Obvious Disclaimer: The Characters Dean and Sam Winchester do not belong to me. Neither does the universe they live in. All I claim are Ace and her experiences.
Texas, 15 miles outside of Crossroads...
My hands were shaking, and nothing I could do would make them stop. Moments ago I had given myself up for dead. Dead like all my friends.
Dead like my sister, and my step-father, and my mother... I sobbed quietly and the sick feeling in my gut, like vertigo but times ten, returned with a vengeance. With tear blurred eyes I looked up at my last minute rescuers.
The taller, younger of the two stood near the center of the room, a sawn-off shotgun in his hand. He scanned his surroundings, all senses on high alert. The shorter, but older and, in any other situation ruggedly handsome, of them took one look at me and something about him visibly softened.
Some small, functioning, and still slightly sarcastic part of my disheveled mind immediately rebelled against him. He looked like the kind of man that all little girls are warned about. As he neared me I instinctively forced myself away from him, and was embarrassed to realize the terrified whimper I heard was my own.
"It's okay. You're safe now. We're gonna get you outta here." he said calmly, trying for a soothing tone. He held his hands out palms up, in front of him, inching toward me.
Like a cornered animal, I lashed out, backing farther away before bumping against a door frame. I scrambled past it, into the next room, and then wished I hadn't when my hand fell into a pool of blood. Barely breathing, I stared down at my friend Andy's corpse, frozen in horror.
I'd been standing right next to Andy when it happened. Andy hadn't stood a chance.
With a sudden realization of self, I slammed backwards against the wall and covered my mouth with the back of my hand, stifling a strangled cry. I clenched my eyes shut, but the darkness only made the images more clear.
Beth had just said something funny, but I'd missed it. The others had heard though, and they burst into raucous laughter.
Andy hadn't laughed. But then, he never had been one for jokes.
Beth's eyes flew wide suddenly, and next to her Janie shrieked.
Andy grabbed my arm, hard enough to make me wince. I looked at him and he frowned back, mouth contorted in pain, eyes confused.
From his chest, beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, a sharp end of metal.
A hook.
I drew in a breath to scream and...
He grabbed me by the shoulders, dragging me back to reality. I yelped, knocking his hands aside and scrambling away from him. He started to reach for me again and I held my hands up in the universal 'back off' gesture.
"Don't!" I shouted, moving back another foot or so. He frowned down at me, concerned, but didn't reach for me again. I glanced down at Andy one last time, fighting back my revulsion, and rubbing my bloodied hand on my jeans furiously. When the red stain remained, I stormed past him into the kitchen and fought it with soap and scalding water. Finally it was gone, and I turned around, leaning against the counter, exhausted.
"So, who are you?" I asked the oldest, tilting my head to look at him. He glanced at the younger, who nodded, and turned back to me.
"I'm Dean, this is Sam. We're...State Troopers." he said, nodding his head toward the other. I stared at him, appraising him with disbelief.
"That's a load of bull-shit. Who are you really?" I replied, and he blinked, shocked to silence. He glanced at the one called Sam and opened his mouth, then he closed it and frowned at me. Sam sighed, stepping forward.
"Look, we're brothers, alright. And we...we hunt evil things." He said, and Dean's frown turned from confusion to agitation. I glanced at him and he nodded with a regretful expression.
"Evil? Like...demons?" I asked, feeling ice form in the pit of my stomach. Sam paused a moment, and then nodded.
"Something like that..." he said with a short nod before turning away, watching the doorway. I swayed, my knees suddenly weak.
"And...is that...thing...a demon..?" I asked slowly, voice hoarse. Dean stepped up then and I looked at him, feeling cold, weak, and sick all at once. I saw a flash of a sympathetic look on his face and hung my head, how ridiculous, pity from a stranger.
"No. It's not a demon. It's just a ghost. A really sadistic, pissed off ghost, but it's kill-able." he said, and I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. A small bubble of hysteria rose up in my chest and burst, and I chuckled dryly. Pushing away from the counter, I wandered across the room and leaned against the wall.
"Kill-able? How do you kill a ghost?!" I skeptically replied, and slid to the floor, suddenly nauseous again. I buried my face in my hands and tried to focus on steady breathing, but the metallic smell in the air just made it worse.
Underneath the table to my left, something scraped, catching my attention. I glanced over and didn't catch the scream in time, split-second reacting and throwing myself to the right.
His Sickle arced through the air toward me and images of Beth's death flashed into my head.
"Shh!" I warned for the fifth time. We were in the hall closet, cramped and dusty. I placed my ear against the door again and closed my eyes, holding my breath. I could hear my sister whispering frantically to Janie as they hid in the room next door. Silently I begged her to shut up, so he wouldn't hear her.
I gasped as I heard his first footfall near the end of the hall, to our left. I shoved Beth, who was babbling incoherently, toward the back of the small space, trying to cover her with a coat. I shushed her again, If she didn't stop muttering he would know we were in here.
As if on cue the floorboards creaked. I crouched, smashing myself as far back into the dark corner as I could go, pulling the winter coats over myself. Beth was unfazed, she clutched her rosary in white knuckled hands, and continued to babble.
The door burst open, light flooded the small room, flashing off the surface of the sickle as it sliced upward to bury itself in the base of Beth's jaw. I forced myself not to flinch as the tip burst from the middle of her forehead. Beth gasped, choking on her own blood, which pooled out of her mouth and drizzled down her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her skull and her body went limp. With one hand, the killer steadied her head, fighting the blade free. He cleaned it carefully, using her shirt to wipe the blood from the silvery surface, and turned away.
Minutes later I heard the door to the cupboard under the stairs slam open and he dragged my friend Chris, kicking and screaming, past the open closet door. I covered my mouth to keep any sound from escaping and listened. The killer dragged him into the room next door and his screaming stopped suddenly. Only to be replaced by the screams of my little sister. I leaped to my feet, yelling her name...