AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well hi there! This is my first Supernatural fiction so I hope I can portray the characters decently at least.
Reviews are very welcome!

Saturdays were the best. School was over for the week end, homework could be done later, and I was ready to rock and roll.

"Valentine!" My aunt bellowed piercingly. I froze and cringed at the use of my full name. I prefer 'Val', but Aunt Lynn never really processed that despite the fact that I have told her many, many times. I gave up trying to get her on the right page last year. See, my aunt is just a bit nutty; she has an irritating hobby to hold séances with her other elderly friends. My aunt is in her sixties. 'Why the heck is your aunt so old?' You might ask, well because she is 15 years older than my dearly departed mother. Yep, my mother died when I was 5. It was a sad day indeed….The point I'm trying to make is that I live my batty old aunt who holds séances every Friday night.

The reason my aunt yelled my name is because I was trying to sneak past her while she was watching TV.

Mental Note to Self: Never try to sneak past elderly aunt while she watches TV; she's got eyes on the back of her head.

I wanted to exit the house without her noticing because when she does see me leaving, it's all "When are going to be home? What time exactly? Where are you going? Who are you going to be with? What are their parent's names and numbers? What do you mean 'They don't want to talk with you'?"

It's true. My friend's parents didn't want to talk with an old lady who was off her rocker. Anyway, I'm pretty sure the reason my aunt wanted to know every single detail of my weekend was because she didn't want me running into my two half-brothers or father accidently. Yes, she is a crazy, but she sure knows how to hate. But really, the chance of me running into Sam, Dean or dad is so miniscule it hardly exists. I adored my brothers. I hardly knew them, but they were still fresh in my mind from the one time I had met them when I was 8 years old. Sam would have been 15 and Dean 19. They were older now, and probably much different. But even now, 8 years later, I still idolized them.

"Valentine Cicely Fisher!" My aunt bellowed again even though she knew I was right behind her. Ouch. I hated it when she used my technically not true full name. I believe legally I am a Winchester, which I prefer, but my aunt insists on using my mother's last name: Fisher. I'm not a fisher. I don't fish. In fact, I hate fishing. It's mind-numbing and tedious.

I trudged to the front of the couch where she could see me and prepared myself for the oncoming barrage of questions.

"Where are you going? What time…" Etc…. She popped all of the questions in less than two breaths. If I hadn't been impatient, I might have been quite impressed. I sighed and answered all of them as best I could.

I was going downtown to chill with my besties, Emily Baker and Cass Peterson. I would be back by 5 o'clock unless I called and said otherwise. I didn't know their parents or their numbers.

"Valentineley, make sure you call at lunchtime so I know you're all right. Okay?"

I agreed as whole-heartedly as I could, then she tried to whack me with her magazine fly swatter. "Shoo! Let me finish my show!" Aunt Lynn was in the middle of a show for nutters on how to grow Shiitake mushrooms in your back yard. Don't get me wrong, I love my aunt. But she can be…interesting to deal with sometimes.

With a final goodbye, I hurried out the front door, hopped on my amazing bike and tore down the street. Letting go of the handlebars and steering with my knees, I searched the side pocket of my backpack for my earphones. Grasping the red plastic with my hands I pulled them out and placed one in my ear. I didn't like to have both earphones in at the same time; I'd rather be aware of my surroundings at all times. After about ten minutes of suburbs, I turned off and pedaled down a small highway that served as a short cut to get to my friend's house. It was a good thing I left one ear bud out so I could hear, or I would have been human pancake on the road. I heard the screeching tires of a car behind me and swerved off to the side of the road. It would have been a perfect evasion if I hadn't, with unfortunate accuracy, hit a large rock. I flipped over the handlebars, and landed with thump on my back. Actually, I landed on the backpack that was on my back. I squeezed my eyes shut with discomfort and only opened them when I heard a voice say, "Oh my god, are you alright? We're so sorry."

When I opened my eyes I seriously think I almost had a heart attack. Kneeling over me was none other then Sam Winchester.

Alright, now tell me how I did! Should I continue?