HEAVEN HELP A FOOL WHO FALLS IN LOVE.
Ophelia Artemis Winchester, the first tribrid to grace earth, just happened to be born in a family as messed up as the Winchesters'.
---spn szn 1-5
---book one
---slow updates
---eventual dean x desi!fem!oc
chapter one. ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ 1.1 || sammy is a chubby 12-year-old. Alternatively known as: Pilot.
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❛ Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days. ❜ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
"IT'S BEEN 30 MINUTES DE."
"I thought I told you to go to sleep." Dean hit his head on his seat, almost laughing at the comical sight.
Tiny little Ophelia was bundled up in one of Dean's jackets, which was huge for her. Her pink 'Powerpuff Girls' pajamas stood out against the black seat, and her hair was messy.
But she was grinning at him anyway, "I'm not sleepy anymore. And if we wait out here any longer, I'm pretty sure someone will call the police."
"He'll be mad at us."
"We're literally outside his dorm," Ophelia snorted. "It's a little too late to think about that, no?"
Dean didn't answer.
"I'll be with you," she continued. "Who can be mad at a kid as cute as me?"
"I can think of a lot of people who would disagree."
". . .okay, . . . well, he's Sammy. Our harmless, noodle-of-a-brother, Sammy." she shrugged, picturing what Sam looked like the last time she saw him — when she was 6 — "What's the worse he'll do?"
"Well." Dean huffed, finally looking back at the balcony he'd spent the first ten minutes of their lookout staring at. "He ain't the noddle-head anymore, kiddo."
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SHE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT DEAN MEANT.
He'd finally dragged himself out of his beloved car, Ophelia following suit when she realized: he had seen him. He visited Stanford to look after him every few months.
Now, she was hoisted on a cold fire escape balcony, pulling herself in the window — which was very difficult when the leather she wore was trying to drown. Dean followed suit, except, he did it a lot effortlessly because he wasn't a ten-year-old who was too short for her age.
"If this is the wrong house, so help me God, Dean, I will beat you."
"Oh, I'm very sure you will." Dean rolled his eyes at the nurse costume left astray in the living room, making a bee-line for the fridge. "Of course, he doesn't keep beer."
"Don't you just hate Halloween?" she whispered, eyeing the same costume he had. Dean, however, didn't reply.
He was too busy being tackled to the ground by a tall figure.
For a second, Ophelia thought of helping him. But then, two thoughts hit her: one: if the man was strong enough to tackle her brother to the ground, then she was probably like a rag-doll for him.
