*Aniyah's POV
A strangled gasp is jerked from my throat as I sit straight up in the motel bed I am currently occupying. I feel out of control, shaky, and all in all panicked. Not wanting my brothers to wake up to me having another panic attack. I don't think Dean will stand for it this time. I inhale deeply several times, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat, as I quickly wipe the few stray tears from my eyes. My mind racks itself, trying to remember what my dream had been about, but comes up blank. Sighing, I focus on calming my body down all the while praying that the other occupants don't wake up. A quick glance at the clock tells me its just after 6 A.M and I silently slide from the rumpled sheets into the cool air of the motel room. I look to my left and spot Dean sleeping on the other bed and another glance to the front of the beds reveals that Sam had fallen asleep on the couch. My brothers had a funny thing about where I sleep, typically insisting I take a bed and they switch who gets the bed and couch. However, there are still times that I will insist they have a bed and eventually end up curled into one of their sides in the middle of the night anyways. Just like I used to when we were still kids. It doesn't happen often, considering I am now sixteen, Sam twenty-two, and Dean twenty-six. I carefully grab my bag from the foot of my bed and creep into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me silently. Once sure that I hadn't woken anyone up, I start my morning regiment. I take longer than both my brothers combined so it's lucky I don't sleep much, otherwise we wouldn't get out of the motel until nearly lunch on a normal day. I turn the shower on to the appropriate temperature and strip out of my clothing before grabbing my brush and my hair wash. I spend a grand total of thirty minutes to clean my hair and body, before rinsing off and hopping out of the shower to dry. Once properly dry, I grab my small 'makeup' bag. I actually don't use it for makeup, I know shocking, but instead for my medicines and personal hygiene items. I down my medicine, shuddering at the bitter taste, and start to brush my hair free of the knots. I pause when I hear a little tap on the floor followed by another and I glance down. I don't see anything and, not wanting to run out of time, I return to brushing my hair. While doing this, I happen to look up at the mirror and flinch at my appearance. While my hair is clean, my eyes have bags under them and there is a hunted, almost crazed, look in my eye if one were to look close enough. I sigh, pushing some rising thoughts away, instead concentrating on the task at hand fully. I finish putting my hair up into a simple Dutch braid then proceed to wash my face and brush my teeth. A few more odds and ends and I am finally ready to start the day. I dress in the typical hunter attire of a pair of easy moving jeans, combat boots, a t-shirt with a button up shirt over it and a jacket. I leave little skin showing, and I honestly prefer it that way. Easier to avoid questions and worried comments when I don't show what typically lies under the many layers of clothing. I open the door and head to my bed, not bothering to stay quiet now, to dump my stuff on my bed once more. I glance at the clock and see that it's been a little over an hour since I've woken up. Definitely time to rouse my brothers. I walk over to Dean first, grabbing a pillow before approaching, and position it in front of me. "Dean." I call, cringing back expecting him to jump out of his skin. Nothing. I sigh, before cautiously shaking his shoulder and speaking louder. "DEAN!" My eldest brother sits up sharply, gun drawn, pointing it right at me. Relieved it wasn't a knife I sigh, throwing the pillow aside, before disarming him with a cuff to his head. "Really Milo!?" he grumbles, snatching his gun from my hand, while turning to pick up his phone. "What?! You told me to wake you up at a little past seven." I grumble back, heading over to Sam who is somehow managed to sleep through the commotion. I roll my eyes. Sam would wake up if there was so much as a out of place creak in the room. But Dean waking up while yelling and brandishing a gun? Nothing. It was downright comical at times trying to get my second oldest brother up. He definitely was not a morning person. Not really in the mood to deal with another jumpy hunter, I simply shove him off the couch before quickly running out of harm's way. Sam surfaces from sleep throwing punches and swearing. "Wake up." I say, and he shoots me a glare which I gladly return. "Brat." he mutters and I snort "Drama queen." He grabs his bag, with no lack of grumbling, and heads to the bathroom, shutting the door a little more harshly than needed. "SORRY TO DISRUPT YOUR SLEEP YOUR HIGHNESS" I snark loudly, and I hear him mutter something about bitchy teenagers and I laugh quietly before turning to Dean. "Food run?" I ask, holding out my hand, and he nods. Seconds later I have the Impala keys and a wad of cash. "I'll be right back!" I call over my shoulder before closing the door with a click. I hum quietly to myself as I jog to the drivers door of the Impala, unlocking it quickly, and hopping in. The car starts with a purr and I smile. I am able to understand why Dean loves this car so much when I am able to drive it. I love it myself, this car being the only 'home' I've ever had. However, driving it is such a different experience. I smile to myself as AC/DC flicks on, turning it down so it wasn't blaring but still able to be heard, and flick the stick into drive. I pull out smoothly, having learned how to drive when I was much younger, and turn into the mostly clear road. I don't know how many times I had to drive one of my family members to a hospital or back to the motel due to one injury or another. The first time was back when I was eight, I drove my Father twelve miles to the nearest hospital after he had gotten mauled by a wereworld. I had, of course, not known exactly what had hurt him but I had the sense of mind to call Dean and drive, mind you I was eight, on the backroads to the hospital then proceed to make up a plausible story. That was the first of many times I had to take control when it came to the "family business." Hunting is a dangerous job, deadly, and I always have to be prepared for anything with this life. Something I had to learn quickly , especially after Mom died. She would have never allowed her eight year old daughter drive a car no matter the circumstances. If I think about it hard enough, I can dredge up faint memories of her. Her voice, the songs she used to sing, her gentle hands fixing my hair, the way her laugh sounded. She died when I was four. Sammy had been ten, and Dean fourteen. At the time Sam and I were told that it was a freak accident, the fire, but later I found out the truth. Something snuck into the house that night. Something bad. I don't know what it was but it was evil. Dad's been obsessed with finding the thing since then. Dad had already been hunting at that point, having found out by accident, and he did at first only to protect his family. Then it turned into an obsessed race for vengeance. Mom's death knocked a few screws loose in Dad, we all knew it, but we never said anything. We never discuss our feelings, we just bottle them up and deal with them ourselves later. I remember the day Mom died clearly. She had just put me down for bed and was in Sam's room. There were sudden screams from Sam's bedroom nd I remember running down to see Mom pinned to the ceiling with Dad looking up in horror and Sam curled up terrified in the corner. Dean was there in a moment, grabbing Sam and me and taking off just as the ceiling burst into to flames. It's a blur after that, but I do remember Dad running out behind us and the crazed, angered, look in his eyes as he witnessed our house burning down taking our Mother with it. It never occurred to me until much later that my Mom pinned to the ceiling hadn't been my imagination. Something had put her there and Dad spent the rest of our childhood hunting the thing down and killing every monster he came across. I am pulled from my thoughts as I turn into the diner and park the Impala. Within moments I am out of the car and locking it before entering the small diner. I wave down a waitress, who immediately comes over with a broad smile. "Welcome to Blue's Diner, how can I help you?" I quickly place the order. Plain coffee for Dean and some 'girly' coffee, as he would call it, for Sam and I. I then order three breakfast plates and some random stuff knowing it will all get eaten no matter the size. I settle into a booth, sipping another cup of coffee and munching on a bagel the waitress brought me, and pull out my phone. As I sit there I check through all my text, calls, and voice messages, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Some spam callers, a few voicemails from Bobby asking how we were along with a few other hunters just checking in with me, a few missed texts from my brothers during our time apart yesterday and a few other texts from various people. It must have taken me longer than I thought to check all this, because when I look up the waitress is back carrying a few bags and a drink holder filled with three coffees. I smile and pay her the needed money with a little tip, before heading out the door to the car. I make it back to the motel without problem, and a glance at my phone tells me about and hour has passed since my departure. I unlock the door with a bit of difficulty, but ultimately accomplish it, and enter the motel room. Sam and Dean are sitting on the pull out couch, both still damp from their showers, and fully dressed. They look up when I enter the room and deposit our food on the little table against the wall by the door. "I come bearing breakfast." I announce, grinning, and they immediately get up and each press a kiss to my cheek. "Thanks Milo." they chorus, and I quickly grab my own coffee and food, before shrugging and planting myself in the nearest chair. "No problemo oh brothers of mine." I say and they both roll their eyes at me while grinning. We all dig in, a comfortable silence filling the room, all the while keeping an eye on the time. At exactly 8:45, over two overs after my awakening, we are ready to leave for the days job. We are currently investigating the strange death of a man in his bathroom. The daughter, whom we are going to question today, of the man said she found him in a pool of his own blood with his eyes scratched out. No other injuries were found, there was no breakin, it was as if the guy bled out from his eyes. So, we rolled into town to solve this freak show. I fix a few stray hairs and straighten my jacket before grabbing my phone, headphones, a packing a small backpack with the stuff I'm going to need for the hunt. My knife is hidden in my left boot and my gun tucked away in my jacket. I honestly look like a normal high school aged girl. No sign that I'm carrying weapons and have a bag full of salt, various iron items, a book full of spells and incantations, a EMF detector, and many more items, on my back. Just another day for the Winchesters. We head out to the Impala, and I hop into the back. Typically, Dean drives and Sam sits passenger, while I lounge in the back with whatever luggage we have, my headphones on and blasting music into my ears. I hum along to my latest playlist, my green eyes tracking everything that goes on outside my window. The stores are opening, people are rushing about on the sidewalks, the cars full of people, all of them going about their daily business. No clue that there could be a monster right under their noses that will kill them if presented the chance. Oblivious fools I think to myself, frustrated and starangly anxious, as I look out at them. They go about their daily, normal lives while we hid in the shadows killing the things that lurk in the dark or, in many cases, plain sight. Dean pulls up to a nice house in a neighborhood full of other nice houses. This is your typical suburban neighborhood. I feel strange, a funny mixture of sad, angry, and scared, all of the sudden. But I push it aside, not wanting to let my own stupid emotions and problems get in the way of my job. Why bother? That voice whispers in my head You're crazy and you know it. Your brothers know it and it's only so long until they think you can't handle being a hunter anymore. Then you don't have nothing. Useless even to your brothers. The voice is snide, and oh so right, but I choose to ignore and continue up the sidewalk with my brothers. I shake the strange feeling as the front door opens and we are greeted and invited into the home. Sam and Dean immediately head away to find our soul witness, while I excuse myself to the bathroom. I quietly head upstairs, checking everywhere for any unfortunate witnesses, before opening my backpack up. I pull out the EMF detector and turn it on, shutting my bag and shouldering it. I head down the hallway, also keeping an eye out for anything strange. I make it to the bathroom where it happens without trouble and find nothing in the bathroom either. Nothing except the faint stain on the floor and the lingering smell of blood. I jump, shoving my hands behind my back, when there are sudden footsteps but I find it's only my brothers. Dean spots me in the bathroom and walks in, scanning the room. "Anything?" he asks and I shake my head. "The EMF isn't picking anything up, there are no signs of anything I've dealt with. No residue from a ghost, no strange smells besides the blood, not markings. Nothing. The place is clean as far as I can tell." I glance at the mirror and a sudden thought hits me. "Unless…." I mutter and I head over to the mirror. "The daughter said the vic was in front of the mirror right." I say quietly and my brothers all nod. "Hmmm." I pull out my blacklight and shine it on the mirror. There, inscribed in blood, is a name. "Linda Shoemaker…" I whisper quietly, before turning back to my brothers. THere are more footsteps and I quickly pocket the detector and blacklight as a blonde highschooler turns the corner. She spots us in the bathroom and a strange look passes over her face. "What are you doing in here?!" she all but snarls and Sam and Dean immediately jump to the defense. I ignore the argument going on, discreetly checking for any more clues before I follow my brothers out of the bathroom, leaving the girl behind us. We exit the house into the warm sunlight and head for the Impala. "Linda Shoemaker, the victims wife maybe." I say in a hushed tone and the boys nod in agreement. "Yeah, the problem is we still don't know what this thing is and it's gonna strike again very soon." Sam says before a look suddenly passes over his face. "Wait…" he mutters "The younger daughter, she mentioned something about her and her friends playing Bloody Mary the night her dad died." I pause for a moment then frown. "I thought that she was supposed to kill whoever summoned her not some random person in the house." I say "Anyways, I've never heard of anything like this before. As far as I know Bloody Mary really is a folktale to scare kids." Sam shrugs "We might as well check." he says and I nod, getting into the back of the car. "Yeah, drop me off at the library. I'll dig into it."