Ch1

Alanna Cardoza sighed as she walked up to her apartment building unlocking the door, and stepping inside to the darkened house flicking on the living room light. She dropped her purse onto the coffee table, and made her way for the kitchen, and to her fridge dragging her feet the whole way. Pulling out a bottle of water she took a sip and looked at her mail, but almost choked on it when she heard something crash in her bedroom. Her head of dark brown hair spun to direction the sound had originated from, and a shiver shot down her spine as she place the bottle of water on the counter and walked slowly down the darkened hallway leading to her bedroom.

Her hand gently lay on the cold door knob, as she stopped and silently prayed for safety. Opening the door and flicking on the light quickly she saw that her alarm clock fell over from her night stand. Sighing, she picked it up placing the contraption on her night stand. Sighing again she lay on her bed closing her eyes, but reopened them when she sensed something moving in her room. Raising her head she saw a man in a black jacket with his head hung down low in the corner of her room.

"Who are you?" she asked, the man raised his head and just smiled a sick smile like he knew something she didn't.

For all I know he knows all the answers . . .

She yelled the question again trying not let the crack in her voice, express how scared she was, but the look in her eyes said it all. The man looked to something beside her, where another figure appeared at Alanna's bedside, he was a carbon copy of the man in the corner they both moved the same way closer and closer to Alanna. As they closed in bullets of sweat dropped down Alanna's face as the door to her room blew open, and a slender figure walked in. A woman, like an old Indian queen walked in rusted metal jewelry, hung from her neck, wrists, ears, and fingers. She also had a sick devilish smile on her face as she walked closer to the bed, but stopped at the foot of it.

"Does she please you my queen?" asked one of the men in a very low voice. The queen smiled, but then her expression changed, to an uncertain one.

"She will do for now," she said rolling her words. Her arms spread, and her eyes turned a white color, and Alanna soul screamed as it helplessly soared into the mouth of the queen.

He shook the limp figure that hung in his arms, hoping to God that one of the quick shakes would jolt the figure back to life. He screamed for help so desperately that he thought his vocal cords would explode, but no one came, and a dreadful silence that shook up his spine remained. Letting the figure lie softly on the floor he got up and ran out into the hallway. Empty.

Yelling so hard that his throat burned, he didn't care, but proceeded to swiftly walk through the hospital but stopped when he saw a group of nurses and doctors hastily jumble into a room not too far away. Walking quickly into the room he stopped to see that there were two beds, and heard the constant beep of the heart monitor signaling that whoever was there was still alive. Slowly stepping over to the first bed, he looked over the shoulder of a working nurse, and looked at the figure with blood gushing from his mouth and stomach. Taking a good look at the figure, he saw familiar hazel eyes, and dirty blonde hair, and his heart rate sprang

flatline.

Dean.

Eyes wide in shock, he dared himself to look over to the next bed as another flatline sung out. A girl with fragile blue eyes, and blonde hair's heart ceased.

Jessica.

flatline.

Sam shot up in his bed sweating bullets down his face and breathing heavily. Looking around for a minute, he realized where he was and that everything was merely a dream.

Thank god . . .

Struggling to catch his breath, he looked over to the clock with the bright red numbers.

8:15 a.m.

Sighing he rubbed his eyes, and pulled back the covers he swung his long legs over the side of the bed. His brain pounded in his ears.

Just a nightmare . . . a bad one at that.

He looked over to the other bed, where his brother Dean lay snoring away, hand on his bare chest rising and falling with each slow breath, stale drool in the corner of his wide-open mouth. Shaking his head Sam got up turning on the water for a hot shower

"Dude, could you go any slower? How long does it take to pay for gas and get some . . . what is that . . . Gummy worms? C'mon Sammy," Dean grumbled, sitting in the driver's seat of the black Impala, taping his fingers on the window sill like there was something under it he was trying to beat down.

"At least I'm not the one who picks the marshmallow out of the Lucky Charms and makes them cereal, now am I?" Sam spat back ripping open the package of Gummy Worms, and grabbing out a green one.

"Jerk." Dead retorted started their usual sibling bicker revving the car engine, and switching gears.

"Bitch," Sam played his next line and Dean pulled out of the pit stop gas station not too far from Philadelphia.

"Pr-Hey, did you remember the newspaper?" Dean asked backhanding his brother's shoulder splitting his gaze between him and the road. Sam slapped the hand away and pulled the paper out of the bag holding it up for Dean to see, "Good good, let me know if there's anything out of the ordinary."

Dead spoke but spoke to thin air as the cover story of the newspaper caught Sam's eye. Woman brutally murdered in her apartment building, see page A4 for details.

There was silence for a moment as Sam opened flipping straight to page A4, adjusting himself and the paper he began to skim it.

"Dean, I think we've got something, here," he said eyes still glued to the article.

"Shoot Sammy," came the affirmation from his brother who kept his lazy gaze locked on the road ahead of them.

"Alanna Cardoza, 25, was found dead last week in her apartment by building manager Frank Sansland, an autopsy revealed that all organs were emptied from the body, but there are no scars or marks to show where or how they were removed. Police have called off the investigation causing much disappointment from the people of the downtown area of Philadelphia, who want to find out who did this and how to protect themselves."

"No marks at all?" he asked furrowing his eyebrows.

"None," Sam replied studying the article, "What do you think it could be?"

"Spirit maybe? Check dad's journal," Dead said his heart clenching at the thought of his father.

Pulling the journal from one of the bags on the floor in the backseat, he skimmed the pages of his father's journal, from front to back. He skimmed once more over to make sure there's nothing on them.

"Nothing really mentioned of this sorta thing. Maybe it's just a vengeful spirit, we'd have to look into it," Sam replied flipping through the pages of the journal with anatomy drawings, writings, and side notes of information on them.

"And this was in Philly?" Dean asked as they passed a road sign . . .

Philadelphia

½ mile

"Yup." Sam said looking at the picture of the woman at what appeared to be her birthday with a couple of her friends.

"Well then we'd better check it out," Dean decided, the black Impala switching lanes just waiting for Exit 45, his arm reaching over to the radio letting "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath rage through the speakers.

A/N :: Review&&Let me know what you think, thanksss