(AUTHOR'S LOG: I have been digging through notebooks and documents from my late best friend and came across this rough draft amongst various other notes and character biographies she doodled. I figured I'd honor her by officially starting her story even though I'm not a good writer. Any feedback would be appreciated but please, show some respect. I don't own Supernatural and neither did my friend.)

PROLOGUE

Fate watched as her brother and her sister fought like the children they treated others to be. She wished for Death's company if only so they could chastise them both for their behavior but he was gone… killed as ironically as it sounded; making her utterly alone. The Darkness cared little about her, seeing her as only another thing to take away God's attention; and God ignored her, even created a weaker replacement now that he had learned how to write humanity's fate. Unfortunately, he was a terrible writer.

Dean Winchester laid motionless against the Impala in a puddle of his own blood, Fate's favorite nephew draped over his body; Lucifer allowed him that one mercy at least, Sam Winchester's body was only a foot away; his eyes burned out of his skull, and Crowley's body spiraled out on the pavement; his severed head nowhere to be seen.

A lone survivor forced themselves up, and Fate can't even pretend to be surprised anymore. She has seen it a dozen times already.

"Again." She spits out a mouthful of blood, her magic too overworked to even heal the wounds that would've killed a normal mortal.

Oh, Liberty. Fate speaks to her like a parent whose child keeps getting hurt doing the same thing over and over. How many more times must you torture yourself before you realize you can't change God's story?

"I'll keep doing it until I get it right. Besides shouldn't you be the one writing the story?" Liberty argued, her knee and shoulder were shattered and she was missing a lot of skin, but she refused to stand down, "again."

With a sigh, Fate snapped her fingers and suddenly everything went black. Liberty found herself back in her twenty-six-year-old body again, uninjured again, her red hair tousled and messy from sleeping in her bed. Without hesitation, she jumped from her covers and immediately got to work.

Fate watched her with sad yet admirable eyes as Liberty went through the same events again. And like Fate expected, no matter what she did things still happened as God wrote it. As the years passed Liberty became desperate and reckless, using too much of her power and not cleansing the negative energy from her soul. By the time Dean got the Mark, her soul gem was practically pitch black.

And then, when the time came for Dean to kill Death. Liberty suddenly burst in with Castiel and threw her soul gem in the path of Death's Scythe. The crystal shattered and she instantly fell to the ground, dead. All the negative energy escaped from the gem and formed a creature the size of a skyscraper; her skin snow white and clad in a purple gown with her blood red hair kept in two buns that looked like horns. While giant, broken mirrors float and surrounded her as she moved.

Fate watched curiously as Liberty's Soul Beast tore apart everything in sight. Poor Sam tried to reason with her, bring forth her old self but she was far too gone; he was impaled by a metal rod. Dean was next; his arm that bared the mark sliced off by a shard of broken mirror. Castiel held him in his arms, his wounds too severe to heal.

"Cas…" he groaned, blood filling his mouth, "I'm sorry but… please don't try to bring me back… just-just leave me wherever the hell I end up. I don't deserve to be saved…"

Castiel held on to Dean as he gave his last breath. Face twisted in agony as if someone drove an Angel Blade into his gut, he could do nothing but watch the monster that dared to mock Liberty's image continued her rampage, dancing and giggling in the destruction.

Liberty… this wasn't part of the story… you changed it? You can change it!

For so long Fate believed herself worthless now that God could control destiny, but if a mortal – albeit a very special mortal – could inadvertently change how humanity meets its end, then she could change it so that it never does.

Liberty threw shards of mirror towards Castiel and unbeknownst to him, Fate; however, she simply held up her hand and snapped her fingers.

My turn.

SPN

Days quickly turned to weeks which became months and then finally years until she found what she was looking for; a beautiful, white house in Lawrence, Kansas, young couple standing in their living room, the husband caressed his wife's very pregnant belly while a small boy sat on the floor, playing with a toy fire truck.

Fate has read her brother's stories enough times to know who they were. The Winchesters, John and Mary, and little Dean; hard to believe the kind of man he grows into. Fate smiled sadly, Mary's soul was marked for death, if not by fire than by some other horrific cause and Death hardly ever made exceptions to the rule.

Fate took a deep breath, hesitated but then remembered something God told one of his men, about his creations.

"You all disappoint me."

They are not the disappointment brother, you are.

Fate shared one last look at the happy family before vanishing.

Mary jolted, placing her hands on her belly, a strange feeling coursing through her. Her husband was at her side immediately.

"Mary? What's wrong?" John asked, concerned.

"Honey… I think we need to go to the hospital, the baby… he's coming!"

SPN

John was always very environmentally aware; it was how he managed to stay alive for so long. So it didn't take long for him to notice the same little blonde girl watching him, everywhere he went. From the aisles of the store, passenger side on a car parked next to the Impala and finally sitting on the hood of one of Bobby's scrap cars when he returned.

"Who are you, sweetheart?" On one hand she could simply be the ghost of a little girl, following him for some reason; on the other hand, she could be some violent being, cleverly disguised.

You're going to kill them. Do you know that?

"I beg your pardon?"

Your sons, you're pushing them towards their deaths.

John suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar living room. There was one man laying on a broken table- That's Dean another man- Sam being held against the wall by some invisible force; a young woman with unnatural white eyes smirks and opens a barricaded door.

"Sick 'em boy." She says, a horrible growl is heard and suddenly Dean is screaming while something claws at his chest, spraying blood everywhere.

John doesn't have time to react, and honestly what the hell can he do?! He doesn't even know what the hell is going on! But now he's in Bobby's living room, only… Bobby's dead on the floor, his head bloodied and smashed in; Sam is getting beaten to death by…

"Dean…" Sam groans.

"Dean died a long time ago, Sammy." Not Dean mocks, his eyes turning black. He continued to pound his once beloved baby brother until he stopped moving.

John was now back at the scrap yard. Breathing heavily he realized the same girl was now standing right beside him; watching him with interest.

"Why the hell would you show me that?!" He almost yelled, his heart pounding in his ears. It looked so real…

Because I've seen this story already John, and it's about time someone changed it for the better.

"Who the hell are you? What… what do you want me to do?"

I am of little importance to you Winchester. Your sons are going to be hunters; there's very little you can do about that now, but don't force them to be nothing else. Otherwise what I showed you is their future.

That night he left his sons behind at Bobby's indefinitely without an explanation, only leaving a number in case the state tried to take them away; ignoring Bobby's threats with a shotgun as he pulled away in the Impala. He had nightmares for months afterward and prayed to a god he stopped believing in that he was doing the right thing.

SPN

Elsewhere a sixteen-year-old is sneaking out of her window in the dead of the night; not even the light of the moon visible as she crept down the old vines, carrying two fully packed duffle bags and practically tiptoed to her most prized possession, her light blue 1958 Plymouth Fury.

She threw the bags into the back, which already had two other bags she hidden underneath the seat previous nights she snuck out. She has been planning on running away for years now and tonight was the night she acted, she honestly planned on tomorrow morning, while she was out on a solo mission. But tonight for the first time she could remember, her father forgot to lock the driveway gate. It must be fate.

She slid into the driver seat and turned the key, smiling as her precious Phoenix roared to life. Quickly shifting to drive, she drove out of the gate and with one last look at her prison, sped away; finally as free as her name implied.

Fate watched her speed down the street and immediately turned towards the freeway. She might have cheated just a little making sure Mr. Morgan didn't secure the gate like he always did, and it's not like Liberty wouldn't have succeeded if she waited until tomorrow, but the frustrated shout from that abomination who broke into her now bare room with the intentions of violating her proved Fate made a good call. And the fact that it also dissolves a future problem between Liberty and a certain angel was simply an added bonus in her book.

(So there you have it, folks. The idea came from one of our sleepovers where we would stay up until sunrise watching Supernatural. And FYI, this Fate is not Atropos. Liberty was partly inspired by the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica, if you're into middle school girls constantly crying and a whole lot more death than the intro lets off, check it out.)