Prologue
I didn't have time for it. I couldn't grieve. I didn't let myself stop to process the loss of my mother and closest friend. That thing killed her, murdered her right in front of me. I was tied up and gagged on the other end of the dark, foul smelling room. My wrists were bloodied as I squirmed, trying to get free of my bonds. The blood made the ropes slick and they were starting to slip, pulling more skin with them. I didn't flinch at the pain.
He was an ordinary looking man. He had a regular white button up suit and a regular looking blue tie. But this was no man. His black eyes were the tell-tale sign of a demon. He grinned evilly at me, his black eyes trained on me as he held the most important person in my life to his chest, a hand around her throat.
His loud laugh rang loudly in my ears. He was choking my mother, her blue eyes wide and begging for air. Her arm reached out for me and I saw in her eyes that she wasn't scared of dying. No, she was scared for me. For me.
I screamed out in agony and helplessness as the demon snapped her neck and she fell, bloody and broken and dead, to the ground. I collapsed against myself, my head falling to my chest. I didn't let myself feel it. In one quick moment, while the demon was still gloating over his latest kill, I slipped my bloody wrists through the ropes and pulled the gag out of my mouth and started the exorcism, my voice loud and strong.
He reached his hand out to psychically slam me against the wall but I was too far. He started choking and gagging, and as he did I darted across the room and grabbed the demon blade he had stolen from my mother and I shoved it into his side, twisting it painfully sideways. I watched as the pain flickered across his face and the black faded from his eyes. He was dead. I pushed his body away from me and crawled to my mother, a sob rising in my throat. I pulled her body into my lap. She was still warm.
I rocked back and forth, crying out at Heaven and Hell and God and angels and demons and whoever would listen. I wept over her body. She was the most important person in my life. The only one I had. My only family. Where would I go now? What would I do? I was too young to hunt on my own, it would be too suspicious for a 17 year old girl to go around chasing mystery deaths and staying in shady motels. I could barely pull off a good cop cover. What was I supposed to do now?
I put that aside as I cleaned up the mess left behind from our latest hunt. I burned what was left of the demon's meat suit and buried the charred remains. I gathered all of our weapons. All of my weapons now.I cleaned up the blood and packed everything back in our car. I carried my mother's body to the nearest cemetery and buried her next to a grave marked Mary Cooper. Same last name as my mother, I could find it later.
I poured gas on her body and dropped a match. I couldn't risk her spirit coming back and I'd have to hunt that down, too. That might be too much for even me. After the fire went down I covered her up with dirt and unceremoniously left.
I drove back to our small apartment, I'd stay there for a few days until the rent was due and then I'd leave. I needed to gather my thoughts and figure out what to do. On the long drive home, a thought occurred to me. I pulled over to the side of the road. I dug through my mother's bag and found her journal. Filled with information about hunts, for future reference, mostly. But she had pictures of us together in it as well, small memories and tokens from her past. I flipped through it and found the picture I needed. It was her when she was my age. Younger, even. She looked beautiful. She was held in the arms of a tall handsome boy, just about her age. He had light brown hair and green eyes. I flipped the picture over.
Dean Winchester was scrawled over the back of it. She'd told me a few times that the boy in this picture was my father. She said he didn't even know about me, they were both so young and he'd moved away before she could tell him and they lost contact. I doubted he looked exactly the same, but this boy, or rather the man he'd become was my only known living family.
I had to find him. What else could I do?