Okay, so, this is really gory, but here is the first chapter of my first Supernatural fanfiction. For the most part, it will be set in Cookeville, Tennessee (I believe it's a real place), and it is set in season five. So Ruby is dead, Lucifer has risen, et ceterea. Warning: Possible spoilers, drinking, violence, possible smut, and all that jazz. Enjoy!
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COOKEVILLE, TENNESSEE.

Blood. Blood and white-hot pain. My vision blurred and it was as though everything I could see was doubled. My — my hands. They were a deep red – almost purple. Blood was everywhere… on my hands, on my clothes, on the ground… then there were people. No, not people – carcasses. Dead bodies limp on the ground surrounding me. It was a massacre. No, wait; there had been demons in those bodies. All I did was exorcise them, they should be okay… There was the white pain again. Am I dead? Is this hell? I hear an animal cry nearby and then I see a pair of black leather boots. No, clearly I am not dead. The animal cries continue before I realize it's me…

I'm in a warehouse, this much I can tell. The walls are plain; a simple grey. There was a hum in my ears, blending together with other sounds to form a dull monotone. The ground I am curled up on is a cool concrete – very dirty, as well. This could be an old factory warehouse… There are metal shelves everywhere. Where there isn't a body, there's a shelving unit with miscellaneous items scattered on it. Wait its glass. All glass. Of different shapes and colors and sizes… it was beautiful. This had to be my mind messing with me.

"Go to hell," I managed to grunt out as I held a hand over the cut I had found on my side. Some demon had somehow pulled off using my knife against me and the chick had cut nearly to the bone. I felt like I was barely able to hold my guts in. And to think I believed I would ever be able to get a break… I quickly pulled my hand away, seeing why I had been crying out. She had the heel of those lethal boots on my palm. There was a cut now and it was bleeding heavily. I was surprised my hand wasn't broken, though I suppose I should be thankful.

"I'm already there, sweetie," the demon said with a smirk, twirling the knife in her hand. The meat suit that the demon was in, well I'll admit it, it was actually pretty. Blonde hair that fell in gentle waves, a strong and athletic build to the body, gorgeous blue eyes, and not to forget the ability to pull off an amazing red leather jacket. "Now, why don't you tell me where your little angel is?" said the demon. She had started walking in circles around me as if I were her prey. Which I kind of was right now. Vulnerable on the cold ground, barely able to move…

That did not mean I had to give up, though. "Why don't you tell me where you got that jacket?" I countered, looking up at her blonde figure with a raised eyebrow. Stalling. Stalling always worked. Demons were just too easily distracted and they all seemed to enjoy some witty banter before the kill. "And I don't even know your name!" I tried to make my tone light, carefree. As if none of this was affecting me. It was a lost cause, I know, but it was worth a shot. Despite the wound on my side, the gash on my hand, and the scratches on my face and arms: I should be okay. This was nothing I couldn't patch up at home. I was no doctor, but I knew enough to keep me together.

"Give it up, honey. I've won this fight. Now where is the angel? I'm not going to ask a third time," she warned, crossing her arms against her chest as she looked down at me. A perfectly plucked eyebrow was raised and her slightly chipped red nail polish blurred in my vision as she tapped them absentmindedly against her forearm. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyesight before I say anything in response.

"You won't need to. All I want to know is your name…" I said, my voice faltering as I coughed. I rolled over just enough where I could spit out the blood that had pooled in my mouth. The coppery taste was too much and it cut off my air, stuck in the back of my throat. Why me? Why did I ever have to get in this mess? That's right; when some thing murdered my aunt. Even with my lack of vision, I could just make out the roll of her eyes. "You know, your eyes must see more of the ceiling then they do whoever you're talking to," I mutter.

Maybe that was a mistake. She kicked me and I was thrown a few feet backwards, against the metal shelves about six yards away from me. My hands were holding onto my side tightly, the only thing keeping me from falling apart. There was a loud roar in my ears – it was the noise of the shelves falling over and everything on them clanging together. The demon stormed over through the mess and carnage before reaching down and picking me up by the fabric of my blood-drenched tee shirt.

"Now you listen to me, smartass. Tell me where that precious angel is and you and everyone you love won't get killed." I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, coughing out a laugh as I turned my head away from her. "What's so funny?" she snapped venomously. I turned my head back to her and without warning; I spit blood into her eyes.

"That's what's funny," I said as she dropped me. I landed shakily on my feet and tried to run. Before I could take another step, she had me again. My back was again pressed to the wall and her hand was wrapped around my neck. She was choking me; cutting off my airways. With as much strength as I could muster, I said, "Head's up, bitch."

That was when everything went black.