Author's Note: So… There is a lot of Supernatural fan fiction out there with original female character/characters who meet up with out boys, but, I've always wanted to do an original female character with a bit of a twist! Thus this is my OCF who is a canine, the story is told from her point of view.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not nor will it ever be mine. This saddens me greatly.

It was a cold December night, the smell of snow was in the air and an icy wind howled through the alley in which I had set up my temporary home, a rather large cardboard box that someone had thrown out. I mentally thanked my ancestors for my thick coat, the coarse guard hair which protected me from the cold and the thick woolly undercoat which kept me insulated in the chilliest of weather. When I had been in the shelter I had been described as a 'Mongrel of questionable decent but most probably including the following breeds: A large artic breed (possibly malamute?), German shepherd and Collie. Will need plenty of exercise, seems to exhibit strong possessive and guarding qualities. Strong urges to wander. Experienced owners needed.' My 'experienced' owners had turned up one day, a young couple; the man was tall, lanky and smelt strongly of smoke. The second one of the partnership was rather roundish woman, her face looked like an oversized tennis ball to me and she smelt worse then a kennel which had left for two days.

Well that entire get up had lasted all of a month. Tennis Ball and her Racket left the back gate open one day and within seconds I had shot out the kitchen door and the back gate towards my freedom. Sure, being a housedog wasn't so bad but my owners were yawn inducing to say the least; walking was dull, the continuous path over and over and over again and just for good measure once more, and to top it all off they loved to take balls off me. Apparently it 'asserts dominance'. Needless to say I was unimpressed. Tennis Ball looked like a ball, why on Earth would she want mine? Tennis Ball and Racket had looked for me, placing flyers all over town but they'd never found me.

I shook myself, spun round and round before fitting myself into my cardboard palace. I had just pulled my plume like tail over my nose when the sound of a bottle being kicked out of the way echoed through the alley. I was out of my make shift home and on my feet within a matter of milliseconds, ears lying flat to my skull, my lips pulled back to reveal an impressive set of teeth and my hackles raised ready for the intruder. My nose twitched, the scents of the alley washed through my sensitive nose. There were two adult human males down the bottom of the alley, both smelt of gun powder and sweat and their breathing sounded laboured to my delicate ears.

'Dammit Sam, I think we've lost that damn fanged freak' muttered one of the men.

All the tension drained from my body, they say curiosity killed the cat but it sure as hell doesn't do any favours to the dog. I lowered myself to the floor and crept stealthily towards the alley mouth, the men were stood at the bottom. One of them was tall, taller then Racket, maybe he was part tree? He had dark hair which flopped over his eyes. The other man was shorter and had lighter hair but he wasn't round like Tennis Ball had been but was stocky and portrayed a great degree of strength in his stance.

I sniffed the air again but the odour of rotting food shot up my nose causing me to sneeze violently in an attempt to clear my airways. Two guns cocked and a spotlight fell on me, I blinked twice to clear my eyes and made a small grumbly noise in my throat.

'It's just a dog.' Tree boy mumbled to Short Stop.

They both lowered their guns; one of them appeared to have large knife in his hand, the light danced off of it further ruining my night vision. Both the men turned back around, Tree Boy wandered off towards the end of the back street. Suddenly, a scent rushed through my nose. A scent that wasn't meant to be, neither dead nor alive. Something was wrong. So very wrong. My hair stood on end, my tail tucked itself between my legs and my ears laid flat to my skull in fear. Why couldn't the men feel it? The wrongness was overwhelming, even a sensory stunted human could know that. I did the only thing I knew how to, to warn them and let the stress out of my quivering body. I let out a warning bark.

A horrific screeching sound filled the backstreet. A small girl flew out of the darkness at the Short man, she had short hair which was purple in colour and appeared to have two giant balloons stuck to her front. I attempted to flatten myself to the cold concrete floor, a whimper building in my throat.

'Dean!' came a hoarse cry from Tree Boy.

She opened her mouth and hissed in a cat-like manner, her mouth was full of sharp teeth which had a cruel point to them. Balloon girl flew for Short Stop her mouth open in a snarl that I'd be proud of, he grunted as she made contact with his body. The momentum nearly threw him off balance; he had almost immediately lost the upper hand in the fight. The girl was now stretching Short Stops neck back, the rushing of his blood was increasingly loud and his pulse was practically solid on the night air. I scrambled to my paws, my nails making a scratching sound on the bare cement. Damn me for being a dog, afterall we had been the guardians of humanity for over a millenia and I was no exception. It didn't take me long to cross the short distance to the fighting human and whatever the hell Balloon girl was. I felt a snarl building in my throat and lunged towards Balloons girls' ankle, feeling a thrill of triumph as my teeth made contact with the flesh. I sprang away from the deranged girl, she followed me spitting like a hell cat. I suddenly regretted my stupid actions; she followed me and kept her eyes trained on mine. The cat woman stalked toward me, my ears pricked up as I heard the sound of metal slash through the air, the sickening crunch of bones as it contacted with cat woman's neck and a distinct thud as her head hit the floor. It was Tree Boy, he'd ran from the bottom of street and had snuck up on the hissing Tabby Cat from behind whilst she had been busy contemplating making me into a hotdog. The smell of blood filled the area; blood had splashed all over my blonde coat and was already matting my fur.

'Check it out Sam' panted Short Stop 'We've got ourselves a regular little Buffy'

Authors note 2: Damn my freaky ability to constantly make typos! I even did it in my Critical Anthology Coursework, incidentally I got my grades back for that today... (excessive ellipsis) I GOT AN A! THE ONLY DAMN A IN THE CLASS! BOOYA MOFOS!