Supernatural 1. Skeletons of Sin

Edge of Reality

Chapter One

Skeletons of Sin

A tall imposing man stood over a gawky teenage boy, his arms crossed over his massive chest in a way that made his biceps bulge from under his suit, dark brown eyes hard and steely in a 'Don't give me any shit answers and I won't squash you with my massive hands' type of vibe. The boys alabaster skin turned a sickly shade of green when the man spoke, his deep rumbling baritone holding a deadly edge the boy couldn't ignore. The boy swallowed thickly and glanced at the man's partner who was sitting cross legged on his dining room table, golden eyes boring into his very soul. She was significantly smaller than her partner, and when she spoke to him she seemed calm, but her voice and gaze held an underlining deadly vibe he didn't know FBI agents could have.

His gaze then flickered to the gigantic wolf-like dog at her feet, whose icy blue eyes looked like they lusted for blood- his blood- and it was at that moment that he knew he was royally fucked.

"I didn't mean to kill them." he said, mouth suddenly going dry. "I just wanted them to stop; stop with all the pushing, and the shoving, and the nonstop _torment_. They made my life miserable..." He trailed off for a moment, stormy eyes looking lost. "And then I found that book in the old man's antique shop and I found a solution." The boy looked at the girl sitting on his table, a haunted look in his eyes that could only come from a kid who had been pushed too far. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be bullied every day for what you look like, how you act? For just meeting the eyes of the wrong person at the wrong time?" he let out a humorless laugh and dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his now watering eyes with scratched and calloused hands.

From her perspective, Jericho could see that this was the posture of a broken boy who only wanted one thing in the world: Recognition. Jericho sighed and was suddenly filled with empathy for this soul, knowing full well how high school was torture for the loners and outcasts. The copper skinned woman slid from her position on the table and walked to the boy, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You know Dev, summoning ghosts isn't the answer for every time one of those stupid jocks and preppy bitches decide they're going to pick on you." The boy looked up; surprise gracing his fair features at what the woman was telling him. "Sometimes you just gotta stand up for yourself, get that one last snarky remark that will send that dunder head spluttering for something to say." Jericho's face split into a grin, gesturing to the tall man next to her. "Or you can do what Marques here did and beat the ever living shit out of them every time they pick on you. Either way, don't forget to be you and not what everyone else thinks you should be, got it?"

Devon let her words sink in for a moment before nodding numbly to himself. After a few more follow up questions (Standard hunter stuff, name of the spirit, where she's buried, the norm for them), Jericho, Marques, and Sikka left. The two reached the parking lot of Devon's apartment complex and Marques walked to the driver's side, an expectant look on his face. Jericho saw this and raised her eye brow.

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" she asked, one hand on her hip. Marques raised his brows and jutted out his lower lip in an attempt at pouting.

"Jerry, I wanna drive." he said, using the nickname their friends had given Jericho in middle school. Jericho rolled her eyes and gave Marques an exasperated look, trying hard to ignore his 'puppy dog' eyes and say no, but eventually she caved and tossed the keys to her Plymouth Barracuda to her friend and glared at him.

"I swear to God you wreck this car, I will kill you in the most horrendous way possible." Marques let out a whoop of victory and got into the driver's side and started the fastback up, the roar of the engine fueling the adrenaline in his veins. He stuck in a mix CD of his favorite band and let Heaven Shall Burn blast through the speakers.

The two hunters pulled into an old cemetery and pulled two shovels, a can of rock salt, and an almost full bottle of lighter fluid and got to work trying to find the grave Devon had told them about. Once it was found, they took turns digging up the grave, (Even their wolf-dog, Sikka helped, although it seemed he made the situation worse by his being in the way) and then salted and burned the woman's bones, an ominous gust of wind blowing through them as soon as the match hit the grave.

Marques, Jericho and Sikka doubled back to their hotel, all three of them howling to the mix CD that was in the stereo while Marques pushed 100 on a 45 back road.

**PAGEBREAK**

Over the next few days, Marques and Jericho stayed in their tiny hotel room, making sure no more kids were going to die and just to rest up before they headed out to their next hunting assignment. Jericho often took Sikka on walks in the mornings and at night, while Marques tended to go to the bar or play video games all day, both of them relishing in the idea that they wouldn't have to pack their stuff and leave as soon as their assignment was over and done with.

One day while Marques sat in the hotel recliner playing Halo, Jericho sat cross legged on her bed doing research, searching for any sort of strange homicides, suicides, or natural phenomenon in the surrounding area.

"Listen to this, Mark. Apparently there are fifteen different missing persons cases in New Mexico. All of them disappeared within the last three weeks."

"Sounds like our kinda thing to me." The man said, standing up and turning off the game console.

In no time at all, Marques and Jericho had all of their stuff packed, Sikka was in the backseat and they were on their way to New Mexico, leaving Adams, Oregon in their rear view mirror.

**PAGEBREAK**

**Logan, New Mexico**

A heavy set middle aged man stumbled through the desert, sweat pouring down his pudgy face and his lungs feeling as if they were about to burst from exertion. A few yards behind him, the balding man could hear the clatter of bones as the thing that was chasing him drew nearer, a grotesque clicking sound seeming to come from all around him.

A slight tugging on the back of the man's shirt made him squeal, causing the man to try to avoid being grabbed but only succeeded in tripping over a small cactus, sending him tumbling to the sandy earth. A resounding crack and a sharp, throbbing pain indicated that he had at least sprained his fat ankle. He let out a cry and tried desperately to get up, but his fatigued body combined with his newly sprained ankle wouldn't allow him to stand or even crawl away.

A deep, sluggish trudging could be heard, and the pudgy man began crying, praying to a god that wouldn't hear him, hoping that his god would save him from certain death.

As the creature that was chasing him loomed just a few feet away, he realized that there would be no such hope.

**PAGEBREAK**

Jericho's Barracuda rolled into the parking lot of a shitty looking motel, stopping in front of the office so the two hunters and their wolf-dog could stretch their legs before going in to rent a room. Sikka immediately raced to a scraggly looking bush and sniffed around it, curiosity making the hair on his shoulders and back bristle in excitement. Marques stalked off to examine a billboard full of missing persons posters. He shot a look to Jericho and she nodded, knowing full well that not all of those posters were normal missing persons cases.

The two entered the office and waited at the front desk for the receptionist to come, and when he did Jericho and Marques were greeted by a greasy looking man with a shiny balding head and an unkempt beard. He gave a milk curdling grin in Jericho's direction and spoke directly to her.

"What can I do ya for, babe?" he asked mossy teeth and stinking breath making the Native want to puke.

"I just need a room for my friend and I." she said, taking a small step back. The greasy man gave Marques a hateful glower, leaning over the counter with his arms crossed.

"We don't serve his kind." the man said, practically spitting in Marques' face. Marques narrowed his eyes and curled his hands into fists, dropping into a crouch that said 'Say that one more time. I _dare_ you.' Jericho gently patted the man's shoulder and he reluctantly backed off, hands still balled.

Jericho gave the man a smirk and sat up on the counter, motioning him over. He cautiously neared her, letting out an oh-so manly squeak of surprise when she wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him close to her side.

At the terrifying click of her gun, the man was practically shitting himself where he stood.

"You know." She murmured, glancing out the window and into the vast expanse of desert. The greasy man followed her gaze fearfully. "There's a _lot_ of desert out there, and I'm a forensic scientist, so if I _really_ wanted too, I could make it look like an accident. So if I even think you're giving my brother here dirty looks, or that you're calling him names behind his back, I'll use this gun," she pressed the cold metal of her .45 against his temple. "and kill you before you even began to fathom what was happening." Jericho then jumped off the counter and smiled brightly at him.

"Got it?" Jericho's suddenly cheerful tone almost made the man pass out, and he immediately gave them their room- free of charge of course.

After parking the car in front of their temporary home, Jericho dug around in the trunk, pulling out blankets and sheets for the beds, not wanting to sleep on bedding that wasn't theirs. The copper skinned woman set up her bed just the way she liked it, her numerous pillows and large blanket practically flooding the small twin bed, making the room seem just a little more like home. She flopped onto her bed and hugged her favorite pillow, letting the familiar scent of Marques' cologne and Old Spice deodorant flood her nostrils and remind her of her middle and high school days.

"I'm gonna take a shower before anything else happens." Marques said, obviously still upset about the receptionist's remark earlier.

"If it makes you feel any better," Jericho said, a grin reserved only for family settling on her face, "I don't care that you're black. You're still my brother no matter what!" Marques grinned back at his companion.

"Well, I'm only half black, so I guess I only get shit on half the time." he laughed. Jericho laughed as well, happy to see that her friend was (almost) back in good spirits.

After a while, Marques exited the shower, his long curly hair reaching almost to the middle of his back with the weight of the water. The man usually kept it in a bun or bushy pony at the back of his head, unable to cut it short after so many women took so much interest in it ('Oh my God, your hair is so beautiful!' or 'Don't you dare cut it!') Long hair on Marques was usually a quick ticket to a good time.

Jericho had since fallen asleep while waiting for Marques, Sikka lying faithfully by her side. They had driven nonstop for almost eight hours today, so the man just connected the gaming console to the outdated T.V and resumed his game until he too let sleep consume him.

**PAGEBREAK**

The following morning, Jericho awoke to the sound of scratching and promptly let Sikka out to do his thing while she took a quick shower, being careful not to dislodge the two eagle feathers that were attached just above her ear. Marques entered the bathroom as soon as Jericho exited, muttering dark curses under his breath about getting up so early in the morning. Jericho laughed and exited the motel room, whistling for Sikka as she walked to the trunk of her car, gathering the necessary supplies for their investigation.

Sikka had since bounded to his masters side, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth happily as Jericho petted the top of his head and rubbed behind his ears affectionately, pulling a K-9 Police Unit vest over his head.

Marques exited a few moments later, and soon the three were entering the local police station, flashing their fake IDs and demanding the files for the missing people.

"In all my years as Sheriff, not once have I seen anything like this." Sheriff Hub Wiggins said, extending a hand to give Marques and Jericho the files they requested.

"Did you know any of the people that went missing?" Jericho inquired, looking at the photos of the people that disappeared. None of them had anything in common, and ranged from young men to older women. Sheriff Wiggins nodded his head and chewed on the end of a pen.

"In a town like this, everyone knows everyone, either in passing or in business. I knew the last guy that went missing though. A real sleaze ball if you ask me. Wouldn't give a dime to anyone that really needed it."

"And the others? What were they like?" Marques asked, pulling out a pen and a small pad of paper. The sheriff gave a rundown of each of the victims, stating that they all at one point or another had stolen or been stingy with their money and expensive items.

"Do you think you can take us to the latest missing person's house? Any insight on how the man lived could really help us in this investigation." the sheriff nodded and gave the faux FBI agents the address to an apartment and they were on their way.

Earl Frankton's apartment was, to say the very least, an absolute pig sty, complete with rotting food in the kitchen and empty bowls and plates in the living room. All throughout the house were paper plates, plastic cups and mountains of garbage with only tiny trails leading from the living room, to the kitchen and down a dank hallway to the bathroom and Earl's bedroom.

Jericho wrinkled her nose in disgust and Marques was practically dry heaving next to her, trying his hardest to pull himself together so he didn't inadvertently get himself and his friend killed.

"I don't think we're going to be finding anything in this shit hole." Jericho murmured, picking her way into the small living room. Marques shook his head and brought his arm to his face in hopes of making the smell go away at least a little.

It didn't.

The two branched off, Jericho heading toward the bedrooms while Marques searched the living room and kitchen areas. The two searched for what seemed like hours in a hot and stinking apartment, finding nothing in the house (Not like they could find anything in all that garbage in the first place.) and Jericho almost called it quits until something caught her eye. There on Earl's bed sat a golden business card, one side showing a picture of a small rundown two story while there were a few words printed on the back.

_'Accidia_

_Cave, Cave, Deus Videt'_

Jericho was puzzled by the words, and decided that research was her best option for getting answers.

**PAGEBRAK**

As soon as Marques and Jericho entered their motel room, they both fought over who would have the bathroom first, shouts of 'It's mine motherfucker!' and 'I'll beat your lily white ass for this, bitch!' resounding throughout the small room. Eventually, Marques tossed Jericho onto one of the beds and he quickly slipped into the bathroom, locking the door as soon as it shut, his cackling muffled by the sound of a running shower.

Research proved to be a more fruitful than fighting for the bathroom. Jericho had first typed in the word _Accidia_ into her laptop's search engine, and found that it was the Latin word for 'Sloth', and that _Cave, Cave, Deus Videt_ translated to 'Beware, Beware, God Sees' and was then taken to a page about a painting some guy in the 1500's had made.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." she said, scrubbing her hand over her face and dropping her head, tension coiling in the pit of her stomach. The card explained what Earl was convicted of, and gave her insight as to why he would be picked for Sloth (The man's apartment was a mess. If that wasn't Sloth, Jericho didn't know what was) but it didn't explain why he went missing and what took him.

Jericho needed more evidence, and thus needed to do more digging. She left Marques a note telling him where she was, and loaded Sikka into her car before investigating the other houses.

When Jericho returned, she had at least ten more cards like the one she and Marques found at Earl's. Each had one thing in common: A deadly Sin and the phrase 'Beware, Beware, God Sees'.

She was getting nowhere fast.

The two hunters had eventually called it a night, and the next morning, Jericho and Marques returned to the police station to ask the sheriff a few follow up questions about the house on the back of the golden cards they found in all of the victims houses. Sheriff Wiggins inspected the card and frowned, turning it over in his hands a few times before answering.

"You found one of these at each of the victims houses?" he asked at length. Marques nodded.

"We think the picture of that house has something to do with the disappearances. Do you have any idea where it could be?" The sheriff nodded grimly and handed back the card before answering.

"It's an old house about five miles outside of town. It's been there since I was a kid and probably even before. My grandad used to warn my friends and I not to go there because it was haunted." the old sheriff trailed off and looked out the window and onto the street, looking as if he were going to break down at any moment.

As if sensing his pain, Sikka stood up and walked to his side, setting his large furry head on Sheriff Wiggins' leg. Wiggins smiled softly and rubbed Sikka's ears, feeling as though the weight that was on his chest had lifted just a tiny bit.

"Your K-9 sure knows how to cheer a man up." he said, staring into Sikka's icy blue eyes. Jericho grinned.

"Yeah, he's got a way to cheer you up when you're feeling like absolute shit. Is there anything you wanted to tell us?" the sheriff swallowed thickly and continued to pet Sikka, not looking into Marques or Jericho's eyes as he spoke.

"When I was a kid- couldn't have been more than ten- my grandaddy told me a story about when he was little. He said that in the old house just outside of town, a boy went in to get out of the dust storm that suddenly sprang up."

The sheriff continued his story while Marques and Jericho sat in attentive silence, taking notes in their papers as he went on. According to his story, a boy had met some sort of spirit, and if he could succeeded in taking the skeleton up the stairs, that he could be rewarded handsomely. The boy took the skeleton and a small candle up the stairs, but the skeleton kept blowing the candle out. Frustrated with the skeletons behavior, the boy dropped it, shouting "If you're gonna keep blowing out my candle, then you can just take yourself to your room." The skeleton was impressed by this, and told the boy that he liked his strength and courage, and in return he could have a reward but on the condition that the boy shared this treasure with the towns people, and whatever was left, he and his family could have. The boy accepted these terms and took the skeleton to the room, greeted by mountains of gold, silver and precious stones. True to his word, the boy took one large bag for each family in the town, giving them wealth that none of them had ever seen before. When he finished, there was one last chest full of gold that was his and his alone. The boy took it back to his family, where they lived comfortably for the rest of their days.

"There are, however, instances where the boy instead of giving the wealth to the town, instead kept it for himself, and died because he broke the promise he made to the skeleton, so the skeleton killed him for his sins." Sheriff Wiggins then paled considerably, scrubbing his hand over his face roughly; unsure as to why he told the FBI agents that story.

"It's alright, Sheriff, you have no idea how much you've just helped us." Jericho said, giving the man's hand a reassuring squeeze. Sheriff Wiggins smiled sadly up at her, and let the two hunters leave.

When Jericho and Marques returned to the motel, they immediately started on researching the story the old man had told them, Jericho letting out a happy grunt of surprise when she found it on the first phrase she searched.

"I found it!" she sang happily, turning her computer to show her partner the article she had found. "It says here exactly what Sheriff Wiggins told us today; a boy finds a house, meets a skeleton and becomes filthy stinking rich. What the sheriff's story doesn't tell us, however, is that the skeleton is some sort of spirit that judges the wicked, mostly using cardinal sins."

"Alright, so how does that explain how the people got there and why they were chosen?" Marques asked, stopping his own research to pay attention to Jericho.

Jericho smiled and pressed a few keys, going back a page or two before answering. "This site answers that too. Apparently, the skeleton is Hieronymus Bosch, the painter-excuse me, _accredited_ painter- who made some painting called 'The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things' and the business cards we found have only a few phrases on them_; Avaricia_, _Gula_, _Accidia_, and _Luxuria_ which translate to four of the Sins called Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, and Lust- things people are generally associated with." Jericho paused to make sure her partner was keeping up and he nodded slowly, the information sinking in bit by bit. Jericho then continued. "Basically, those golden cards act as a calling card, accusing a person of their sins." Marques nodded, realization making his eyes shine.

"So that Bosch guy uses their poison- money, food, hookers, whatever- and makes them try to refuse them or share in a new found wealth. If they don't, they're found guilty and some western style justice is served." Marques grinned and leaned back in the recliner, hands behind his head in a manner that made it look as though he just won the lottery.

"Jerry, aren't you glad I found all this out?" he said cockily, his grin showing off a set of perfect pearly white teeth. Jericho grinned and let out a bark of laughter, punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh shut the fuck up and let's get going. While you were doing all that gloating I found out the location of the oh-so mysterious haunted house." the Native American then threw her companions jacket at his face and prepared a duffel bag for the things they would need.

If the stories were true, Jericho really hoped that her plan would work; otherwise she, Marques, and Sikka were as good as dead.


	2. Times Like These

Edge of Reality

Chapter Two

Times Like These.

A dark green Plymouth Barracuda rolled up to an old two story house, its engine purring loudly in the quiet night. Jericho turned off the engine and quickly got out, shoving her pistol into the holster under her jacket and grabbing the backpack that held their ghost hunting items. Sikka exited the car swiftly and silently, his hackles raised and the fur along his spine bristling in the foreboding aura of the house.

"Sikka, scout." Jericho commanded softly. Sikka immediately pressed his dark nose to the ground and began sniffing the perimeter for any signs of monsters or ghosts in the outside area. When the wolf-dog didn't find anything, he went back to his masters' side and sat at her feet.

"Well, there's nothing outside, so that's good." Jericho muttered, shaking the shotgun in her hand absentmindedly. Marques grunted and moved toward the house, his own gun raised in front of him protectively.

"Mark, no. I already told you I'm going in by myself." Marques glowered at Jericho.

"Jerry, I'm not gonna let you do that." he said, stepping toward her. Jericho crossed her arms and smirked at him, shifting her weight to one leg.

"Marques, serious don't suit your pretty face." she chided in a fake southern accent. "I know what I'm doing, and I'm sure if you go in there, Bosch will tempt you with something you probably won't be able to refuse- like a naked bitch with huge tits and a great ass." Marques' face flushed a small shade of red at Jericho's teasing comment.

"What about you? What if that spirit tempts you with something you can't refuse?" Marques' countenance took on one of pain. "I don't think I can bear the thought of losing you again."

Jericho smirked and cocked her gun, the click resounding eerily in the night.

"Crazy people can't be tempted." she said, throwing her partner a playful wink before she climbed up the stairs and vanished into the house.

Upon entering the house, there was a sickening smell of moldy wood, dust, and the faintest traces of blood. Jericho wrinkled her nose in disgust and looked around the dark house, shining her flashlight into a hallway. To Jericho's right was a dusty kitchen devoid of a table or chairs with the only thing lining its yellowed walls being layers and layers of dried blood.

The aforementioned hallway stood in front of the female, two doors resting on either side with a dirty, frosted glass door at the end. Jericho then moved to the living room to her left, going tense when the EMF in her pocket began to whine loudly. The temperature dropped considerably and the candles that Jericho hadn't noticed before suddenly lit themselves, giving the large room a freakish glow.

Warning bells went off in her head and the woman whipped around frantically when a slow drudging echoed throughout the room.

_Thunk!_

The unmistakable sound of something falling drew Jericho's attention to the front of the room.

_Thunk!_

This time, Jericho saw something tumble from the chimney and into the fire pit.

_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_

"_Interesting, I don't think I sent a request for you." _Jericho stood stalk still when a raspy voice floated through the air from a pile of bones now sitting in the fire place. Adrenaline coursed through her veins when her eyes focused on a skull that sat just outside the hearth, its black hollowed eyes burning holes into Jericho's skin.

"Sorry, I have a habit of barging in unexpectedly." Jericho said, gripping her shotgun tightly. Her mind was buzzing with scenarios and escape plans encase anything were to go awry. The skull chuckled hoarsely and a clattering sound could be heard emanating from somewhere upstairs.

_"What is it you wish for, child?"_ it asked, the bones that had previously been forgotten in the fire place beginning to vibrate. Jericho clenched her jaw and bent to root through her bag for the lighter fluid, rock salt and matches, not once taking her eyes from Bosch's bones.

_"I sense your family is a poor one, are they not?"_ When Jericho didn't answer, Bosch took that as a '_yes_' and continued_. "You could give them money you know; make them live comfortably for the rest of their days. Wouldn't you like that?"_ Jericho's face went blank at this, knowing full well that Crystal could use the money, but knowing that once she agreed with the skeleton, it would instantly turn and kill her.

"What's the point in making people an offer they wouldn't be able to refuse, only to kill them when they accepted?" she asked, taking a few slow steps toward the talking skull. The skull made something that could only be described as a sigh before speaking.

_"When Gluttony and Greed consumes the mind, what is left? What is the point of letting live a man who would rather sit in his own filth than doing something to better his society? What becomes of the mother who sits alone with three children while her husband is off enjoying the fruits of her labor by spending it all on spirits and escorts? I ask myself these questions when sending the parchment to these people- these filth of society."_

Jericho rolled her eyes and took another cautious step forward. The low keening and clattering was slowly becoming louder as the skull spoke, the bones in the hearth vibrating even more violently with its rage.

"When you kill these people, you yourself are indulging in Lust and Gluttony, you _do_ know that right?" another step forward would give Jericho the absolute minimal distance she would need to salt and torch the bones, she only hoped Bosch was angry enough not to notice.

_"I indulge in no such things. I am cleansing this world of its filth and sending the Sinners where they need be."_ Jericho grunted and attempted to take another step closer to the skeleton, only to be stopped mid-step when the skulls boney limbs jumped from the hearth and onto the dusty wooden floor, arranging themselves by some unseen force into a sitting position in front of the hunter. The hair on the back of her neck and arms stood on end, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.

_"I know what you're trying to do, and I don't appreciate it. Distracting someone before you kill them is very... Distasteful."_ the skeleton then jumped up, limps swaying erratically as if attached to marionette strings. Jericho gasped and stumbled back, pulling the trigger and blasting it in the face with rock salt before coming to a stop in the doorway.

Bosch's bones went down for a moment, and Jericho hurriedly attempted to pour rock salt and lighter fluid on the bones, only to come to the realization that she didn't have her matches.

"_Son of a bitch_." she breathed when she found them, by the grace of _God_ (note the sarcasm here) on the complete opposite side of the room near her discarded bag. Jericho didn't know how they ended up at the foot of the stairs when she remembered leaving them in the doorway, but decided it was her rotten luck that they ended up there.

A loud, high pitched sort of screaming then began to come from the skull and Jericho scrambled to get to her bag, the skeleton hot on her heels. The hunter quickly scooped up her bag and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time as she dug in the front pocket for matches. Her tanned fingers grasped something small and square, and relief flooded her for a moment when she found what she was looking for.

Jericho soon found herself racing down a long hallway, hurtling over a door that had rotten off its hinges and now leaned partially on the wall. The skeleton had no such luck and careened right into it, femurs, ribs, and shoulders going every which way.

Jericho entered a large room and stopped dead in her tracks, staring in awe at the mountains and mountains of gold and silver filling it, the only clear space being the thin trail on the floor leading to an open window from the doorway. The hunter quickly stepped through the expensive looking coins toward the window to open it, letting out a groan of frustration when it wouldn't move. She stepped back and threw a quick glance over her shoulder before using the butt of her shot gun to break out the window, the glass making sharp clanking sounds when it hit the golden coins littering the floor.

The skeleton gave out another frustrated scream and burst into the room, limbs still flying unnaturally with the movement. Black hollows met yellow orbs, and the skeleton leaped toward Jericho, mouth open in a bony snarl, arms outstretched to grasp at her coppery flesh. Jericho only gave a cocky grin and lit a small match, causing the skeleton to backtrack to get away from her, but only succeeded in giving the woman just enough time to throw the object onto his fuel soaked body.

The skeleton burst into flames with a deafening scream, scratching at its face before completely disappearing. Jericho closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing them with the knuckles of her hands while she let the adrenaline slowly leak from her veins. She walked slowly through the gold filled room, wanting desperately to fill her bag with the money and take it to Crystal, but her conscience not even allowing her to bend over and pick up even one coin. When the Native reached the doorway, she stopped for a moment before turning back to the room, her stomach giving a disappointed drop when the mounds of gold had disappeared.

Jericho slowly walked down the hallway, eyes down cast and her lips set into a thin line, sluggishly pushing the fallen door out of the way before descending the staircase, her feet making heavy, depressed thumps that echoed throughout the empty house.

As soon as the huntress exited the house, Marques raced to her, grabbing Jericho by the shoulders with a relieved look on his face.

"Oh thank God you're okay!" he breathed, pulling his friend into a bone crushing hug. Jericho remained limp in his arms, too upset to hug him back. The black man noticed her change in demeanor and pulled her to arm's length and examined her.

"Jericho, what happened in there?" he asked, concern the only emotion in his voice. Jericho frowned and chewed the inside of her lip, trying her hardest not to cry.

"Bosch knew your ma was poor. He offered to give me the money to let her and your siblings live comfortably for a really long time." the woman paused and rubbed her eyes furiously, and Marques knew she was about to break down, so he pulled her close and forced her head to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. "You and your ma saved me, man. I wanted to return the favor and give her the money she deserves after taking me in, but I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough to take anything."

Marques began to chuckle softly, that quiet chuckle quickly turning into all out laughter in a split second. Jericho pulled away from her friend, confused as to way he was laughing so hard.

"Jericho, dude. My mom doesn't give a _fuck_ about taking you in. You're like her daughter, and you're like my baby sister, she doesn't care that she doesn't have much money; she cares more about her _family_ than anything else in the entire world- and that _includes_ you." Jericho's lips down turned in a heavy pout, her chin beginning to quiver.

"Oh, Marques! That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" she cried, throwing her hands around the taller man's muscular neck. Marques laughed and spun his sister around, their cackles echoing loudly in the night, Jericho's previous mood all but forgotten.

**PAGEBREAK**

Jericho sat in her and Marques' hotel room, digging through her bag for a pair of semi clean pants and a shirt. She frowned when she couldn't find anything and turned to Marques, a pout lining her copper face.

"Mark, can I borrow a shirt? I guess it's laundry day and I need a shirt that doesn't smell like dog slobber, sweat, and blood." Sikka's ears perked up at the mention of 'dog slobber' and gave his master a doggy version of a grin. Jericho rolled her eyes playfully at him and turned to Marques, who was digging in his own bag for a shirt. When the man found one he was satisfied with, he tossed it to his companion, who in turn gave a happy squeal and headed into the bathroom to change. When Jericho exited, she took her duffel and Marques' duffel and headed to the laundromat just a few blocks away, Sikka loping along obediently at her side.

The laundromat Jericho and Sikka entered was somewhat dingy, the fluorescent lights giving the room a dirtier glow than it actually was. Jericho opened the door and held it so Sikka could get his large body inside before entering herself. The woman stood in a small hallway with an empty receptionist's desk and a bathroom for a moment before turning to Sikka. Sikka returned her yellow gaze with a bright blue one of his own, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth happily.

"Scout, Sikka!" she said, and the wolf-dog immediately pressed his nose to the ground and explored the main room, disappearing from Jericho's view for a few moments before he trotted back and sat at the woman's feet. Jericho rubbed his ears affectionately, murmuring her complements before dragging the duffel bags to a washer, humming a small tune to herself. Sikka flopped himself in front of a washer, lying his head in his huge paws to watch his master load hers and Marques' clothing into the machines.

**PAGEBREAK**

Sam Winchester sat in a dingy laundromat, reading a book while he waited for his clothes to finish in the wash. He had been sitting there for over an hour, doing nothing but- you guessed it- _sitting_. He sighed and turned a page, his mind going elsewhere as he tried to read more text out of the boring book. The ding of the laundromat bell made the hunter look up to see a gigantic wolf with its nose pressed onto the dirty tile, sniffing loudly as it trotted into the establishment like it owned the place. Sam slowly put his book down and reached into the duffel beside him for his gun, the hairs on his neck prickling in anticipation. The man kept his gun out of view in case the dog saw it and went berserk, but kept a wary eye on the large silvery blue beast. The canine was coming closer to Sam, but kept its nose planted firmly on the ground, paying the tall man no mind when it passed him and went back to the entrance.

The wolf was out of Sam's eyesight for several moments before it reappeared, tail wagging happily as it stared up at his master. A woman- no older than Sam- came into the laundromat, carrying two large duffel bags over her shoulders as if they weighed nothing and plopped them onto a table near the entrance, humming a happy tune to herself as she did so. She was wearing an oversized red tee-shirt and a pair of cut off Dickey's pants, the fraying hem stopping just below her knees.

The wolf flopped itself down near the woman's feet and Sam noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes, only a pair of black ankle socks. Sam quirked a brow curiously, wondering why on Earth anyone would willingly walk around without shoes. Sam watched as she fed quarters into the machine and plopped down on the floor next to her canine, grabbing his massive head into both of her hands as she knocked her forehead against his affectionately, the feathers in her hair he hadn't noticed before flopping into his blue eyes.

Sam watched in slight amusement as she then began to hug the dog, a wide grin on her face as she ran her hands through his thick fur before turning so her head rested on his flank and her feet were propped on the table the other duffel was on, singing a song that sounded a lot like 'Lovely Bunch of Coconuts'.

Sam's washer buzzed, indicating it was finished, and the woman looked up in confusion before sitting bolt upright, her yellow gaze making a quick scan of the room before landing on Sam. The man smiled awkwardly and stood, saying a polite 'hello' before walking to his washer to pull out his clothes. The woman's face blanched and she turned to look at her dog.

"Sikka, when I tell you to 'scout' I mean for everything!" she whined. Sam let out a soft chuckle at this, finding it amusing that she was talking to an animal. The woman stood and dusted off her rear before extending a hand out to shake.

"The name's Jericho, pleasure to meet you!" she chirped happily. Sam grinned and took her hand, introducing himself as well.

"What breed is he?" Sam inquired; gesturing to the dog she called Sikka. Jericho's face broke out into a wide grin.

"Kind of imposing ain't he?" she said, rubbing his ears. "Don't worry, he's real friendly! Sikka's part wolf, part Malamute or whatever."

Sam raised an eyebrow and made a face that could easily be translated to 'Not bad'. "Where do you even get a dog like that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I got him from a rancher that runs a Malamute breeding program in Montana a few years back. The crazy old guy didn't want him cause he was worried he and his siblings would attack the other dogs." Jericho frowned and shrugged nonchalantly, grinning again when Sikka pressed his large head into her hip. "I was real lucky when my brother and I were passing through, the bastard had just drowned Sikka's twin when we stopped to get directions. Me, being the kind hearted person I was, punched him in the mouth and took the other three and Sikka. Found them all a nice home a few towns over." Sam smiled and dumped his damp clothes into a laundry bin, taking them to a dryer a few feet away. Sikka followed him, sniffing his pants leg curiously. Jericho laughed lightly and jumped onto the counter behind her, watching as Sam bent down to pet the canine.

Sikka's tongue lolled out of his mouth happily when Sam found the sweet spot behind his ear and then rolled over to expose his belly, his leg kicking slowly in content.

"I think he likes you." Jericho laughed. Sam stood and walked back to Jericho, leaning against the washers opposite her, glancing down when Sikka rested his side against Sam's long legs. Jericho made a clicking noise with her tongue and Sikka gave her a sad look before lying down.

"Did you train him yourself?" he asked, impressed. Jericho nodded, swinging her legs childishly.

"Sure did; took a long time too. My brother and I are on the road a lot, and wolf-dogs need a lot of space to run around or they go Kennel Crazy as my ma calls it."

Sam and Jericho sat and talked for an hour or two while they waited for their laundry to finish, both of them relishing in the company of another person that wasn't their sibling for the time being. The man was relatively impressed with this girl, and found it interesting that she was so happy and carefree and let things roll off her back like water. He liked the fact that she was easy to talk to, and wished he would be able to see her around again sometime soon. Unfortunately, the life of a hunter dictated that friends were a luxury they couldn't afford.

**PAGEBREAK**

When Jericho re-entered her temporary home, there was a grin on her face so wide it almost didn't fit. Marques looked up from his game when she walked in, quirking a brow when he noticed her attitude was more ditzy than usual.

"What's got you all star struck?" he asked. Jericho turned and sighed happily, flopping down on her bed.

"Dude, I think all the blood went from my brain to my boner." she said, giggling when she thought about Sam again. Marques gave Jericho a shit eating grin and she looked at him curiously.

"You totally boned a guy, didn't you?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Jericho rolled her eyes playfully.

"Oh yeah, 'cause I'm totally the kind of bitch that just up and fucks some random guy in a Laundromat. _So_ romantic." Marques laughed and they sat in relative silence, Marques playing a video game and Jericho watching as her brother killed the odd looking aliens.

After a while (And many temper tantrums later) Marques stood and dug through his duffel of newly cleaned clothes and pulled out a shirt and pants for his shower. He gave a pointed look at Jericho before speaking.

"Get your ass dressed, we're going to the bar." He said before disappearing into the bathroom. Jericho pulled on a fitted band tee-shirt and an oversized flannel button up before pulling on her favorite pants, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt to her elbows while she slipped her socked feet into a pair of beat up Vans.

The two hunters piled into Jericho's Barracuda a short while later and drove the few blocks to a bar simply named 'The Corral'. There were many bikes parked out front, a jet black four-door muscle car, and a few junk cars. Jericho and Marques waltzed into the brightly lit place, Marques instantly going to the pool tables while Jericho surveyed the surrounded area. The establishment was relatively busy with people lining the bar and playing pool, a cacophony of clinking glasses and gruff voices filling the air with a somewhat welcoming atmosphere.

Jericho strode to the bar and leaned on the counter, flagging the bartender over. The woman took another quick glance down the bar and caught sight of a familiar head of shaggy brown hair, sucking down a beer while a man next to him flirted with the waitress at their end of the bar. Before Jericho could meet the man's eyes, the bartender came over to take her order.

"A Coke and a beer please." she said, giving the man a polite smile while she threw several ones onto the copper counter. Jericho swiftly picked up her order and walked over to her friend, handing him the beer while she popped the metal cap off the glass Coke bottle with a quick twist of her tanned fingers. Marques then handed her a pool cue and she rubbed the end with a small blue cube of chalk before leaning over the table to break the billiards with the cue ball.

One of the older men Marques was playing with (more like hustling, but Jericho could give less than a fuck) Clapped a massive hand on her shoulder, congratulating her on setting up the nest five shots for him and his friend. Jericho smirked and took another drink of her Coke, tucking her ring and pinky finger under the bottle.

"Don't be too sure of that." she said, laughing loudly when the bald man missed his shot. The four took their respective turns, Marques and Jericho each letting out a whoop of joy when they would sink their ball or groaning when they missed it.

Oddly enough, she could feel Sam's gaze follow her whenever she took a deep swig from the coke bottle, or chalked her cue (Hell, anything she did, really), and it was beginning to make her loose her concentration. Beginning to get irritated with it, she grabbed Marques' beer from his hands, chugging half of it before setting it back down onto their table, finally beginning to feel herself loosen up. Jericho didn't really like to drink, but Sam's burning gaze was making her fidgety. She made a small face at the disgusting taste and stalked around the table, trying to find the best way to hit her ball so it would do into the pocket she wanted.

"Seven ball, corner pocket." she murmured. She drew back the cue then shot it forward, the wooden stick hitting the white ball on its right side, forcing it slightly to the left so it would hit the six ball dead center, sending it shooting to the pocket she wanted. Marques let out a shout of joy and high-fived his friend, the two overweight bikers groaning when they saw the only ball left for their opponents was the eight ball.

**PAGEBREAK**

Sam and his brother, Dean, watched in fascination as the younger hunters new acquaintance hustled pool like a pro, sometimes allowing the two men she and her friend were playing against to get a shot in before they took several themselves, successfully getting the older bikers confidence up before hopelessly crushing it.

Sam watched as Jericho stalked around the pool table for a bit before leaning over the side of the table and taking an expert bank shot, her friend giving an excited yell when it went into the pocket she called. They gave each other high-fives and Jericho gloated a bit, screaming something about 'doing work, son!'. Dean let out a loud laugh, clapping his baby brother on the back.

"Jeez, Sammy, who would have though you met one of the greatest pool hustlers I've ever seen at a friggin' laundromat!" Dean exclaimed when Jericho sunk another ball- the last one if the looks on the bikers' faces were anything to go by. Sam scoffed lightly and took a drink of his beer. Jericho suddenly turned and danced back up to the bar, ordering something from the bartender.

This time, Sam made sure to catch her eye, making Jericho grin at him and wave. Sam waved back and when the shorter woman acquired a beer and a soda, walked over to her acquaintance. Dean gave Sam a huge grin and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Oh, she's coming over here, Sammy! Don't blow it!" he said playfully, earning a glower from his brother.

"Hey, Sam! Fancy meeting you here." Jericho greeted, twisting the cap off her soda. Sam smiled and stood when she gave a questioning glance to the grinning man behind him.

"Oh, ah, Jericho, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Jericho." Jericho took both glass bottles into one hand and extended her free hand to shake. Dean took it quickly, looking the girl over.

"Metallica? Nice." Dean complemented, eying her shirt.

"_Ride the Lightning_, mother fucker!" Jericho said referencing the title of the album on her tee. Dean turned to Sam, a cocky grin on his face.

"I think she's a winner, Sammy." He sang. Sam grunted and elbowed Dean warningly. Jericho either didn't notice this or ignored it.

"So, what are you doing?" Sam asked, glancing at the man Jericho was with earlier. The woman shrugged and set her drinks down.

"Eh, my brother decided we needed to go out before we left tomorrow, so he brought me here and we ended up hustling a little pool." Jericho shrugged again, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. Sam frowned a bit at this.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're on our way to Minnesota. Got a job lined up out that way, so we decided to stay here for a night then head out." she said, nodding. Sam cocked his head to the left a bit and quirked an eyebrow, questioning look on his face.

"What kind of job?" Jericho's eyes glanced quickly to the right, and Sam instantly knew she was going to lie to him.

"We're goin' up to help one of my granddads friends heard his cattle. He's an older guy that lives in the middle of nowhere near Sioux Falls. He don't know anybody out there, so we decided to help him out."

Sam looked at her skeptically, throwing a glance to Dean beside him. Before Sam could ask his next question, the man Jericho was playing pool with walked up to stand protectively by her side.

"Hey, Jerry, who're your friends?" he asked, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Jericho smiled brightly and introduced him to Sam and Dean.

"Sam, Dean, meet my brother Marques!"

Sam furrowed his brows in confusion, thinking there was _no_ possible way the two were related. Whereas Jericho had messy wavy hair, copper skin, yellow/green eyes and a lithe frame built for running, Marques was her exact opposite. Marques' skin was a few shades darker than Jericho's and more of a deep chocolate instead of a light copper. The man's eyes were such a dark brown they looked almost black with wild, curly hair and a build that said 'bear wrestler' in every way possible.

"So this is the guy you were talking about earlier." Marques said, wrapping a hand around his chin and eying Sam. Sam wanted to squirm a bit under his calculating gaze but held his ground. Dean saw Jericho's face redden in embarrassment out of the corner of his eye, but the woman played it off well by smacking Marques' shoulder, closing her eyes as if she were frowning.

"Oh shut up you fucking dick." Marques let out a booming laugh and scooped Jericho under one arm and rubbed the top of her head furiously, digging his knuckles none too gently into her scalp. The woman let out a yelp of pain and surprise and scrambled to get a hold of his arms to get the larger man off her head.

Sam and Dean couldn't help but to laugh at their exchange, and began to laugh even harder when Jericho extracted her face from its prison, messy hair going every which way from the noogie. Jericho then rounded on Marques, shouts of 'I'll kill you, mother fucker!' coming from the woman and retorts of 'As if you could fucking reach!' coming from the two.

Sam grinned, relishing in the rare, light atmosphere Jericho and her brother had created with him and his brother so quickly, wishing that times like these could last forever


End file.
