In which Serafina Lockhart, legendary hunter, is on a quest for the truth of her family's murder when she collides with the Winchester brothers as they investigate a string of eerie ritualistic murders across the Midwest.
Supernatural AU - Does not...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
【─── Chapter Three 】
A Team-Up
"I thought the Lockharts had a son?" Sam asked with clear confusion dripping from his knitted brows.
She shot him a coy smile as she sheathed her dagger that had pressed against Dean's throat back inside her bootstrap.
"Yeah, that's my brother. I'm more like the red-headed stepchild," she quipped with a tone that danced between humor and underlying mischief.
It wasn't that Serafina was some big secret, but the Lockharts hadn't exactly advertised her arrival with some elaborate adoption party. People whispered her name and knew of her, but she wasn't the Lockhart people defaulted to when their surname was brought up.
She was thrust into their lives by John Winchester in a desperate attempt to keep her safe - and who better than the Lockharts to keep her safe who could simultaneously teach her to hunt like a legend?
The irony in that was that most people thought Nightshade was a codename for her brother, but when they found out she was Nightshade it usually made their jaw drop to their feet.
No one ever expected the legendary Nightshade to be little 'ole Serafina, the adopted and orphaned child who could barely sleep without a nightlight until she was twelve.
Well, the joke was on them because that orphan had grown up to become the very thing that monsters whispered about, she was their nightmare fuel - a true apex predator.
Serafina straddled Dean for a moment longer than was necessary, but the perplexing look on his face, coupled with that rugged lop-sided grin was hard to wrestle her eyes free from.
Finally - after an awkward exchange of eye-gazing, she cleared her throat and the moment was broken - the fizzle fading as she averted her eyes away from his forest green eyes.
Her haughty smirk seemed to be a permanent placeholder on her face as she stood up, stepped away from Dean, and offered her right hand out to him in a gesture of kindness - she had just laid his ass out on the cold floor - it was the least she could do.
"Watch out for the glass," she warned, her gaze flicking to Dean's hands splayed out on the wooden floorboards. With a nonchalant jut of her chin, she drew attention to the glinting shards that surrounded them like a field of sparkling daggers.
He took Serafina's hand, the one that moments ago held a threatening dagger, with a mix of caution and curiosity. "Thanks," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decipher her motives and intentions.
His grip was surprisingly firm as she helped him up. She immediately noted the calloused skin of a hunter who had held an array of blades and guns within the palm of his hand.
