Title: "I'll Always Come For You"
Characters: Dean, Sam, and John Winchester. Bobby and Ryan Singer. (OC)
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. The only thing owned by me is the OC.
Rating: T, for now. =)
Every once and a while, people come into your life that change everything. I didn't know it then, but life as I knew it was about to be over. I was seventeen years old, but my life was much different from other girls my age. I didn't think about boys, or where I would get my prom dress, or how much studying I'd have to do for my math test. I didn't have any friends, and I didn't want any friends. The only person I really needed was my dad--and I was okay with that. He was the only one that understood me--and understood why I needed to be isolated. Because in reality, I was much, much different from those other girls. I had something inside of me that none of them had. Something evil.
I was a demon.
I felt seventeen, looked seventeen, and acted seventeen--but there was no real proof that I had been born seventeen years ago. My father and I both knew that he was not my biological parent, but neither of us knew where I really came from. He and my mom found me--in the form of a baby--on their front porch on a hot summer night in June of 1991. They figured I was just another abandoned child, so they took me in, and decided to care for me. They named me Ryan Elizabeth Singer. But they didn't realize that I was different until Bobby saw the mark. It was a mark that only certain kinds of demons had--the really, really dangerous kinds. He did some research, and found that those who bore the mark were the Soldiers of Satan, and there were only a small number of them walking the earth--and the rest were in hell, where they belonged. I don't remember who I was before I came to Lawrence, but I figure that I had to have been pretty bad, even in hell. Whoever I worked for before must've not liked me very much--or I'd done something really, really bad--because before I was brought onto earth in human form, I'd been punished.
I'd been given a conscious. A soul.
I don't know how he knew it, but he did. He took a chance on me, and decided to raise me the right way, and teach me to kill my own kind. He was constantly doing research on Soldiers of Satan, and found that they were very specific creatures. They were all sons and daughters of Alastair, who was famous for being the devil's right hand. He did the dirty work--killed the angels, punished the humans, and created the most hellish creatures to serve him. He'd given us all specific names based on our powers and our personalities. Based off what he'd read, Bobby concluded that my original name was Carreau, which meant mercilessness. And after my first episode... that description fit me pretty well. Bobby didn't tell me about my 'other half' until after the incident, and he only did then because he really had no choice. After what I'd done... I deserved one hell of an explanation.
It wasn't a nice night out. It was humid, and the moisture in the air blanketed my skin like a heavy coat. I hated Mankato weather. My dad had chosen a small town to move to after my mom's death. She'd been murdered in Lawrence, and the case hadn't been solved--nor had the killer been found. It made him uneasy all the time, looking at people he'd known his whole life on the streets and suspecting them of murdering his wife. He needed a change, different faces, different town, different life. But he couldn't have picked a worse one. At this point, I was twelve. I was living my life normally--completely unaware of the dormant nightmare living inside of me. I went to Mankato Junior High, and I was in the seventh grade. I had a lot of friends, and never had troubles with boys flocking to me. My hair was a rich brown, and my eyes were hazel. I didn't try--but I still recieved a lot attention from the opposite sex. I enjoyed my life for the most part, besides the fact that there were only two things in Mankato to do. Go to the movies, or go to the bowling alley. And we were all walking distance from everything, so no one ever got cars on their sixteenth birthdays. It was boring, but it was home.
That night I'd gone bowling with a bunch of eighth graders, and I felt a little bit cooler than I had the previous night. I'd gotten a smile and a hug from the eighth grade boy--Jacob--that I had a crush on, and I'd gotten a triple strike on one of my games. It had been a good night. Despite the weather, I was happy. I was walking home alone--my friends houses had already been passed, and my house was the last one the block. Bobby was in Lawrence visiting John, and I was to lock the door and go to bed promptly at eleven. I'd stayed the night alone before--and I hated it, but I never complained. I knew that John and my dad were close, and I didn't want to stop any kind of social interaction that happened with my dad. He didn't get very much of it lately. My house was in eyesight--and I felt a surge of relief flow through me--because my feet were starting to hurt and I couldn't wait to take a shower and get the humidity off of my skin. The silence was almost as dense as the air, enough so that I could hear footsteps trailing behind me in the distance. My heart tightened and began to thump in my chest. I was afraid, mainly because I wasn't prepared to deal with an attacker. I didn't have pepperspray, or brass knuckles... or anything that would protect me. Because things like that didn't happen in Mankato.
But before I knew it, I had two large hands wrapped around my throat. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him whispering in my ear, telling me that if I screamed, he'd kill me. But for some reason, I couldn't feel my heart pounding anymore. It was what some would describe as an adrenaline rush, but in my case, an adrenaline rush was the least of my worries. I could feel myself losing life, and needing air. As my heart was about to fail, something inside of me snapped. My eyes were flooded with blackness, the hazel completely gone. I wasn't Ryan anymore. I was Carreau, and whoever it was that was trying to kill me was in for one hell of an experience. I broke both of his wrists, causing him to scream out in agony, and then turned to face him. His facial expression was full of terror--because he could see in my eyes that I wanted nothing more than to rip him to shreds. My eyes shut slowly, and I could feel the power surging throughout my veins. And that's the last thing I remember.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my father screaming my name. He was hysterical, and for good reason. He was shaking me violently, trying to wake me up and get some kind of an explanation about what had gone down while he was gone. I stuttered, trying to gather my thoughts. I told him what I remembered, and I could see the guilt ridden look in his eye as I explained.
"What is it, dad?" I asked. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.
The whole town was dead. Mankato had a population of 976, and I killed them all. I didn't do it purposefully--but the surge that I sent out to kill my attacker had killed the town as well. There was nothing left but ash, hundreds of piles throughout all the houses and all the different places around town. Bobby sat me down, and explained to me about where I had really came from, who my real parents were, and what I truly was. He told me that he didn't know exactly what all I was capable of--but that I needed to do my best to control my anger. I was scared out of my mind.
After 'the accident', my dad and I got out of town in a hurry. We drove for hours in silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, but one that was full of unanswered questions about what I was going to become. Neither of us had any idea. Neither of us really even wanted to know. We were on our way to Lawrence, to take shelter in the only other home my father had ever known. With the Winchesters. They had got word about Mankato and offered a place to stay while we figured things out. I'd known them for about three years, but didn't remember much about them. I knew that they had a son, Dean, and that John's wife was pregnant--but we'd left before I got to see the new baby. Part of me was glad that we did, considering the terrible thing that happened to Mary. Bobby'd never really gone into detail about her death, but I knew that since then, the Winchesters' had never really stayed put. The newborn was named Sam, and they'd all become permanent road trippers. But after hearing about Mankato, they'd decided to take a road trip home and offer some support to an old friend.
"Dad... isn't there anywhere else we can go? I really don't feel like answering any questions..." I asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel where the Winchesters were staying.
"They're not gonna ask you questions, Ryan. You're gonna stay in your room and they're gonna stay in their room... these are good people. They're good friends," he replied, his voice uneasy. I knew that he was somewhat ashamed of what I'd done.