A/N: This is my Second Story, it will be in chapters, I made it T for later chapters just in case. R/R would be awesome, if there is some misspellings, don't be scared to tell me so. I might go in and add more later like i always do but hey maybe not. So enjoy this chaptered story. Onward!
DISCLAIMER:: I OWN NOTHING. *sadface*
I don't remember when it started, or exactly how, I just know that for as long as I've known my uncle, we've hunted. We fought the darkness that lies behind those unexplained closed doors. We fought the things that our mothers told us not to be scared of and told us that what was under our beds or in our closets, were not real. But Of course we didn't start hunting right off the bat. First my sister, mother, father and I traveled, a lot. At first I didn't understand why we left our home, why they made us leave our friends, to leave behind the home we ever known. Told us to use the fake names they had given us and if anyone asked, we were just here visiting a sick family member, and tell them no more than that. But mostly I was just upset. But then I remember they told us it was temporary, and to think of it as a prolonged vacation, which gave me hope of soon returning hope. Which led to the first couple of months of our prolong vacation, where everywhere we went, we stopped at an amusement park, or watched movies every night. Laughed and told jokes. For once we were happy with the traveling and moving around.
But then, that all stopped when our uncle didn't come back one night. Instead, our father came slamming through the motel room door with blood on his jacket. Pain and sadness and tears in his eyes. When i looked at my mother she mirrored my father's expression. It was obvious my father had just lost his brother, and I knew it, along with my mother. My sister on the other hand didn't. All she saw was that daddy was crying and mommy who started to sob quietly into daddy's shoulder when she went to hug him to comfort him, but instead broke-down herself. I saw her look at me with pleading, confused eyes. She needed someone to comfort her, I was not that someone. I did nothing, but sat there waiting patiently for all our worlds to turn upside down. No tears came to flow down my young innocent face; no panic came to make my small body shake in fear. The only thing that came was death and grief.
I remember when cold hard metal first touched my smooth warm skin for the first time. It was heavy and awkward to hold in my small hands, and quiet scary. "Don't be scared." my father told me as he stood behind me. He held my arms up to show me how to hold the heavy metal correctly. "When you see the target, pull the trigger." we used bottles that day, in a middle of nowhere Deseret. When I thought I saw the target, I aimed, and pulled the trigger. As soon as the gun fired, I flew backward, hitting against my father's chest. My eyes were still closed when I heard my father chuckle. "That's my girl." I've seen what these machines can do to a person in movies. But my 11 year old mind could only imagine what would have happened if I pulled that trigger to shoot something besides a bottle. Little did I know that soon after I got to hold the gun, I would find out in a horrible situation, what that gun could actually do.
The smell is what I mostly remember; the deep strong odor of it still lingers in the back of my throat. I soon learned that the smell was sulphur. A nasty trail of yellow that you never want to see or come across if you're in this line of " work ". I remember waking up to it, that it was so strong. I needed something to drink, to wash the taste away, but it's never gone away. Getting up I hear someone as if they are struggling for a breathe, I then hear rustling of objects but at this point I'm half asleep and just shrug it away, thinking it's just a dream. Telling myself it's not real. But when walked into the bathroom and turned the light on, that thought along with the blood from my body, drained away.
The blood, there was so much blood on the Walls. My eyes went to every corner of that bathroom, every crevice, every dirty tile. And then my father lying in a pool of his own thick layer of blood. His eyes bloodshot from the loss of oxygen. His clothes ripped literally to shreds, exposing his chest and thighs, which were also ripped to shreds. I couldn't move, coolant scream, all I could do was stare at my fathers disembodied corpse. Then my eyes caught movement in one of the blood covered corners of the bathroom. A woman, with pitch black glassy eyes. Her eyes locked eyes with mine, and she smiled a crocked evil smile. The next thing I knew she rushed toward me, hands reached out to grab me. I retreated back into my mother's arms, which grabbed me backwards. "Grab the gun!" she yelled at me. I did as told and grabbed the gun my father kept in one of the drawers. As I looked back the woman couldn't leave the bathroom. Devils Trap it what I was told later on. My mother was looking for the book my father kept and took with him on missions he told me and my sister. The woman still looking at me with that smile let out a blood thirty scream. I reached up and dropped the gun to cover my ears. I didn't realize it but I was screaming myself. I reached for the gun on the floor and held it up to my target. I aimed, and pulled the trigger. When j flew backwards as expected, I hit my head on the corner of a nightstand. I saw my mother chant something from the mission book and another scream came from the woman, then silence.
When my mother went into the bathroom, i swear she would scream. But when I got up from the floor, blood dripping from the back of my head i looked at her and she was screaming. Later on they told me I was in shock that's why I couldn't hear anything. They told me I was traumatized by what I saw, that's why I couldn't move. But I wasn't, I wasn't even surprised. I knew this would happen. It was only a matter of time before it did. After a minuet of my mother shaking me, I looked at her, finally hearing her shaky frantic voice. She told me to grab my sister and get in the truck and stay there. Before i grabbed Becca i looked back to my mother lying on the floor with my father in her arms crying. I knew then that i had to be strong for my mother and my sister. I grabbed Becca, climbed into our truck and sat there. Once again waiting.
After about an hour our mother packed the truck up with the rest of our stuff and we left. We left our father on the floor of a dirty motel room bathroom, dead. For 2 years my mother cried every night. All i could do was say its okay, we will get through this. But i know each time those words cane out of my mouth, i couldn't even convince myself, none the less my single parent mother. She told me it was okay to cry, but I knew if i did I'd lose control over myself, I'd become weak for the family that needed me strong. I didn't want revenge, I didn't want security, knowing that the demon was dead, I just wanted the rest of my family that I had left to stay safe. That's why I continued hunting. The day my father died, I never cried, never teared up, until this day, until the day I met Sam Winchester.