Greetings, y'all. Well, this is an experiment, and unfortunately, y'all are being subjected to it. I'm really not a fan of first-person stories, and I think it's because I can't really write them, so I set myself the challenge to write this. The idea hit me many moons ago when I was on the night shift (making cardboard boxes for eight hours at a time really will do strange things to one's imagination!) and I decided to write. Maybe it's crazy – I blame the evil plot bunnies of doom! And it's something I'm going to continue with, even if nobody reads it, because, at the end of the day, it's going to help with my writing. Although I write for others to enjoy, so if nobody likes it, maybe I won't continue.

Ok, that you didn't need to know, this has slightly more relevance. I own a few things in life – my car, my laptop, my OCs… not Supernatural, and no amount of wishing is going to rectify that… only my imagination!

My aim is to have a short, stand-alone story. I'm hoping no more than fifteen chapters (because I already have another story with a chapter count growing well past one hundred – I really don't have the time for another!!) I have no intention of pairing anyone with anyone, and this story, if we had to place it, would be somewhere mid-season one… after Route 666, but not much further than that, but as far as spoilers go, I don't think there will be anything major, but I'll let you know if there is.

Which leaves me with one thing... Many thanks to SparkyCSI for being my beta!

Something Wiccan This Way Comes

© Axellia, July 2007

Chapter One: When It Isn't Like It Should Be

It wasn't that every bone in my body ached; it was that every cell in my body ached. That was the first thing I realised as I awoke, twisting over on the bed, keeping my eyes tightly closed – I wasn't ready for opening them. Not after last night.

Last night. With my eyes still closed I frowned, trying to remember. Only I couldn't. And it wasn't just last night I couldn't remember – it was anything.

Strangely, that didn't seem important. Not when I heard the voices. I flicked my eyes open and found some material heading towards my face. Well, that was it. I was scrambling to my feet, dashing off the bed and out of the room. There was a reason I couldn't remember anything, whatever that was, and if I wanted to remember any of it, it wasn't through material heading towards my face.

I darted out of the door and found myself outside in the pouring rain. The rain felt good on my face, but now wasn't the time to appreciate it. First, I had to get away from here… wherever here was. I darted past the only car in the parking lot (of a motel, I noticed) and into the night, anxious to get away from the people who had been in that room with me. I hadn't gotten far down the deserted street, which incidentally, was in the middle of nowhere, when I sensed that they were following me.

I squeezed through a hedge and into a field, the branches tugging at my hair, and scratching my bare legs. My bare feet sank into the mud as I charged across the grass, heading for a road I could see on the other side of the field.

It wasn't until I was on that road that I realised that I had lost who was following me, so I allowed myself to slow to a walk to catch my breath. As I did, the pain began to slowly pump around my body, replacing the adrenaline. As did the cold. Short of my underwear, the only thing I was wearing was a plaid shirt, which drowned me, coming mid-way down my thigh. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some warmth as I prayed that either something would return to my memory, or, someone would drive past and stop and help.

It was the latter, in the form of a semi. It pulled over, just in front of me, and the driver, a rather large man in his fifties, offered me a ride.

Only, there was something in his eyes that I didn't trust, so I tried to politely decline. Which was when he got out of his truck and grabbed me.

'Let go of me,' I cried, struggling against his weight as he pinned me up against the side of his truck.

'Now, what's a pretty thing like you doing all the way out here, on your lonesome?' He asked, ignoring my feeble attempts to kick at him.

It didn't take long for me to work out what he wanted, and after escaping from wherever I escaped from, I didn't have much energy to try and stop him. But that didn't mean that I wasn't going to try. Just as I began to feel the palms of my hands burn, and just as the man had ripped open the shirt, the man went flying off me.

He had been tackled to the ground by a blur of another man. Well, I didn't stick around long enough to find out any more. Or at least I tried not to. A third man grabbing me as I ploughed into him stopped me.

I screamed and tried to push him out of the way, but he held tight.

'Calm down, we're trying to help you.' He told me.

I looked up and met his brown eyes.

'Look, I'm going to let go of you, but please don't run away.'

The rain was pelting down into my face, washing my tears away, as I continued to stare at him, and yet, he let go. And so I ran, ignoring his shouts. Past the two men who were still fighting, past the truck, and as far down the road as I could get.

A while later, the semi drove past me, without stopping this time. And I swear it swerved intentionally to drench me head to foot in the muddy water of a puddle.

Barely a few minutes later, a car slowed down beside me. Inside were the two guys who had stopped earlier to help. I carried on walking, trying to ignore them.

'Will you get in?' Brown eyes, the passenger, asked me.

I bit my lip and shook my head, keeping my eyes on the road in front of me.

'Please?'

I shook my head again.

'Are you going to walk all night?' Asked the driver, 'because I have a full tank of gas and can probably drive further than you can walk.'

Brown eyes hissed something at the driver before sticking his head back out of the window. 'We just want to help.'

'How do I know that?' I asked. 'I thought that truck driver wanted to help.'

Brown eyes sighed, 'if we wanted to hurt you, we could. There are two of us.'

I stopped and turned to face him. He still had that look in his eyes. I couldn't quite place it, but I think it was a good emotion. Next to me, the car stopped.

'Please?' He asked again.

Suddenly I felt tired. 'Sure,' I agreed.

Turns out Brown Eyes was a bit of a gentleman – he got out of the car, wrapped his jacket around me, and helped me into the back.

As the driver spun the car around and headed back in the direction they had come from, I just huddled into a corner and stared at my hands. Well, it was more like stared through them. That was until I noticed how filthy and cut they were. I held them up and stared at the red that was seeping in with the black.

'We'll get them cleaned up as soon as we get back to the room,' Brown eyes must have been watching me.

Wordlessly, I dropped my hands back into my lap, and stared down at them. Only a short time later, we were pulling to a stop, and again Brown Eyes was out of the car to open my door, despite the mutterings of the driver, and helping me into their place.

I froze when I realised I was back where I started. My instinctive reaction was to run again, and I backed up to try, only crashing into Brown Eyes.

'We don't want to hurt you,' he said quickly, holding his hands up, 'we found you before… unconscious. We brought you here.'

I stepped away and eyed the two of them warily, 'who are you?'

'I'm Sam,' said Brown Eyes, 'and this is my brother, Dean.'

'Who are you?' Dean asked.

'I don't know,' I told them honestly. I caught a glimpse of myself in the room's mirror. 'But I don't have green eyes.'