New Story. I know I shouldn't be writing new stuff considering I have other stories that need my attention, but this wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down. This is a first for me, and I know the SPN fandom (myself included) are crazy, but please be gentle, I'm soft.

Also, inspiration for my character Wendy has come from a few sources that some of you may have picked up on (lookin' at you chaiwalnuts), such as; Sookie Stackhouse (True Blood), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Rapunzel (Tangled), and Cassie Ainsworth (Skins). The similarities are minor and as this story goes on you'll see that Wendy is vastly different to those characters.

Another thing I would like to point out is that the first chapter starts about four weeks after Cas pulls Dean out of the ground, and the second chapter is set season four episode two with it being roughly five weeks after meeting Cas – but I've twisted it a little to flow with Wendy, you will notice a few things from the episode like dialogue - not much else though.

And if you're wanting to know what I think my original character's look like, just head to my bio.

I also haven't had the chance to really look for errors as I wanted to post it as quickly as possible.

I hope you enjoy and if you're feelin' kind, leave me a review!

Chapter One

"The best index to a person's character is how he treats people who can't do him any good, and how he treats people who can't fight back." -Abigail Van Buren

Chapter Quote:"Y' so sad, feels like sittin' in-ah too hot bath, burnin' y' insides – sometimes it gets too hard t' breathe."

Have you ever just blinked, looked around yourself and realised you were only existing? That you did the same old routine every single day without fail? Sometimes Wendy wondered what the point was; why even bother getting out of bed and forcing a smile on her face? All the voices that screamed inside her mind, all the emotions that barreled into her on a daily basis – sometimes she even considered jumping off a too tall building and ending it all; ending the invasions that happened upon her day and night; threatening to destroy her, all for just a moment of silence. Though Wendy didn't feel like this every day, today just happened to be one of those days – but those days just seemed to happen more regularly.

And some days, like today, Wendy felt somewhat numb. Is numb even the right word? Perhaps the word she was looking for was empty? But that didn't make sense either, because Wendy was always filled with emotions whether they were her own or not; a minute didn't go by without Wendy feeling something – anything.

The young blonde waitress sighed heavily and leaned against the counter resting her chin in her hand, and watched as the patrons inside of Marco's Diner mosey about around her while she tried to reinforce the fragile walls that surrounded her mind. It was slow at the diner this morning with the weather the way it was. In fact St. Francisville, Louisiana, was an easy going town – nothing too exciting ever seemed happened – which Wendy was thankful for. Everybody knew everybody here and Wendy preferred the peaceful sleepy town rather than the fast paced lifestyle of her previous home in Shreveport.

The blonde stared out of the large windows that lined the diner wall. Wendy thought the sky looked angry, dark clouds hanging above the small town like the heavens were ready to unleash all their pent up anger upon humanity. The thought wasn't comforting in the slightest, but Wendy brushed it aside as she waited for the rain to start. She loved rain – it was cleansing and it washed away the bad things.

And bad things seemed to be happening more frequently.

It didn't escape her notice. Even regular people could sense the change, like a bird knowing when to fly south for the winter.

But she could feel it. Feel it deep down inside herself; feel the emotions of every single being that stood around her crawl across her skin, penetrate her brain, confusing her own feelings with that of someone else's. Thoughts that weren't her own swirled in her mind; it was starting to get difficult to decipher what was her and what was someone else. She knew how to block it; knew how to put the walls up, but it made her eyes droop and shoulders sag – made her mind fuzzy from trying to keep those walls up day in and day out. And when those walls were weak – when they were at the point of crumbling and someone, anyone, had skin to skin contact with her; she would be bombarded with thoughts, emotions, and memories that made her dizzy with nausea.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it was breaking her mind. It was like looking at a mirror and watching cracks appear and begin to stretch across the once smooth surface.

Maybe today was the day she snapped. Maybe today was the day she couldn't find herself amongst the thoughts and emotions of everyone else in an eighty mile radius. Perhaps today she would be sent to the hospital again.

Brentwood Hospital brought distasteful memories to the front of Wendy's mind, making her narrow her silver eyes as she tried to push those thoughts away – imagined stuffing them into a box, then into a cabinet behind a locked door, and throwing the key away into the darkness of her mind.

She tore her eyes away from watching a crow fly across the car park and frowned down at the counter, noticing a splash of dried coffee and began the scrub it away with the tea towel she kept hanging out of her apron pocket. The diner door opened, the bell above it chiming with the entrance of whoever it was, but Wendy didn't bother looking up from her task.

"Scrubbin' pretty hard there, Wendy." The gruff voice of Sheriff Grosset sounded from two seats away. Wendy looked up at the Sheriff, a man in his late fifties with grey scruff around his mouth – watching as he took a swig of his coffee; black, no sugar. It made Wendy want to wrinkle her nose.

"Nuh-uh," She sing-songed kindly and stuck her tongue out at the older man before making her way down to him, placing the now dirtied towel under the counter. "I can get y' some food with that coffee. Coffee after drinkin' will make y' sick."

Sheriff Grosset liked his beer, liked his rum, and his whiskey on the rocks. He worked late into the night, the hours were long – the drinking was his way of coping since he found his wife in bed with his brother; that was six months ago now. He was lonely and sad, drinking made him forget; drinking made him numb to his emotions. She could feel the burn of rum sliding down her throat even though she had never had the liquid before. Sometimes Sheriff Grosset will replay the scene over and over again in his head, like he's stuck in a loop that he wants to break out of, but at the same time doesn't. Because if he replays it to himself enough times, then maybe he'll figure out the why.

The Sheriff pulled a face, "It's freaky how y' know that." She supposed he was right, no one did know about the Sheriff's drinking habits, aside from Wendy because of her . . . gifts, but then Grosset smiled kindly. "Guess I can't go t' tha' station on'ah empty stomach."

Wendy smiled brightly; patting the Sheriff's wrinkled hand and sending a small wave of happiness over the older man – watching as he visibly brightened, the twinkle coming back to those green eyes.

"Pancakes always make me happy." Wendy suggested softly as she tucked an annoying curl of dark golden hair back behind her ear.

"Pancakes it is, girly." Sheriff Grosset nodded approvingly and Wendy left him after refilling his coffee to place his order with Marco whom was the chef and owner of the fine establishment. As she walked over towards the pick-up window, Wendy spied Marco dancing around the kitchen as he cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl followed by some sort of herb.

"The Sheriff would like'ah stack of pancakes." Wendy informed the Latino, watching as he moved around the area happily in love; she knew why he was so happy, and it made her want to dance with him. Through her weakened mental wards she felt the little swirls of warmth do loops inside her stomach, she shifted those walls and embraced the emotion – feeling light, like fairy floss.

Happiness was a beautiful feeling, it made Wendy think of sunflowers and ice cream; of twirling and laughter. It was one of the emotions Wendy will never tire of feeling.

Marco looked up and grinned, joy shinning in his dark eyes. "You got it, baby girl."

Wendy smiled and leaned on the small ledge of the order window before commenting, "Daniel comes home today."

"Don't I know it, doll-face." Marco chirped. "I got it all planned out. I'm gonna' make dinner, you know, Danny's favourite. Hell, I even got the expensive champagne he's always raving about."

Baby boy sure does love his champagne.

The thought flittered through a crack in the walls.

"That sounds lovely." Wendy smiled softly, feeling all that love Marco emitted warm her body and tingle across her skin.

"You bet your fine ass, Wendy – just me, Danny, and a lot of coconut oil." Marco grinned before throwing her a flirty wink.

"Jesus Christ, Marco." Joyce reprimanded as she picked up two plates from the window, startling Wendy enough to make her jump. "The girl has innocent ears. Don't listen t' him, hun'."

Marco snorted and rolled his eyes, "Yeah-huh, sure she does."

Joyce squinted her hazel eyes at the chef before turning to Wendy, her short hazelnut hair just a little darker than her skin tone, followed with the movement. "Hun', can y' grab table five, I need t' give Emily a call, darlin's not feelin' too good today."

"'Course," Wendy agreed readily before adding, "she's not sick though. Ah girl named Jessica keeps harassin'er." Wendy informed the older woman. Joyce's expression twisted into a mix of mild anger and panic, before she whipped out her cell phone and dialed her home number – walking to the back room.

"Baby girl . . ." Marco reprimanded the young blonde; eyebrows lowered over those dark eyes, disapproval twisted around inside of her. "We talked about you doin' that. Most people don't like it."

"Emmy is sad," Wendy stated it like it was obvious because it was – at least to her anyway. Wendy remembered brushing against her by accident a week ago and having an onslaught of emotion crash over her in waves of sorrow, like she was drowning. A memory of a brunette girl shoving Emily into the bathroom and locking her in for two full classes before a janitor noticed and came to the rescue. "I don't wan' her t' be sad anymore."

Wendy turned away from her friend's critical gaze, and forcefully shoved Marco's emotions from her body before she slammed her walls back up again. She didn't want nor need Marco's disapproval, granted she could have a little more tact when talking about sensitive subjects, but Wendy always preferred getting straight to the point – hated dancing around a subject when it was just easier to tell it like it is. Besides this would help Emily, letting her mother know would be the first step to solving the problem. The blonde waitress pulled the notepad from her red apron pocket, grabbing a pen from the register as she passed and made her way to table five towards the back of the diner. She drew a tiny smiley face on the note pad to try and cheer herself up before coming to a stop at her destination, gaze flicking up towards the new patron.

Piercing gold eyes met her own, and for a moment it was just her; no one else's thoughts and emotions banging against the walls trying to break through – just Wendy inside her mind, only her thoughts and emotions keeping her company. The mental shields drifted away without her even realising while she welcomed the sound of silence; relished in it.

So completely and utterly quiet.

It was gone as fast as it came. Everyone around her projected every little thing they were feeling at her while she fought the urge to either pass out or vomit. Wendy slammed those walls back up, even though they were weak, even though it was tiring – she wouldn't let them crumble again. Wendy took a deep breath, feeling sweat bead across her forehead, before she met the strangers' eyes again.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

It wasn't in the conventional sense. He wasn't a male model nor was he extremely tall or overly muscular. He seemed to be short – taller than Wendy by a head or so – nose a little large and thin lips twitched upwards in a little smirk with his golden brown hair swept back from his face; reminding her of caramel.

But the man glowed, glowed so brightly in colours of gold and white; shining in a pure light of absolute magnificence. It was a vision really, to watch those burnt gold wings ruffle slightly before settling, but then she blinked and they were no longer there – her delicate mind playing tricks on her again.

"Y' have beautiful eyes," the blonde waitress commented softly before giving the man in front of her a dreamy smile. "Reminds me of my Pop leavin' his glass of whiskey on his desk, ah stray beam of sunlight ligthin' it up – makin' it look like molten gold." The man's eyes lit up in amusement as he raised an eyebrow at her while still being embraced within that golden light. Wendy glanced down at the menu he still held in his hands and tilted her head to the side; trying to feel anything coming from him. Suddenly she tasted sugar, like she had just stuck a tablespoon of it in her mouth. Wendy's lips pulled into a beaming smile, but no less dreamy, "Y' look like'ah man who has ah sweet tooth, an' we have cheesecake. Boysenberry – I like it." She finished her rambling and gazed at the glowing man before her, waiting patiently for an answer with enchanting silver eyes.

The glowing man's smirk widened a little in an oddly familiar way.

"Wendy, you aren't givin' tha' gentleman ah hard time, are ya'?" Joyce appeared beside the younger waitress out of nowhere with a coffee pot in her hand and full lips pursed, and she stared the new patron down – as if waiting for him to make a rude remark about the younger server so she could tear him a new one.

"No." Wendy blinked at the older waitress, trying to look innocent at the semi amused look Joyce was giving her. People tended to be iffy around her, she made them uncomfortable. She supposed that was the 'hard time' Joyce was referring to. "I was jus' tellin' him how lovely his eyes were, an' that we have tha' cheesecake I like."

Joyce clucked her tongue before turning her attention back to the customer, "I'm sorry sir, Wendy tends t' get'ah bit spacey, but she's ah sweetheart."

"Awh, nothing to apologise for," the man winked at the blonde and handed the menu to Wendy, which she readily took. "Not every day you get a compliment like that. I'll take that cheesecake you mentioned, sugar."

"Well, alrighty then," Joyce turned to Wendy and gave her a look that told her they'd be having words later, before she walked away to serve another customer.

Wendy withheld a sigh. Not looking forward to the discussion with the older woman, considering Joyce had a talent for reprimanding; Wendy was a hundred percent positive that she could even make a frog feel guilty for croaking too loud. The younger waitress left the man at table five without a word, seeing the Sheriff's pancakes waiting for him at the order window, grabbed them and placed them in front of Grosset.

"Pancakes for tha' Sheriff." Wendy beamed at the aged man as he nodded his in thanks. "Y' can find happiness in most places, Sheriff, but one of them isn't at tha' bottom of ah' bottle."

The Sheriff sighed, took a sip of his coffee and grumbled, "I know that, sweetheart."

"Y' should try salsa dancin'." Wendy suggested brightly, leaning on the counter once again as the Sheriff took a large bite of the pancake-y goodness.

"I sometimes wonder what goes on in that pretty head of yours." Grosset gestured at her with his fork then stabbed it back into the breakfast dessert to cut himself another bite.

"Lots'ah things," Wendy admitted softly, but no less happy. "Sometimes I think of those funny cat videos on youtube – I like tha' ones where they fall off thangs –" She realeased a soft laugh, "or if I can get away with fillin' tha house with those soft plastic balls that kids jump in at play centers – I'd want them in all colours though. I dunno' where I'd get so many, y' know, Grams an' Pop's house is pretty big . . ." Wendy trailed off when she saw the befuddled look on the sheriff's face.

"Right," Grosset gave a kind, but strained, smile.

Wendy cast her eyes down, smiled a little back at the Sheriff and wandered off to the walk in fridge in the kitchen. She rambles, she knows this – but her ramblings made people nervous or uncomfortable. Marco's brother told her it was because she sounded like a stoner; sleepy, even dazed. She found the cheesecake on the second shelf that had been delivered from the little bakery just down the road early this morning, and cut a decent portion for the man who glowed; she briefly wondered if he knew that he glowed. But she decided not to tell him, people didn't like when she would inform them things about themselves.

Wendy placed the slice of deliciousness on a plate and trailed out of the small cold room. The glowing man probably wouldn't like the fact that the town crazy was saying that he was glowing. Perhaps everything she was seeing, everything she felt or heard was all in her head; maybe what her father and Doctor Larsher said all those years ago was correct, maybe everything was a figment of her imagination. Her Grams was adamant that that wasn't so, insisted that Malcolm Dawson and Doctor Larsher didn't know "nothin' about nothin'," and instead she called Wendy an Empath a rare type of Valkaras – a natural born witch that didn't need demon deals to have power. Grams told Wendy that she was born with a great but often terrible gift that should not be used lightly; her grandmother helped her when it all became too much, saved her when no else seemed to care.

It was strange to see him surrounded by gold. Strange, because most people – humans – were encased by a sky blue. A few others were a mixture of that same blue with a striking shade of violet mixed in; a Valkaras, like Grams – like Wendy. There were other's marked with shadowed purples – Borrowers – humans who made . . . agreements for power. But ever since Wendy could remember she could see colours surrounding everyone she knew or passed; could see the colour in the words she could hear. Grams referred to it as Soul Seeing, said that Wendy's mother, Selene, once had the very same gift.

"You're thinking pretty hard there, cupcake. You didn't spit on it, did ya?" The glowing – no – the man questioned with an easy grin.

She hadn't noticed that she had arrived at her destination.

"I'm tryin' t'' decide if I'm imaginin' thangs or not." She answered him softly and honestly, her brow wrinkling as she chewed on her lip while gazing down at the man's cheesecake.

The golden eyed man kicked out the seat opposite him, "Sit." Wendy frowned at him, completely bewildered by the invitation to join him. "C'mon, you're not busy and I could use the company."

So she sat, placing the cheesecake in front of the customer and watched as the man dug into the creamy cake. She was confused, confused because she couldn't get a proper read on him like she could with everyone else. Wendy wondered that if she were to hold his hand would she be able to see and feel everything or would there only be that blissful absolute silence. Either way, she wanted to know, but she fought the impulse. He wouldn't like that. People didn't like that.

"You know, I haven't seen a Valkaras in a long time, let alone an Empath." The man spoke around a mouthful of cake, regarding her almost knowingly. "Like, Empaths? I've met a total of three and you are – so far – the sanest. How old are you now anyway? Eighteen?"

"Twenty-two." Wendy corrected automatically. A Valkaras, so he understood the term and perhaps even knew about the things that go bump in the night, which only made her more curious about who exactly this man was because this man before her was familiar, and it made her want to reach out, grasp his hand and find out who this glow-y man was – because it was frustrating. For once in her life she wanted someone else's thoughts running around in her mind.

"Huh," His voice brought her from her musings. He was studying her with those eyes she already decided she loved. "The names Thomas." His words mixed with the colours of silver and midnight blue, invisible, but she could feel them coil around her fingers.

Lies.

Lies sliding over her hands like she placed them into a bowl of whisked eggs; it made Wendy shudder.

"Liar."

Mr. Glow-y chuckled.

"Clever," He pushed the empty plate away, putting his elbows upon the table before leaning forward, starring at her with intense golden eyes. "The names Loki, cupcake." More silver and blue, but mixed with yellow, not a lot – but enough to tell her that it wasn't a complete lie.

"Liar." Wendy repeated, leaning forward on the table to maintain eye contact with the man. "I don't like bein' lied to."

The man raised an eyebrow before leaning closer, "It's Loki – technically not a lie." His mouth pulled down as he narrowed his eyes at the blonde, running his tongue along his teeth before he seemed to come to a decision; clucking his tongue before opening his mouth again, his lips quirking up into a small smile. "It's Gabriel – I do prefer Loki though."

His name echoed around in her mind accompanied with a gong, ringing in her ears – jogging a memory that was just within reach but she couldn't quite grasp.

"Ah glowin' man named Gabriel." Wendy smiled easily, looking immensely pleased at the fact that he told her a truth that shined with yellow. Her expression became thoughtful as she gazed upon his features, squinting her eyes at Mr. Glow-y while muttering, "Y' name has three syllables . . . Gabriel is such'ah mouthful."

Gabriel's smile turned devilish, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Well, I'm not one for bragging . . ."

Wendy's eyes widened – her face heating and immediately cast her eyes downwards both flustered and embarrassed. "That's not what I meant!" She retorted grumpily. Gabriel chuckled, his eyes lightening up in obvious amusement. It was silent between the two with Gabriel looking at her with golden half lidded eyes and head tilted upwards just so, though the silence was not awkward, only lasting a minute or two before Wendy spoke up again. "I saw wings before but then they disappeared . . . they looked like caramel. Were they real? Can y' fly?" She questioned, intrigued with the answers she might receive. She had never encountered a winged man before.

"Oh, trust me sugar, they're as real as real can be." Gabriel gave a delighted smile as he placed his chin upon his laced fingers and observed the blonde woman with cunning eyes. "And flying just comes naturally."

"I wonder what it would be like . . ." Wendy murmured, her eyes becoming slightly unfocused. "Somewhere over tha' rainbow," she sung quietly before letting out a laugh, picturing the man before her vaulting over a rainbow with ease, like a high jumper.

Gabriel whistled his expression turning more sympathetic, "Damn, only twenty-two and you're already starting to lose it. Tough break, honeybun."

"Y' deflect with humor." Wendy commented as she pushed a curl back behind her ear, completely brushing aside the remark about her sanity as she fiddled with her fingers. She felt grief wash over her, radiating from the winged being across from her, but it was quickly shut down, and Wendy wondered how he got through her mental shield without her approval; how the connection broke without her ending it. "You're so sad, feels like sittin' in'ah too hot bath, burnin' y' insides – sometimes it gets too hard t' breathe."

Gabriel blinked at the blonde girl on the other side of the table, those big grey eyes shined like silver, seeming to be staring right through him, but then he grinned as his eyes scanned over her full breasts that stretched the fabric of the horrible red and yellow waitress uniform. "You and I can go for a hot bath; you'll hear no complaints from me."

"I don't –" Wendy frowned, a crease appearing between her thick brows as she deciphered the pink words she was hearing. "Are . . . are y'' flirtin' with me?"

"I was trying to." Gabriel confirmed before clucking his tongue once more and rolled his eyes. The familiarity of the winged man was becoming unsettling because Wendy couldn't understand why he was so familiar, yet not familiar; she had never met him before, at least she was almost positive that she had never met him before – surely she would remember those piercing eyes. She wanted to pry his mind open and get answers, wanted to know every single thought he had - know every memory so she could find the reason for his familiarity. But she didn't; couldn't. How could she bring herself to invade someone's privacy, to tear through their mind like it was nothing? The guilt would weigh her down for the remainder of her life.

Wendy wrinkled her nose. "You're deflectin' again." She realised, and then looked down at his clean plate. "Would y' like another?"

"Nah," Gabriel sighed as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms above his head; releasing a small groan. "I'll be back tomorrow for more cake though, sugarplum." He stood quickly and gracefully, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, seeming to want something to do with his hands.

"Tomorrow," Wendy started as she watched Gabriel run a hand through his golden-brown locks. "Will y' tell me why y' have wings?"

"Well honey, that depends on what kind of cake you give me." Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his words once again turning pink, while sliding his hands into his pockets.

Wendy pursed her lips, nose wrinkling as she did so. "Tsk, tsk." She wagged her finger at him, looking him over as she contemplated Gabriel's name – he preferred Loki was what he said, but Wendy didn't like it because 'Loki' just didn't seem to fit, and Gabriel was too – well she couldn't quite place it, it just seemed too formal a name for the man that stood before her.

"I'mma' call y' Gigi," Wendy announced, smiling happily and looking quite pleased with herself. Wendy didn't know where the name came from, it appeared suddenly in her mind, flashing above his head in big neon letters, then turned away from Mr. Glow-y and leaving him to wait on the other patrons of the diner; completely oblivious to Gabriel following the curvaceous blonde's figure with his eyes, lips twitching upwards before finally making his way out of the small diner.

Wendy heaved a sigh as she closed the front door to the old farm house behind her, listening to the six bells that were tied onto the door handle jingle as she flipped the light on. She shrugged off her pink jacket and hung it up beside the hall table which was where she placed her keys; the small smiley face key-chain winking in the glow of the foyer light. The house was quiet, and dark, devoid of any life save for the orange tabby cat that trotted over to greet it's master; weaving around Wendy's ankles.

"Hello Nancy," Wendy cooed at the familiar, bent down at the waist and heaved the chubby kitty up into her arms; scratching behind his ears. "Such'ah pretty kitty."

Wendy only received a grouchy 'meow' back as she moved down the hall, passing the living room and staircase before finding herself in the homey kitchen that was cluttered with various herbs and glass jars; some of which were either full or half full of different materials that ranged from dried plants to homemade oils and other unique concoctions. Placing Nancy on the small round dining table, Wendy began to fill the kettle that sat idly on the stove and placed it back once she finished her task, lighting the gas to boil the water. While she patiently waited for the kettle to whistle, Wendy grabbed a tall yellow stripped mug from the cabinet and poured what some people would say was too much honey into it before adding a peppermint teabag.

Wendy released another sigh as she leaned against the counter top and let the walls she held up all day come crashing down. Her mind felt like complete and utter jelly, but dear Lord it was such a sweet relief. No more did she have the thoughts and emotions of others beating against her mind with what she would describe as a sledgehammer. Right now it was just her. Well her and Nancy – but Nancy was a Familiar, more cat than human in every sense, and all he thought about was sleep and food, and had an overall annoyance about everyone and everything; though sometimes he would throw in a surge of affection towards Wendy.

Wendy heard the front door jingle open and sluggish thoughts fluttered into her mind about how Claire Sesston could talk the ear off any patient listener, but made a fantastic cobbler.

"Wendy?" Grams called tiredly from down the hall.

"In tha' kitchen," Wendy replied just as loudly, turning around to fish another mug from the cabinet above her.

Grams' footsteps could be heard coming down the hall before she appeared in the archway and made her way over to Nancy, trying to give the cranky familiar a scratch, but only to have him quickly dart away.

"Ungrateful cat," Grams muttered with pursed lips while she sat at the table. "How was y' day, darlin'?"

The kettle whistled before Wendy could give her reply. She quickly turned off the gas and poured the boiling water into the two awaiting cups, fixing them up to both Wendy's liking and her grandmothers. And then, finally, settling herself at the table; giving Grams a sleepy smile.

Eleanor Barrois was a woman of fifty-five with the same dark golden blonde hair that she shared with her granddaughter except for the fact that it was streaked with grey. Smile lines creased her face around her mouth, and crow's feet crinkled the edge of her eyes, but she was no less beautiful – her face still holding the youthfulness from her earlier years.

"Not s'bad," Wendy answered drowsily, while wrapping her hands around the yellow mug full of tea. "I made'ah new friend."

"Oh?" Grams' eyes twinkled with interest as she took a swig of her own hot beverage. "Well, y' gonna' tell me?"

"Hmm," Wendy hummed while sipping her hot beverage. "He's new t'town." she admitted in that quiet way of hers. She was reluctant to give Gabriel's name, and giving Grams his actual name seemed in violation of his trust that he unknowingly bestowed upon Wendy, so she decided that his new name was the way to go. "Gigi."

The blonde was met with silence, and when she glanced up at her grandmother, a look of bewilderment was upon her features as shock that wasn't her own rocked Wendy's body; her stomach flipping, making her a little queasy. She shot her grandmother a questioning look before the walls around her grandmother's mind went up in a haste.

"What's wrong?" Wendy questioned softly, watching Grams frown down at her tea; her wrinkled hands clutching the mug so tightly that Wendy thought it might break.

"Nothin' darlin'." Grams smiled tightly with words of silver and midnight blue, which was followed by a sigh, "jus' been'ah real long day."

Wendy withheld the need to call her grandmother out on her obvious lie and Eleanor Barrois knew it too, not meeting her granddaughter's eyes and taking another swig of her tea to keep from further explaining herself. Wendy glanced up at her grandmother, but then quickly darted her eyes away to keep from being caught looking at her and trying to get a read. But Wendy's grandmother was so practiced in blocking Wendy from her emotions and thoughts that it's become an art, which made Wendy envy her grandmothers ability, though remembered that blocking one person was completely different to blocking a few hundred.

"I've made more of tha' tonic, darlin'." Eleanor commented explanatorily, gesturing to the counter top where Wendy found the tiny corked bottles filled with a dark green potion that had been specifically designed to get the blonde to sleep for a max of eight hours each night and was to be taken daily just before she hit the hay. It was the only thing that would allow Wendy to sleep, nothing else would do, and before living with her grandmother she was trapped, trapped in a hospital full of people who didn't understand – couldn't understand – why she wouldn't sleep. Telling everyone and anyone that their voices wouldn't let her didn't help her in the slightest.

But then Eleanor, her grandmother, her savior – had arrived and took her in; gave her back a piece of her sanity with the gift of sleep. Wendy would always be thankful, grateful for her grandmother's kindness.

"Thanks Grams." Wendy smiled, finished her tea and gave her grandmother a swift peck on the cheek before popping up and striding towards the sink to quickly wash her mug.

"Wendy," Grams called for her attention. "There is somethin' I want t' discuss with y'." The young woman dried her hands on the dish towel before turning to face her grandmother, giving her undivided attention.

"Is somethin' wrong?" She questioned softly.

Grams sighed, took a sip of her tea, "There's been four murders in tha' last four weeks. Police think it's got somethin' t' do with Satanists." Eleanor began with her wrinkled hands clasped together. "But it's'ah Valtushard, I'm positive. Heard it on tha' radio earlier today, tha' details they gave about tha' crime scene sounds like'ah specific ritual an'. . . It's not good."

"Oh," Wendy murmured as she tried to absorb the information. "Where have tha' murders been?"

"Chicago, Wisconsin, Atlanta, an' recently; New Orleans." Eleanor informed her granddaughter heavily. "All exactly tha' same – I want'cha t' be cautious, make sure y' don't let y' walls slip."

"'Course." Wendy agreed immediately and crossed the kitchen to sit down beside the older woman again. "We can ward tha' house?" She suggested. "It's'ah little overdue."

"Sounds like'ah plan." Grams smiled with giving Wendy's hand a soft pat before standing up from the table; Grams' worry rolling over the younger woman's body as she left Wendy to her own thoughts.

That's it, that's the beginning. I'd like to know you're thoughts and if I should continue this, I'm conflicted about whether I should or not; I have a few ideas of what I can do with this, especially with Gabriel being gone for, like, eight years. But, tell me what you think!