What Can We Say, We're Classy Girls

Aoife jerked awake, "You okay?" Riley's voice floated over to her.
Aoife glanced at her briefly before glancing at the scenery out of the window. It was late night, extremely early morning most likely. "Yeah, let's just find Sydney before this thing kills me."
"We will. I'll make sure of it." Riley said with defiance. Her hands were white knuckling the steering wheel, her teeth clenched as she watched the empty road ahead of her. Way too much had happened in just a single night. Way too much... All Riley wanted to do was curl into a ball and ignore all human and supernatural lifeforms.

Spaceships and stars covered the bedspread. A worn-out, tan teddy bear slumped against the head-board, its mid section covered by a tiny hand with an i.v. sticking out from it.
Connor Miles was six years old, his first birthday in critical condition. No one knew how it happened, or why. They all knew Conner had a lapse heart, but he and his family were good at keeping it under control. Then, about two months ago, it got worse and worse. He started to get sick, weak, and lost all enthusiasm left in him. The doctors couldn't find the cause of this sudden drop. The little boy was healthy—beside the obvious—in every way.
None of them saw Connor's visitor. The one that snuck into his room at night, placed its long, curled hand on his chest, and sang to him. No one saw how his breathing became shallow, and his heart beat quickened. A loud piercing alarm rang through the air, telling his parents that his heart was weakening, and he was losing oxygen.
No one saw the teddy bear slip from Connor's small, pale hands as he became still, and the alarm let out a long beep.
No one saw six-year-old Connor Miles die in his sleep.

Two hours...That was all the sleep Riley got when they finally arrived in Arkansas. Her stomach was empty, her eyes burned and she needed a shower. Dean handed her a Styrofoam cup of coffee, and she sneered at it.
"I know...You don't drink it, but you need it right now."
He was right. They left Sam and Aoife back at the motel. Both of the nerds were looking at clues for finding Sydney. Their old friend wasn't the easiest bitch to catch. Riley king of wished Dean would have let her shower, but they had a lead on one of their cases.

"Six years old...Six!" Riley read the file over and over again, taking a scolding, disgusting sip of horrid caffeine in her hand.
Dean started up the Impala and gave Riley a quick look, "When did the parents find him?"
Riley looked over the file again, flipping through the pages, "Uh...it says they found him about half an hour after he died."
"Why so long?"
"Father claims their door was jammed to the parents' bedroom," She sneered again, this time at the picture of Connor Miles. He had sweet brown eyes, dimples and curly brown hair. Today is his birthday. No, Today WAS his birthday... Whatever killed him was going to get a blade to the face...Twice...

Dean drove them to the crime scene, both of them silent when they pulled up to the house. It was a simple two-story home. Quite modern in its sturdy white washed frame, white picket fence and even a two car garage. One police car sat idle on the curb, a paramedic was sitting with Mrs. Miles on the porch.
"Why are the police here...?" Dean asked. Riley eyed the scene once before looking through the file. She read it over and over, her stomach sinking with each little word. Finally she read something interesting, "The boy's favorite, tan teddy bear was missing, and his window was wide open."
"Sounds like a Hausa," Dean said bluntly. Riley had to agree with him. Hausa were witches who sucked the life out of you slowly. Something just didn't add up, "Why would a witch hag take his teddy bear?"
Dean shrugged, "Maybe a sick reminder that she tool a six-year-old's life..." He got out of the Impala and sauntered toward the house. Riley followed in suit, straightening out her nice clothes and sniffing to make sure.

When they reached the woman, Riley knew where Connor got his dimples.
"Mrs. Miles?" Riley put up her best 'I'm a sweet person you can talk to' voice. The woman looked up, and it shocked Riley to see a large, deep scar on the left side of the mother's face. It was jagged and ran from her nose to her ear, curving in what looked like a 'Z'.
"Who are you?" Mrs. Miles asked. She had a sweet voice that was contorted by tears.
"Ma'am, I'm Amy Smith. This is my husband, Aaron Smith; We're grief counselors." The mother looked at Dean, then back to Riley. Her blue eyes held resistance.
"I don't need a grief counselor; I need my son back." Her voice broke at the end but no tears came out. The paramedic glared at Riley before walking back into the house. Riley stared aghast at the entry way. Why did he glare at her? What the hell did she do!?

"Ma'am," Dean sat down next to Mrs. Miles, his face full of concern and understanding. He placed a hand over her knee, "All we want to do is talk." Wow, Riley thought, Sam was the 'overly compassionate' one.
Mrs. Miles looked at Dean, "My son died in the middle of the night. It would be on thing if his heart just gave out. His bear—his favorite bear—was missing and the window was left open. Not to mention mine and Derrick's door wouldn't open until Derrick broke it down." This time she hid her face in her hands and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Dean looked at Riley and motioned to the house. Riley nodded and walked inside to go investigate Conner's room.

She found it to be the first door on the right once you got up stairs. It was like any other little kid's room. Decked out with stars and planets, a spaceship play tent was stuck in the corner. A white and black toy box—overflowing with toys—stood at the foot of the bed, which sat in the middle of the room. Right beneath the window... Riley moved towards the bed, allowing her magic soak up the world around her.
She moved to the left side of the bed and placed her hand on the deep space covers, "Reveal."
The air shifted around and Riley felt a weight pull on her heart. Dark and twisted power hung in the air around her. She saw a black mass hovering over the bed and heard a melodic singing in her ears. She couldn't understand the words. They sounded like pure gibberish, pure sweet gibberish... She felt pulled toward the black mass, almost like it wanted her to know that it was there. It wanted her...

"NO!" A child's voice yelled. Something knocked Riley in the chest, causing her to stumble away from the bed. She blinked once, then scanned the room for the source of the voice and push.
"Oh, sweet Riley...come and let me taste your soul," That melodic singing voice felt honey on her. Something began to pull her toward the black mass. This time she felt it grip her arms and lead her to it, allowing it to take control. She fell into the singing, let the singing be a part of her.
"Stop!" This time, the child's voice was in her ear. The push was much rougher this time, and Riley fell down, her head connecting with the dresser behind her.

"Fuck—I don't know, Sam! Are Riley's eye blood-shot!?" Riley felt each word Dean yelled cut across her brain like a knife. She opened her eyes—slowly—and saw Sam sitting next to her on the bed.

"Hi," She mumbled weakly.
"Hi yourself, how's the head?" He ran his fingers across Riley's forehead. She shrugged and made a 'what do you think' face.
Sam smiled, "You hit it pretty hard. Dean doesn't know how you fell, but it would be cool if you could tell us."
"I was pushed," That earned a raised eyebrow from Mister Compassionate. Riley tried to sit up and realized it was impossible with how Sam was leaning against her. She looked down at where his mid-section leaned against hers, and this time, her eyebrow was raised, "Sorry."

He moved and let her lift up. She winced as dulling pain ran through her, "I was pushed, but I don't know by what. I did the reveal spell and saw the dark energy; I think I have an idea on what killed Conner. It would explain why it's always a little kid and why it only happened every six generations. Anyway, I felt something pushing me, trying to get me to stop going toward what the spell had revealed.
"It yelled at me to stop, and it pushed me back. The weird thing was that it sounded like a little kid. I think it might have been Conner, but it couldn't have been..." She stopped talking and looked up at the motel's window. Dean had his back to them and his cell phone pressed to his ear. She looked around, the room and noticed that Aoife wasn't there, "Where's–"

"Went to get food... You think it was Connor's spirit that pushed you?" He moved a little more so that Riley could lift up more. She shifted herself into a cross-legged sitting position.
"I said, 'I don't know.'"
"Okay, we'll get into that later. First, what do you think it is?" Sam went straight to his laptop. He flipped it open and booted it up. Riley looked at the window again and saw Dean looking back. His hazel eyes connected with hers, and he smiled softly. She felt herself blush profusely and looked down at the mattress.
"Riley?" Sam said her name. She shook her head and went back to the task at hand, "A siren, well, at least a form of a siren. Aoife can tell you more information on it, but the gist is that it takes on the form of their victim's dreams, or, nightmares and feed off their soul. Their best victims are people who are sick and weak. They can get easier access to their souls that way."
Sam typed something into his computer and stared intently at the screen, "Explain the whole six generations thing."
Riley took a breath just as Dean came into the room, "What's up?" He asked.
"Riley's explaining what she thinks the monster is," Sam told his brother without ever looking up from his monitor. Dean turned to the witch and raised his eyebrow at her. Riley told him exactly what she told Sam and watched his face go more and more stoic.

"They only have to feed every sixty years. The thing is, though, that they have to continuously feed for a whole year until they're done."
The entire time, Dean nodded and stayed silent. Riley stopped her explaining and a deafening silence filled the room. The only interruption was Sam's typing and their shared breathing. She looked at Dean, and their eyes locked. Deep hazel eyes on deep blue... Her neck burned where Sam's hickey sat, another part of her skin burned. Mainly from memory—and not from guilt like the love bite.
The hunter and the witch stared each other down. Their breathing began to sync, and neither of them realized that they were subconsciously moving toward each other. The room fell away around Riley, and all she remembered was the bathroom. Dean's lips so close to hers, his hands gripping her hip, and his nails breaking skin. Just like in the bathroom, neither of them made a noise. Neither wanting to ruin a moment that was so close. Of course, just like in the bathroom, the moment was ruined.

"Guys!" Sam's voice was urgent, and it broke whatever spell that was holding Dean and Riley. They both looked at the younger Winchester, who was staring frantically at his laptop. They ran over to him, Riley wincing from the suddenly elevation.
"There're hospital cases close to Conner's, all of the children. One, though, could be ours," He pointed to a computerized file. It pretty much looked like Conner's case, except the young boy was still alive. Instead of a lapse heart, he had cancer. The trio read the entire report in silence and let it all sink in.
"He started to get worse–" Dean started.
"Two months ago, just like Conner." Sam finished for him.
"Let's go check it out," Riley went to move, but was stopped by Sam grabbing her by the arm.
"You're not going anywhere. We can't go right now anyway," He motioned to outside, and Riley notice—for the first time—that it was starting to darken. She frowned, yanked her arm from Sam, and stomped toward the bathroom.
"Clothes." She held her hand out. The bag of personal items flew into the room and startled the Winchesters, who—honestly—should be used to it by now.

After a quick shower—and an even quicker post shower prep—Riley submerged from the dinky bathroom to find Aoife back and staring straight ahead. Sam and Dean were bickering with each other about some car thing...at least, Riley hoped that was what 'Mercedes' was...
"Ef...?" She sat in front of her soul sister, making sure to move the bag of food from her hand, "Ef?"
"Riley?" Aoife asked, her sweet voice breaking and wavering. The young witch didn't move though, and that's when Riley felt the anger and sadness flow from Aoife in waves. That was also when the pain in her head broke through her skull, and she blacked out. Again...