Hello everyone! I'm a new member on FFnet, but Im not a new writer :) I've been writing for a while now, but its mostly shit. There's this new story that I just started, and its sort of Supernatural, but it also has my own original characters. I hope it's okay, and reviews are very welcome!

Here you go!

Genesis - I

If she would have been given a choice to be somewhere else at this moment, she would have jumped that chance. Shagged it even. But unfortunately for Genevieve Anne-Smith Klein, there was no such option. Hadn't ever been. Well, not for a very long time anyway.

So sighing that usual sigh, a sound she-and her coworkers-were now familiar with; Genevieve, aptly pet named "Vivi" by her vibrant roommate, walked out of the tiny kitchen, and into the main area.

Annie's Corner Café was…well, exactly what the name stated. A soft little place in the more quieter corners of a raucous city known as Manhattan. It provided Vivi with the tranquil feeling she sometimes so desperately needed, and also made her feel closer to Annie; her late mother.

She smiled softly, that little movement of her lips doing wonders to a fatigued face. Unusual, yet stunning violet eyes glinted in the morning sun, and the gentle slope of her cheekbones lifted in unrestrained glee. Unrestrained, just Genevieve herself.

In front of her, the beautiful and busy New Yorkers made their way furiously across the sidewalks; the womens stilettoes tapping sharply against the concrete, while the mens jackets flapped around them. All of them walked with an unconcerned air, and Vivi suddenly realized why the world called New Yorkers "insufferably rude" people.

Their ordinary faces, done up to show something extraordinary-something superficial- remained almost stoic to the place surrounding them. None cared about the people they bumped into, none cared for the agony behind those stupendously done masks. But then the favor was returned almost emphatically. Nobody bothered to know about the pains of others, and no one wanted to express their fears. Not really.

The gentle jingle of a wind chime secured at the top of the wood door alerted her to a presence. Not a customer, her mind rationalized even before she turned around. It was too early. The Café didn't open for another hour. Taking in a deep breath, her hand tightened into a fist as she faced the intruder with a balanced turn, heavily in contrast with her usually clumsy feet.

A man. An old man. Old enough to be her father-if she had one-stood in the doorway; his narrow but somehow powerful frame blocking the feeble sunlight making its way through the colored glass. Upon a surprisingly regal face sat a mysterious smile. A smile belonging not to an enemy, but to a friend. After living this long, and with her circumstances, Genevieve had honed her instincts to tell the truth.

So her posture relaxed, and the fist came undone; loosening into a long fingered hand belonging to an artist. Or a warrior. She raised her violet lenses to regard the man ahead, and her eyebrows lifted as he broke into amused laughter. His frame shook as he walked further inside, completely disregarding the "closed" neon sign glaring at him from his right.

Vivi's own frame bristled as the old man seated himself in a booth, and patted the opposite chair while looking straight into her eyes.

"I don't really sit with strangers at six thirty in the morning pops."

Her tone was slightly gravelly, but it was firm. Exactly what she need it to be. Thankfully, the mousy squeak from last night had disappeared. A welcome development. But the voice that made many shake, only seemed to trigger another bout of laughter from the man's mouth.

"How about sitting with an old friend?"

If someone other than Genevieve Anne-Smith Klein had been standing in the restaurant, witnessing what was happening right before her eyes, that woman would have freaked out. Or fainted.

But not Vivi.

So when the man's face began to distort; his previously chiseled features melting down to form a more weather worn face, realization dawned upon her. He grew slightly taller, a slight pot belly making its appearance as well. And a joyful smile lifted her nude tinted lips.

"Father Edward!"

She almost ran, covering the less than two feet distance within a moment, and thrust herself headlong into the old man's arms. A familiar smell of the Church mixed with something only belonging to Father Edward entered her nostrils; almost immediately calming her frazzled nerves.

Reverend Edward Newburger wheezed under her crushing hold, an almost choked laugh escaping him. He sighed at Vivi's unfeigned enthusiasm, and gently patted her shoulder. She buried closer into his arms, the comforting feeling of being in a father's arms overwhelming her.

Well, father figure. And he was damn closest to what she ever remembered having.

"Vivi, how have you been?"

Ten minutes later, both the Father and Genevieve held a steaming cup of tea in their hands; hers almost finished, the Reverend's untouched.

Breathing in deeply, she sat down beside the Father; taking his perpetually warm hand within her unusually cold one. His skin temperature was always a bit high, but it was nothing to worry about. Although most people thought the Father had a constant low grade fever, he was in fact, a shape shifter.

A shape shifter could morph into anyone at will, having something touched by the other in their possession. Their body temperatures remained about 2 degrees higher than normal humans, and about 5 degrees more than Vivi.

"Father what's wrong?"

Edward's startling green eyes met with her violet ones, and expressed everything he was afraid to say. With every passing second, she felt fear, worry and then finally anger sear her veins.

"Who's trying to kill you Father?"

Her companion swallowed tightly, his hand circling the rim of the still untouched tea. Little ripples formed upon the surface, starting from the middle and then vanishing as they moved to the edges. His emerald gaze flittered from here to there, stopping fractionally at the open windows.

Vivi understood the almost imperceptible motion of his neck immediately, and rose to shut the enormous windows. Worry began to eat away at her as she saw the Father's hands begin to shake, and the old man's intelligent forehead furrow.

"They know Genevieve. They know what I am, and they have seen my true form. They wont stop hunting me."

His voice shook as he gritted out the words, a shaking hand going to touch his side. He winced upon his own touch, even though it seemed gentle.

"Who Father, who? Who knows? Tell me their names!"

Before Edward could tell her the blasted names, a familiar sound of chimes announced another visitor. Vivi's eyes fixed upon the clock over their heads, and she groaned aloud. The sound lay in extreme contrast to the cheery tone behind her.

The voice of Jeremiah Barker rang through the mostly empty Café, and he almost skipped to where the Father and Vivi were seated. Unfeigned and clear infatuation glittered in his eyes as he dropped into the seat beside them, wordlessly taking a sip from Edward's tea.

"Heya Jen. Heya Pops."

A bipartisan viewer would state that disgust was the emotion decorating Vivi and Edward's face, but Jeremiah was extremely partisan. Especially where his Jen was concerned.

The beautiful woman got up, moving behind their uninvited member to make gagging motions behind his back. Thankfully, this little movement made the Father crack a hesitant smile, and it seemed he'd momentarily forgotten his pressing worries.

She walked into the kitchen, another smile lighting up her face as she saw the clock. In another three minutes, this little Café would be teeming with "rude" New Yorkers. Happily, she turned the stovetop on, and began to beat the eggs for Annie's famous pancakes.

While her lithely muscled arms made rhythmic circles in the sticky and sweet batter, the chimes sounded again. And again. She stopped, her gaze once again snapping to the large clock. It was still a minute for the place to open, and everyone knew it. So why two visitors?

And why hadn't Barker said anything?

An unfortunate, prickling sensation clawed its way up her back; raising the small hairs upon her neck in the process. Her fist tightened once again, this time with intention to strike. With no sound, Vivi inched her way towards the door.

She breathed in deep, her eyes widening when the air fogged in front of her. Within a second, the temperature dropped a degree. Her long fingers seized a knife, and she kicked the door open, running out like a shot.

Too late.

The Father was gone, and Jeremiah Barker lay dead; surrounded in a pool of his own blood. What appeared to be a gunshot wound gushed the dark liquid from his chest, those murky brown lenses snapped open in rampant fear.

Genevieve staggered against the door, the knife leaving her fingers, and clattering noisily to the floor. Panting loudly, she edged back towards the kitchen, only to be stopped by another seemingly harmless chime.

A loud scream echoed throughout the room, little ripples developing in the Father's tea.