Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, and unfortunately, I never will…
A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing the story!!! I promise you'll find out what's up with Oliver in the upcoming chapters…
It was a quarter to three in the morning when the two of us got to the point of extreme boredom. We had gone through a few games of 'I Spy', and believe me, there's only so much you can handle of that stupid game when you're confined to one room. After 'I Spy', we played 'Truth or Dare', minus the dare part because we obviously didn't want to move. Soon, the wind picked up severely, howling against the house. The lights began to flicker.
Kylie's knuckles turned white as her grip on the knife strengthened. I could hear my heart thudding against my chest. Our eyes darted around the room, as the lights flickered again, then went off altogether. Kylie let out a small scream.
"We're going to die…we're going to die…" she whispered under her breath, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her knees. For such a perky person, she was so pessimistic. I don't get it.
"Don't say that," I ordered. "I'm going to get some candles. I'll be—"
"Don't leave me alone in here, Alyx…please…don't leave." She pleaded, grabbing my arm as I stood up to climb over the makeshift barrier. In the dim light, I could see tears rolling down her face.
"Come with me, then." I told her. She nodded and followed me out of the living room to the kitchen, holding onto the hood of my sweatshirt for dear life. We found a couple of candles, and a book of matches. I went to light them when there was a loud crash in the living room. Ignoring the candles, we rushed back to investigate. All of the furniture and other objects Kylie had used for our barricade had been knocked over; thrown across the floor. The knife was sticking out of the hardwood floor, in the middle of the room. No one could've done that in a matter of a minute—no one human, that is.
"Oh. My. God," Kylie yelled, clapping her hand to her mouth. I felt her trembling beside me. "It's in the house…it's in the house and it's going to kill us…" I was going to tell her to shut up, but the next thing I knew, she was thrown violently into a wall and stayed pinned there by an invisible force. She was instantly in hysterics. "Alyx, help!" I made a run toward her, but I was sent flying across the room as well, and was pinned to the wall opposite Kylie. I struggled against the unseen force, with no luck. The pressure it was holding on me was so great it sort of hurt; I could barely lift my hand from the wall.
A cloud of black smoke appeared in the center of the room, and molded into a man. It was merely a tall, black, figure of a man without any distinct features, except maybe for those penetrating, yellow eyes. He casually walked over to Kylie, who was sobbing. I, however, had to keep myself together for as long as possible, for my friend's sake. He simply stared at her, and a moment later a spot of crimson liquid began to grow over her midsection. She screamed in pain, staring down at the fresh wound out of shock.
"Kylie!" I shouted. "Let go of her!" I commanded the Demon. But, of course, all-powerful demons don't exactly listen to sixteen-year-old girls. He turned around sharply and strolled toward me, his creepy, yellow eyes glowing in the dark. I had a bad feeling that he was going to inflict some type of bodily harm on me, too. He paused to pull the knife out of the floor, only to toss it aside.
"Miss Winchester," he said in this freaky, raspy voice, "long time, no see, huh?" He came closer. "My, you've grown up into a beautiful young woman. It's been, what? Sixteen years now until I last saw you? How time flies…" There was this sick, sarcastic tone to his voice, and I was really tempted to say some smartass comment back, but I've been told that it's not good to piss off a demon. Especially this one. You get on his bad side, and you're a goner. I ignored his comments and looked over at Kylie, who was in a great deal of pain, pleading with her eyes for me to do something.
"Let her go," I repeated, on the verge of tears myself. "Don't drag her into this. It's me you want, not her."
"See," he began, "that's where you're wrong. I don't want to kill you. You're going to be of great use to me—you and your uncle." I was aware of his so-called 'plans' for people like us; people with special abilities. We were supposed to be his 'soldiers' in some kind of supernatural war. "Your little friend is in the way, and I can't have that, now can we?" Kylie winced. Tears were flowing freely down my face now, and I didn't care. And let me tell you, I hate crying. But this time, I couldn't help it. The only friend that completely understood me was being ripped away, and I felt useless. I had to help her; it was my job as hunter. It hurt me that I couldn't do anything.
"Please…" I begged, my voice cracking and barely audible. I was a wreck; my mind had come to the point where it was incapable of forming words. I was still trying to comprehend what was going on. "Stop…"
"Alyx!" Kylie screeched. Her cries apparently annoyed the Demon because with one flick of his wrist, she started sliding up the wall toward the ceiling. "Alyxandria! Don't let it kill me…I don't wanna die…" That statement only made me cry harder.
"You must understand," he continued with his lecture, "this has to happen. It's the only way you can become what you were born to be." I was confused. How was he trying to justify the murder of my best friend? And what was with this destiny crap? He couldn't get it through his dense head that I wasn't going to follow his plans. "You know what I'm talking about, Alyx. It felt good to use that power, didn't it? To cause someone pain, to get revenge…to make them suffer for hurting you…"
"No," I replied sternly. "I'm not like you." At this, he just laughed.
"Oh, but you will be," he replied. "Once I get inside that head of yours, there will be no turning back. You're mine."
He focused his concentration on Kylie once more, and pinned her to the ceiling as she shouted my name. In a split second, the Demon vanished. I was released from the constricting hold he had placed on me, and fell to the floor. There, I lay on my side, propping myself up halfway with my arms. I watched, mortified, as a raging fire erupted on the ceiling, instantly engulfing Kylie in the flames. I let out a sob and slammed my fist into the floor out of anger. I was furious; all that Demon had done to my family was make us miserable by taking away the ones we cared about, and it wasn't fair. That Demon was going to pay. Big time.
"Alyx?" a familiar voice called over the roaring fire. "Alyxandria?" It was my dad. I didn't know how he had gotten here, but that didn't matter. He was at my rescue, once again.
"Dad!" I yelled back, to let him know I was safe. He followed the sound of my voice, and without a word, he scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the burning house quickly. Emergency response crews were already surrounding the place. Firemen were battling the flames, which were beginning to die down. Sammy was waiting for us on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and a solemn expression on his face. I stared back at the house, and then I just totally broke down, crying. "She's gone…" I wept, clinging onto the front of my dad's shirt. "It took her…the Demon…" He set me gently on top of the Impala's hood, and sat there, rubbing my back, trying to calm me down while Sam stood in a daze, staring at the house.
An EMT had to physically pry me from my dad to check me over to make sure I wasn't hurt. Which I wasn't, of course. Even if I had been, the injuries would've disappeared before they examined me. After that, a police officer came over and told me I had to go to the station to be questioned because I was a witness to the murder. So, at five o' clock in the morning, I was waiting in a police station to be interrogated, an hour and a half after I suffered through a traumatic ordeal. I hate authority figures. I was in an extremely crappy mood at that point.
It wasn't until five-thirty that I was called in to be questioned; while I was waiting I had come up with a story, since the detective or whoever was interrogating me would never believe what I saw. The detective was a larger man with gray hair and a bushy mustache. Given his intimidating appearance, he was a very kind and compassionate man. He let Dad and Sam come into the room with me, which I was thankful for. (Just in case I needed some help with lies.)
"Hello, Alyxandria, I'm Detective Hayes," the man said, shaking my hand before taking a seat on the other side of the steel table. (The room was exactly like the ones in the cop dramas and CSI shows. Ya know, with the large metal table, and the unbelievably bright lamp that just beats down on the person being interrogated.) "I know you've been through a lot tonight, but it's important that we get information from you—since you're an eye witness—so we can catch the killer who did this." Right. Try and catch him…I dare you. I think Sam and Dad had similar thoughts. "So, Alyxandria, you were good friends with Kylie Baker, correct?"
"Yes."
"Do you know of any enemies that she could've had that were maybe responsible for this violent act?"
"No." She didn't have enemies, I did.
"What were you doing earlier tonight?"
"I was sleeping over Kylie's. We were watching a few movies…just hanging out."
"Did you see or hear anyone break in?"
"No," I answered. "The power went out, so I went to go get some candles—"
"What happened after that?"
"Well, Kylie stayed in the other room, and when I came back, he was there…holding a knife to her throat." I lied.
"What did the killer look like?"
"I don't know…it was dark…I couldn't really see…" Crap. I didn't know what to say now. I hoped he went along with it. It sounded believable. Well, to me at least. "And he was wearing all black…so…"
"All right. Did he start the fire after she was killed?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think that's about it. Thank you for your time, Alyxandria. I'm very sorry for your loss."
As we were leaving the interrogation room, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Baker talking to an officer. The authorities had called Kylie's parents after I gave them the information on where they were staying. They told them to come to the police station ASAP, since they were only two hours away. It broke my heart to see her parents like that. I swore that when we were walking out of the station, Mrs. Baker glared at me. Maybe she had every right to be angry with me.
A light rain fell from an overcast sky as we stood in the cemetery a few days later, gathered in a large circle around the hole in the ground where they were going to put my friend. The polished, mahogany casket that laid next to the dug-out grave was covered in an arrangement of white lilies and pink roses. I was standing among Kylie's relatives, teachers from school, and other students who had come to say their goodbyes. Everyone was shocked by her tragic death; no one could believe that someone would do something like that to an innocent, teenage girl. Everyone—including Kylie's parents—was convinced that it had been a random attack, that some insane arsonist/killer had done it. None of them could know what had really killed her. It was something only my family and I could deal with.
Kylie's parents were standing beside the priest as he said the last lines of the service. I couldn't bear to look at Mrs. Baker, whose muffled sobs filled the quiet graveyard. She wasn't even speaking to me anymore. (I tried to call to see how she was doing, but she hung up on me.) Mr. Baker had his arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her, his glassy eyes clearly filled with pain. After the priest finished, everyone was allowed to pay his or her last respects. Mr. and Mrs. Baker went first, of course, and the rest of the congregation followed. Dad and Sam hung back, while I walked up to Kylie's casket, holding a single red rose in my shaking hand. I placed it gently on top, then stood there silently. I didn't know exactly what to do with myself. I knew that after they buried her six feet under, it'd be permanent. And that was unsettling.
"I'm sorry, Kylie," I whispered, running my hand over the casket. "I wish I could've saved you." I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. "I'll miss you, Ky."
"Tragic," an older woman with a heavy Southern accent muttered beside me. I looked over to see Kylie's psychic aunt, Genevieve, standing there, her hand placed lovingly on the casket. She had flown in from New Orleans for the funeral. "Sad…that that thing had to take her. At such a young age, too." I stared at her, curious.
"You…you know?"
"Of course, dear," she replied, keeping her voice low. "Something extraordinarily evil killed her…and it wasn't human, that's for damn sure." I nodded. "You saw it that night, didn't ya, child?" I nodded again. Aunt Genevieve put her hand on my shoulder. "Better watch your back, Alyxandria. It's keeping a close eye on you." She walked away. I was about to find Dad and Sam when someone I didn't expect to see at Kylie's funeral approached me.
"Hey, Alyx," Oliver said. He was nicely dressed in a black suit. "I'm sorry about your friend. What happened was horrible."
"Thanks," I replied. "I'm surprised you're even talking to me, you know. It goes against your 'stay away from me' deal."
"Just wanted to offer my condolences, that's all."
"Oliver, I don't get it," I stated. "I want to know why it has to be this way between us."
"Ask Missouri." He suggested.
"Missouri Moseley? The psychic?" I asked. He nodded.
"I told you I had a family friend here." He reminded me, with a small smirk. Before I had a chance to reply, Dad stepped in between the two of us.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Yeah…sure." Dad shot Oliver a cold look, and dragged me away by my wrist. I ask you: what was that for? Seriously. Something weird was going on…Dad and Sam were definitely leaving me out of the loop.
Needless to say, the ride home from the cemetery was tense and quiet. I was in a bad mood, and I think it was obvious because neither of the Winchester men made any attempt to talk to me, or ask questions. (Although Sam kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror.) I knew it was bad to keep my emotions all bottled up inside and not speak to anyone. I had issues with that, because like my dad, I wasn't too good with the whole 'sharing feelings' thing. And, I was getting sick and tired of people asking me if I was okay. Would you be okay if you saw your friend die? I don't think so. It was enough to drive me crazy.
When we pulled into the driveway, I got out of the car and went inside the house. All I wanted to do was put on some sort of depressing music, crawl into bed, and hibernate for the rest of my life. I slammed my bedroom door shut, and threw the black button-up sweater I had been wearing over my dress onto the bed. That's when I noticed I wasn't the only person in the room…