So apparently I need to be less irked with my dad: aunt's decline was fairly catastrophic, surprising even her specialists.
I'm still sort of lost. This isn't supposed to happen. I keep wishing to share my life with her and it is too late. Selfish thoughts. I want her to know about the awesomeness of her grandnephews. About me buying a house and the tribulations there. About snickering over inappropriate things happening.
But I don't get that chance. People, take your moments. Share them.
Belinda awaits you.
A considerate host would lock it away in a steamer trunk somewhere during the guest's stay. Possibly with a Bible set on the lid.
Iron chains, and a salt circle. Perhaps also blood sigils.
Um, who or what is Belinda?
ACK! megan, I would be wary of any unexpected box in the mail.
Trust me megan, you will sleep better not knowing.
someone just link to it quickly....I'm going to have nightmares.
Has anyone written the fic where the Winchesters hunt Belinda? Or might it be too much for them?