Author's Note:Oh dear God, I've done it. I've finally done it.

For those who are new readers, welcome, and those who are not, welcome back. It's been a long two (almost three) years without an update, and I seriously thank you all for sticking with me. Back in 2015, real life really got in the way and I started losing the motivation to carry on writing this story, especially when I started to look back at my previous work and criticize everything. I absolutely love Riley; she's my baby and I really want to do her story justice. So, I'm now back—after two (nearly three) long-ass years—and ready to finally share it with you.

I have three lovely ladies to thank, too, because without all your wise words, support, and encouragement, I don't think I would've ever really pushed myself to get back on here and finish what I started. Kirabaros, January Lily, and Emilia Christine, I dedicate this to you. Fan Fiction and Supernatural gave me you guys, and I'll be forever grateful.

Summary: Her father told her about the monsters in the dark, he also taught her how to hunt them. Following in his footsteps, Riley knew that life was messy, and they lived in a world full of gray. Things for Riley and her family seem to go into a tailspin when two young hunters step into their bar, asking questions about their dead father. With both new and old monsters coming their way, Riley and co navigate through the darkness in attempt to stop the supernatural war that has begun long before their time.

DEAD ENDS

Chapter 1 / Monsters Across the Pond

"The real world is where the monsters are."

— Rick Riordan

April 2000

It was too early for this shit.

No matter how much cold water Riley Harvelle splashed on her face, she couldn't wash away the exhaustion that was slowly consuming her. She'd finally fallen into an uneasy sleep—sleep she hadn't had in three days—before her father breezed into her room at four in the morning with a duffle bag and rambling on about a potential client he needed to see in Connecticut.

Riley's grip tightened on the edge of the sink at the mere thought of spending the next several days on the road with her father. Normally, she'd jump at the opportunity to miss a week of classes in favor of hunting or doing business with her father. She always found herself longing for an escape from the utter jackasses at school who were afraid of their own shadows. Riley often wondered if they would really be worried about an algebra exam when there are ghouls, vampires, poltergeists and whatever the hell else out there, running around, spreading havoc, bloodshed, and death. Her eyes rolled. If they only knew what she knew. Maybe then those morons would realize that Riley was the one with her priorities straight. She worried about shit that actually mattered—like making sure Ms. Finnegan was alive to give the algebra test.

Unfortunately, saving Ms. Finnegan from becoming a rugaru's next meal didn't earn Riley any bonus points on the exam. Or a passing grade.

Finnegan's a bitch, Riley decided with a huff, her hot breath fogging up the mirror. It was an unusually humid and warm spring for Nebraska. She wiped away the condensation with her hand before running it down her unruly locks of hair. It was a mess of dark honey blonde waves—though Riley's father often argued that it was light brown. She thought it was because he had brown hair. Once she was able to comb through the knots with her fingers, Riley snagged a hair tie off her wrist and quickly tossed it up into a ponytail.

She scowled at what stared back at her in the mirror. She still looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed. Which she did, but that was beside the point.

A heavy fist pounded against the old wooden door, startling Riley, and it was followed by her father's gruff voice, "Riley, put the lip gloss on in the truck! Let's skedaddle!"

Riley cursed. She didn't even own lip gloss.

"I'm coming!" Riley snapped back, swinging open the door with more force than necessary. She found her father leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and the usual wiseass smirk planted on his lips. Her eyes narrowed on the duffle bag that sat at his feet, unzipped. It should've been closed and in her room.

"Oh." Brian Harvelle made a show of checking his watch. He wasn't wearing one. "Are you finally finished then?" he asked, eyes wide and brows raised. He craned his neck to glance into the bathroom as if searching for an explanation before his eyes returned to her. "What were you doing in there?"

"Taking a dump," Riley deadpanned. Brian snorted. He pulled out a small green journal that Riley distinctly remembered burying underneath the pile of clothes in her duffle bag. She felt her face flush.

"So, do you like, plot your stories while you're on the crapper?"

"Why are you reading my shit, Dad?"

"Language!" Brian laughed, moving the journal out of Riley's reach when she went to grab it. Riley glared. Like her father was any better with that mouth—she learned it all from him. And Ash. She learned a lot from Ash, most of it by accident and much to his dismay.

"You know, I thought most fourteen-year-old girls gossiped about boys and talk about makeup trends when they write in these things," he went on, waving the journal in front of her. "Not writing the next New York Times Best Seller."

Riley flushed harder. "Yeah. Well, I don't waste my time with the male species and I don't wear makeup. And this," she finally tugged the journal out of his grip, "isn't your business. So please don't read it." She didn't wait for her father's reply before she grabbed her duffle bag too, shoving the book inside and hurried passed him. Riley reached the end of the hallway before Brian grabbed her shoulder and swung her around to face him.

"Such angst," Brian groaned. At Riley's sour expression, he grew serious. "C'mon, Riles. I'm messin' with ya, kid. It was good. Really good. Where did you learn to write like that?"

Riley didn't meet his eye. "Nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Brian's brows rose. "Liar, liar. You takin' writing classes at the high school or what?"

"No, of course not!" Riley rolled her eyes. Like she would willingly spend more time in that hellhole. It was also pretty obvious that Brian didn't read and sign the progress reports from her teachers that she left on the coffee table—conveniently placed underneath Jo's ever-growing pile of magazines—about her possibly (most likely) having to attend summer school again due to poor grades and attendance.

"Dad, nobody's read that stuff besides me—and now you. I'm not gonna let just anyone read that—e-especially if they don't know."

Brian's lips twitched. "Riles, don't you know how many supernatural books are out there—?"

"Yeah, but this is real," Riley stammered, eyes inexplicably wide. "This stuff is real, and if they only knew—"

"Hey, hey." Brian gently squeezed her shoulders. Riley felt her heart thudding against her chest. She stared up at her father's warm eyes. They both shared the same dark brown eyes. He squeezed tighter.

"You don't have to show anybody anything you don't want to, Riley," Brian murmured. His eyes darted to the duffle bag on Riley's shoulder before resting on her. The corners of his lips quirked up. "I liked it though. The Scotland Castle one—did you get that from Ian?"

Other than her cousin Jo, Ian was the only boy who had a similar upbringing as Riley. He was a few years older than Riley and Jo, having turned seventeen in February. Ian's mother Isobel resided in Scotland with his baby sister Sophia from the most part. After several rogue hunters nearly burned Isobel and Sophia alive in their home for practicing Wicca, Isobel thought it was safer for them to return to Scotland and reside in her grandmother's estate. Ian and his father Lukas spent most of their days in the States hunting, and visiting Scotland several times a year.

"Ian's family has an estate," Riley retorted, "not a castle."

Brian snorted as he draped an arm over Riley's shoulder and led her toward the back door. "You and I both know that ain't no estate. Lukas showed us the pictures. They even got them gargoyles at the front—"

"And just where the hell are you two goin' at this hour?"

Brian's hand froze on the doorknob. Riley watched his expression twist as he stared at his hand, she knew his mind raced through the million possible scenarios of the woman behind them kicking his ass six ways from Sunday should he open that door and make a run for it. Brian finally turned around.

At the end of the hall stood Ellen Harvelle, Riley's aunt and perhaps the closest thing she had to a mother. Brian grimaced at Ellen's pointed stare. He scratched his head, a nervous tic, Riley realized; sending his messy hair in different directions.

"Gotta talk to a client," mumbled Brian, sounding far less confident than he had moments earlier. "Me and Riles are taking a ride to Connecticut."

Somehow, Ellen's expression grew even darker and Riley watched her father gulp. No monster had ever scared him like Ellen did. She managed to put the fear of God in everyone with just one look. Ellen quirked a brow.

"So, you mean to tell me that you're traveling halfway across the country just to have a conversation with somebody?"

Brian glanced up to the ceiling, unable to meet her eye. "Sounds about right."

"Ain't there a phone for that?"

"Mhm," Brian hummed, dusting an invisible piece of lint on his blue flannel shirt. "Probably."

"Probably?" Ellen scoffed. She began to walk towards them. "Brian, why in the hell are you leavin' the house at the ass crack of dawn to—"

Brian stumbled back into the door as if Ellen was about to strike him. Riley held back a snort as he grabbed onto her shirt and tugged her out the door. He shot Ellen a grin over his shoulder as he and Riley hurried towards the dusty red pickup truck. "Gotta get on the road, Ellie! Like you said, it's a long way to Connecticut!"

He wasted no time shoving Riley into the passenger seat; she toppled over her duffle bag that slid off her shoulder. "Jesus Christ," Riley hissed. She glared out the window and watched her father stumble his way across to the driver's side of the truck. Riley briefly wondered why he didn't decide on climbing across the passenger seat instead. She was positive that if the idea came to his mind, Brian wouldn't even hesitate on doing so. Her father would do almost anything to put some distance between him and Ellen at times like this.

"See you in a couple of days!" Brian shouted, his head purposely turned away from the back door.

Ellen had followed them out of the house, now standing on the little makeshift porch Brian and his brother Bill built so many years ago, a scowl firmly planted on her face. "You better have her home by Monday, Brian!" she bellowed. "If she misses another day, they're sending her ass back to summer school!"

Riley's eyes went wide. "Oh shit," she cringed just as her father swung open his door, his expression matching her own.

"Oh shit," Brian hissed through his teeth. He hopped into the driver's seat, shoved the key into the ignition, and put the car in drive. No seatbelt. Riley watched him with wary eyes as his hand shot out the window and slapped the side of the door. "You got it, Ellie!" he said with a forced grin. "See you Monday!"

His foot slammed on the gas before Ellen could get another word in, and the truck flew down the dirt road. Riley heard the small click of the seatbelt being buckled once the Roadhouse was in the rearview mirror, she glanced at him and found her father's wide brown eyes on her.

"Well, set my pants on fire. I just lied to your aunt, which is never a good idea." Brian grimaced. "We'll probably get to Connecticut on Monday."

"Yeah," Riley snorted as she buckled her own seatbelt. "No shit, Dad."

Brian didn't seem impressed with the attitude, and Riley was too tired to care. She knew that the conversation of her and summer school would be addressed eventually, but she didn't want to address it while trapped in the truck with her father for days on end, and with no escape.

"So," Brian began after a moment, his voice light as he sped down the empty highway. "When were you gonna tell me about you going to summer school again?"

Riley pressed her head against the cool glass of her window and sighed.

It was going to be a long drive to Connecticut.

They got to Connecticut on Thursday.

The last several hours on the road had been in silence. Riley was all too happy to welcome it. Her shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of the big green sign that welcomed them to New Britain, Connecticut.

As she expected, the topic of conversation didn't stray far from summer school over the last few days. Brian asked her question after question. What happened? Are you not doing the work? Do you not understand it? What is it you don't understand? How many absences do you have? With every question, Riley felt her chest constrict more and more, frustration spreading hot and fast in her veins. She was more than fed up and she could see her father was too. Eventually, Riley had stopped responding and Brian stopped asking.

Fist planted under her chin, Riley lazily gazed out her window. The trees and open roads had long disappeared, only to welcome traffic and the tall, bright buildings that reflected in the sun.

"We should get you a pair of sunglasses, Riles," her father said suddenly, voice gruff. She glanced at him and saw him eye her before turning his gaze back on the road. "You're gonna have crow's feet by the time you turn twenty if you keep squintin' like that."

Riley hummed absently as she stared at one particularly large building. She tried to picture the people inside it, imagine the kind of lives they had—how freeing it must feel not to bear the burden of knowing of the creatures that lurked in the dark.

Brian took his eyes off the road to look at Riley again, brows furrowed. "What's on your mind, kid?"

"Nothing."

"You thinking about summer school again? Because—"

"I think we already established that I'm going to summer school, being that I was supposed to be back home three days ago," Riley muttered softly, still staring out the window.

"Eh," Brian shrugged. "You woulda ended up going for math anyway."

Riley scoffed. "Wow. Thank you, Dad."

"That Fletcher lady is a bitch."

"It's Finnegan," Riley corrected him.

"Whatever." Brian rolled his eyes. "After everything that's happened at that damn school, and us saving her ass, she couldn't cut you some slack? You know what—we did that rugaru a favor. Flanagan's sourpuss face woulda gave 'em indigestion."

"Finnegan, Dad. Jesus."

Brian grinned and asked, "Think he would've gotten an ulcer if he ate her?"

"Probably," Riley said, a soft laugh escaping her. She shook her head. "Might'a passed her class though if, y'know, he ate her."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Brian asked with a quirked brow.

"Because of that big test she gave right after everything happened. It was worth a huge chunk of my grade, Dad. And I wasn't exactly studying for it while chasing that asshole with a flamethrower with you, you know?"

"Kid," Brian sighed after a moment. "It is what it is, all right? Don't stress over it anymore. This summer, take a bit to study up—have Jo help you—"

Riley scoffed. "Jo won't help me."

"Then we'll get you a tutor," Brian relented. "Hell, if I knew what the hell it was you kids are doing these days, I would try to help you. But my knowledge goes no further than multiplication and division. Things get weird once they start bringing the alphabet and pie into it." He sighed. "Point is: whatever it is, you'll get through it. I'm here. I'm always here to help you. Okay?"

"Yeah, Dad," Riley said, looking at him. "Thank you. I mean it."

"And remember," said Brian, "You saved Flannery's life; albeit she's a bit of an asshole, but that asshole is alive because of you."

Oh, for the love of—

"Dad, it's—"

"Ah. Sorry, sorry. Finnegan's more like a major asshole, I know."

Riley gaped at him and Brian shot her a grin in return.

"You. Seriously. Suck."

Brian merely chuckled at that. They continued to drive in silence for a while, the only sounds were the soft country music that played on the radio and the hum of the truck's engine.

"It's different from Nebraska, huh?" Brian commented, taking a hand off the wheel to point at one of the buildings. It was tall, gray, and bright as it reflected against the sun. "Bit confining if you ask me. Too many buildings, not enough trees."

Riley's brows furrowed. "You say that like we have a shitload of trees back home," she snorted. "I dunno. I kinda like it."

"Yeah?" Brian sounded surprised at that. Riley glanced at him and he smiled. "Well, the guy we're meeting used to live here with his wife and son. He built a lot of these buildings actually."

"He's in construction?"

"Used to be. Architect, I think. Drew up the blueprints and everything from what I understand. Now he's one of us."

Riley shook her head as she gazed out her window, watching more of the tall buildings pass her by in a blur. What a shame. Riley knew that in some weird, twisted way, she probably had it easier than most hunters. She grew up with monsters in her life, she never knew any different. But for people like this architect, who have been thrust into the harsh reality of the scary and morbid, would have to learn to live in it, because once you knew, there was no going back.

"So, who was it? His wife or his kid?" Riley's mind ran with all dark and insidious scenarios that could have cursed this man into giving him and his family this kind of life. Her heart sank a little more when she asked, "Or was it both?"

Brian didn't answer right away. His lips were pursed tight and he exhaled loudly through his nose. "His wife," he murmured finally. Riley noticed the light in his eyes dimmed slightly. Questions whirled in her head like a large gust of wind. Had he been there when it happened? Was her father the one to reveal the truth about monsters—and the monster responsible for his wife's death?

"Four years ago, now," Brian recalled quietly, "if I'm doing my math right."

"Jesus." Riley shook her head. "And the kid?"

"He's a little younger than you are. Don't remember too much of what happened that night—a blessing if you ask me. No child should see their mom go out the way she did."

"What was it?"

"Demon. They like sticking to the more populated places. 'Specially Crossroads. Easier to blend in with the people, make more deals."

Demons tended to be one of the more slippery foes on what Riley liked to call the Monster Hunting Spectrum. They posed more of a challenge since demons weren't corporeal beings unless one possessed someone—and while fighting a demon that's holding an innocent person captive within their own body was hard, fighting a cloud of black smoke was even harder.

Demons also couldn't be killed—only exorcised and banished to hell, but it was never a permanent fix. They always resurfaced eventually.

"But this wasn't a Crossroads demon," Riley said slowly. "Unless she made a deal before…?"

"Nah," Brian was quick to disagree. "This one wasn't interested in making any deals. Just wanted bloodshed."

"You said this guy used to live here?" she asked. "Where is he living now?"

"I think he's got a small cabin in the woods or somethin' in North Dakota. He comes back here to finish the rest of his crap with his business."

"So, they're not too far from us then," Riley said. "They ever come to the Roadhouse?"

"No, not yet. Said he'll drop by once everything settles down. He and his boy just moved out there about a month ago."

Riley hummed and their conversation lulled. The heaviness in her eyes started to come back, and Riley found herself longing for a quick nap. They still had about a half an hour on the road, possibly longer with the traffic. Riley decided to take advantage of it.

Just as her eyes drifted shut, her father's voice brought her back into the state of wakefulness much to her disappointment.

"Lukas emailed me yesterday," said Brian suddenly. "He and Ian just got back from Scotland. They're at the D.C. apartment for the next week or so before they start making their way down to the house in Florida."

Riley turned to her father, brows raised. They got an apartment in D.C. now? She began to wonder if Ash was onto something, with his suspicions of the Jones boys actually owning a huge chunk of America. They were filthy, bathe-in-Benjamin Franklins, kind of rich. Riley wasn't quite sure how or where they got their money. But Ash's other conspiracy theory of them having mafia ties may not be so far off either.

"We going to see them after this then?" she asked.

"Yeah." Brian nodded as he made a right turn on another busy street. "They aren't staying long. Isobel's grandmother is sick again. Lukas needed to come back to check on some of his properties and pick up a grimoire to bring back to Scotland."

"Isn't Isobel's grandmother like two-hundred years old?"

"She's one-hundred and four, Riley."

She snorted. "She's a dinosaur."

Brian pursed his lips and focused on the road in front of them. Riley knew he was trying not to laugh. "They've been hanging around Scotland more lately," she said, trying to put it off as a casual observation, but as always, her father saw right through it, especially when she added, "They're always the ones visiting us here, never the other way around."

"We've discussed this before, Riley," said Brian, his voice flat.

"But why?" Riley demanded. "You drag me across the States without a second thought. Why can we never go over there? I wanna travel one day. It's not just about the hunting over there. I wanna go visit Isobel and Soph and meet the dinosaur at their estate. I wanna eat pizza in Italy, maybe try snails in France, go to London—"

"No!" Brian snapped. "Not London, not anywhere, okay?"

Riley scoffed, not understanding why he was so against the idea. She briefly wondered if he had a fear of planes, when she asked him, he shot her a nasty look, but Riley was almost positive it was due to aggravation rather than his opinion on aircrafts. She rolled her eyes. "I just don't get what the problem is. Lukas and Ian do it all the time."

"That's Lukas and Ian," Brian quipped with the roll of his eyes. "They want to take the risks, that's on them. But I would never risk you, understand?"

She frowned at him for a long time before she finally asked, "What risk, Dad?"

Brian pulled the truck up to the curb at the corner of a residential street lined with identical houses on both sides. He put the car in park and glared at the steering wheel.

"There are monsters over there, Riley," he said, voice low and grim. "Not the kind of monsters we fight here." He looked at her then, he wore an expression Riley had never seen before. Her stomach twisted as his eyes bored into hers. There was no amusement, no smiles; it was the most serious her father had ever been. "Never go into a fight you can't win. There are things across that pond…" he sighed, "You're safer here, kid. Not safe, but safer."

Riley didn't understand. "But aren't there hunters there too? I mean—"

"Riley," Brian cut her off. "I don't ask a lot of you, I never have. But I need you to promise me—promise me you won't ever go there. Stay away from England. I can't protect you there. Nobody can."

Her mind whirled with a thousand questions. Just what the hell was going on over there? What had her dad so afraid? If it was something big, wouldn't it be public knowledge—at least in the Hunter Circle? She imagined what dark creatures lurked across that pond, and the curiosity was biting at her. Why did her father have to be so vague?

"Promise me," ordered Brian, his eyes were wider now, and she could see the faint panic welling within them. "Promise me right now, Riley."

"I promise."

Brian didn't move, and Riley continued to stare back at him, feeling frustrated, confused, and afraid all at once. She knew that all her questions would have to wait. Brian was too riled up to answer any of them anyway. Besides, Riley wasn't sure if she would like them even if her father was willing to provide them. Her father stared into the face of evil (and Ellen) on a daily basis, and yet there was something over there that scared him.

Riley knew that if whatever it was had her father scared, then she would be stupid not to be afraid too.

"Good," Brian said. He unbuckled his seatbelt and shut the engine off. "Let's go."

July 2006

Riley never did ask her father about the monsters across the pond after that day in the truck. That familiar feeling crept back in her stomach and she stared out the small window on her left. She felt incredibly guilty for what she was about to do. Her thoughts about turning around were muted by the loud engine and the slight turbulence as the wheels finally touched the pavement.

Her father's words and the promise she made to him rang in her ears on a constant loop as she picked up her carry on and made her way down the aisles towards the exit. She saw the pilot standing beside the door wishing all the passengers a farewell. Riley finally reached him, heart thudding heavily in her chest as reality slammed into her with full force. What did I just do?

The pilot smiled down at her, holding his hat in front of him. "Enjoy your stay in London."