SPN FIC: "What Happened at the Lake in Michigan" (Tamara, PG-13)

[fannishliss]

Title: What Happened at the Lake in Michigan
Author: fannishliss 
feat. Tamara from 3.1, "The Magnificent Seven"
1300 words

Rated PG-13; Gen, no pairing, no warnings
Author's Notes at the end. This is one of my stories about the Women of Supernatural.

Summary:  What happened to Tamara that night at the lake in Michigan that made her become a Hunter.

 

~*o*~

 

The little white dog yipped and barked and jumped about in front of the screen door, staring out into the night.

 

“Peasley! Shut it, would you?”  Tamara yelled. 

 

The little dog ignored her and carried on barking.

 

Tamara wiped the sweat from her forehead and got back to the washing up.

 

The little dog growled low in his throat and barked again.

 

“Peasley! If you don’t shut it!”  Tamara loved the little dog, but it could be so annoying.  Trust Isaac to fall for a completely useless pooch when he went to pick out a doggie for Lynette.

 

“Lynette needs a fluffy little doggie, dear,”  Isaac had wheedled.  Predictably, Peasley had barked and Lynette had giggled, sealing the deal. Frankly, it irked Tamara that Isaac was always girling up Lynette – Tamara herself had been a tomboy.  But there was till plenty of time to remedy that since Lynette was still just a baby.  

 

Peasley growled and barked, staring intently out through the screen door.

 

“Okay, okay.  I’ll take you out in a minute,”  Tamara said. 

 

Peasley had brains enough, Tamara had to admit, as he sat down on his fluffy little white tail after she conceded.  Maybe he just understood her tone of voice, she thought.

 

Tamara finished the last of the dishes and wiped her hands on the tea towel.  It had been a brilliant thought of Isaac’s, to get away from the grind for a week and come north to Ted’s family’s summer house on the lake. Glancing outside, Tamara saw that it had gotten quite dark, even though the sun stayed up late in the evenings this far north. She hoped Isaac hadn’t missed the turnoff  on the way back from his quick trip to the nearby town for more beer– it was quite grown over and hard to see in the dark.  Tamara still complained about American beer, but bottled Guiness was better than nothing.

 

Tamara opened the door for Peasley, and he eagerly bounded out onto the porch.  

 

“What is it, love?  Squirrels again?”  she asked Peasley, but the little dog didn’t bark any more.  His hackles were lifted as he stared intently out into the night. 

 

Tamara shivered as a cool breeze dried the sweat on her arms. 

 

Suddenly Peasley let forth a peal of high-pitched barking and took off into the night. 

 

“Peasley!  Ah, shit!”  Tamara cursed.  She hadn’t thought of the leash, since normally Peasley was so quick to heel.  Something had set him off.

 

She went back into the kitchen and found the torch in one of the drawers.   It  flickered a little when she flipped it on,  and she rattled it till it shone more strongly.

 

Heaving an annoyed sigh, she went back outside calling for the dog. 

 

“Peasley! You infernal mutt.  Peasley!”  Tamara whistled, which usually brought him running. 

 

She heard his barking from behind the shed and shone the torch across the lawn.  The area around the house was well-kept, since so many of Ted’s family members used the house during the summer.  The shed was full of lawnchairs and sport equipment, badminton rackets, bocci, croquet, and balls of all kinds.

 

Tamara gave a little shriek as Peasley bulleted toward her from behind the shed as fast as his little paws would carry him and danced about on his hind legs to get her to pick him up. 

 

She did, amazed as always that Isaac would pick out such a bug.  She had always pictured Isaac as a man’s man, and had thought he would’ve chosen a man’s dog, but no.  Peasley weighed in at barely a stone.

 

Still, she had to admit that Lynette loved the little dog, patting him and calling him “Peezy” and “doggie,”  and he loved her too, licking her whenever he got the chance, dancing about her and panting happily as she grabbed at him with her fat baby hands.

 

“Peasley, you rascal,” Tamara said, kissing the top of his little head.

 

She felt him shivering in her arms. 

 

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked and turned to go back to the house.

 

Standing on the porch, opening the screen door, something tall and dark was heading into the house.

 

Tamara stood for an instant, rooted to the spot, clutching the little dog.  Her brain refused to process what her eyes were seeing. 

 

The screen door slammed and Tamara forced her feet to carry her forward, back toward the house.  She stumbled into a run.

 

As she reached the porch, Peasley began to bark again, loud and angry.  Tamara smelled a stench in the air, like roadkill. 

 

Then she heard the growling behind her.   Turning her head, she saw another dark form rear up in the yard.  The light from the kitchen windows shone out, illuminating the thing standing on a square of lawn.

 

It was furred, and its eyes glinted yellow.  Its face was flattish, but with the hint of a muzzle.   It bared its sharp teeth and took a step toward her.  It walked on two legs. 

 

Tamara screamed and lurched toward the screen door.  The other one was already in the house. 

 

“Lynette!” she screamed.  She pulled open the door and headed for the stairs.  Muddy tracks preceded her, like the tracks of a dog, but six or seven inches across. 

 

“Lynette!”  she screamed again, dropping her little mutt, throwing herself up the stairs. 

 

She made it to the bedroom where Lynette had lain sleeping.  The covers were on the floor, and the window screen had been torn open.  Her baby was gone. 

 

She turned and ran again down the stairs, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and out onto the lawn.  The night was as clear and empty as ever.  Peasley had finally stopped his furious barking. 

 

“Lynette!”  she screamed, but there was no answer.  Frantic, she looked this way and that, trying to find some sign of the terrible creatures that had stolen her daughter. The muddy footprints inside the house were huge – surely she could find some trace of the animals here as well. 

 

But the soft grassy lawn revealed nothing.  Desperate, she ran to the lake shore, searching in the moonlight for prints along the muddy beach. 

 

She was still there, tears streaming down her face, when she heard their car pulling in.  Isaac was back from the store.

 

Desolate, she stood helpless on the shore of the lake, the water rippling quietly beside her.  He had seen her in his headlights.

 

“Hey, baby,” he said, strolling over to her.  “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

 

“They took her,”  she said, a terrible, cold rage filling her whole body. 

 

“What?”  Isaac said, confused. “What’s with the knife?”  Peering into her face, he finally registered the tearstains.

 

“Baby, what happened?”  As Tamara’s tears continued to fall, he said, “Where’s Lynette?”

 

Tamara just repeated, “They took her.”

 

“Tamara!  Oh my god!  Did you call 911?”

 

Tamara was stricken.  It hadn’t even occurred to her that the police could do anything to recover her daughter from the creatures that had stolen her.  She shook her head, again.

 

“You’re in shock!”  Isaac said, and put his arm around her to lead her inside.  She wanted to throw it off, but let herself be led.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, we’ll find her, come on, we’ll call the cops, we’ll get a search party...” 

 

Tamara tuned it all out.  She would get a gun.  She would learn to track.  She would hunt these things down, until they were dead.

 

“Come on, baby, I’ve got you, it’s okay now, I’m here... “ Isaac reassured meaninglessly, as he fished out his cell phone and placed the call.

 

Tamara knew better.  She loved her husband, and knew they were stronger together, but with her daughter gone, it would never be okay again.

 

~*o*~

 

AUTHOR’S NOTES

This is my first installment for the Women of Supernatural, Season Three.  I hope everyone enjoys Tamara’s British english.  Britpicks are welcome.  :) 

 

I had a lot of fun googling for Tamara.  Google “monsters Michigan” and it quickly becomes apparent that Tamara and Isaac ran up against the infamous –and very scary!—Michigan Dogmen. Here are a couple of websites that track reports of the Dogman or men.

http://www.weirdmichigan.com/monsters.html

http://www.michigan-dogman.com/

 

At this point in time Tamara had not yet travelled to Peru, nor did she yet know the “hoodoo priestess outside of Shreveport.”  Google “hoodoo Shreveport” and you will find this incredibly disturbing TRUE STORY, as reported in the New York Times!

 

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/hoodoo-hex-on-interstate-20-the-blinding-of-myra-crawford-demonstrates-how-racism-and-fear-of-demons-linger-side-by-side-in-pockets-of-the-old-south-1412753.html

 

http://www.nytimes.com/1994/09/25/us/trial-in-woman-s-blinding-offers-chilling-glimpse-of-hoodoo.html?pagewanted=1

 

After Isaac’s death, Tamara apparently changed her name to Lisa and went back to England, signing up with Torchwood London. :(

 

Last but not least, here is Peasley: 

 http://www.grumpybumpers.com/dogs/b-peekapoo.jpg

Comments

[roguebitch.livejournal.com]

Yeah, that's about how I'd react, too.

Now I'm all caught up on your magnificent stories! Can't wait for the next installment.

[fannishliss.livejournal.com]

I hope it was a fun ride! Thanks so much for your comments. Watch for the crickets on your way out!! :)

I wonder if after reading a few different stories in a row, you have any advice or observations about where my strengths and weaknesses lie -- what to do more of, or places where I drop the ball? I have been through YEARS of workshops, so I am thickskinned! :)

[roguebitch.livejournal.com]

Hey, I didn't forget about this, but I will have to go back and do some deeper reading to actually give a critique with real content. I will let you know when I have something. ;-)

[rodlox.livejournal.com]

creepy - and sad.

poor Tamara.

you did a good job of showing what she went through & what made her what she was in the episode.

thank you for writing and sharing this.

[fannishliss.livejournal.com]

thanks very much for reading and commenting!

Tamara seemed like a very sad and angry person in 3.1, and I tried to show how that had happened. They say every Hunter has a story like this in their background.

If you enjoyed this, you might like to look through my other pieces of the women of the first two seasons. Link to master post is at the top of the story. :)