here by late evening today. I just hoped that I could trust his word on what he had promised – past experience, made me doubtful but I was still clinging to the hope that he would make good and actually come through for me; probably for the first time in my life.
It had started to die down around 2pm, so I had grabbed the little amount of my mother's things that I had stashed at the top of my closet and pulled out some of the old texts that she had. I wanted to find out what a Devils gate was – I figured it would help for me to know what it was. Unfortunately, none of her books had any mention of them. I would have checked the internet but my connection was down due to the activity in here I was assuming.
"Jesse are you still here?" I asked out loud, one bang heightened through the other noise that was still there; almost like it needed to remain in the back ground, "don't leave me ok?" I asked and 2 bangs reached me, "thank you!" I looked down to the board and read the reply that he was writing.
'Neću dopust te sam!' - translated – I won't leave you alone. For some reason or another, I felt assured by that – I felt like I wasn't dealing with this on my own and until Bobby arrived, it was good to have someone else here with me, despite the fact that technically; he wasn't really here being that he was a ghost.
"Thank you," I said again and gripped the cushion tighter to my chest. Curled in the love seat, I tried to close my eyes – in the hope that it would get me some type of rest before Bobby shows up.
Only a few moments had passed when there was a knock at the door, I stood up and moved to the door and pulled the door open, which turned out to be the worst thing that I had ever done. In one giant wave of raw emotion – I was on my knees and struggling to get breath into my system. There was so much emotion being channeled to my senses that I wanted to curl into the foetal position and cry. My world felt hazy and I tried to look up but it was too much effort and I folded once again.
"Well don't just stand there igit's – help her!" Bobby growled to whomever was with him.
My entire being was literally rigid as I fought to build my wall back up; I was scooped into the embrace of someone who was literally made of stone; at least that's what it felt like. So firm, so effortlessly strong – but I was too distracted to notice anything else as I tried to fight the emotion that was controlling my body. I hadn't been prepared for that much emotion at one time, and it wasn't something that I had been subjected too since I was about 4 years old, when my mom had taken me shopping in a mall for some new, much needed, clothes. The emotions were there on display like the clothes we were looking at through windows. It had literally cracked my mind to be around so much of it at the same time.
After that Mom made sure to buy my clothes from the internet and from places that she knew I liked, like Hot Topic etc. The internet had become a great source for me – when I was about 15 years old, and it had been relatively new, I found website upon website where I could order the Gothic/80's rocker type clothes that I loved.
I could feel myself being laid gently down onto the sofa but still I was drowning in this sea of emotion. There was fear, there was anger, there was depression, betrayal, confusion, pig-headedness, pride, defeat and the worst of them all; an undying, irrevocable, life consuming dread. Just one of those at a time would be bad enough but all of them together – it was like I couldn't find the air I needed, that the emotions were literally drowning me from the inside, out. With my own uncertainty it was just too much, I needed air, I needed to be able to breathe.
"Back away from her guys," Bobby's voice sounded through the giant wave and slowly the feelings began to retreat, "this is Chloe – she's an empath,"
"Those are real?" another male voice asked.
"After all you've seen boy, and you find this hard to believe?" Bobby growled low in his throat.
"No I just...I haven't...we haven't..."
"Can y'all shut the Hell up!" Bobby roared as the box of tissues that were on the mantel, began to float through the air and I managed to catch the look of shock on the faces that surrounded me.
"Thanks Jesse," I croaked pulling some of the tissues out of the box and dabbed at my eyes, while the blanket that I kept over the back of the sofa began to lift and gently place over my body.
"You're living with a ghost?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah," I nodded, "why? Another thing about my life that you want to pick at?"
My head was beginning to hurt like a bitch – I couldn't concentrate on more than the feelings that were still hitting me. It was too much, way too much and I wasn't used to it; trying to get my mind block up was proving way too hard to do. I would have a better chance at it if they left me alone and then came back in slowly, giving me the chance to prepare for the onslaught.
"Would y'all mind giving me a moment with my Dad?" I asked.
"DAD!" they all gasped.
"Why the Hell do y'all sound so surprised, I never claimed to be a damn monk you know?" Bobby piped up turning to look at them.
It was just another let down from the man who was supposed to be my father, it didn't surprise me that he hadn't told them about me, or that I even existed. Its not like we had this incredible bond with one another. Like I mentioned – he was never really there in my life.
I had only called him now, because I truly didn't know what else to do – the one person that could have helped me with this was out of comission. I missed her more than I had ever missed anyone or anything in my life. I could use her right now, she would know how to deal with this in a heart beat and she'd have it over with by now. I just had to hope that my Father wouldn't be as big a let down in this department as he had been in the other parts of my life.
"Do you want something to drink, Chloe?" the tall man who had carried me from the door to the sofa asked, giving me a look that screamed understanding – there was a kindness about him, the kind of empathy that I wished I possessed, the kind that didn't rule his life, but still made him a good man.
"Coffee would be great thanks," I nodded.
"You got it, how'd you take it?" he asked me.
"Black, 2 sugars, please?"
"Coming right up," he nodded, "come on guys,"
And with that the other smaller guy and the girl on his arm moved through to the kitchen, which was a bit away from me and Bobby; giving, not only, the privacy that we needed but also the distance that I needed in this moment to get myself gathered mentally. I could feel myself begin to relax as the weight on top of me began to decrease.
"How've you been kid?" Bobby asked rolling his wheelchair closer to me.
"If you'd been around you'd know," I spat back. "Look I don't want any pleasantries – I want you to help me with this problem and then you can go back to your life, and I can go back to mine,"
"No!" he said determinedly.
"Enough is enough," he hissed, "for all your life, I have stayed away at your mother's request, but not anymore,"
"Your Mother asked me to stay away," he informed me, "she said that I had been nothing more than a sperm bank and that she didn't want me involved in your lives, so I made the worst mistake of my life, and I agreed to it!"
Was he telling me the truth?
After all this time, after all the years that I had asked my Mom why my Dad wasn't around, and she had simply told me that she didn't know, and eventually when I was old enough she had told me that he just wasn't ready to be a Father. Now here he was in my front room; telling me that she had asked him to stay away.
Was I meant to believe that?
There sure as hell wasn't anyone to dispute the fact – it seemed way too easy for him to say that but then again; he didn't know what had happened to my Mother. He didn't know that she was sitting in a psyche ward with all of her motor functions gone and the inability to even remember her own name, let alone actually say it. Now I was more confused than ever.
A/N - So what did you think? Do you want to read more? xoxox