Harvelle Supernatural

So this is an experiment that needs to come to life. I had ideas about Jo having a sister and paired off with Sam. But I never had the motivation. So here it goes. Mainly Skylar tells her side of the story that you would insert to an episode. Some chapters will be a whole episode or a minor insert; others will be the blank spaces

that we all been wondering. So hope you enjoy the story.
Summary: Jo and her younger sister Skylar grew up most of their life at the Harvelle's Roadhouse. Jo was the extrovert while Skylar is the introvert. During their young adult lives, the Winchester boys waltz into the bar catching both girls attention. See Skylar's point of view during the entire Supernatural series.

Chapter 1: Everybody Loves a Clown

Skylar's POV

I sighed staring at my laptop while waiting for the slow internet to download of the latest news of the Americana side of the U.S. These past few weeks there have been several mysterious deaths involving families where the parents are brutally murdered while the child is still alive. From what the children reported, the killer was described as a clown. So far there have been four familiars that have been victimized. All the parents brutally murdered, torn to shreds from what the articles have reported. So unless this is some sick person who has a machete and roughly cutting these parents, or something paranormal/supernatural? The only connection of these murders in these three states is a traveling carnival, but police interviewed the staffs who all have alibies.

After printing the latest news and putting it in a folder, I took a deep breath and looked at the picture of an old family photo from thirteen years ago. My father, William Harvelle holding my older sister Jo while my mother held me. That was probably the last family picture before dad went on a hunt and died. I kissed my fingers then set them on dad's face.

My name is Skylar Jane Harvelle. The youngest daughter of William and Ellen Harvelle, and sister to Joana Beth Harvelle. Unlike most family who lost their fathers/husbands in war, tragic accidents, or illnesses, William died on a hunting trip. Although, he wasn't hunting deer or any typical animal but a demon. The world is not what it seems. There are darker things that go bump in the night, for example, demons, vampires, werewolves, witches, and other monsters that feast upon the living. And it has been thirteen years since that tragic event.

Since then, my mother, Ellen, has been keeping the Roadhouse rolling. A local (practically deserted) bar in Nebraska, a regular pit stop for hunters to drop by to buy some alcohol, chat and pair off with hunters, tell their stories, and gamble. So far, us girls are doing fine, though Jo has been becoming stubborn of becoming a hunter against Ellen's wishes. I wouldn't blame Mom for losing our dad, but Jo is the spitting image of him, with mom's stubbornness. Ellen tried to convince Jo of a normal life by sending her to college when she was nineteen. Sadly, during Jo's third semester, she withdrew saying all the students were looking at her strangely and her knife collection.

Now it's my turn to prepare for college. I am nineteen and waited a year to send my application. So far, I have been doing online community college course to pass the time. Now I'm working on applications for the colleges in Nebraska for photography, business, and history. I'm debating what I wanted to be. If I do business, it will help the Roadhouse. Photography is a hobby I do, and so far I had people interested in my work on Deviant Art. And history…well, let me rephrase that, demonology should be the correct term. When I'm not working as a waitress at the Roadhouse, I am working on case files of demon or any supernatural related cases.

Jo complains that she and I should go out and solve these cases, but Ellen forbids it. And I am not interested in being a hunter. Unlike my sister who is physically fit of an athlete, I was weak. Born with a learning disability and low iron deficiency that I bruise like a tomato, the downside of being skinny without even trying. So research is my deed, which Mom would give a solid case to a good hunter. A few weeks to a month later that hunter would return saying problem solved. The feeling of helping in exterminating a threat is welcoming.

Now I just need to find another hunter for this case. Especially one who isn't afraid of clowns.

"Come on, Sky, we got to open up the bar," Jo said, coming downstairs from the loft.

"Okay," I said, looking up.

So putting the papers in the folder, she and I walked out to the bar setting the chairs down and cleaning the tables. A body laid on the pool table. Ash must have gotten blasted last night. . . Again. Ash is an ex-MIT student who got kicked out from punching another story. His story in how he got into the hunter's world is complicating, but he does his fair share at the Roadhouse; either it is aiding hunters on clues or doing Ellen's bills. Jo and I looked at each other before doing rock, paper, and scissor shoot, in who would wake Ash up.
The moment we were going to draw on the next chores, there was a sudden screeched noise from outside. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning, so there shouldn't be any customers just yet. Then remembering the threat of a biker gang the other day, Jo and I split up to grab our guns. I got a revolver from the kitchen safety unlocked.

"Hey, Buddy?" a deep male voice said.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen." Said another male's voice.

"Yeah." The first one said.

Footsteps walked over to the kitchen and entered. The intruder looked like in his early twenties, tall, lean, and a mess of brown hair. Knowing looks could be deceiving, from the possibility of him of being possessed by a demon, I waited. He wanders about till getting close. The moment he passed me, I stepped behind him aiming the barrel against his head, cocking the latch. Instantly the man froze.

"The sign says close," I murmured.

"I don't mean any harm." The guy said, arms in the air with his hands on his head.

"Sure," I sarcastically said.

"Sam!" the first guy's voice exclaimed. "I need some help in here."

Jo must be handling her intruder just fine. I gestured this Sam fellow out of the kitchen. The revolver still aimed at his head. One wrong move and it's officially lights out. At the bar, a bulker guy bent over holding his nose while Jo aimed a rifle at him.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam said. "I can't right now. I um, I'm a little tied up."

Not a moment too soon Mom came down with her gun aiming at the intruders. She helped a determined face to protect her children and the bar. After a second Ellen paused, "Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"Son of a bitch," Ellen said.

"Mom, you know these guys?" Jo asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys," Ellen answered. She lowered her weapon and started laughing. "Hey, I'm Ellen. These are my daughters, Jo and Skylar."

Jo and I lowered our weapons as well. Meanwhile, the Winchester's boys stared at us bewilders. Our family knows John Winchester. He used to come to the Roadhouse when we were kids, doing the usual hunters business.

"Hey," Jo said.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asked, arm still in a protective position over his face.

"Only if you strike first," I answered. "Or say something stupid."

"Well, that's gonna be hard," Sam chuckled.

Ellen shook her head offering the boys to have a seat while Jo and Ellen leaned against the bar. I stood behind the bar getting glasses assembled to be washed. Mom got a clean dishtowel putting ice in it before handing it to Dean.

"Thanks," Dean said. "You called our dad, said you could help –help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen replied. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"Was there an article in the Demon Hunter's Quarterly that I missed?" Dean sarcastically asked. "How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen said on the defense. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once. "

"How come he's never mentioned you before?" Dean asked.

"You have to ask him that." Mom replied.

Dean's sunken for a second then said, "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors." Mom interrupted. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if . . . "She paused realizing something.

That look of someone died in question. "He didn't send you."

Sam and Dean's faces were filled with sadness. Sam was looking at the ground for a moment before looking up at his brother who watched him.

"He's all right, isn't he?" Ellen continued to ask.

"No," Sam answered. "No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen said.

"It's okay. We're all right." Dean assured.

"Really, I know how close you and your dad—"

"Really, Lady, I'm fine," Dean said.

"So look, if you can help . . . we could use all the help we can get." Sam said.

"Well, we can't," Ellen said. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" I called out.

The dead drunk body on the pool table grunted, startled awake. Quickly the man with the two styled haircuts stumbled off the table and looked up confused. "What? Closing time?"

"No, that was eight hours ago," I answered.

Sam paused looking at Ash pointing the finger at him. "That's Ash?"

"Mm-hmm," Jo confirmed. "He's a genius. "

.o0o.

Ash took a quick drink of a hangover remedy before joining the Winchesters at the bar. Jo swept the floors, while I continue tending the bar while Mom checks on the cash registers. Dean grabbed a more leather bound book and slammed it in front of Ash.

"You got to be kidding me. This guy's no genius." Dean said. "He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

"I like you," Ash replied.

"Thanks," Dean smirked.

I got three glasses and a pitcher of water filling them up. "Just give him a chance."

"All right." Dean sighed, taking a seat. "Well, this stuff's about a years' worth of our dad's work, so let's see what you make of it."

Ash grabbed the folder, pulling out years of worn out paper. His eyes examined the content of every detail. As he does this, he spoke out loud." Come on. This crap ain't real. Ain't anybody can track a demon like this?"

"Our dad could." Sam injected.

"These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean . . . Damn. They're signs, omens." Ash explained. "If you can track them, you can track this demon – you know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Well, you shouldn't have been on the roof next to a lightning pole, with a kite and old key attach," I commented.

"Hey, that was just a mere experiment to prove Franklin's theory." Ash countered.

"And a trip to the ER," I added.

"Anyway, can you track it or not?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, with this, I think so," Ash answered, analyzing the papers. "But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me . . . 51 hours. "

With that said Ash collected the papers and headed to his room.

"Hey man!" Dean called out.

"Yeah!" Ash replied, stopping at the door.

"By the way, I dig the haircut." Dean complimented.

Ash smirked as he touched his hair, "All business up front, party in the back." Then left.

I chuckled washing glasses near the sink. My back turned to the guys near the police box. Jo walked by eyeing Dean, though I had a feeling this guy is like all the rest. It's common to have men over flirting with us. On occasion, some would bring a case of beer, pizza, and some drug trying to woo us to get in our pants. And just like that Dean went off in pursuit. Ellen came over assembling the beer.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked.

I stared where he was pointed out. "A police scanner."

"No, no, no, no. The folder." Sam corrected.

Ellen walked over picking up the folder I just made this morning. "Uh . . . I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look if you want." Handing the folder to Sam.

"Thanks." He said.

Ellen nodded before walking off. I watched Sam from the corner of my eye seeing him analyze the contents of the folder. I was a bit hesitant since it is not entirely clear on what the possible creature could be. I'm stuck with Shapeshifted or an angered spirit as an option, but the details on police records don't comply with their behavior.

After a few minutes, I walk over. "Um, not to be nosy or anything . . . but how is the info?"

Sam looked up getting the picture I made the folder. "Uh, it's good. You made this?"

"Yeah, it's like my second hobby. Mom doesn't let Jo or I hunt, so this is my contribution to the hunter community." I said.

Sam nodded looking at the papers, "What do you believe caused this?"

I smiled as he let me join in. I explained to him the history of previous kills this past year, also records to similar cases. The only difference is that it was the entire family. At the same time, there have been witnesses of a clown walking about. Including the connection are carnivals for the past twenty or so years.

Sam seemed interested in the case.

"I think my brother and I would be interested," Sam said.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered. Then turn to face his brother. "Dean, come here and check this out."

"Yeah," Dean said coming over.

"A few murders not far from here that Skylar caught wind of looks to me like there might be a hunt," Sam explained.

"Yeah, so?" Dean said.

"So, I told her we'd check it out. " Sam said.

The look on Dean's face seemed priceless. So much for relaxation. So being generous and packed a small lunch for the trip they headed out to solve the case. I felt relieved that a pair of hunters will put an end this.

Though I do hope they come back safe.

.o0o.

Two days later the bar was slow so Ellen let me off so I could work on my college application. I was not having a good day with this damn essay, if not little anxiety of my SAT scores. The scores were fair but not average or high to get immediate attention. Let alone the sad scholarship I earned from a story competition, which is probably going into the first year of college.

I was banging my head on the table trying to come up with a damn essay about myself. That's complicated since I grew with hunters, bikers, and alcoholics all my life. So unless I want local authorities busting in, I need to come up with a good lie that can correlate what is right. The phone rang, and Ellen answered it.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse," she spoke. "…Sam, what can I do for you?"

Ellen stood there listening to what Sam Winchester is saying on the phone of the case so far. She nodded gesturing me to come over with my laptop. I nodded setting it on the kitchen counter, as she handed the phone to me.

"Hey Sam, what's the problem?" I asked.

"I was wondering if you could look up about any creatures that can turn invisible," Sam asked.

"Invisible?" I repeated.

"Yeah, the killer clown, we got to him and shot the thing with rock salt. That didn't work. And then he turned invisible and escaped." He explained.

"Okay, how did he turn invisible?" I asked.

Sam went over the details as I typed on the computer searching for possible creatures that could turn invisible. Ellen came over with dad's journal, so the both of us work on it. Soon I found a website that deals with mythological deities and creatures. Going into the search engine typing the word invisible, clicking

"Search." A few seconds later, ten creatures pulled up. The first five did not associate with their killing habits until finding a possible suspect.

A Rakshasa, a mischievous and homicidal imp. Its origins take back to Hindu culture. A rakshasa consumes human flesh, sleep on a bed of dead insects, and has the ability of shapeshifting. However, have vulnerabilities of invitation and brass. This could explain why the creature disguises himself as a clown. A majority of children love clowns that they would play with them instead of running away or cry.

"Sam," Ellen spoke. "What you boys might be looking for is a Rakshasa. I can't be sure, but Skylar looked it up. It's from Hindu mythology of ancient creatures. They appear in human form, feed on human flesh, make themselves invisible, and need an invitation to enter a home. Ways of finding it are that its bed is made out of dead insects. Let alone it eats roughly once in every twenty to thirty years."

"And how do we kill it?" Sam asked the speaker.

"With brass," I answered. "Back in ancient times, the Hindu civilization had brass as the primary material. Any equipment used against the creature hardly work, except brass penetrating a vital organ. It's like silver to a werewolf."

"Thanks," Sam said.

With a few more words was the end of the conversation. Afterward, I got up and went to the couch working on my damn application essay.

.o0o.

The Winchester's came in today after defeating the Rakshasa. Although, I was busy working on editing my paper that I hardly pay attention to them. The application for college deadline is in two days, and I'm close to having an anxiety attack while my ADHD is finally kicking in. Maybe I should head upstairs in a more quiet setting or bribe Ash a bottle of beer to edit my paper.

Come on, Skylar, get yourself together. I thought, taking a deep breath.

"You okay?" a voice asked.

I looked up surprised to see Sam standing across the table. Looking over to his side I saw Dean and Jo talking at the bar. Guess Jo kicked Sam out to speak to the older Winchester. Back to his previous question, I took a deep breath.

"College application paper," I muttered.

"Uhg, I know what you're feeling," Sam said, taking a seat.

"You went to college?" I asked.

"Yeah, Stanford," Sam answered.

My mouth dropped. Sam Winchester, a hunter, went to Stanford University. Damn, he must be that smart and got a good scholarship to get in.

"Hey, since you helped us on the hunt, why don't I edit your paper?" he offered.

"I . . . I don't know. My grammar is terrible." I muttered sheepishly.

"It's nothing to get embarrassed," Sam assured.

Taking a deep breath, I handed Sam my laptop so he could edit my paper. What felt like forever, when it was like twenty as Sam edited the essay, typing insanely fast while nodding now and then with a few frowns.

After another five minutes, Sam stopped.

"This should do," Sam said. "I left some notes in parentheses to rephrase and such."

"Thank you, Sam," I said.

"No problem." He said, giving a smile.

I smile back glad to know I made a friend and someone counts on for questions about college.

Ash soon came out after seventy-two hours in his Dr. Badass Room. He looked at Dean and Jo, "Where you guys been? I have been waiting for you."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam answered. Ash looked at him strangely. "Clowns?"

"Clowns? What the –"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted.

"Yep," Ash said, popping the p.

Guess that is my and Jo's queue to leave. So saving by to Sam and Dean, I headed upstairs with my laptop to finish my application essay. It was nice meeting the Winchesters; they are undoubtedly a breath of fresh.

What do you guys think? Mainly the scenes are with Jo and Ellen, for now, like what their point of view through Skylar. Later on I would work on separate stories on the Harvelle's family. But for now, this is just the beginning.
Thanks for reading and make sure you leave a review. Reviews help bigtime.