"SO- YOU REALLY trust this guy, dontcha, kid?"
Her hands were clammy and her tongue was like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth. Bobby's voice was surprisingly gentle and calm after she had explained her encounter with the angel.
"I don't know, Bobby, it's just- he's never given me a reason not to, y'know?"
The man in the driver's seat nodded solemnly, although he couldn't deny how naïve the words sounded as they left her mouth. He eyed her from his peripheral; she had a leather jacket pulled snugly over a blue flannel that belonged to one of the brothers, and her snarled brown hair was tucked into Bobby's red and gray trucker cap.
The man knew that this mystery angel could end up hurting her, but, still, he couldn't help but feel immensely thankful that at least one of the Winchesters' innocence was still intact. Regardless of how many times she was hurt or betrayed, Makayla always saw the best in people. It was her optimistic and trusting nature that held the brothers together.
"What the hell am I gonna tell De?"
The question was more directed towards herself, as she was thinking out loud, but Bobby didn't want his girl to worry.
"The truth. You ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. Your brother can't get mad at you for bein' honest."
"Oh, yes, he can."
She laughed half-heartedly as she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, a small smile gracing her lips.
"Well, damn him, then. You need to remember that all the blame ain't on you. Your relationship with Dean runs both ways, darlin'. It ain't always your fault. Believe it or not, your 'perfect' twin brother ain't nearly as perfect as you think he is. Sometimes, he's the one that's gotta make things right. Not you."
Makayla nodded her head, her brows furrowed in thought. As badly as she wanted to grovel in her own self-deprecation, she knew that Bobby was right and she hadn't done too much wrong.
Yet, at least.
The pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of a white two-story house, and Makayla was out of the car with a pistol in hand before Bobby could shift the car into park.
The Impala pulled in behind them and the three men followed behind her as she lifted her leg and kicked the wooden door in, the red oak splintering just slightly under the pressure.
She motioned for Sam to go to the left, Bobby to go upstairs, and Dean to follow her towards the right. Her older brother rolled his eyes at her order, but obeyed nevertheless.
As the twins split up and Makayla entered the living space, her stomach churned.
"Dean?"
She called apprehensively, her nose scrunched up in disgust.
"I think... she's dead."
"What'dya mean, 'you think?' Are you sure?"
She heard him quickly approaching, but his sarcasm was unbearable. She groaned in utter exasperation.
"Well, do you wanna come in here and check for a fucking pulse?"
It was then that Dean finally entered the room, his green eyes matching his sister's line of vision.
His lips parted in a look of surprise as he took in the sight of Olivia's butchered, disemboweled corpse, blood spattered across every surface of the room.
After a few moments, he offered a look of disgust and a shrug.
"I think... she's dead."
Makayla gave her brother the Winchester bitch-face and smacked him upside the head as the two other hunters followed the sounds of their voices into the room.
__________
The Winchester sister stuck with Bobby during the rest of their investigations, as she rather enjoyed the company of the old man. His wisdom and her quick wit complimented each other greatly, and the same was said for the combination of Sam and Dean.
Their findings had been... disturbing, to say the least. Having checked up on two of Bobby's hunting buddies, Carl Bates and R.C. Adams, finding them just as butchered and dismembered as Olivia was not reassuring.
"EMF was through the roof, Bobby. It just doesn't make a lick 'a sense."
"At least we know that we're dealin' with spirits."
"Yeah, but why? A bunch of pissed off ghosts on steroids, all attacking victims across the country with absolutely no connection whatsoever?"
"I like your optimism, darlin'. Very encouraging."
Makayla laughed at the man beside her as they pulled up in front of his home, both of them prepared for a heavy night of research.
The girl walked inside with a duffel slung over her shoulder, a confused, yet content sigh escaping her parted lips. Although there were more pressing matters at hand, she couldn't find herself forgetting the face of her angel. It seemed to have engraved itself right into the front of her mind- a permanent reminder of just how fucking psychotic her life had become in a few short days.
She was curious as what it was that he was about to tell her- it seemed important. Urgent.
She didn't realize Bobby had spoken to her until he grabbed her wrist, stopping her from stepping up onto the porch.
"Mak, I was talking to you!"
"Oh. Sorry."
She shook her head, pulling herself from her daze.
"Where have you been goin' in that old melon of yours?"
His question was relatively rhetorical, but the girl felt the need to defend herself anyway.
"I wish I could tell you, Bobby. It's just- ever since this whole angel thing, my brain's been a scrambled egg. Feels like I don't even know left from right anymore."
The man pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her up the steps and towards the front door.
"I get it, kid. The world as we know it has been turned on it's head. But you'll get through it. I know you will."
She smiled halfheartedly.
"Thanks, Bobby."
The man's eyes twinkled kindly as they walked into the home.
"It's getting late. Why don't you head up to bed and I'll start lookin' for some dirt on these ghosties?"
"No, I shouldn't, I need to help-"
"Hate to break it to you, sunshine, but you ain't much help when you can barely keep your eyes open. Besides, the brothers will be back soon and then we can really start digging, okay?"
Makayla sighed heavily, but was far too tired to argue as she trudged up the steps, her hand dragging across the railing.
"Love you, Bobby."
She called down the stairs with a small smile on her face, knowing she could only get away with it because the boys weren't around.
"Yeah, sure you do."
He muttered sarcastically, although his lips lifted at the corners.
Walking into the guest bedroom, of which she had normally shared with Sam growing up, she hoisted her duffel onto the twin mattress and ran a hand down her grimy face. She really needed a shower, but she figured it could wait.
She slowly made her way up onto the bed, kicking her boots off as she threw the blankets back to crawl underneath them.
A few minutes passed, but she couldn't find herself giving way to the sleep that was consuming her. Something was nagging at the back of her brain- something felt off.
The girl sat bolt upright with widened eyes as she noticed her warm breath clouding into a white mist before her.
With a gasp, she lunged for her bag, which had been kicked to the floor when she had laid down to sleep, fumbling with the zipper.
Before she could reach inside to swipe a loaded gun, the bag was ripped from her grasp and sent flying across the room, slamming into the wall farthest from her.
She froze, her back completely rigid as she remained crouched, utterly paralyzed in complete fear.
She didn't know what the hell to do. She couldn't call out to Bobby- she didn't wanna make the ghost angry. What the hell could she do?
In a panic, the girl found herself praying.
Please help me, Castiel. I'm completely fucked.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as wind whipped at her ear, a shiver running down her spine.
When she looked up, it wasn't Cas standing in front of her.
It was the ghost.
The ghost of someone all too familiar.
"Hey, there, babydoll."
He grinned.
"It's been awhile."
Her breath left her lungs.
"...Richie?"