Abigail Potter, James and Lily's eldest daughter and Harry's older sister, has been missing for years, and everyone has given up hope of finding her alive. But what they do not know is that the girl has become a hunter, the most trusted companion of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lily Potter laid a hand on her husband James's shoulder as she walked past him and reached the kitchen shelf. He kissed her mane of thick red hair, without a word, and with a fluid motion of his wand the dirty dishes flew from the table into a neat pile in the sink.
These were the moments the couple most enjoyed; mornings, in their small home in Godric Hollow, drinking tea that, though prepared with magic, James still managed to make terrible. Their youngest son, Harry, was completing his last year of study at Hogwarts. At that hour of the morning, Lily imagined, all the students were sitting at the long tables eating porridge and discussing the daily gossip, with snow falling from the ceiling, making the Great Hall seem much more magical than it already was. If only Lily thought that a few decades earlier she herself had been in the place of those young students, her stomach clenched. Now her only and greatest concern was that both of her children were well, Abby and Harry. The Potter family, Remus, Sirius and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix were the only ones who believed Abby was still alive. Some by faith, some by desperation, some by instinct, all suspected that the eldest daughter of the two Aurors had survived.
"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" the voice of James interrupted her thoughts. She turned to face him. His glasses askew, his hair beginning to gray (but not fall out, he would never allow that), and that goofy smile Lily had fallen in love with. It was enough for the two of them to exchange a glance, and her husband's arms wrapped around her as both of their eyes moistened.
The unspoken words hovered in the air, and they all contained the same name. Abigail. Abby.
James understood his wife's pain. He always did.
The magician was about to speak to Lily, to express words of comfort, but he did not make it in time, because they were both enveloped in a white light....
---
The walls of the room had certainly been white once, and the carpeting had probably seen better days as well, but overall it was not bad. In a way, after more than two decades of hunting, it was reassuring to see how all the dirty American motels were so similar. The faint musty smell, the squeaky bed, they were home.
After all, Abby was convinced that no matter the place, as long as she was with her boys or Bobby she would always be home. Maybe not safe, but at least loved.
"What the fuck Abby?!" the voice of Dean filled the dingy room, causing the woman sitting on the bed across from him to roll her eyes. Abigail Singer groaned silently. The hunt was not supposed to be like this. First of all, there were only supposed to be six vampires, not nine, and surely Abby should not have ended up with two big bloody cuts running down the right side of her neck to her collarbone. But that's what happens when your boyfriend is a Winchester.
"What the fuck you, Dean! What were you thinking?" the girl managed to snarl, trying to ignore the burning wounds and the thick red liquid that was quickly leaving a stain on her shirt and leather jacket. Not that the jacket belonged to her.
