Author's Note: Hello! This is my first ever story, so please, please leave a review and tell me what you think. It'd make my day and help me out so much. I hope you enjoy my story, I'll try to update somewhat frequently.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Supernatural or any of the character even in the slightest.
Chapter One: Hunters Are Never Kids
The girl complained under her breath, voice barely a whisper in the cool air. Stupid vampires, I still have a report to do and I'm not going to get any sleep. She wiped her blade off on her already bloodied jeans. Vampires were messy work; this had been no exception. A nesting pair, early twenties at most, and careful. They'd been near impossible to track, only taking people no one would miss. But finding cases was a gift. The faster she worked, the sooner she could return home to do homework.
That was the same way it'd been since she was ten years old. Eat. Sleep. Hunt. School. Repeat.
Having cleaned up the scene as much as possible, the teen leaves the site, climbing into her used car, taking the smallest moment to lay her head upon her steering wheel in exhaustion. It's dark outside and she has a two hour drive home, but she takes the moment to pray. Not to God. Not to the angels. But to her mother, thanking her for her skills. For her life. And missing her with a soft pang in the corner of her heart.
Midnight has come and gone when the little silver car bumps over the curb, pulling neatly up the short drive. The teen unfolds herself from the interior, grabbing her duffel and backpack with a swing and tossing them haphazardly over her shoulders. With a jingle of her keys, she releases a long sigh of relief and enters the small one-story.
But the devil trap in the doorway is broken, and her eyes trace the break in the beige paint. Maybe I broke it earlier…Unlikely.
I should just go back to the car and leave for the night…But school tomorrow.
Her angel blade presses through her thoughts. Or, I stay to fight.
Calmly, she retrieves the silver blade from her backpack, and continues into the house. A recon of the small residential revealing nothing out of place. Absolutely nothing. I'm going crazy. It's probably not even broken. The words float through her brain but offer no reassurance.
Minutes later as she sits at the kitchen table, typing furiously about the impact of ancient Greek religious beliefs on modern culture, a sound punches through the air like a gun shot.
A too heavy step on kitchen tile.
She's on them before they're ready for her. It's too bad really, the poor men they were possessing were two guys she knew from down the street. Her blade cuts through the air, slashing the throat of the closest one and narrowly missing her elderly neighbor, who catches her wrist and flings her backwards, tumbling through the kitchen.
"We won't hurt you, we've come peacefully. To talk," the non-decapitated demon lies, its eyes flicking black for barely a moment, just enough to see.
They need me alive. "Yeah, and I want peace in our time. No thanks, you black eyed freak." Having been given adamant time to recover, her blade is again in her hand and she attacks, under her breath reciting the classic exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritu-"
Both are stopped rather abruptly when a wave of force hits her square in the chest and she goes flying into the refrigerator, body slamming into it and leg giving way with a loud, painful crack.
There's a moment where everything goes out of focus in the pain. Fire seems to be licking its way up from the injured bone and throughout the rest of her body. Breaths come out shaky and ragged, but still coming out, for now at least. "-spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis in-" With a gasp, her lungs close off and she's clawing at her throat, as if it would have some affect on its refusal to draw in oxygen.
Where's the recorded exorcism when I actually need it?
As fate would so gladly point out, one wasn't actually needed. As air rushes into the set of lungs, bright light, blinding and white, fills the small room, and reflexively the girl turns her face away from it, covering her eyes. When her eyes return to the scene, a body with burnt out eyes lay crumpled on the floor, the demon possessing him gone.
A familiar figure with messy dark hair and a trench coat stands, out of place, yet purely at ease.
"Thank you, Castiel," she chokes out, focus returning to her injured leg that is now pulsing angrily.
"You're injured."
"I'll be fine," she tries to lie, but it's not hard to read her. An open book, if you know how to read it, and this particular angel had read the extended edition guidebook on hard to read hunters. In a swift movement, his fingers rest upon her forehead, and a gentle warmth spreads throughout, fatigue and pain fading. The angel stumbles for a moment but regains his strength quickly.
"I've healed your wounds," he states obtusely and receives a nod in thanks and relief. Using the wall as a support, she pick up her fallen blade, tucking it into her waistband, and stands. The angel doesn't speak at first, eyes scanning through her messy little kitchen. He doesn't make a remark about it. He never does.
The silence is deafening. "Castiel, why are you here?"
"I am an angel of the lord and I have sworn to protect you."
" I know. You've told me. Why are you here now?"
"Sadie, if I am not incorrect, this was the third demon appearance in one month?"
He's not incorrect. "I'm fine," comes the defensive phrase.
"You're in danger."
"I'm always in danger. I get you're trying to be helpful, but no thanks."
In less than a second, the angel's face turns from kind to battle hardened, almost menacing. "I am no longer asking. I have promised to protect you, and I am out of other options."
"I'm sensing an 'or else'," Sadie taunts, pushing her luck. "You know my reasons as well as I do."
"I do." The acknowledgement twists her stomach into knots. "And I know you need their help. They're good men, some of the best, and they'll do everything they can to help you."
"I made a promise."
"You can't keep a promise if you're dead."
The girl's warm hazel eyes meet the electrifying blue of the angel's, and she gives in to the request with a heavy heart.
Another long sigh sounds. I'm sorry, Mom. "I've got a game tomorrow. Then we can leave."