Claire burrowed deeper into her cocoon of blankets, staring so hard at the ceiling that she was practically boring a hole into it. Everything was so.. quiet. In the foster homes, she could hardly hear herself think, all the voices of those rambunctious kids overlapping.
She shifted on her side, eyes flitting to the bedside clock. 12:35 am. It wasn’t that late, not really, and Claire sighed.
Her phone screen glowed, lighting up the dark room, partially. She reached out and tilted it towards her, inquisitively.
At convention. Won’t be home till tomorrow night.
It was a text from Jody (she knew it wasn’t Donna, due to the lack of exclamation points). She and Donna were at a police convention in a nearby town- they’d debated taking Claire and Alex along with them, but had eventually decided to let them stay behind.
(Translation: Alex had argued her way through being dragged to a convention, and Claire had amusedly watched. The words “homework” and “being too tired for school on Monday” had been brought up, several times, and while Jody hadn’t fallen for it, Donna had grown weary of the fighting and deemed them age-appropriate to stay home alone.)
Quickly typing back a passive ‘cool,’ Claire stared at her phone, for a few moments, scrolling through the short contact list.
- Alex
- Castiel
- Dean
- Donna
- Jody
- Randy
- Sam
Biting her lip, she pressed the delete option on Randy’s contact list. It was time. Turning to Dean, she felt a surge of anger, and forcefully pressed on his contact. Instead of pressing delete, like she’d been so inclined to do, Claire decided against it and clicked on edit.
Old Man Winchester, the caption now read, and though it was a small and relatively meaningless victory, it had been her choice- which a lot of things hadn’t been, these days.
While she was awake, she might as well change Sam to Rapunzel, as well. And Castiel to Lovesick Angel Nerd. Grinning to herself, she switched Jody to Bad Cop, and Donna to Good Cop.
What could she do with Alex, though? Claire frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. Another text message from Jody popped up, and she reluctantly clicked on it.
You & Alex should sleep, you know?
Claire rolled her eyes. She sat up, quickly responding to the text.
we would, but it’s so hard to, what with all the heavy metal music and drunk college kids.
Jody sent back a picture of her and Donna shooting Claire a mock glare, with a gun peeking out of both their jackets. The caption, Don’t sass us, young lady, made Claire smile, besides herself.
Shooting back a quick alright, ya got me, Claire shut off her phone and threw back her covers. She tugged her gray shirt down, and wondered whether she owned an actual pair of pajamas. She was leaning heavily on a no, there.
It was now 12:57 am, or so the Grandfather clock in the hallway stated, and Claire poured herself a glass of milk; she didn’t know if there was chocolate or sugar in the house, despite having settled in a couple of weeks ago, but she wasn’t accustomed to delicacies, anyways.
“Ugh, how can you just drink it like that?” Claire dropped the mug, throwing a punch sideways, and very nearly hitting Alex square in the nose.
“Woah,” the brunette stated, raising her hands up, “I surrender.”
Claire dropped her fists, turning to the broken glass on the floor and groaning. “Great. Look what you made me do!”
Alex scoffed. “What I made you do? Need I remind you, sweetheart: you attacked me.” She pointed out.
“Yeah, well, you scared me.” Claire grumbled, kneeling down to pick up the broken shards.
“Well, don’t do that.” Alex chided, wincing. “You’ll get those pretty little hands of yours all cut up.”
Claire glared at her, about to point out that her hands weren’t that little, but Alex shushed her and grabbed a paper plate and a paper towel, crouching down and using the latter to sweep the glass onto the former.
“You missed some.” Claire mumbled.
“You dropped all.” Alex retorted, an infuriating smirk on her lips, as she passed another set of plate and paper towels to the blonde. “C’mon, newbie, this time may be quid pro quo, but pull something like it again, and it’ll cost you.”
Claire mimicked the girl’s previous actions, ridding the floor of the sharp pieces of broken mug. Her mug.
Alex hummed to herself, as she poured milk into a different mug, making a point of reaching towards the middle cupboard and grabbing the tub of Nesquik chocolate.
Great. Now she was rubbing it in Claire’s face. Keeping a steely exterior, she stood up and wiped off her hands, all but ready to head back to bed.
Alex, however, had other plans, and she whirled Claire around, eyebrow quirked and mug held out towards the blonde, herself.
“Dude, I spent, like, a total of three minutes making this for you- that’s more energy than I put into school.” She said, and Claire tentatively took the mug.
“I have the odd feeling that Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of that closet and yell punk’d in my face.” Claire quipped, and Alex’s eyes crinkled, amused.
“Cute. Did that reference arrive in a time capsule from the mid-2000s?” She teased, and Claire pointedly ignored her, taking a sip from the mug, instead.
“So, tell me, angel baby; whatcha doing doing up, at this late hour?” Alex queried.
“Couldn’t sleep. You?”
“Didn’t want to.” Alex answered. “I guess you could call me a night owl- former vampire, and all.”
“Jody said you were a vampire for about ten minutes.” Claire noted.
“Semantics.” Alex waved her off, before shooting Claire a funny look. “You, uh, got a little something.”
Claire licked her upper lip, but this apparently seemed to be making it worse, for Alex rolled her eyes and leaned forward, using her napkin to wipe off the milk mustache. She stayed there, afterwards, eyes moving from Claire’s eyes, to her lips. Claire remained wordless, and Alex furrowed her brow, before swallowing and pulling back.
“Right,” she said, stiffly. “Sleep’s for suckers.”
They sat in silence, for a while, and Claire was completely confused as to what had transpired, a couple of minutes ago. She glanced up at Alex, who was tapping on the table, and opened her mouth to say something, when she heard a distant.. shriek?
Claire sat up straight, turning towards the direction the noise had come from. Alex gave her a quizzical look.
“Something up?” She asked Claire, concern laced in her seemingly blasé tone.
“Did you hear that?” Claire asked, standing up, and making her way towards the window.
“Hear what?” Alex kept her gaze on the other girl. “Claire, this isn’t funny.”
“Shh!” She ordered, raising a finger to her lips and narrowing her eyes. Alex played along, leaning against the door. A wail broke through the silence, so much louder than the first one had been, and both girls locked eyes.
“What the creeping hell was that?!” Claire demanded, and Alex opened the door, stepping outside. “No- get back here!”
Claire sighed, tugging on the laces to her converse and pulling on a jacket, before treading out into the cold night. “Alex!” She whisper-yelled, catching up to the determined blonde and twirling her around. “You can’t just… go!”
Alex folded her arms. “Why not?” She demanded, raising her eyebrow. “Scared?”
“Let’s get one thing straight- I’m not scared of anything.” Claire corrected, in a low growl. “But I just don’t think the moms will appreciate this certain outing.”
“Someone could be hurt. Besides, there’s already police officers, there, anyways.” Alex nodded over to the red and blue lights flashing, a little farther ahead. “There’s nothing to indicate that this is supernatural related.”
Claire gave a resigned nod of her head, and Alex marched on. It’s not like she wanted anything particularly spooky to happen (god knows she’d had enough of that, already), but the brunette’s curiosity was easily piqued.
Claire followed closely behind, the intriguing nature of the occasion matched against the increasing dread in the pit of her stomach.
Well, she wasn’t going to die alone, at least.
+
“Olivia Haversham; twenty-two.” The burly police officer boomed, his onyx mustache quivering. “Deceased.”
Claire and Alex stood behind the police tape, with a condensed group of people made up of college kids with bloodshot eyes and some pedestrians that had heard the sirens.
“Sh-She was my sister.” A woman piped up. She had red hair, a shirt that was buttoned-up to the collar, and black jeggings. The cops didn’t seem to hear her, so Alex nudged Claire and strode over to her.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” Alex said, placing a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder.
The woman’s lower lip quivered. “I just can’t believe this is happening.” She answered, in a hoarse-whisper. “Baby Livvy. She just cannot be gone.”
“I’m Veronica, and this Heather.” Claire lied. “We heard the racket and came as quick as we could.”
“Sarah. Sarah Jane.” The woman took a Kleenex from her purse and blew her nose loudly. “Liv was my twin- my better half, really. I can’t believe this was her final destination.”
Alex nodded, sympathetically. “Why was she even here, to begin with?”
Sarah Jane’s face contorted into something else entirely. “Them.” She pointed to a group of five or six college kids; half wore varsity jackets, and the others were clad in tight dresses and short miniskirts. “It was a dare.”
Claire frowned. “A dare? To do what?” She prodded.
“One of those meatheads told her to go inside the old McSmith house.” Sarah Jane explained, wringing her hands. “Those asshats know what’s happened to other’s who’ve tried, and they still let her.”
“What’s so wrong with the McSmith house?” Claire queried, but Alex had blanched completely, tugging the other girl backwards.
“Hey!” Claire protested, pulling away from Alex’s grip, and returning to the woman.
“Oh, you know,” Sarah Jane tilted her head. “That old college legend: some old lady, Janet McSmith, snapped and went on a killing spree, before hanging herself in the living room. Anyone who’s ever gone in hasn’t lived to tell the tale.”
Claire nodded, and seemed inclined to ask more, but Sarah Jane had begun a row with one of the shorter girls among the crowd. Instead, she turned to Alex, who seemed about ready to faint.
Worry overtaking her, Claire reached forward, and pressed the back of her palm against the other Alex’s forehead. “You’re cold as ice- Alex, what’s up?”
The girl in question was looking past Claire, towards the haunted house. “I know that house.” She said, quietly. “Also, Veronica and Heather? Really?”
“It’s a great movie, shut up.” Claire gently led her towards a nearby bench, pushing her down. “And what do you mean, ‘you know that house?’” She demanded.
Alex closed her eyes, and although she was taller than Claire, she seemed so small, at that moment, so vulnerable- and those were two adjectives that one would ever think describe Alex Jones as. Not the same Alex Jones who had dragged her out here, in the first place.
“Back when I was with the nest,” Alex began, “in the beginning, I wasn’t the only one there. There was this other girl, Mara. She was fifteen and I was thirteen.” She sighed. “A family was in the process of moving into the McSmith house, and mother had wanted her to hide out there, lure them in, so that the nest could feed on them. What with the legends, no one would bat an eye before jumping to the conclusions that a ghost had killed them.”
“Simple. Classy.” Claire pursed her lips, as Alex continued.
“But, something happened, and I’m still not sure what it was.” She continued. “Next thing I know, I’m the official ‘bait,’ because the targets and Mara were both dead.”
The blonde’s eyebrows shot upwards. “She didn’t kill them?”
“I don’t know about that- but, something killed her.” Alex let out a shaky breath. “She was my only friend.”
Claire took off her jacket, wrapping it around Alex. They sat there, watching as the police broke up the fight between the college kids and ordered them all to get back to wherever they came from.
“You two little ladies,” one yelled over to them, “that goes for you, as well.”
Claire gave a quick nod, standing up and pulling Alex upwards, as well. They walked back towards the house, before the blonde paused, and laced Alex’s hand with her own.
“Moral support.” She offered, as a way of explanation, but it didn’t stop the smirk that curled on Alex’s lips.
+
Alex woke up on the couch, a crick in her neck, and a flash of blonde near her face. She crinkled her nose, turning fully to see Claire curled up next to her- hogging all the blankets, not to mention.
She sighed, but couldn’t help the fond smile that came as a result. Stretching, she made sure Claire was still asleep, before heading off to make some coffee.
1:24 pm, her watch told her, and she yawned, in response. It felt like six in the morning to her, but that may have been due to yesterday’s fun little adventure.
“Alex?” Claire shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes drowsily. Her hair was messy, and her clothes were rumpled, and the sight made Alex’s heart do a strange little flip-flop.
She ignored it.
“No more coffee.” Alex stated, unapologetically, and Claire groaned.
“I feel like I’m going to drop dead.” She whined, before leaping to the next logical step and taking a sip from Alex’s mug.
“Hmmm. Refreshing.” Claire grinned, keeping it out of reach from the brunette, who flopped over the counter.
“Hey- you’re going to break my mug, now!” Alex moaned, taking back possession of her coffee. “My coffee. You snooze, you lose, sleeping beauty.”
“Whatever.” Claire responded, but seemed considerably more alert.
“So,” Alex began, “what are we going to do about this whole ghost deal?”
Claire developed a coughing fit, giving Alex an incredulous look. “‘What are we going to do?’” She echoed. “Jack. That’s what.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Calm yourself. We can’t just let that poor girl die in vain!”
Claire scrutinized her, and Alex shifted, uncomfortably. “Don’t give me that crap.” She shook her head. “You want to avenge Mara’s death.”
Staring resolutely at her coffee cup, Alex answered, “can you really blame me?”
Claire shook her head. “No, but we’re staying put, okay? Wait until Jody and Donna return; or, maybe, call the Winchesters…”
“Hell no.” Alex shook her head, resolutely. “I have to do this, Claire. For Mara. I haven’t thought about her in so long, but you know what? I was supposed to go with her.” She told Claire. “I’m supposed to be dead, too.”
“But you aren’t,” Claire countered. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Alex shot her an annoyed look. “You don’t have to come, Novak. I get it, you’re too scared to do anything. Just not hunter material. I can do this, myself.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “You can take on a spirit, all by yourself? Really think you can? Fine, by all means, try.” She stood up, stomping towards her room, and slamming the door.
Alex glared sharply at the empty chair. She didn’t need Claire. She didn’t want Claire.
She didn’t.
+
Music blaring in her ears, Claire clenched her jaw. If Alex wanted to go on a suicide mission for some girl she’d known years ago, than so be it.
You’re not just going to let her die, an indignant part of her brain whispered.
“Watch me.” She grumbled to herself.
It’s not like Claire actually cared about Alex- they were acquaintances, but that was it. Yeah, the brunette and her had this electric thing about them; witty banter, and references, and fine, sometimes Claire really just wanted to hold her, or touch her, or kiss her and-
Wait.
Claire bolted up, headphones falling from her ears, breathing erratic.
Did she.. like Alex?
No. No fucking way. Claire Novak did not like anybody- much less irritating former vampires with loose moralities.
Who were, not to mention, female.
(Although, it did explain why she never had been able to gossip with the other girls about their crushes on the boys in their class. Or, why she always had thought Effie Stonem was really hot.)
She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of a door closing- the front door. Was Jody home, already?
No, it was only half past three, so who could be-
Claire grimaced, jumping up and running to the window- just in time to see Alex, clad in jeans, a black tee, and an oddly lumpy bag, sprinting towards the McSmith home.
Claire’s stomach dropped, and she chided herself for falling for such a stubborn asshole.
Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Claire ran through the streets, nearly crashing into a plethora of innocent bystanders. By the time she reached the McSmith house, Alex was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit.” She muttered, jumping the fence and bruising her knees. “You better fucking kiss her, after this.”
Claire tentatively opened the door, the floors creaking with her every step. “Alex?” She called out, uncertainly.
No answer.
The blonde gave a heavy sigh, as she tip-toed through the eerie rooms. How could Olivia Haversham not have run out of here, herself? This place was fucking creepy. Did the ghost stop her? Or, rather, were her inebriated colleagues egging her on?
There was a small, crumpled body on the ground, and Claire quickly fled to their side, pushing past a clump of fiery auburn hair. “Sarah Jane?” She queried, in a low tone. “What the frilly hell do you think you’re doing here?!”
The redhead seemed gobsmacked, speechless, her face a depiction of horror. Claire frowned, slowly twisting to face a sight that she didn’t think she’d ever get over.
A fully decayed corpse hung from a noose that was connected to the a tier in the ceiling. Claire gagged, quickly turning back to Sarah Jane, who was looking a little green, herself.
“Listen to me: did you see Alex?”
Sarah Jane frowned. “You mean Heather?”
“Whatever floats your boat.” Claire waved her off. “Is she here?”
Sarah Jane pointed towards the direction in which the corpse hung from. “The room adjacent to that one.”
Claire gulped, readying herself, before weaving through the dank corridor and past the ill-fated woman hanging from the roof.
The light was even dimmer here, and Claire squinted. “Alex?” She tried again, and was met with a shrill scream that iced the blood running through Claire’s veins.
Hurrying in the direction of the shriek, Claire saw Alex lying on the ground, covered in blood. She ran over to her, but was stopped by a force launching her backwards.
“BAD LITTLE GIRLS MUST BE PUNISHED.” A nasty voice boomed throughout the house, and all the windows shattered, a gust of air rushing in. “BAD LITTLE GIRLS MUST BE TAUGHT A LESSON.”
Several objects flew together, smashing, and a pale, green light swirled around the room, forming the outline of a middle-aged woman.
Claire, pushing against the force, cried out in protest as the spirit trekked over to Alex, who was attempting to gather up the energy to pull away.
“Wait!” Claire screeched. “This is the part where you’re supposed to explain! Why are you so angry? What did Olivia and the others ever do to you?”
The ghost of Janet McSmith paused, lips curling into an awful sneer. “You don’t know?” Her voice was disbelieving. “No, you don’t know anything about me. But, I know you. I am you. Always angry at the world, blaming it for all of your troubles.” She said, and her voice was rough, and all Claire wanted to do was get away- forget this life, forget Jody and Castiel, forget Alex.
No. That was all she ever did.
“I am nothing like you.” Claire growled, and Janet shook her head.
“You will be.” She pressed. “My husband left me for somebody else. He didn’t love me. No one could love me. And no one can love you, Claire. Not even her.” She stated, in a lilting voice. “Really, I am doing you a favor!”
From the corner of her eyes, she could see Alex slowly standing up. Keep her talking, she mouthed, reaching into her bag.
Claire fixed her eyes on the spirit, teeth grit. “You know what the difference between us is? I understand that sometimes things don’t go you way.” She spat. “Or, at least, I do now. And, yeah, I’ll never be over what happened to my father. I’ll never be over my mother’s death. Those scars run deep.”
“Exactly! You, like me, can’t let go!” Janet seemed delighted.
“No. Because, I’ll also never forget the good memories I have with them. I also acknowledge when life gets good. That’s something I haven’t been able to acknowledge, in quite a while, but right now? Yeah, it’s pretty great. And, okay, Jody and Donna’s Wayward Home for Girls may not be perfect, but it’s mine.” She retorted. “It’s not the American Dream, but it’s enough for me.”
“Liar!” Janet yelled, her furious tirade smashing everything in sight. She got all up in Claire’s face, and raised an arm- the blonde’s hands flew up to her neck, as the spirit used her powers to choke her.
“I- am- better- than- you!” Claire wheezed, looking her square in the eye. “I may be- damaged- but I’m not- beyond- repair!”
“INSOLENT CHILD, YOU DARE SPEAK THAT WAY TO ME?” Janet let out a bloodcurdling shriek, and Claire knew that this was the end.
Vision swimming, she shut her eyes and gasped for air, her mind replaying faces of people she wish she had said goodbye to.
Castiel. Dean. Jody. Sam. Donna. Her father. Her mother. Her grandmother. Alex.
Alex.
Please let her get out alive.
And, then, the pressure around her neck dissipated, and she fell to the ground, gasping for a lungfuls of air. She looked up to see Alex, herself, holding a lighter and the smell of burning corpse made Claire crinkle her nose.
Alex collapsed right next to her, so utterly exhausted.
“Salt and burn. The shorter one was talking about it, last time he, moose man, and his boyfriend came over.” Alex explained, and laughter bubbled out of Claire.
“We just had our first near-death experience.” She said, chuckling.
“The first of many?”
“Probably.”
And, Claire couldn’t help it, she grabbed Alex by the shirt, and pulled her up until their lips crashed together violently and hungrily- the type of kiss only two people who have sacrificed their lives for one another can share.
“You know,” Alex mumbled, as she pushed Claire’s hair back. “You are extremely well-versed in the art of thank yous.”
+
After getting Sarah Jane out of there (and passing on phone numbers of a myriad of good therapists), and avoiding the police, the two shuffled back to the house, all bruised and bloody, only to be met with Jody and Donna, already back from the convention.
“Crap.” Alex muttered.
“I second that.” Claire burrowed her head deeper into the other girl’s neck.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Donna queried, tapping her foot impatiently, and for such a pleasant woman, she looked downright terrifying right now.
“Clubbing.” Alex quipped. “It got a little rough and tumble, towards the end.”
Jody narrowed her eyes, finally catching sight of Alex’s split lip and Claire’s ragged breathing. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is why we have training.” She stated, indignantly.
“Hey, we solved the case!” Claire pointed out. “Saved Sioux Falls from the wrath of Janet McSmith.”
“Are you not proud of us?” Alex batted her eyelashes.
“Severely proud, actually.” Jody corrected. “But, you’re still grounded. Alex, you take a shower first, then Claire. Then, to your rooms.” She smirked down at their clasped hands. “To your separate rooms.”
They both begrudgingly agreed, and went their separate ways (but not before kissing in the hallway).
+
we should b getting medals. or a parade.
Claire laughed at Alex’s text, rolling her eyes, as her fingers flew over the keys.
unlikely, but tht would b cool. i rlly dont care, tho. i just didn’t wanna die.
Which was true- their punishment didn’t even feel like a punishment. Claire was just relieved that she was still alive, and pretty damn proud that she and Alex had been able to take down their first case, alone.
cmon, think bigger. floats of u and me flying around. sounds fantastic.
sounds creepy, Claire typed back.
ur no fun, came Alex’s reply, and the blonde smirked.
u like me, anyways.
good point.
Claire gave a content sigh, as they finally texted their goodnights. Eyeing Alex’s contact list, she grinned. There wasn’t a special nickname for her, not really. But that didn’t make her ordinary. Not by a long shot.
- Alex ♥
- Lovesick Angel Nerd
- Old Man Winchester
- Good Cop
- Bad Cop
- Rapunzel
Claire grinned, shutting off her phone, and closing her eyes. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.
And if there was a shift in the mattress, at some point during the night, and long limbs wrapped themselves around the blonde, Claire didn’t notice until morning.