Cursed

One

Maggie drives silently in her black Honda Civic on the deserted road that leads to the bunker, owned by the infamous Winchesters. The only sound heard is the gentle breathing of Maggie's mute daughter, Hanna, in the back, strapped comfortably into her carseat. The soft inhales and exhales soothe Maggie's nerves as she stares intently at the dark road in front of her.

     Maggie worries her bottom lip as she drives, her knuckles white from how tight she grips the steering wheel. Maggie has three days left. Three days left to be with Hanna. Three days left to breathe. She does her best to push these thoughts aside, but they continue to resurface, no matter what she does. Every so often Maggie glances back in the rearview mirror at her sleeping child, and the sight of her makes a smile trace Maggie's lips. But then the soft smile fades, at the thought of never again seeing that cute, sleeping face.

     For the most part, though, Maggie just stares at the road, following it's twisting, winding patterns. She may be driving, but her mind is elsewhere. Maggie is deep in thought, memorizing everything. The feeling of air fill her lungs, the smell of car exhaust, the sound of her car's wheels eating up the road, the sight of darkness. She'll miss it all, when she's gone. Most of all, of course, she'll miss Hanna.

     Hanna is very similar in comparison to Maggie, despite being barely two years old. Maggie and Hanna both share the same luscious curly black hair that falls down to their mid-back. They both have eyes that sparkle like crystals. The both have the same pale complexion. Maggie's thoughts are sweet like this for several minutes, which is more than she thought possible until her mind is stabbed with a blood-chilling thought: Hanna doesn't die for another twenty years. Maggie lets out a whimper, and she presses her lips into a thin line to stifle it. But Hanna stirs slightly. Luckily for Maggie, she finally pulls up to the Winchester's bunker. 

     Maggie lets out a slow, shaky breath, her lips barely parted. Maggie looks at herself in the mirror as she pulls her keys from the ignition. She sits there a moment, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other hand gripping her keys, the jagged end of the key scraping at her palm. Maggie uses the physical pain to distract her from her mental pain, and with the pain, she's able to make her face appear like stone. If no one looks too closely into her eyes, they won't see her undying pain.

     Maggie finally swings open the driver side door and unbuckles her seatbelt, getting out of the car. Maggie pockets her keys and shuts the door, then opens the back door. 

     "Hi, baby..," Maggie whispers soothingly to the half-asleep toddler. Hanna kicks her feet in protest as Maggie undoes her daughter's seatbelt. "I know, I know," Maggie says gently. "You don't wanna get up. You're tired. Mama knows. But these people can help with our..." Maggie pauses to clear her throat. "Problem." she finishes. 

     Finally Maggie scoops the child gingerly into her arms, and Hanna fumbles a bit before gripping her mother's leather jacket and wrapping her small, plump legs the best she can around Maggie's waist. Maggie smooths down Hanna's flower printed dress and kicks the car door shut with the side of her foot. Maggie places a soft kiss on the side of Hanna's head, then walks toward the iron door. Maggie grips her daughter with one arm as she tentatively reaches out to the door and knocks three times. Moments later, the door creaks open, and Maggie is greeted with Dean's dazzling green eyes.

     "Hey, Mags," Dean greets, stepping aside to let Maggie inside. "Come on in."

     Maggie nods slightly at Dean, then steps into the bunker. She hesitates by the doorway, quickly scanning the front room before stepping all the way inside. The iron door slams behind her, and Maggie flinches, but plays it off by adjusting Hanna in her arms. 

     "So," Dean says from behind her before stepping out in front of her and leading her down the black steps. "What can we help you with?"

     "A case." Maggie deadpans, trying to sound casual and not as if her life is on the line. Maggie walks past Dean and to the couch, grabbing a pillow and setting it in the crook of the couch, then setting Hanna in front of it. Hanna leans back into the pillow and turns on her side, clinging to the pillow and holding it to her chest like a teddy bear. Maggie smiles fondly at her daughter before turning to face Dean. "But there's something you need to know-"

     Maggie is abruptly cut off by Sam entering the living room, and him saying to her, "Hey, Maggie."

     Maggie mentally groans as her courage disintegrates, and she turns back around to face Sam. "Hi." Maggie grumbles in response.

     As Sam nears her, the unholy stench of booze wafts towards Maggie. Maggie's nose scrunches up, and she takes a step back. "God, Sam," Maggie says as she fans the tainted air away from her nose. "What did you drink?" 

     Sam scowls, and Maggie presumes she's struck a nerve before he says, "You mean what Bennett drank." 

     Before Maggie can ask who Bennett is, a tall man that looks about her age walks into the room. He has dark brown hair like Sam's, but is incredibly disheveled. He wears a shirt with about a dozen stains on it, and ripped black jeans. Although Maggie isn't totally into men, she's got to say, he's pretty hot. "I heard my name?" Bennett mumbles under beer breath.

     Sam sighs and runs a hand down his face. "Maggie, this is Bennett. My son." 

     Maggie looks him up and down, distaste in her expression. "Hello." She says blandly. 

     "Sup." Bennett responds, his voice slightly raspy from God knows how much alcohol. 

     "Anyways..." Dean starts, no doubt sensing the awkward air of the room. "What did you need to tell me?" Dean asks, looking to Maggie.

     Maggie turns her back to Beer-Soaked Bennett and Sam as a million thoughts race through her mind: Oh, you know, I'm just going to die in three days and then my kid will die in twenty years and, so far, I can't do jack fucking shit about it so I need your help by risking your life in trying to save someone you only know because of their cousin. Maggie swallows back her growing panic, and with a shake of her head, she says, "Nothing. Never mind. It's not important. Lets just get started, shall we?"