Title: Monster
Character: A shapeshifter
Fandom(s): SPN
Further Reference(s): Shapeshifters in the SPN 'verse/Werewolves/Hunters/Psychics/The Black Forest.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The life of a young girl, in the SPN 'verse, who also happens to be a shapeshifter, and how she is treated by "normal" people.
Warning(s): Though, I don't actually go into a lot of detail, there is some abuse.



She had always been a freak, for as long as she could remember ... even now, living here, amongst the freaks. When she was young, it was because she could change her form, never mind that her natural shape was so hideous that she had a reason to hide herself. And because of her natural shape, like so many others of her kind, she had been called a monster by anyone who caught even a glimpse of it, and beaten by anyone who could get close enough to lay hands on her (family and stranger alike). It wasn't long before she made a run for it, trying to get as far as she could, as fast as she could; always, with one eye behind her, waiting for someone who knew what she was to find her, and to do what her father had always promised to do (but which he could never seem to bring himself to).

She had always wondered why he had never actually gone through with it, he had promised it enough. And it certainly couldn't have been because he loved her, otherwise there wouldn't have been all of those beatings. And it couldn't even be because he didn't know what she was, hunter that he was. No, she was his dirty, little secret, the one he was so desperate to hide from his friends. She wasn't entirely sure why he bothered, since he genuinely seemed to want her to die. She only threatened to give herself over to the first hunter she saw, once. Afterwards, he had beaten her so badly that she was sure she really would die, especially when he strapped her to a bed in the basement, and left her there to heal. The pain had been excruciating, and the filth was disgusting. She only begged him to untie her a few times, the punches (in the ribs or on one of her many bruises) he would give her for it were enough to make sure that she suffered as silently as possible.

She thought a lot about her mother, then; she certainly had the time for a lot of thinking. She knew that her mother had died when she was born, and she imagined that was where her father's ... she was reluctant to call it his love/hate relationship with her. She knew that he still loved her mother, and he blamed her for her mother's death; but she was also the only living proof there was that her mother had lived. Because of that, she knew that no matter how much he hated her for what had happened, he couldn't completely let her go, either.

But that's how it was with her kind, or at least of everyone she had ever heard of: at some point (either before, or during their births), they always killed their mothers. And they were left with fathers that resented and feared them (though, she was the only one whose father actually knew what she was). It hadn't been easy on any of them. Most had, like her, reached a point where they could no longer stay with their families. Not because of the reason why most normal kids could stay (because their families were driving them crazy, and they just had to go out on their own), but because if they didn't, they would have lost their lives at some point or another. Of course, this created some bad apples (those who turned the pain they had experienced, and tried to make others hurt just as much as they had), but not all of them. Really, all any of them wanted was the same thing that everybody else wanted: to be loved and accepted (if not for what they were, than for who they were).

So, they had all individually run for their lives, relying on their unique gift to blend into the background. But even when they did manage to blend in, they were still alone, even amongst crowds of people. Who could they really trust to tell such a secret? It was rather momentous in itself, but added to that was the distrust that so many of them had felt for other people, because of the things that had happened to each of them in their youth.

She was different, though, not just because she was an anomaly among anomalies, but because she had been the child of a hunter (which made her even stranger, by far). He would lock her away, when his friends would come, but her ears were good, and it didn't take her long to figure out how to pick a lock. She would've thought that he would've tried harder to make sure she couldn't get out, but perhaps he thought that putting the fear of God into her was enough. She knew that if she was ever caught, he wouldn't just threaten to beat her, her really would do it. And there was always the possibility that he would throw her to the other hunters, claiming that he had captured her ... or so he had threatened to do.

Listening to them, as they talked, she had learned many things about many beings, including shapeshifters. And the one thing that always struck her was that whenever a shapeshifter was discussed, it was always referred to as "he." She wondered if it was some sort of generic term, like calling a boat "she" (which was probably a good analogy, since hunters didn't actually consider her kind to be human, even though, technically, they were).

After years of this, she wondered if she might be the only one left, since they had killed so many of her kind, and there were nights when she would sit and cry for all of those that had been murdered. They always called those they hunted "monsters," and if the other hunters had known about her, they would have killed her, even though she had never hurt anyone. So, who was the real monster? Difference doesn't equal monstrosity, but killing the different, for no other reason than an apparent desire for homogeny does. Yes, there were things that go bump in the night, which innocent people needed to be protected from, but there had to be others that hurt no one; she was the proof of that. But she also knew that there were plenty of normal humans who hurt their fellow, normal humans. So, it wasn't as if those who were different had any corner market on hurting people.

She resented them, and their attitude of killing anything that wasn't the same, even if had done nothing wrong. Resented their statistics that supposedly proved which creatures would turn out to be killers, statistics that she thought had to be skewed (because how many "monsters" had they sat down with, to have a cup of coffee and a conversation with, who had never hurt anyone).

It was only a few days before she actually ran, when she heard her father arguing with his friends. He was saying that of course all shapeshifters were male. When it had happened, and for a long time after, she had thought (in some deep, dark part of herself) that he had said this to give her some measure of protection from them. If he could convince them that there were no female shapeshifters, that might make her a little bit safer ... at least from them, anyway.

But then, one of the others had said that every shapeshifter he had encountered had been male ... at least as far as he could tell. He then, finished it off with a, "but who could really tell with those things, since they could look like anyone?" And that gave her hope (even if it was small) that they wouldn't suspect her existence.

Then, the day came that she finally tried to make a brake for it. He had been acting odd all day, and she had tried her hardest to just stay out of his way. But at one point, late in the day, he cornered her as she tried to scuttle by. She could small the alcohol on him, even from a distance, and she knew that wasn't a good sign. Grabbing her by the hair, he tried to drag her away somewhere, but the hair (and part of her scalp) came off in his hand. He got more angry, saying that she had done it on purpose, and even though she knew it would do her no good, she tried to tell him that she hadn't. She begged him not to hurt her again, to just let her go, but before she really knew what was happening, he was punching her, repeatedly, in the face.

When she had come to, hours later, she was laying in a pool of her own blood ... or what she assumed was her own blood; for all she knew, he could have bled himself, or covered her in something. He had left her where she had fallen, and she was amazed that he hadn't locked her in the basement again. But maybe the combination of the booze, and the fact of what he had been talking about with his friends had made him decide against it ... or forget about it completely.

Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and then, to her feet. The ache in her body and her bones causing her movements to be precise, with nothing unnecessarily done. But also, there was the desire not to be caught by her father. There was a chance that since he had been drunk, he had passed out somewhere in the house (maybe in the chair in front of the tv), and if she woke him, he'd be more angry than before, because of his hangover. But there was also the chance that if he had sobered up, he would beat her for bleeding on the floor, before making her scrub it clean.

She crept through the house, looking for him, peaking around corners, so as not to be seen. And there he was, in the chair in front of the tv, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black dangling from one hand. She could smell cigarette smoke strongly in this room, and wouldn't have been surprised to find one hanging from his mouth, half burnt to ash.

Pulling back, she ran toward her room, putting everything she could think of needing into a duffel bag. When she got as many of her meager amount of clothes into the bag as she could, she made her way to where her father's strongbox was hidden, emptying it entirely of it's contents. There was not as much as she would have liked to have taken from him, but certainly enough for a little while (considering her father's mistrust of banks). When that was secure, she brought everything into the kitchen, putting food into a bag ... bread, peanut butter, oranges, and a few other things. Nothing that was too terribly difficult for her to have to prepare on the move, but also, nothing that would last for an extended period of time.

Setting everything on the table, she quietly went back to her father, standing in front of him. Just as she had suspected, there was a half-smoked but hanging from his mouth. And staring at him like that, she had this terrible urge ... she wondered how easy it would be to burn him up, and make it look like an accident. Just light one of those cigarettes, and drop it on some fabric. The whiskey had inebriated him enough that the fumes probably wouldn't even need to work any magic in him to keep him unconscious long enough to die. And who knows, the alcohol had probably saturated him so much that he probably would've burned up a little quicker. Then, when the police came to investigate, after the fire department had put out the inferno she imagined the house would become, it would only look like a case of accidental death. And those hunter friends of his would never suspect that she had done this, that she had freed herself of him, because they didn't even know of her existence.

Yes, it could work, and she would be completely free of him. She could be free, and never have to worry that someday he might find her again, and make good on all of the promises he had made to her.

She took a step forward, her hand reaching out. She was so close to freedom, so close that she could almost taste it. But then, he shifted in his seat, and the bottle dropped to the floor. For the briefest of seconds she was sure that she was caught, sure that he was going to open his eyes and see her standing there. But it didn't happen. He didn't wake. And she took a step back.

She realized just how close she had come to actually doing it: becoming the thing that he and his friends always claimed that shapeshifters were. She had almost become the monster, and once the line had been crossed, she never would've been able to go back. As fulfilling as it might have been to repay him for all of the hurts he had caused her, and to be just a little less afraid out there in the wide world, she swore that she would never be that thing they thought her to be.

Moving quickly, she grabbed her bags, and headed out the front door. She had no idea where she was going, or even if she could ever find a place where she could really be safe. But she had to try, had to get as far away, as fast as she could, and maybe somewhere between the miles and the hours, he wouldn't find her.

As the years passed, she never really got to a place in her life (or on the map for that matter) where she ever really felt safe. She always had this nagging feeling like she was being chased by hounds, and that one day, a hunter (maybe even her father) would find her. But she watched the people around her, doing the things that they did, trying to blend in with the scenery (though, in the early years, she always felt awkward, and obviously out of place). It took time, but gradually, she felt as though she were doing better, and didn't stand out nearly as much, of which, she was very grateful.

Supporting herself through odd jobs, she traveled, becoming rather the Bohemian, and even traveling Europe. It was in a pub in Ireland that she met Colin, and from the first moment, she knew that she was in trouble. They started going everywhere together: football games, parks, pubs, concerts. She was happier than she had ever been; so happy that she almost forgot the life that she had come from, almost forgot that she was hiding, and on the run.

Where did she think this could really lead? Did she really think that one day she would be able to tell him what she was? Or if she didn't tell him, did she really think that she could settle down with him? Could she really hide what she was from him for a lifetime? She liked looking like someone who was normal, but sometimes the alternate forms she took started to itch at the seems, when she kept them for too long. And then, there was the possibility of children: could she really have any, and if she did, would they be like her?

The longer she was with him, the more conflicted she became. She wanted to be with him, because she was happy and (for the first time) loved, but she felt guilty about lying to him. She wanted to tell him the truth about herself, but she was afraid that she would fear her ... reject her ... hurt her ... any number of things. And she knew that the longer she put off either telling him the truth, or leaving, the harder it would be.

And when he asked her to move in with him, she found herself saying yes, before she really had time to think about it. But that first night, and for many nights after that, she lay awake, with him laying in bed next to her, kicking herself for not telling him no. She knew that she was just making things harder and harder on herself, but with him cuddled against her, feeling the slow and steady, rise and fall of his breathing, she knew exactly why she was there. She had something she had never had before, and there was no guarantee that she would ever have it again. So, really, how could she give it up? But the not telling him was killing her.

A year after she had started living with him, she broached the subject, moving her way slowly towards telling him. And the closer she got to the truth, the more she expected him to freak out and become violent, even though he had never given her any reason to believe that he would be. In all the time she had known him, he had been nothing but good to her. Then, when the full truth came out, she expected to have to make a hasty exit, but the moment never came. He simply stared at her for a moment, looking as though he were trying to decide if she were only joking. Having seemed to decide that it didn't matter (whether it was if she were playing a joke on him, or what her true nature was, she wasn't sure), he pulled her close and kissed her softly on the lips.

This was not the response that she had expected; there was none of the pain or fear that she had always associated with her truths. So, she tried to explain it again, to make sure he really understood how different she really was. But again, he kissed her; this time as much to silence her as to reassure her.

He said that he had known that there was something different about her, had known that she had been keeping some sort of huge secret. The way she never talked about her childhood, family, or friends, and how her life seemed to being only a few years ago (when she had begun traveling), it gave away that there was something huge wrong in her past. He had always thought that it was just something she didn't want to talk about, because it was to painful, and that she had started her new life as a way to escape. As far as her telling him that she could change her shape ... well, that was just a metaphor for her starting somewhere else.

There was a look she must have given him, because he suddenly pulled back from her, realizing that he had gotten everything wrong. He asked her what she had meant by what she had said, and she said she would show him.

Nervously, she moved away from him, and began to change her form back to her original form. It wasn't pretty (in fact, it was kind of disgusting. Even she would acknowledge that), but she wanted him to see, wanted him to understand.

When she was finished, she stood expectantly in front of him, waiting for him to comment on any part of what he'd just seen. But for a long time, he just stood in front of her, staring, with his jaw slack. Now, she was certain it would come. Now, he would begin with the names for what she was, the ones that left scars on her soul. Now, he would beat her, and throw her our, without anything to help her live alone in the giantness of the world.

And she waited.

But nothing happened. Not until he looked down at the pile of skin that was on the floor, and then, back up to her. He looked her in the eye, really looked at her. And then, with an unsteady step forward, he lifted a hand towards her face. It wasn't the fast moving, closed fist of her father; instead, it was the curious hand of someone who was confused and slightly frightened. It was coming to her, not in any capacity of hurtfulness, but as someone who didn't truly believe what they saw, and needed some sort of proof that they weren't completely insane.

She stood, stock still, letting him come to her, letting him touch her. She was amazed how good it felt for him to touch her face, now that it was her face. Sure, the other face had still had her own skin, but this was different. This was him seeing her for what she really was, in all of her hideous ugliness, and still touching her without it hurting. She was amazed and uplifted, and was sure not that this wasn't going to be as bad as she thought that it might be. Maybe he would still love her, and maybe he would still accept her. She would be able to really be herself, like she had never been before, and it would be perfect.

But then, he pulled away from her, turning, and walking out of the room. She followed after him, begging him to stay and talk to her, but he didn't. He grabbed his keys, and he left without looking back, or saying a word. She reached out to him, as he reached out to the door, but she didn't get to him before he was out of it, with it closing behind him. For a second, she only stood, staring at the door, shocked and hurt by his reaction. She had thought, hoped, in some deep place in her that everything would be ok, after he had seen her. But then, he left, and who knew when he'd be back.

She moved to open the door, but stopped short, and looked down at herself. She couldn't go after him, not like this, and she knew it. She would just have to wait for him to come back, because by the time she was presentable enough to go outside, he would be long gone. Besides, he probably needed some time to be by himself and think about what he had just found out, letting everything settle in.

But when he didn't come back that night, she started to get nervous. And when he didn't come back the night after that, she got scared. She started to call any of his friends and family that she could think of, who might have known where he had gone. One of his friends swore to her that he had no idea, but she had the sinking feeling that she had found out where he was.

The next morning, she pulled herself together, and went looking for him. Going to where she thought he had gone, she knocked on the door. No one answered, but she thought the had heard movement, just on the other side of the door. This had to have been where he had come, and now, was hiding from her.

Crushed, she got back into the car, and just sat. She realized that she never should've shown him. Everything had been fantastic before. Yes, she had been living a lie, for the sake of contentment, but it was better than this. No, he hadn't done as her father had, raising fist and voice to her, but his was just as bad, just as hurtful.

After a few moments of just sitting, she started the car, and pulled away. She didn't feel like going back to their place quite yet, so, she just drove, with no clear indication of where she was headed. There was just an undeniable need to clear her head. She would not have been able to tell you all of the roads she went down, she was paying so little attention. But at some point, she ended up parked in front of a pub. At first, she wasn't going to go in, but after a minute, she decided that she could probably use a drink.

Once inside, she ordered a pint, and sat, milking it, not speaking to anyone (even the bartender), or looking anywhere besides far away. All she wanted to do was to pity herself, because everything had gone wrong. Now that she was sure the truth was too much for him, she knew that they were through, and she wished even harder for the return of the lie. It didn't matter if he knew nothing of what she really looked like, or what she really was, as long as she was still loved. And she contemplated begging him to come back to her, to love her again, but she didn't think it would do her any good (even if she managed to speak to him again, which she didn't think was likely).

Before she realized how late it had gotten, the bar was getting ready to close. She was exhausted, and wanted to go to bed, but she still didn't want to go home. So, she got back in her car, and started to drive. Again, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going.

When she realized that she had brought the car to a stop, sometime later, she looked up and around. She had brought herself exactly to where she hadn't meant to be: home. But she knew that she was so tired that was really where she should be (regardless if that's where she wanted to be), because she was a menace on the roads.

So, reluctantly, she got out of the car, and fumbling with her meager key chain (which she had been so proud of, when she had first gotten it), she went to the front door. She hoped that he would be waiting inside for her, but she didn't have high hopes for anything as lucky or good as that happening. As it was, she really only hoped for the bed to be in the same place, so she could escape for a few hours.

Opening the door, and turning on the light, she saw her original duffel bag waiting for her. Next to it, on either side, were two more pieces of luggage, and when she tried to pick them up, to feel their weight, she could tell that they were full. So, she opened them slightly, and looked inside, only to find her belongings in them.

She felt herself crumble to the floor, as the world grayed and buzzed around her. He had been here, while she had been gone, and he had packed up all of her things. There was no chance; no chance that he would take her back; no chance that he would still love her. He was still afraid of her, and wanted her gone, there was no other explanation for this. Nothing else mattered, because she was back to where she was before she met him: alone. Her realization took everything else she had, and the world turned to black around her.

When she woke the next morning, she realized that she had been asleep on the floor. Her body was stiff, but it was nothing she hadn't experienced before, so, she really didn't think much of it.

She walked through the rooms, hoping (ever so slightly) that he would be there, and she would be able to talk to him. But she knew he wouldn't be. So, it really became a way for her to say goodbye to all of the good times she had had in this space, while still keeping them fresh in her mind. She really did not believe that she would ever find anything like this again. There was no place where she would (again) be loved ... not being what she was.

Ending up back where she had begun, she decided that she wanted to be clean and full, before she left. So, she took a nice, hot shower, before going into the kitchen and eating herself full. When she was done, she put the dirty dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them.

Taking one last look around, and taking the key to the front door off the chain, she grabbed her bags and left.

It was back to the Bohemian life, but this time, with a little less romanticism than before. She had seen what it was like to have close to everything she really wanted, so this just didn't seem quite as exciting anymore. But in the end, she figured that it was probably safer for her to be on the road, and never in any one place for too long. While she had never heard of there being hunters in other parts of the world (except of the fictional variety), that didn't mean that there weren't any. And since she didn't know if the European hunters' practices were different from their American brethren, keeping on the move would probably be safer in keeping her off their collective radar ... or so she tried to convince herself.

Before long, she came across a town (somewhere in Germany), with fliers everywhere, advertising the coming of a circus. She didn't speak (or read) German, but the pictures were enough to show her what it was (with the acrobats, and the announcer), and at least the word "circus" was the same. Deciding that she'd like to go, since she had never actually been (and after asking someone who spoke English when the dates were), she rented a room in a hotel. It was only a few more days until the circus came through town, and all of the driving had finally started getting to her; being stationary for a while would probably do her soul some good.

As she lay in bed, the morning after checking in, she contemplated the benefits of joining the circus. There was still this idea in her mind that that's where people went, who were different, and where they could be accepted for who they were (at least by each other, if not by the normal people who came to gawk at them). This probably was no longer the case, and only the byproduct of her watching too many old movies.

Besides, even if she did join, just to feel a measure of acceptance, there was no way that she would tell any of them why she was so different than most people. She couldn't take the chance that they might advertise what she was, in an effort to get more ticket sales (they were a business, after all). But then, she wondered if there was some sort of happy medium: if she could join, while still not telling them who she was. If she could get a job, she could get a steady paycheck, and that was always a good thing; beside the fact of always being on the move, and having people around her who could possibly care about her. But on the other side, if there were hunters here, and they somehow found out what she was, all they would have to do would be to check the schedule to find her.

When the day finally came, she bought her ticked, and went inside. She knew almost immediately that she would never actually get a job here, and that the idea of getting a job amongst other "freaks" was only a pipe dream born of self pity. That desire to be accepted (if not loved), was so strong that it made her consider things that she knew probably weren't the best thing for her.

But still, she sat through the show, and she enjoyed it very much, her mind having been taken off her troubles (at least for a little while). For that, she was extremely grateful, wishing somewhere in the back of her mind that it could've lasted a little bit longer.

There had been, however, this constant buzzing, during the entire show; a buzzing that she only seemed to hear in the back of her mind. It wasn't anything that she noticed while she was distracted by the spectacle; it was only something that she realized was there, once there was enough time to really notice it. She had never heard (or experienced) anything, in her mind, like it before. Sure, she had heard buzzing in her ears before, but it had never been anything like this.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, but knowing that this wouldn't do anything. So, she got up from her seat, thinking that it may have been something inside of the tent, and if she put some distance between it and herself, it might make a difference. But when she looked, to get her footing as she walked down the bleacher steps, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye that seemed rather strange. When she looked at it, she knew that it was, and her heart began to race.

She looked in the direction of what she thought she saw. Sitting there was a woman, who was staring directly at her, while the world grayed, and moved too quickly around her. Her breath caught in her throat, and butterflies filled her insides.

This woman saw her, truly saw her for what she was. How she was sure, she didn't know, but she was certain that this was the case. And being certain, all she wanted to do was to run, wanted to get far enough away that the woman wouldn't be able to get to her, or hurt her.

Quickly, she made her way down the stairs, and tried to get out of the tent, but there were so many people in front of her that getting away quickly was virtually impossible. She didn't doubt that the woman she had seen, would be able to watch her go, all the way to the edge of the tent. And from there, who knew, maybe the woman would still be able to follow her with her mind.

Finally, making her way outside, she tried to make her way passed all of the people who were milling about. Some were going into smaller, side tents, full of snakes, and other creepy crawlies. Others were seemingly trying to decide whether they wanted to go in, and others were making their way back to cars. But since she was in a hurry to get away, it seemed that every slow-moving person found their way directly in front of her. She had the desire to start pushing people, knocking them down and out of her way, just to get out of there a little bit faster. She did not want that woman to catch up with her, and she was afraid that she would, without the ability to get out of there as quickly as she would have liked.

She started to get frustrated, and wanted to start screaming at people to move (not that it would have done her much good, even if it would have made her feel better), but she knew that this would probably do nothing more than give her away a little bit easier than before. And she wondered if screaming would have really made any sort of difference in the long run, or if the woman could really have pinpointed her location exactly, regardless of where she was withing the circus grounds. With this thought came the overwhelming desire to get somewhere safe, and to change her shape. But that rational part of her brain knew that changing her shape wouldn't have mattered; the woman would've been able to track her by the sound of her mind, which wouldn't have changed with her appearance. And that rational part also thought that it was crazy to even be having this debate with herself, as she didn't know anything for certain.

Suddenly, a man came up and stood, facing her. He said that she was wanted, and that everything would be alright. When she tried to get around him, others came, and surrounded her. He repeated that everything would be fine, and said that there was someone who only wanted to speak with her. She didn't have a choice, she knew that; and so, she agreed to go along.

They took her back towards another part of the grounds, where trailers were parked, and she could see makeshift stables for the animals. Outside one trailer, a young boy was sitting on a crate, whittling a wolf, and he stared as she was brought up to the door. The boy didn't blink, and as the man who stopped her knocked on the door. From inside, she heard a female voice, and only assumed that what she said was for them to come in. The men led her inside, and the boy continued to stare, until the door was closed.

Once inside, she saw the same woman she had seen inside the big tent, the one who had been staring at her. She was instructed to sit down, and when she didn't do it right away, a hand came to her shoulder, pushing her down into the chair facing the woman (who shot the owner of the hand a dirty look. Apparently, his putting hands on her was not appreciated).

For only a split second, she wondered if these people were hunters, masquerading as circus folk. But that notion passed more quickly than it had come. If they were hunters, they were like none of the ones who had come through her father's house (including her father). With any of them, the first thing they would have done, would have been to get out the silver, not to sit down for a little chat. So, if she hadn't been nervous about what was going on before, she was certainly scared now, because she really had no frame of reference for who these people might really be.

For a moment, the woman simply sat and stared at her, making no movements, and barely blinking. Inside her mind, the buzzing grew even louder, and she began to feel light headed. If she hadn't already been sitting, she felt that she would've fallen to the floor withing moments, and as it was she still felt as though she wanted to lay down to make the dizziness stop. But she had a feeling that it wouldn't have actually done anything to make her feel better, and it would only stop when the woman wanted it to. Finally, it did, and she felt much better.

The woman continued to look at her, and added a warm smile to the mix, and she was suddenly very confused. She looked at the others who were in there with them, and their demeanor had all relaxed considerably. She was sure now that she was far more scared by seeing them relaxed, than she was by seeing them being intimidating. Sure, she would rather be free of them, but when they acted so differently than her father, her desire to get away from them was even greater. It didn't matter that she had been with Colin after she had been living at her father's house, since he hadn't known about her ... and had left her once he found out. She expected something completely horrible to happen, since that's what happened when people knew that she was different.

The woman told one of the men that was looming over them, to get them something to drink. Then, she said that her name was Amalie, and she knew that there was something different about the young woman sitting in front of her. She said she wasn't sure what the difference was, but she knew it was there.

Her fear peaked, and she started to panic. This was it, she was sure of it, and she wasn't going to make it out of the circus grounds alive (let alone the trailer itself). If she could just get away, she might be able to run enough (or fast enough) to be safe. She knew that this was her knee-jerk reaction to being confronted by fear, and that there were times (like this one) when it really did her no good ... but the desire was still there, and still very real.

Amalie told her that she had nothing to worry about, because they weren't going to hunt her (but she didn't believe that). Then, Amalie started to talk about how they had come across many people over the years, people they had helped in one way or another. And her first thought was that surely they had helped those people; straight into an early grave, they had helped those people. Somehow, Amalie had heard this thought, and said that she was wrong, that they didn't hurt people. They knew that there were people out there who did hurt and kill anyone who was different (and some who did it "professionally"), but they were not like these people (and they always kept an eye out for the professionals, because sometimes they were a little too zealous in their work).

She asked Amalie (with a shaky voice) how she had known that there was any difference, and that she hadn't just made a mistake. Amalie responded by saying that it was because she was different, too. When she asked Amalie what she had meant, Amalie told her it was because she was psychic. She asked how she could've been able to tell what was so different about her, if Amalie could just read her mind. She was given an explanation then, about how psychics could really only pick up on the thoughts that you were having; it wasn't like the comic books, where they could just look at you, and open up your mind like a tin can (finding out everything there was to find out about you in only a few moments). But Amalie did go on to say that the sound of her mind was unlike the sounds of the others around her, and that was why it had been easy to focus in on. From there, the thoughts of wanting to be somewhere safe, and to get away from the things that were weighing her down, were easily heard (even amongst the background noise).

She asked Amalie if there was any proof for the claims that were being presented, and she was asked if she remembered the boy that had been sitting outside of the trailer. She said that she did, and she was told that this boy had been bitten by a werewolf over a year ago. When she scoffed (even though she knew that werewolves were very real), she was told the tale of how they had first heard of the boy, and when hunters came to kill him, they took him away, hiding him, and trying to help him to not hurt people whenever the change came upon him. She was told that there were many others, who lived together in a community in the Black Forest, and that she would be more than welcome amongst them.

She stared at Amalie, wanting to ask her if she had ever seen any other shapeshifters, and if there were any in this supposed community of their's. Amalie smiled at her, and looked at the man who had originally spoken to her. He seemed to understand, pulling at an ear, and when it came off with a juicy, suctioning noise, he placed it on the table. She sat, slack-jawed, staring at the ear, shocked that there was someone who was like her, standing right in front of her. She had no reference point for this; in her whole life, she had always been the only one of her kind she had ever known. And while she had known, intellectually, that there were others out there, it wasn't the same as seeing another in the same room as her.

Amalie laughed, but it wasn't a cruel laugh. It was a laugh filled with joy, a laugh filled with sudden understanding. In her mind, Amalie must have heard the thoughts that said that she was also a shapeshifter, and the relief in being so close to someone else who was like her (not to mention the sudden feeling of belonging that seeing that ear welled up inside of her). Sure, she knew that he was under no obligations to her, and she wouldn't have tried to force him into such feelings, but just seeing him made her feel a little bit better about the world.

He was asked if he would take her to the town, and he agreed, excusing himself so that he could pack up some of his belongings for the drive. And as he walked by her, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye (his eyes filled with a sudden sparkle that hadn't been there before), and a slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. She started to blush, not only from the look, but because she wondered if Amalie could put thoughts into other people's minds, and if he had been told something about her.

Amalie, then, began to talk to her about the other shapeshifters she had met; some lived in the town, some did not. But all of the ones that she had come across had been male, or at least ... they had identified themselves as male (she could hear that much in their minds). But here, sitting in front of her was the only shapeshifter she had ever come across that identified herself as female. She asked Amalie why this was so significant, and she was told that the shapeshifting gene was attached to the X chromosome, and the Y had nothing to combat it (much like with color blindness). So, if the person was male, they were much more likely to become shapeshifters, if that gene was present; while woman would be much less likely, since they would have to have double the recessive genes for it to make an appearance (much more like the likelihood of someone having red hair). So, maybe her father and his friend had been right about never seeing female shapeshifters ... at least while they were hunting.

And she realized then that even amongst others that were like her, she was still going to be different. She had hoped that there were others out there, other females that she could really confide in, and who would understand a little bit better than most, what it was like to be her. But she supposed that she shouldn't really be disappointed, since there was still a place where there were others like her ... that there was still a safe haven somewhere in the world, where she could be herself, and not be afraid of being hunted or persecuted.

That small voice in the back, asked her if she was so desperate to be accepted by someone that she would blindly go into this town, with no proof that she would be safe. Really, having one psychic, and one shapeshifter tell her about this place, didn't make it safe. She didn't really know them, and for all she knew, they could actually be taking her somewhere where hunters were waiting for her.

But then, she felt Amalie's presence inside her mind, and she could tell that this was not the case. They would be taking her somewhere safe, and for once, everything would be alright. She smiled at Amalie, knowing that she was being told the truth, from the sincerity behind the thoughts.

Days later, she arrived in the village with Erwin (who had finally introduced himself, when they had gone to her hotel, to retrieve her things). It was beautiful and homey looking. And as she stepped out of the car, toward the house that Amalie had called ahead to, to reserve her a room, she finally felt like she had come home.