The Voice Inside My Head

Summary:

My name is Aria Moore.

And I'm Dean Winchester.

I'm a normal, twenty-six year old woman who runs the local tattoo parlor in my town.

I'm not normal. In fact, I hunt things most people have nightmares of, and have done it my entire life.

Okay, so I used to be normal.

At least one of us is.

Until this damn voice showed up.

Hey! I didn't ask for this.

Now, I have to find a way to get rid of it.

It? Hey, I'm a real guy.

Says the voice in my head. Seriously, could this day get any worse?

It's actually a garuntee that it's about to get worse.

Right. The demons and shit.

That...I'm actually comfortable with.

Speak for yourself.

I just did.

-/-

Can Aria get Dean Winchester's voice out of her head? Why is he even there to begin with? What craziness will occur when a normal woman ends up with a man in her head, who happens to fight occult creatures? Can they stop arguing for one moment?

Author's Note: Alright...so this is a bit of a crack fic. No idea. Idea just popped in my head and the rabid plot bunnies decided to take off with it. I do know that this is canon up to season 5 and a complete AU after Swan Song. This is meant to be mostly amusing, all kinds of crazy and of course filled with the occasional angst and problematic demons. If you like it, review. If you don't like it, still review and let me know. Seriously, not sure how this is going to go, and if I get enough reviews/hits, I will continue, but I'm far too invested in my Walkers, Demons, Angels Oh My story.

Chapter One
Normal Left The Building

Pulling into the parking lot of Molly's, I kill the engine to my all-black Ducati, my foot sliding the kickstand out. Climbing off, I slip the helmet off, running a hand through the teal-streaked black fringe brushing over my eyes. Shoving my keys and MP3 player back into the pocket of my leather riding jacket, my boot-clad feet clump with each step I take across the parking lot. Grinning widely at the familiar bouncer standing in front of the door checking ID's, I ignore the line of people.

"Damn girl! Where the hell have you been?" Liam greets, his broad, intimidating stature shattering at the large grin on his face.

Slapping my the tips of my fingers against his open palm, I shrug a lazy shoulder, "Meh. I've been busy. Fuckin' tourists always wanting a tattoo in memory of the vacation they're never gonna remember."

Liam lets out a bark of laughter, "How many did ya' do this week?"

"Forty-seven tourists, four regulars and I have two three-session pieces to have to sketch out for this next week," I sigh, running my fingers through my bangs once again, "Are the others in?"

"Yeah. They should be at your usual table."

Clapping Liam on the shoulder, I step inside the homely Irish-inspired pub. Molly's is one of the best places to go to relax. Unlike most bars or clubs in the tourist trap I call my hometown, Molly's is warm, inviting and the music is never unbearably loud. Hearing 'The Dirty Glass' by Dropkick Murphys, I weave around small round tables, nodding and waving at some familiar faces as I make my way to the bar.

"Aria! How's it goin'?" Molly, the thirty-five year old owner and bartender of the pub, greets with a warm, bright smile.

"It will be better when you slide me my usual," I retort cheekily, earning a huff of laughter from the older woman.

Quickly downing the shot of Jameson as she turns to mix my Jack the Ripper, I offer her a broad grin as I slide the empty shot glass over to her and take the red drink from her. Telling her to put it on my tab, I weave around tables as I make my way toward the three tables shoved together. Round of greetings sound as I plop down next to my ginger-haired, green-eyed sister, Katrina. It's hard for most to believe we are related by blood; my sister standing an entire four inches taller than my self and a slender body that most models would kill for.

"Hiya, Kat," I greet before taking a sip of my drink.

"Hello, Aria," Katrina responds with a warm grin. "I was starting to wonder if I would have had to get the guys to drag you out of your apartment."

I snort, raising my chin as I give the two guys in question, Ryan and Jake, a pointed look, "They'd have to get through the front door first."

"I would have given them the spare key."

"You would," I retort mockingly, earning a round of laughs, most likely at my expense. "So, how has your week been?"

Stories soon take shape. Ryan and Jake run a nearby garage, Ryan working mechanics while Jake runs the detailing. Katrina, my smart-as-hell sister, works as a psychiatrist; and I'm not talking about the type to shove pills down the patients' mouths. She's always been an advocate about getting down to the bottom of people's problems instead of putting them in a drug-induced coma. It's one reason I've always carried a high respect for my sister.

Standing up after three rounds and an hour later, announcing my need for the bathroom, I walk off toward the back area of the pub. Finishing up my business, I weave around a pair of patrons who seem to be quite the advocates for PDA. A grunt and a hiss leaves my lips as I slam into another body, a sharp tingle running up my arm. The sound of shattering glass snaps me out the dazed moment as a round of curses meet my ears and I glance up into the round face of a woman. Her brown eyes seem far too coy and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Oh...are you alright?"

Shaking my head, I offer the concerned woman a weak smile, "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding," she points out.

Glancing down at my hand, my brow crinkles as I stare at the small cut on the back of my hand, "Huh? Well, I'm accident prone, so it's no problem. Just...watch where you're going. Not everyone is as nice as me."

Walking around the woman, I fight back the shiver as I catch a whispered, "You don't say?"

Pausing by the table, I offer everyone a small grin, "Hey. I'm gonna head out. I have an early morning."

Ignoring the groans of dismay, I drop a kiss on my sister's cheek and gather my jacket. Paying off my tab, I say my round of goodnights and slip out of the bar. Inhaling deeply, I clap Liam on the shoulder, telling him I'd see him next weekend, before heading to my bike. Sliding the helmet over my head, I double check my awareness and noting that I am not impared in anyway, I straddle the bike and slam my foot down on the kickstart. Leaning forward, I speed down the streets, wanting nothing more than to be home and in my bed. Unfortunately, my mind keeps flashing back to the strange woman. I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character, I know when people are good and when people are bad, and that woman just rubbed me the wrong way. Granted, it isn't my place to judge people on what they do with their lives, I just can't seem to shake the odd feeling that something is-

My thoughts cut off as I catch a glimpse of bright headlights from my left. Cursing the stupid ass running a red light, I force the bike to go faster, instinctively turning the bike in the opposite direction. Suddenly becoming aware of the tail-lights directly in front of me, my fingers squeeze the break, stopping the bike inches from the rear bumper. Unfortunately, stopping the bike short of a crash does nothing to stop my body from moving fifty-five miles per hour. Closing my eyes, I groan as shattered glass fills my ears for the second time tonight. Shouts of worry and surprise fills the air and my thoughts grow sluggish as my body is hoisted off the back of the car. Feeling myself being laid out on the asphalt, my hand shakes as I grasp the hand threatening to tug off my helmet.

"N-no," I gasp out, feeling my words start to slur as my vision begins to waver, "Helmet stays on. Case o'head injury."

Words of encouragement for me to stay awake slowly fades and I welcome the darkness clouding my vision.

My heart races, my throat tightening as I fight back the screams begging for release. The pain is endless, searing and hot. So fucking hot. Reflexive tears burn along the edges of my eyes as I fight the urge to give in, my body broken and my mind weary. I just want to go home. I don't want this anymore.

But I can't give in. I can't sink to their level. I won't become one of them.

Blinking back the tears, I stare into the milk-white eyes glowing impossibly bright. White is supposed to be a 'pure' color, but I feel nothing but fear, disgust and hate. Hearing the strange voice coo an offering, I lick my chapped lips and crack a cocky grin.

"You can go fuck yourself," I grunt out, spitting the blood from my mouth and watching with mild pleasure as it hits this person's cheek.

A jagged blade pierces my gut and as my intestines spill from my body I can't keep back the scream of agony.

"Aria!"

I'm still screaming. Clamping my lips shut, I swallow thickly and cringe at the sandpaper feeling along the edges of my throat. Shuddering at the nightmare, I give my sister a thankful look as she hands me a cup of water. Wincing as the ice-cold water runs down my torn throat, I shudder again.

"What happened?" I croak out.

"You were in an accident. A witness said you swerved to miss someone running a red light and ended up going headfirst through the back window of another car. Doctor said you were lucky you were smart enough to leave you helmet on after the initial accident."

Thank God my sister is a doctor. I'm not sure I can handle some kind of emotional display.

Yeah, no kidding.

Blinking, I glance up at my sister and quickly look around the room. Weird. I thought I heard something.

Where the hell am I?

I place a hand to my head. What the hell? I know people suffer problems after severe head trauma, but hearing voices?

You think you have it bad? I'd like to know how I got stuck in the head of some random woman.

Jesus Christ. This isn't happening.

You and me both, sister.

Shut up.

Yeah? What are you gonna do? Punch yourself?

A drillbit to the temple sounds more pleasant.

Damn. And I thought I need help.

Shut up!

Hey. I don't like this either.

Get out of my head.

I tried. Believe me, I've tried.

"Aria?"

Just stop. Leave me alone.

Are you not listening? I don't want to be in your head any more than you want me here.

"Aria?"

This can't be happening. This can't be happening.

I really wish I could tell you different.

"Shut up!"

"Aria!"

Blinking at the hands cupping my cheeks, I swallow thickly, my fingers growing lax on my hair. Staring into the worried green eyes of my sister, I shake my head. No. I'm not crazy. I mean, I'm weird, but not crazy.

Aren't we all crazy?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head again, "K-Kat...something's wrong with me."

There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfectly normal.

That doesn't explain the voice in my head.

Look. How about this? I'll stay quiet, let you calm down, and when we don't have an audience, I'll try to explain this...if I can.

Explain?

Trust me.

Says the voice in my head.

I'm not just a voice. I happen to be a real person. I...just don't know exactly what happened.

Fine. I inhale deeply, trying to calm down the tightened nerves along my body. Who are you anyway? If you're not a voice in my head.

My name's Dean Winchester. And you?

Aria Moore.

Well, I wish we could've met on better terms.

"Aria? What's wrong?"

Shaking my head, I glance up at Katrina and give her a weakened smile, "I'm fine. H-how much longer do I have to stay?"

"They'll probably want to keep you over night for observation."

Just great. I fucking hate hospitals.

Now that is something we have in common.

Inhaling deeply, I force myself to lay back. Maybe this won't be so bad. Hopefully this 'Dean Winchester' isn't going to screw up my life.

Hey! I'll have you know I'm friggin' awesome.

I swallow back the reflexive giggle. Yeah. Maybe it won't be so bad after all. Hearing the door open, I fight back the urge to shift in discomfort at the sight of the pretty nurse coming in to check my vitals.

Well, hellloooo Nurse.

Alright. I lied. This is going to suck.