"You know, you can't just escape this life. No one ever really does."
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
You're pulled out of your slumber by the obnoxious alarm clock sitting on your bed side table. Without moving your body, which was so peacefully curled up near the edge of the mattress, you reach your arm over to find the snooze button without success. After about 10 seconds of trying, you end up pushing the clock off the table, and it hits the floor with an unexpectedly loud crash. If you weren't completely awake before, you were now. But hey, at least the hellish beeping stopped. You opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling before sitting up and dragging yourself out of bed and into the bathroom.
You hadn't had dreams about your former hunting life in over 2 years. Why did they have to come back? Why now? You were just finishing up your last semester of college, and had found a summer job working in a small café that you would sometimes go to you to when you were younger. Maybe thinking about the memories you had there is what started up the dreams again.
"Don't do this to yourself, (Y/N). You left that life. You're not going back..." You thought as you shuddered at the horrid sight in the mirror. "Only one more final, and then you're done with college! You've got a whole life ahead of you," you half-heartedly tried to motivate yourself to get ready for the day. You took a quick shower, threw your hair up in a messy bun, and picked out a plain white t-shirt and some jeans for the day. It's not like you were trying to impress anyone. You were tired from studying for your last exam late into the night, and just couldn't wait to be done with school.
As you walked to campus, your back pocket started vibrating and playing 'Thunderstruck' by ACDC. You pulled out your phone and did a few unnoticeable head-bangs before looking at the caller id. The number was blocked, so you didn't answer. Instead, you turned it off and slid it back in your pocket as you walked into the testing center and took your seat, waiting for your professor to hand out the test, and began to think about your dream...
"You know, you can't just escape this life. No one ever really does." Those were the words of Dean Winchester, an old friend who you had known with for ages, but hadn't seen in years. Your families had known each other since before either of you were old enough to go on a hunt, and your parents actually trusted one another (which was a rare occurrence in the hunter community). Often times, you were both left behind in a motel room or at Bobby Singer's house with your little siblings. Once the case was closed, your mom and dad would collect you and your little brother, Conor, and John Winchester would take Dean and his little brother, Sam, and go their separate ways. But you knew you would see the boys again when their dad decided to not be stubborn, and call your parents when he needed help.
You snapped out of your slightly comatose state, and worked on your final when it was placed in front of you. Handing the finished test to your professor and walking out the doors of that terrible testing center for the last time was extremely satisfying. You hated school, but knew you needed to go to college to be able to get a job and survive in the real world. When you made it back to your apartment and turned your phone back on, you had 8 missed calls, all from the same blocked number as earlier. "If it's important, they would have left a message." You said, tossing your phone onto the couch as you went into the kitchen to make lunch.
"(Y/N) come on! We have to get out of here! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! Let's go!" Dean yelled, pulling you out towards the Impala. "No! No! I can't leave them!" You resisted, running back towards your house. "They're gone, (Y/N)! We have to go! NOW!"
You gasped as you woke up. You had passed out on the couch after a long afternoon of eating and watching 'The Office'. "Crap. Another dream." They were getting more vivid, and tapping into the deeper, darker memories you never wanted to touch again. You glanced over at the clock on the kitchen stove. It read 4:21. You had no plans for the rest of the day, and decided to take a walk, hoping it would clear your mind.
It didn't. In fact, it did the complete opposite when you stumbled upon a crime scene four blocks west of your apartment building. A mom and pop convenience store had been robbed the night before. In your short life, you had seen way too many crime scenes, and knew you would just end up thinking about old cases you worked if you lingered any longer, so you turned around and went home, only to find your door slightly ajar. "These idiots don't know who, they're dealing with," you mumbled, assuming it was just an amateur robber or two. Reaching for the knife in your pocket, you slowly padded into your home. "Well hey there, (Y/N)." A familiar voice sounded from your left. You knew exactly who it was. "What are you doing here, Dean?" "Wow. Nice to see you too, sweetheart." He scoffed at your blunt greeting. "We wouldn't have had to break in if you would just answer one of our calls you know." "It's not that I'm not happy to see you here Dean, but when you're here, it usually means something bad." You explained, turning to face him. "Usually," he repeated, "but not always." "So you're just here to visit me? I have a hard time believing that since I haven't even heard from you or Sam in the past, what is it now, 5 years? Speaking of Sam, where is he?" You asked, looking around. "Right here!" He said, walking out of the kitchen, beer in hand. "Did you miss me?" The taller Winchester questioned as he came and gave you a hug. "Sam, oh my gosh. You're HUGE!" You marveled, looking up at the man who was now probably a foot taller than you. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Hope you don't mind." he said lifting the beer up slightly. "No, not at all. Help yourself." "What, I don't get a hug?" Dean asked as he looked at you with his green puppydog eyes and arms wide open. You walked over to him and gave him a squeeze, inhaling the whisky and gun powder fumes on his leather jacket. Truth is, you missed the boys. You were so close when you were younger, and it was hard not seeing them as often as you used to. But you were right earlier. It was more than likely they were here because something was wrong. "So, uh, not to be rude or anything, but really, why are you guys here?" Sam and Dean exchanged looks that told you there really was something up. "Come on, spill!" Sam spoke up first. "Well, we really hate to do this to you, (Y/N). We know you left the life, but we're here for your own saftey." He looked at you with concern in his eyes. "We, uh, well..." "It's back, (Y/N)." Dean finished for him, putting a hand on your shoulder and staring into your (Y/E/C) eyes. "And we think it's coming for you." "That's not possible..." you stammered. "No... No we killed it. How is it back?" Your voice began to raise, and then all the memories flooded in.
"No! No! I can't leave them!" You resisted, running back towards your house. "They're gone, (Y/N)! We have to go! NOW!" Dean picked you up and ran to the car, putting you, in the passenger seat before climbing in himself and driving off. "They're dead..." The words stung coming out of your mouth. "They're all dead." You couldn't believe this. You just wanted to wake up, like you were in a bad dream, but you knew that wasn't going to happen. Dean drove for what seemed like hours, and you just sat there in silence, looking out the window at the world blurring by, and trying to fight back the tears. You had been out that night with Dean while he was in town, just catching up. When he took you home, you walked in and saw your mom, dad, and brother all lying dead on the floor, pools of blood painting the formerly white carpet a heart breaking red. You didn't know what to do. You were in shock. Dean walked in behind you, and instantly pulled you away from the awful sight. A demon named Mal had done this to your family. Your mom and dad had been tracking it and another demon that had been working together. They had killed the other demon, but Mal had escaped before they could rid the world of him, too. He came back for revenge.
"Why would it be after me?" You demanded. "Hasn't it done enough to me already?" "(Y/N) it's a demon. It doesn't care that it already killed your family, all It knows is that the job isn't done. You're not dead yet, and that's what matters." Sam explained. "But you know what? We're gonna gank that evil scum bag before it can lay a finger on you." Dean protectively assured. "How is it back? We exorcized it right before I stopped hunting." "That's what we're trying to figure out, and until we know it's back in hell and won't crawl out again, we're staying close to you." Sam said with care laced in his voice. "So where can we set up camp?" Dean asked, trying to lighten the mood.
