I glanced at the clock every few seconds, watching the seconds tick by. I couldn't help it. It was either that or focus on trig, and that wasn't going to happen. I glanced down at the papers in front of me, scowling at the symbols and numbers printed on the white sheet of paper, and shifted my gaze back to the clock. There was only about a minute until the bell would ring. Then I could escape to lunch.

"The bell hasn't rung yet." I glanced around to see students pause in packing their bags, eyes downcast at their teacher's scolding. For the most part Mrs. Varia was nice, and definitely a good teacher, but she was a bit strict.

I tapped my fingers on my desk for the few remaining seconds, hands shooting out to snatch up my binder and calculator as soon as that loud ring echoed through the room. Within moments I was in the hall, walking quickly, quickly.

"Lucy!"

I glanced behind me to see Neal jog towards me, towering above most other students in the hallway. I had one class with him, Business. We were supposed to be presenting an original business idea during class that day. We had both brought home half of the work, and were supposed to meet during lunch to put together the finishing touches.

Neal slowed as he approached me, and I kept walking, his long legs easily keeping pace with me.

"Ready for today?" I asked.

Neal grimaced. "About that…"

I stopped and glared at him. "Tell me you didn't leave your half of the presentation at home."

"Ok," he said.

I raised my eyebrows. "So you have it?"

"No."

"Then where the hell is it?"

"You said not to say!"

I groaned and slammed my forehead into my palm, an action purely for dramatic effect. At least all my work the previous night hadn't been for nothing. Neal had never been the most trustworthy student, and intuition had made me complete both halves of the presentation. We still had a full project.

"You're lucky I have a backup copy of your part," I said.

"You what?" Neal raced to catch up with me; I had started walking again. "Why would you do the whole thing?"

"Because I didn't trust you to bring your half," I shot at him. "And look, I was right."

Neal looked like he wanted to complain, then thought better of it.

"Can I take a look at it?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "You better," I told him. "You've got to present half of it. And I don't mean read off the page. You have to memorize your half by the end of the day."

Neal shrugged. "I already have it memorized," he said. "I did my half, I just forgot it at home. I know the information. Unless you changed things of course."

"Nope. It's all the same."

We passed a mirror that hung at the corner of the hallway, and I glanced in. Dark skin and hair contrasted rather nicely with the white, lacey shirt I had on over skinny jeans. Dark eyes were highlighted with black eyeliner. I looked good.

I was also starving. I picked up my speed, headed towards the lunchroom. I was moving so fast that when the blast hit me, it threw me off my feet.

I rolled as I landed, flopping over my backpack like a dead fish before twisting onto my stomach, arms coming up and over my head. A moment later Neal crashed next to me, curling up into a ball.

"What the hell?"

I lifted my head, scanning around with wide eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I stopped for a moment to focus on my breathing. A moment later I caught sight of the man standing in the hall, and any semblance of control that I'd established over my body vanished.

He was a typical guy, in jeans and a t-shirt underneath a jacket. He could have been any dude on the streets, except for his eyes. They were pure black, from the outer edges in. No iris, no whites, nothing. Just black.

What was he, some sort of demon? I'd seen demons before, on tv shows, but that's all they were. Pieces of fiction, devised in someone's mind and of no danger to the real world. Yet here stood some sort of man that looked exactly like what a demon would look like.

Or at least according to one show that I watched. I was familiar with multiple shows and movies featuring demons, some better than others, but my all-time favorite was called Supernatural. The show starred two brothers who spent their lives on the road, hunting demons, werewolves, and all those other creatures from your childhood nightmares.

But they weren't real. They couldn't be. Things like this didn't happen. Monsters and heroes from your favorite stories didn't just pop out of nowhere and into your high school, they were limited to the scope of your imagination.

So maybe it was my imagination. Was I going mad? I looked around me; everything seemed real enough. But for all I knew, I could be trapped inside my own little story, in my head, and could be flailing about on the hallway floor screaming about demons in reality. If so, that would be embarrassing.

But right then, it didn't matter. The demon was starting to move, headed for the student closest to him. Before it had a chance to touch him, I barreled into its stomach, and we crashed to the floor.

The demon landed underneath me, and even as I screamed for people to start running, it flipped me, as easily as one would flip a pillow, so that it was on top. It grinned down at me, black eyes boring into mine, then stood.

It kept a hand on my throat as it did, lifting me into the air. Somewhere in the back of my mind I noted how everyone was running and screaming. The majority of my attention was focused on the hand around my throat, slowly squeezing the life out of me.

I thrashed, kicking and hitting, clawing at the hands around my neck- all to no avail. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped my throat. By now my vision was starting to flicker, my limbs suddenly far too heavy. My lungs felt like they were on fire, yet there was nothing I could do, I was failing, failing.

"Hey!" The demon's head whipped to the side, and a moment later the grip around my throat vanished. I crashed to the ground, barely able to cushion my head with my arms, and lay crumpled in a heap. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, I felt like someone had filled my chest with fire. I gasped for air, and slowly I felt my life force return to me.

"Are you alright?" I felt a hand on my shoulder, and glanced up. A man knelt above me, dark hair and deep blue eyes. Castiel.

I bolted upright, out of instinct, and my vision flashed. I fell backward again, coughing, and Castiel caught me, gently propping me up on my elbows.

"Careful," he said. "You're weak."

I nodded, too tired to bother with a snarky comeback. "Thanks." I glanced to the side, and sure enough, there were Sam and Dean, Dean wiping blood off a knife. The demon lay dead at his feet.

After a moment I pushed myself up, ignoring Castiel's nervous hand on my arm. I wobbled slightly, then caught myself and stood again. I probably was staring.

"Are you ok?" Sam was looking at me now, concern evident in his eyes. I nodded, unable to speak. Either way, it seemed my wonder wasn't of importance. Sam was already looking around him with an appraising look. "Where are we anyway?"

"Upstate New York." My voice came out hoarse, not to mention painful. "You're in my high school."

"Well, let's just zap out of here." Dean said this, moving closer to Castiel. He had a much more disgusted look on his face, most likely remembering some rather unpleasant times in buildings much like these.

"Wait!" I stepped in between the triangle that the trio had made, holding up my hands. "It's not that simple."

"Don't worry, we do this sort of thing all the time." Sam gave me a soft smile, trying to provide me with enough comfort that I would leave. "You're safe."

"That's not it." I glanced back and forth between the three of them. Despite my near death and my wonder at seeing them, I still retained enough of a clear head to know they couldn't leave. "I know who you are. You're characters on a TV show I watch. You're in a different universe."

Dean cursed, then looked around like he expected someone to come whack him upside the head with a ruler. "Cas, did you-"

"No." Castiel's answer was brief, to the point. "This wasn't me."

"Then who did this?" Sam's mind was already analyzing the situation, running through a list of plausible candidates. "Who's powerful enough?"

"I don't know," said Dean, eyes narrowing. "But I think we have other problems right now."

A knife was in his hand again, I hadn't even seen him draw it. Slowly, I followed his gaze, knowing what I would see.

Four students stood still and silent in front of us. They could have been anyone, frozen in terror, except their eyes were black, and they were grinning.

Immediately Sam, Dean, and Castiel began to move towards them. My eyes widened, my heart rate increased. I knew what would happen now, I could see it, and I couldn't move, couldn't stop it. It wasn't their faults, they were just kids, kids possessed by demons, demons that weren't moving, weren't speaking, just standing there with those grins, and they would be dead, and there was nothing I could do.

NO. The thought raced through my mind, my panicked thoughts finally forming into a coherent word. Now I forced it from my mind and to my lungs and out, out and up, until it came out of my mouth in a single shout. "NO!"

Sam, Dean, and Castiel paused, but didn't turn to look at me. "They're demons," snarled Dean.

"They're kids," I protested. "They haven't had a chance to live yet. Exorcise the demons!"

"They'll just possess someone else, and kill people," argued Sam. "We can stop them, right here, right now."

"No."

I stared in shock as Castiel spoke. His knife was lowering, his hand at his side, the silver blade disappearing up his sleeve. "No Sam. I'm tired of the killing."

"Cas-" Sam began to argue, but whatever he said was cut off as Dean stepped forward.

"Exorcizamus te…" I sighed in relief as Dean began to recite the incantation. Rusty at first, from having not been used in years, the words were soon flowing smoothly. The demons snarled and writhed in place, pained by his words. Then they jumped forward, suddenly wielding blades that had been absent before.

Castiel and Sam managed to catch three of them, holding them in place as Dean continued to recite. Their smaller forms worked against them, allowing the two taller, well-built men to anchor them in place. The fourth continued on though, silver knife reaching for Dean's chest. Dean didn't notice, or didn't care, to enveloped in his recitation, too focused to mind the demon. Still it moved closer, closer, and I was already moving again, instinctively, slamming into the demon and knocking it to the ground, even as Dean finished the exorcism. As black smoke billowed around my head, I felt a stabbing pain, and everything went blank.