75/100

11

A/n: I'm so sorry that I'm bad at poetry. The only poetry I can write is like free verse or the half rhyming thing. I'm so sorry.
Heaven:
One two the vapor that's blue
Three four on the sepia moor
Five six follow the dicks
Seven eight don't miss your gate
Nine ten get home again
I read the section of the tablet over and over again but I couldn't figure out what it meant. We had all been staring at the translated scribble for hours on end long after dad left but no matter how carefully it was analyzed the message still just wasn't making sense.
"Maybe I shouldn't have killed him." I muttered rubbing my eyes and smudging my mascara.
"No." Both the boys snapped causing Harper and I to exchange a surprised look.
"Okay...." I let it rest for a while and reached way back into my memory for anything that could possibly line up with the words but I came up empty.
"Blue vapor....your eyes glow blue right? And you said something about the angel sigil and blue light. Does it have to do with that kind of a thing?" Harper asked as she flipped through the same book that told me I could teleport.
"That could be anything. Literally anything..." Sam groaned rubbing his hands over his face and sinking back into his chair.
"I'm pretty sure there's a drug that's a blue vapor and it gets..." Sam and I both shot Dean a look of 'what the hell man?' as we nodded at Harper and he quickly backtracked, "yyyoou super.... Uh.... Sick!" He finished with a tight lipped smile.
We spent a little while longer on it before I made the executive decision that no more fucks could be given that day and fired up Netflix in the TV room.
The boys went on an amo run so I was all on my own to marathon as many Psych episodes as possible before they got home.
On my second episode I heard the door creak open.
"Whatchya watchin'?" Harper asked ever so casually. Too casually.
"Only the sassiest little shit ever! Come here. You must be educated on Shawn Spencer." I called over my shoulder scooting over on the couch and patting the cushion.
Harper crossed the room to sit down almost cautiously, I could tell she was nervous.
"So this guy pretends to be psychic and-"
"I want to talk." Harper interrupted me, "Actually I want to shoot. Talking is the furthest down on my want to do list."
I paused the TV and shifted to face her, "Alright. What you got?" I asked giving her my full attention and even setting my phone on the table.
"Questions." She supplied, pulling her legs up to sit cross cross.
"About?"
"Why do you want to 'help' me? Why do you think you can?" She asked with much more maturity than I expected from a 17 year old.
"Normal people want to help other people who need it. It's kinda what me and the boys do." I explained keeping a thoughtful expression.
"You didn't answer the second part." She observed.
"I've been there."
"How do you know? I haven't told you my tragic back story." She snapped, getting over defensive.
"Trade you my story for yours." I pitched the idea with a sad smile, thinking this would probably end in tears.
"Okay. My Dad died right in front of me in a car crash when I was ten." She stopped and waited for me to share something about myself.
"I watched Metatron kill my mother and try to kill my baby sister." I nodded as I spoke noticing Harper's immediate attitude shift.
"I ran away when I was 13 and was jumped by a bunch of high college students." She continued.
"I got a nice beat down by some demons at a diner one time. Dislocated my rib." I smirked a little at the memory.
"When I finally went home my mother had re married an all around abusive ass hole." She was having a harder time getting this out, probably because it was much more recent.
"I dated an abusive demon for about seven years. And when I say demon I mean an actual demon." I sighed.
"The guy I thought was my best friend and the guy my mom had married r-... they..." She paused and looked up at me like she couldn't bring herself to say it, "I didn't say yes." She whispered.
"Harper..." I began my 'you poor baby' routine but she held her hand up.
"Is that all you got?" She asked.
"Well, I was captured by the King of hell who used the demon that had previously abused me in every sense of the word to torture me for 42 days." This was the first time I had talked about this since before Joy got engaged.
"When you say torture...?" She gave me a quizzical look.
"Punches, knives, broken bones, hot iron rods being stuck where nothing like that should ever be stuck... Depended on his mood." I cringed, hopefully internally, as memories flashed behind my eyes.
"I had a pregnancy scare after the fake best friend incident."
She's only 17 oh my god.
"I'm sorry. That's scarier than a car crash." I breathed, feeling a load of weight suddenly fall out of the sky directly on top of me for not telling her about our baby.
No. That's for you and Sam to talk about. She doesn't need to know.
There was a long pause where we both just kind of sat there not knowing what to say.
"So now you get to answer my question. Why are you affraid of Sam but not Dean?" I asked.
She took a moment to think as if she was filtering trough her words to find what she was trying to say, "My so called friend was almost as tall as him, with the long hair too. I guess it's just..... Residual fear? I don't know. Is that a thing?"
We continued talking, sharing, and sometimes problem solving until the boys came home with amo and ton of food.
I happily anounced that the boys would soon be out of amo by the end of the day because the girls were going shooting as I grabbed the bag and nearly sashayed down the hall with Harper in tow.
Dean told Sam to keep unloading the groceries and hurried after us, "Whoa there. You're going to teach her how to shoot a gun?" He asked as he walked behind us down the stairs.
"Yep" I answered with a proud smile and a nervous glance from Harper.
"No no no no no no no. This is MY thing." Dean anounced, darting in front of us, "Mamma bear can watch but no teaching."
"I'm not being maternal! Mothers don't want their children to shoot guns! Your dad was an exception!" I objected crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the door frame to watch Haprer follow Dean to the table of guns.
They went through the same routine that I did but Dean was much more patient with Harper and, even though it made me a little jealous, Harper was a faster learner. Soon she was firing and adjusting her sights and firing some more. The holes in the target were spread out and sparatic but they were holes none the less.
When he heard the gunshots, Sam came down to stand behind me and watch.
"She didn't get in a fight with Dean yet?" He asked rubbing my shoulders, completely covering my bicep with his hands.
"Nope. He's being nicer though." I smiled up at him.
"He's changed a lot in the last two years..." Sam mumbled with a nostalgic look in his eyes, "You did us good Sunshine."
"You're so sappy how can we get married." I groaned with mock annoyance.
"Hey! Sammy! Quit being a cheese ball and come over here!" Dean barked.
While we had been talking Dean had shown Harper the proper way to punch so when Sam got within arms reach she hauled off and nailed him right above his right elbow.
"Ow! Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed with amusement.
"That helpful?" Dean asked.
"Very much so!" Harper exclaimed.
You sly bastard. Have her beat up the one she's afraid of? Genius!
"Okay now try the triping move." Dean instructed.
Harper swung her feet and pushed at Sam's chest barely getting him off balance enough for the fall to be believable even though I knew he was playing it up a bit.
"Oh this is fun!" She exclaimed through her laughter.