Maisie Winchester: The Cursed Hunter

.fourteen.

DISCLAIMER; SUPERNATURAL ISN'T MINE AND THIS WORK IS COMPLETELY FAN-MADE AND HAS NO RELATION TO THE CANON STORY BESIDES THE FOLLOWING OF THE SEASON EVENTS (SEASON 11).

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AFTER A LONG NIGHT OF searching for the missing people at the centre of the werewolf hunt they were currently on, the three Winchesters find themselves at the last possible lead they can think of - the stingy bar down the street of their motel.
It had been about a month now since their run in with Lucifer, a month since Tala had sacrificed herself and two weeks since Maisie had a literal good look at her soul. Despite that, she was still nowhere near as angelic as the image in the soul eater's nest would like them to believe and she was still an A-grade alcoholic relying on brown liquor to get her to sleep at night. This whole time she has been short with everyone, including Max, and refusing to let anyone into the thoughts that clouded her mind.
"You know, I used to be good with faces," The woman across the bar says to them as she looks at the missing persons poster. "But it's my age and the number of folks that come through this place. I seem to have lost the knack, so... These days, everybody under 40 looks the same to me. I'm sorry." The woman walks away and Dean places his head on the counter in frustration. Maisie picks up her beer and takes a sip.
"All right, look..." Sam sighs. "We know we're in the right place. We've tried all the big landmarks outside of the park... the police station, the... the... the fleabag motel we're staying in, this bar..."
"Yeah, well, we're running out of things to interrogate," Dean points out in frustration. "Unless you want to go outside, start talking to the trees."

"Right." Sam nods. "All right, let's call it a night."

"Right." Dean pats his hand on the table, looking over to the woman they were previously talking to. "Grab the check?"
"You know, we can go to Park Services in the morning, talk to the rangers," Sam suggests.
"You know what I was thinking?" The bartender says as she hands the three their checks. "You should check out one of the easement cabins. It's private property within the park. It's just held onto for tax purposes, so campers stumble on them and they can hole up in there for weeks. Some of your missing could be in one of them."
The three share a look, glad they finally have a lead. "Do you mind, um, showing us about where they are?" Sam questions.
"Oh, yeah, sure." The woman pulls up a map of the park grounds, pointing to the discussed area. "Right about there."
"Well, that is a big help." Sam smiles. "That's great. Thank you."

"No problem."

"Thanks." Dean smiles, handing over some cash before the three leave, getting into the impala.
They drive immediately to the cabins, unloading the trunk of all weaponry suitable for a wolf fight. "All right, so, I think if we head in that way, should be about a four-mile trek to the cabin." Sam says as he reads the map with a flashlight. "You know, we always talk about taking a break, going camping. This could be like camping. It could be fun."
"Yeah, which part? Hmm? Freezing our nuts off in the middle of the woods on a thin lead?" Dean grumbles.
"Yeah, that part." Sam laughs as he looks at Dean's unimpressed face. "Oh, come on."
"Yeah, dad, come on." Maisie chimes in. "Beats sitting around chasing nowhere leads in books that more likely than not don't have an answer."
"That's another thing. We have so many other damn things to worry about. The darkness? Cas? What about you, huh? Your- your soul is- well- pft. Tala is gone but Náli isn't! What's she up to? Why are we following a maybe werewolf case?"
"Because if I have to sit in that damn bunker drinking the liquor cabinets dry for one more damn day I'm gonna go crazy." Maisie snaps. "I'm on edge. I'm scared and angry and confused. So unless you want me to unload my clip on you, lemme do it to a damn wolf."
"Okay." Dean sighs after staring down his daughter for a long moment. "Let's go."
Maisie smiles as the three start walking their two-hour-long trek to the cabins. Upon arrival, everything seems eerily and suspiciously quiet. The type of quiet that sent Maisie's hairs on edge. Dean places a finger to his lips as he pulls out his gun, slowly opening the door. As soon as all three are inside, they're ambushed by just as many wolves. One throws Sam into a table, shattering it, another throws Dean into a wall while the third pins Maisie to the ground. The ambush is so quick, the hunters barely notice the hostages tied from the ceiling.
Maisie narrows her eyes at the young-looking woman with the razor-sharp claws and pointed teeth, never once losing her grip on her signature blade as her arms remain pinned to the splinter infested floorboards.
"This doesn't seem like much of a fair fight," Maisie groans as the wolf snarls.