Author's Note: This is my first fanfic ever so please go easy on me. Thanks.
I do NOT own Supernatural! I do own my two OCs, but not Supernatural. Thanks a bajillion! The hunt in this chapter is from episode 19 from season 1.
"Come on, Kodi," my best friend, McKenna 'Kenna' Edmund, coaxed me to get into our dark red '78 Mustang. "Don't you wanna go kick some supernatural ass?"
"I guess." I sighed before hopping into the passenger seat and shooting a glance at my strawberry blonde companion.
Kenna and I had been attached at the hip ever since I met her in kindergarten and she convinced her father that I was being abused. The Edmunds had been my family ever since that fateful day when I was five. Kenna was extremely tall (at 5'11') with strawberry blonde curls, a willowy figure, blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose, and a knack for always looking for the best in people. Ha, Kenna and I were polar opposites but, somehow, we became the best of friends. I was short (5'2'') with chocolate brown curls, dark gray eyes, and a sarcastic sense of humor.
"I guess I'm just a bit torn up after the last hunt." I admitted, thinking about the man that lost both his wife and only daughter to a demon. "I feel so bad for the guy. Was kinda gory too."
Kenna sympathetically patted my knee before fingering the iPod jack on the stereo, fumbling with the iPod's power button. I snorted and smacked her hand away.
"Paramore, please." Kenna requested. "Or whatever you feel like there, Kodi."
I smirked before turning on Bruno Mars' UpTown Funk for no reason other than the song was fun to sing along too.
Kenna laughed before we both started singing along.
"Uptown funk you up! Uptown funk you up!" we both sang as loudly as we could, laughing and generally enjoying the happy atmosphere.
We soon pulled into a motel, Blue Sky Motel, and rented a room with two queen beds. Luckily, it was a pay by the hour type deal. Kenna paid for our rooms, while I stood around and observed the people in the lobby. There was a pair of young men, around mine and Kenna's age, one around 6', the other just a bit shorter. The tall one wore a denim jacket and had shaggy dark brown hair. He seemed kinda shy. The shorter one wore a leather jacket and had spiked light brown hair. He spun a keychain around his finger impatiently as he waited. When Spiky noticed me watching him, he got kinda pale and turned to Shaggy.
"C'mon, Kodi," Kenna interrupted. "We're in room 102."
We lugged our duffels and bags and dropped them on the beds after Kenna unlocked the door. I flipped open my computer and set to work digging up another hunt while Kenna hopped in the shower.
I scrolled through what seemed like an endless amount of newspaper clippings online until I heard someone talking through the ridiculously thin motel walls.
"Sammy! We've gotta get to that thing before those girls get to it!" a male voice yelled.
"I don't know why you insist on hating those girls, Dean! You don't even know them! They haven't even done anything to you!" 'Sammy' yelled at 'Dean.'
I was, apparently, very intrigued by this argument because I didn't even noticed Kenna stepping out of the bathroom, towel-drying her long strawberry blonde locks with a towel wrapped around her. Water dripped on the floor and I mentally added drying off the carpet to the things we had to do before we left this place.
"Sounds like they're brothers, you know? Brothers that don't get along very well, granted, but brothers none the less." Kenna observed, digging through her duffel bag for clothes. "Ah-ha!"
Kenna, dressed in a pair of short pajama shorts, a Paramore T-shirt, and her leather jacket because she always wears that thing, sat on the bed beside me and looked over the newspaper clippings I had up on the screen.
"Your turn in the shower; I'll take over the whole looking for a hunt thing. Sounds like those boys are either talking about us or some other girls, but I didn't see any other girls check in, did you?" Kenna asked as I ruffled through my duffel, looking for pajamas.
"I didn't, but maybe they're talking about some other girls. Not my problem." I shrugged before heading into the shower. "You keep looking out for a hunt, alright? Look for something other than a simple Salt-'n'-Burn, alright?"
"Alright." Kenna grunted before returned to looking at the clippings on my computer.
"And be gentle with my baby!" I yelled at her as I closed the bathroom door with a smirk.
"Oh, shut it, Miakoda Jane Holmes!" Kenna yelled back.
"McKenna Joanne Edmund!" I shouted back before grinning at Kenna's mumbled 'you win.' "What was that, dearest surrogate sister of mine?"
"Shut it, Holmes, and just take your flippin' shower." Kenna grouched. I heard the keys clicking and clacking as Kenna typed something in. I nodded, satisfied with my ticking Kenna off tonight.
I turned the water on and turned it on as hot as it would go. Personally, I liked the scorching hot water because it felt like the water was scorching away the scars that crisscrossed my skin everywhere. It felt like it was scorching away what had happened to me. I liked it.
I washed my short, curly hair and thought about dying it some bright color. Why not? A hunter's motto was 'You Only Live Once,' because they had a chance of dying nearly every five seconds. Why not? Kenna already had dyed her hair bright purple while we were in Manhattan and attempted to convince me to dye my hair bright red and get a tattoo.
I stepped out of the shower and dried off, scowling at the completely, not even remotely soft motel towel. I dressed in red and white, fleece, music note pajama pants and a yellow T-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, mumbling about crappy motel towels under my breath.
"You find anything?" I asked, sitting beside Kenna.
"Just a bunch a Salt-'n'-Burns." Kenna sighed, puffing out her cheeks. "Though, there was this one clipping about an old family portrait that's being sold tomorrow in Manchester, Connecticut. The couple who had it before, Joseph and Mary Smith, just died a week ago. The whole part about this that stood out to me about this painting was the fact that the house was locked from the inside and it looked like they were trying to celebrate their marriage; the wife was killed with a sharp object —maybe a dagger?— in bed and the husband was killed by a slit throat and slit throats in the corner of the bedroom. Seemed like something killed 'em, but the police say it's suicide."
"Let's go check out the crime scene and pray to God nobody interrupts." I said firmly.
"Alright. In that case, we have to drive from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Manchester, Connecticut in the morning. So, go to sleep, you dork." Kenna said, a cheeky smile on her face.
"Assbutt." I replied, grinning, before hopping into one of the two queen beds. I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to sleep very well, if at all.
I woke up, surprisingly, without screaming out in terror. I turned on my right side to look at the clock that was sitting, somewhat innocently, on the nightstand in the middle of the two queen beds. I sighed, breathing in the scent of soap and flowers.
The clock blared out the message that it was only 6:47 in the morning in bright red, blocked letters.
I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, willing myself to back to sleep. I looked around the room, searching for anything that might unnerve me. Nothing.
Just Kenna, snoring lightly in her sleep, her face smashed into a pillow, drool on the pillow. Though, something was bugging me. I sighed again before I heard it: the sound of someone talking softly.
I sat up abruptly, my head searching for the pocketknife underneath my pillow, my eyes searching in the light of the just-there sun for an enemy that was threatening me and my sister.
"Kodi?" Kenna asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. "Wha's wrong?"
"Someone's talking. Scared me." I said as a brief explanation before swinging my legs out from underneath the covers and tucking my pocketknife into the waistband of my pajama pants.
Kenna soon followed me, drawing her gun out from underneath her pillow, her eyes alert: no trace of the sleepiness that had overcome her just moments ago.
We searched the room, finding no one, nothing. No one —or thing— was looking to hurt me or my sister. At least, not right now.
I kept hearing someone talking though and I knew I wasn't going crazy. I looked at a crack in the plaster of the motel wall and realized that the people talking were most likely the Dean and Sammy from the room over.
The boys who sounded like they were fighting against two feminine rivals.
"Ken, it's those boys from before. Dean and Sammy. They're the ones moving and talking." I told Kenna, who relaxed once I told her the thing that startled us was simply people moving in the next room over.
"C'mon. Might as well get an early start on our day, huh?" I suggested before collecting an outfit and moving to get dressed. Kenna started packing the things we had taken from our bags and making the beds.
An hour after waking up, Kenna and I stepped outside the motel, having returned our room key to the elderly lady who ran the motel. The air spun around, blowing my unzipped jacket around, and whipping my short, curly hair around, tangling it even more.
Kenna was double-checking our hunting supplies, her bottom half sticking out of the enlarged trunk. Our Mustang (we call him 'Maverick' for no reason other than we like it) had the keys in the engine, ready for me to hop in the driver's seat and start driving.
A few parking spots away was a black '67 Chevy Impala, along with a pair of guys, around mine and Kenna's age. One had spiked light brown hair, wore a leather jacket and was around 5'11'' or so. The other had shaggy dark brown hair, wore a denim jacket, and was around 6' or so.
"Kenna, look." I covered the ground between me and Kenna in four long strides (sue my damnably short legs), tapped her shoulder, and pointed out the two boys, Spiky pulling a duffel out of the truck of the Impala.
Shaggy turned and saw us, confusion sparkling in his eyes before walking towards us with long, purposeful strides. Spiky saw his brother moving towards us and jogged slightly to catch up.
Damn it, I thought as he started walking. I was trying to stay out of trouble today. Looks like it ain't gonna happen.