I set my book on the bedside table and pull the covers up to my chin, relaxing completely and preparing for sleep. Right when I'm in a dreamlike trance, I hear a noise downstairs and bolt up in bed. It sounded like someone twisting the doorknob to the front door. Being three in the morning, my usual bedtime, and home alone, I immediately reach for my purse and pepper spray. I hear more fiddling with the door before it's thrown open. I run for my window, which is connected to my roof, and prepare for flight when I hear hushed voices.
"This is called breaking and entering, Dean." I hear a male voice say.
"Since when have you had a problem with that before?" a different, rougher voice asks.
"Since the house we're breaking into belongs to humans." I hear them clomping around downstairs, and am frozen in fear.
"We're just here to look around. There's not even a car in the driveway."
I reach for my cell phone to call 911, but the floor creaks as I make my way across the room.
"Did you hear that?" a sudden voice asks, and I hear footsteps running up the stairs. I run the opposite way and fling my window open right when two guys step into my room.
"Wait! Wait. We're not here to hurt you. Look, we're cops", a puppy-faced man says calmingly, reaching into his jacket to pull out his wallet and a badge. He looks close to my age and has extremely trustworthy eyes.
I relax only a fraction, looking at them with apprehension. They're certainly not acting like cops, but this guy looks like he wouldn't hurt a fly, and I find myself trusting him despite my best efforts.
The other guy, who looks slightly older – possibly 25 – pulls out his badge, too. "I'm Dean, and this is my partner, Sam. Can we ask you a few questions?"
"S-sure." Even if they are cops, something has to be seriously wrong for them to show up at my door at three in the morning.
"Do you, uh, want to get dressed first?" the younger guy asks. I look down at myself, in short pajama shorts and a tank top, and back up at Sam. Dean's giving his partner a glare and Sam looks embarrassed. I shrug and reach for a sweatshirt on the floor. Putting it on, I look at them, waiting to be interrogated.
Dean walks over to the nearest chair and makes himself comfortable, while his partner shifts from foot to foot.
"So. Jade? Do you remember anything about your mother's death?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrows and shifting forward to relax his elbows on his knees. Sam looks over at him and angrily mouths something I can't see. Dean just keeps looking at me, expecting an answer.
"No." I reply, "I was just a baby. But didn't they close that case a long time ago? As an accident?"
"We have reason to believe it was arson." Sam quietly and sympathetically says. "So any details – anything at all – would be very helpful." Despite his calm and kind eyes, he now seems to be on edge about something.
"Well, I – " I'm cut off by a bang against my window. I whip around to see someone glaring in at me, standing on my roof. I'm yanked back by a rough hand, but not before I catch a glimpse of the guy's eyes – pure black. And then everything clicks.
Sam pulls out a jug of something and passes it to Dean as he opens the window, throwing liquid in his face. The guy screams in agony and Dean pulls out a gun. Sam throws me outside the bedroom door as I hear a gunshot, and both Dean and Sam pull me downstairs and out the front door, leading me towards a black Impala parked on the street.
"What's going on?!" I yell.
"Not now." Dean says aggressively and shoves me in the car. Both of them get in and we speed away, Sam and Dean giving each other anxious glances.
We keep driving, me fearfully clutching my sweater and listening to my heart work overtime. I think about asking again, but Dean keeps glancing back at me with a silencing look.
"Listen." Sam says, turning around in his seat. "We're not really cops."
"I figured." I mumble. What kind of cop would barge in unannounced at three in the morning, just to question me? I reach for the cell phone I managed to grab with me.
Dean eyes the cell phone through the mirror and slightly slows down the car. "Look, you don't have to believe us. You can ask us to drop you off right now - it's your choice. But we're the only people that can keep you alive right now, so I suggest you think twice before doing anything crazy."
I let out a sarcastic laugh. "You think pretty highly of yourself. I'm sure the real cops can keep me just as safe from some psycho arsonist as you can. I'm calling the police, unless one of you can give me some answers."
"That wasn't an arsonist." Sam says. "And I'm pretty sure you don't want to know the answers."
"I'm pretty sure I do." I retort. I know these guys aren't murderers. They wouldn't have saved my life, if so. But I'm pretty sure they know a lot more than I do, and I'm prepared to find out exactly who – or what – that guy was.
"He was a demon." Dean says from the wheel. Sam jerks his head towards him with wide eyes.
Now, if I was an average girl, this would be the time to call the police. But I'm far from average – and they just confirmed my exact suspicions. After all, I'd already dreamed this whole thing. Well, up until I was shoved into the car. For all I know, they could be psychos. My vision had only lasted as long as the damn thing was dead. But with my belief (and run-ins) with the paranormal, I'm more set to believe them than not.
"Right. So you guys are like, demon killers or something?"
Dean swerves the car a bit and Sam stares at me with a gaping mouth.
"W-What? You believe us?" Sam asks in disbelief.
I smile. "Yeah, I do. I'm, uh, not exactly thrilled to be here. But I'd sure rather be on your side than Lucifer's." I then explain to them, warily, my reoccurring dream of the demon.
"So you're like me." Sam says. "I see visions, too." He continues passionately, "We've been doing some research, and there are others with powers. Tons."
"And they've all been turning up dead." Dean adds cheerily.
"Well, then. I guess I owe you some gratitude." I say guardedly. I have a million more questions, but I'm suddenly hit with a huge wave of exhaustion. I lay down in the backseat and listen to the music flowing through the speakers. Sam and Dean both notice and stop talking.
A few minutes later, I hear Dean mutter something.
"What?" Sam asks, looking up from a journal he was peering through.
"I just said she's kind of hot for a psychic chick. You know, they usually have those turbans and –"
"Not exactly." I interrupt, half-asleep.
"Hm?" Sam turns around, surprised I'm still awake.
"I'm not psychic. It was just the one. Vision, that is."
Sam looks confused. "But, in all of our cases, these powers started manifesting at the exact same time. You should have – "
"They did. Manifest. But I'm not psychic."
"What?" Sam and Dean both say at the same time.
"I control elements." I murmur before falling into a deep sleep.