Available for download in PDF. I promise you that I don't have any viruses. I just strongly recommend it seeing as this was written in book format. Visit the Tumblr dedicated to this series, "11785", for details.

Or just read it here (:

ONE

Dwight Hall, Yale
New Haven, Connecticut
Thursday, October 5, 2006
10:19 PM

Amy Winchester glanced over her shoulder in the foggy bathroom mirror to look at the white scares permanently etched in her back running from one shoulder blade to the other. As her wet chestnut hair dripped dark brown over some of the pale lines, the hunter green towel tied around her chest covered others, making only the most prominent of the former gashes shine through in the overhead florescent light.

The scars were a lasting reminder of an incident that had taken place almost a month ago, an encounter that Amy would sooner forget than remember, a fight that had ended abruptly and bloody, with a double trip to the ER added in. Unfortunately, whether she liked it or not, the doctor who had tended to Amy in the hospital and later removed the fifty or so stitches that had been the result of a gruesome fight had told her that the slashes in her back were deep enough to cause permanent scarring. All the same, Dr. Guest had offered her a topical solution that might help the marks fade, but even after a week of application, it seemed as though the superficial reminders weren't going anywhere, along with the memory of what had caused them in the first place.

In a dorm room across campus, Amy had been thrown into a broken window full of jutting glass shards, a demon on top of her tearing up her skin as it took simple pleasure in making its victim squirm and scream. The attack had been one in a long line of others, all of which Amy would prefer to block out, each of them seeming more horrible than the one preceding it, and topping the disastrous summer away that Amy had had to endure the moment her biological father, John Winchester, had arrived on her doorstep toward the last days of May—the vacation between Amy's junior and senior years of college that she had once thought resembled Hell, an overstatement in comparison to the events on campus.

Ever since being back at Yale—following Amy storming off to get away from John after he revealed some shocking news, and some sort of unprovoked silent treatment back in Northbrook, Illinois with her adopted family—Amy had expected life to return to normal once school started up again, for classes to be as either educational or as boring as they had always been, for the first meeting between her and her new roommates to be as uncomfortable as possible, and for the housing situation to be a mess while the university attempted to accommodate all the seniors who were choosing to live on-campus rather than off. Instead, all she had come into contact with was chaos and hysteria when the night proceeding the first day of classes had ended with someone jumping from a fifth-floor window.

The days that trailed behind the event hadn't been any better, with morale only rising for the rest of the week when the death had become slowly forgotten and falling once again when a second jumper had been found in the courtyard not far from where Amy was now currently rooming in Dwight Hall, directly across from where the two casualties had taken place. However, unlike the first time, where she had barely known, Rachel Richardson, the first girl to take the swan dive, Amy had considered the second, Celia Brown, to be a good friend, someone she had previously bunked with back in her junior year at the university, and someone whom she doubted would be the type to commit suicide—as the losses were being ruled by the local police. As soon as she heard of Celia's death, Amy had been troubled by what had happened, running facts and statements and whatever else she could through her head as she reviewed reasons why Celia would jump—if she had at all. For a brief moment, Amy had been convinced that there had been a conspiracy under wraps at the school, with people being killed on campus and then turned to look self-inflicted. Ultimately, though, Amy quickly gave up on the endeavor, citing it as paranoia she had picked up while on the road with her biological father.

Unfortunately, as time went on, it appeared as though her initial instinct that the school was facing homicide rather than suicide had turned out to be true. While Amy and her other previous roommate and friend, Taylor Rosen, investigated the dorm in which Celia had either jumped or been shoved, and following a lead that had been provided by another friend and Amy's new neighbor in Northbrook, Bailey Yost—who claimed ghosts were behind the attacks rather than anything else—Taylor and Amy had looked into the declaration, lost as ever, just before there had been one more death on campus, one that had sent Amy over the edge: that of her current suitemate, Sarah Clarke. Racing across campus and up the stairs of Swing Hall, Amy had pushed open the door to reveal Bailey standing in the center of her dorm, black eyes staring at her like shining, laughing pits of tar. It was then that Amy discovered the truth about what was happening, that demons were behind the attacks instead of the spirits Amy and Taylor had been tricked into believing.

After a fight that had ended bloody and violent for Amy—with the demon slicing Amy apart with the broken glass of the window it had thrown Sarah out of—and had eventually knocked Taylor unconscious and into a coma, the violent creature had been exorcised by none other than John Winchester as he appeared in Amy's doorway, sending the thing back to Hell with some spiel of Latin Amy had never heard before. As she was about to thank him, or ask him what he was doing there or whether he had been following her, the man had vanished about as swiftly as he had come, sinking into the shadows moments before paramedics raced up the five flights of stairs and pulled Amy away from the scene. Trailing the stretcher that carted Taylor into an ambulance parked on the lawn—and avoiding questions being asked by the tall, thin guy who was holding a cloth to her mauled back to keep the skin in place—Amy had felt John's eyes on her from afar, as though he was willing her to keep her mouth shut when it came to the inquisitions. Taking his silent order, Amy had tried to peer through the surrounding blackness to find his muscular frame standing off to the side, only seeing nothing and becoming sidetracked as the ambulance prepared to take off.

But after Amy arrived at the hospital, receiving fifty stitches in her back and a blood test for any kind of disease she might have contracted from being shoved into the shards, it had been harder to avoid questioning, though she had somehow managed. As police officers and a Detective Wright scribbled down statements and pressed for details, with the latter coming back later to iron out some of her story, Amy had been more focused on finding out exactly what Bailey had been and whether or not Taylor was going to be okay. Pacing outside in the halls, Amy had searched online through her mobile browser for any news or information that could pertain to the demon who had seemingly possessed a poor girl from Alabama, finding that the thing had slaughtered the family of the real co-ed before heading out to Northbrook, Illinois to pretend to be Amy's new next-door neighbor—something that should have tipped her off in the first place since no one had ever moved out of Sunset Trail.

Coming upon not much else, Amy had quickly tossed aside the search, feeling more exhausted than she ever had in her life and wanting nothing more than to sleep. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she had waited for news that Taylor was awake, taking a seat outside and enduring Detective Wrights' second round of questioning before a nurse came to alleviate the worry Amy had been feeling. Heading up to see her friend prior to having to make the trek back to school, Amy had sat and talked with Taylor for a short while about what had happened before coming to the resolve that she never wanted to encounter something like that ever again, no matter what. Unfortunately, by the time she got back to campus, she discovered that John Winchester had had other plans for her, sneaking into her room while she was gone and planting a book on demons and archangels in her bed for what she guessed was his version of light reading material, possibly something he was trying to use to convince her to rejoin him on the road, though that seemed unlikely.

Setting the volume aside as soon as she found it, Amy had slept until the night following, dozing off the fatigue that seemed to come over her in heavy waves. For two days after that, she had spent hours upon hours cleaning up her former dorm suite, clearing out the glass and broken furniture that had been the byproduct of Sarah being killed and the fight Amy had endured. When the space was otherwise straightened, Amy had begun packing boxes to make the move into Taylor's suite in Dwight Hall, having to cart most of her belongings across campus on her own due to the fact that all of her friends were either dead or still in the hospital. Thankfully, after the second day of relocating, though breaks had to be taken to head to class, Taylor had been released from under the doctor's care, with both her and her parents helping Amy resituate her belongings. However, even after the following Friday morning came and went, with Amy having no lessons to attend due to a small friends-and-family-only remembrance ceremony being held in the University Church, she had spent time trying to decide what to do with the book John had given her, ultimately deciding to bury it in a pile of other tomes sitting in the living area of her new common room.

Unluckily, though, despite her decision to stay away from all things demon-like and odd, deeming them something she didn't want to be involved with, Taylor seemed to take the opposite stand, instead choosing to find the volume Amy had hid and engrossing herself in it. For the weeks after the incident at Swing Hall, Taylor had become obsessed with uncovering strange facts and learning information, sometimes even skipping school or disappearing entirely to dig up intel on whatever appeared weird. As Amy remained stuck in her busy schedule of lessons and drama rehearsals—auditions for Barefoot in the Park coming and going with Amy landing the character of Corie Bratter, the lead—she sat idly by as her friend continued to dive deeper down the rabbit hole, sometimes listening whenever Taylor went on about things in the news that Amy "should be" paying attention to.

"Aims, you need to be listening to this. One demon exorcism does not protection against evil make, okay?" Taylor had repeated nearly a hundred times, attempting to either scare Amy into joining her behind the computer screen she was always sitting at, or to coerce her friend into heading out to investigate whatever oddity-of-the-day Taylor seemed to have stumbled upon.

Choosing rather to spend time in the library to keep away from the other girl's temporary insanity, reminding her of the time she had done the same to avoid Bailey Yost before she found out Bailey was a demon, Amy had taken up residence at a table near the back, remaining there from the moment her last class of the day ended to when the building closed. Though she was sure hiding was childish, Amy wanted to make it clear that she had no intention of delving into whatever underworld might be lurking out there, that all she wanted was to finish her senior year and prepare for graduate school. Unfortunately, as much as she didn't want to, it seemed the only way to ensure that was to keep her distance, with Taylor appearing to pick up the hint the less and less of Amy she saw.

However, there was only so much studying Amy could do. With her lines etched into her memory—along with a ton of other useless information about psychological profiles, the proper way to construct an "active statement" research paper, and whatever else Yale could possibly shove into her brain—Amy had come up short in discovering something else that would take up her time until Taylor stopped sharing the News of the Weird for good. Deciding to meet up with one of her other former roommates, one that she hadn't talked to much, Amy and Robin Lister had made a regular thing out of heading to the school gym a couple of nights a week. As the two ran on treadmills, with Amy discovering that she could last much longer at a high speed than her in-shape friend, and lifted weights, the pair had often stayed inside the recreation center past nine, sometimes going out for a smoothie after if Amy didn't feel the need to head back to her dorm for a bath, much like she had tonight.

Thankfully, after a successful three-mile run and a surprising bench-press that even astounded Robin—two-hundred and fifty pounds, unaided—Amy had returned to her room to find it empty, immediately heading for the shower and hoping that Taylor wouldn't slip into the suite while Amy relaxed under the hot water. As she washed her hair and shaved her legs, Amy could feel the steam ease her muscles, a tenseness that had previously overcome them while at the gym streaming away with the heat. Most days, especially after one of the exercise nights, Amy could feel a spike in her adrenaline that she attributed to the rush of endorphins, causing her body to feel shaky and uncertain after she raced on the treadmill. For some reason, over the past few months, that sensation had been more common than she cared to admit, seeming to become stronger as time went on. After awhile, Amy had learned to ignore it, swallowing it down with a gulp of Jamba Juice or a scalding bath that seemed to ebb it away.

Getting out of the shower, still with no sign of Taylor, Amy had taken to wiping the haze from the mirror to stare at the scars on her back, just like she had for the past few days. After rubbing an expensive version of Maderma onto her skin, she had hoped to see results in the bright white scores blazing against her suntanned skin, the color of both fading as fall began to take over as the predominate season. While the pale became paler and her bronzy glow dulled, Amy could still see the lines and small dots that were permanently marked in her skin from the demon's attack, the cream appearing to do nothing at all.

Sighing, Amy wrapped her towel tighter around her chest as she opened the door to the bathroom and headed for the ajar threshold across the common area, the same space Amy had chosen to occupy in the time she had stayed with a grieving Taylor after Celia's death a month ago. Though the suites in Dwight Hall, so named for their apartment-like accommodations, were originally meant for four people, two in each bedroom, the girls had been lucky enough to be placed alone—though Amy would do anything to have another roommate enter the equation to act as a temporary buffer between her and Taylor should she continue her frantic research rampage, if anything else.

Crossing the space, Amy shut and locked the door behind her, immediately opening the window to allow cold air in to fight off the residual heat of the shower. As the curtains blew in the soft wind, Amy changed into her pajamas and switched on the television, keeping the volume low in case Taylor came back and wanted to talk. Wrapping her hair up in her towel, Amy sat against the headboard and flipped through the channels, eventually stopping on Lord of the Rings on one of the few movie stations the school's cable network provided. Sitting rigidly, something she had gotten used to after having to keep her stitched-up back away from resting against things, Amy folded her legs in front of her and leaned forward, placing her hands on her ankles. Unfortunately, before she could get completely settled, the front door of the dorm room slammed shut, causing Amy to jump to her feet out of surprise.

"Amy?" Taylor's voice called as Amy groaned. "I know you're here!"

Bunching her jaw, Amy headed for the living area, slipping out of her bedroom as she looked to see what her roommate was doing. In Taylor's grasp was a stack of papers and a cell phone, a look of determination etched in her face as she typed into the mobile with one hand and placed the pages absently on the coffee table with another. Seeming to notice Amy out of the corner of her eye, Taylor snapped shut her phone and rolled her shoulders.

"I need your help with something."

"Tay—"

"I know, I know," Taylor sighed, "you don't want to be involved. I get it, alright? I've really gotten it now that this is the first time I'm seeing you in two weeks." Pausing a moment, Amy frowned, suddenly feeling guilty before Taylor continued. "I just got a lead from a contact online who linked me to an article posted on the local newspaper's website. I just need you to read it and tell me what you think, that's all."

Furrowing her brow, Amy pursed her lips in thought. "Just read an article?"

As Taylor nodded, Amy was suddenly overcome with the sense that her friend had more in mind than asking for an opinion. Based on the expression on her face, the stack of papers she had come in with, and her phone gripped tightly in her hand, Amy had the feeling that Taylor was attempting to rope her into something, acknowledging the fact that her friend didn't want to be anywhere near anything strange and wanting to defy Amy's position. Staring at her for a moment, Amy chewed the inside of her cheek as Taylor flipped her cell open again, typing a message to some contact Taylor had doubtlessly met during her sudden escapades into the unknown.

Finally nodding, more curious than anything else, Amy reached forward. "Alright."

Smirking to herself, Taylor held out a ream of paper covered with text, some of it blurry in parts from where the fresh ink had been placed in a stack of others sheets. Scanning the write-up, Amy narrowed her eyes and glanced over at Taylor, stopping on the title of the article before reading the thing in full.

"'Watery Willow Mystery of Mother's Missing Child'? Seriously?" Amy scoffed. "I don't know how much more alliteration they could have fit in there."

"Just read it," Taylor scowled.

Grinning, Amy turned her attention back down to the snippet of words in front of her:

It was just past nine when Susan Walter, 35, noticed that something was odd. The roof was leaking, the house was creaking, and her daughter, Molly, had been telling tales again. But unlike the normal dangers of owning a house from the twenties, Ms. Walker encountered something homeowners insurance doesn't cover.

Disappearing in a puddle of water, Molly Walter, 9, was taken from her home early Thursday evening, leaving Susan disturbed and baffled. After calling the authorities and giving a statement to the police, Susan had remarked that her daughter had given her a warning about the thing that had taken her, a creature drenched in water, sounding straight from a horror movie.

"She said it comes in and takes children. And she was scared," Susan repeated to CBS 3 News. "At first, I didn't believe it, but judging by what I saw upstairs…"

But the tale, and the solution, ends there. As officers search Willow, Connecticut high and low for Molly Walter, there is only one hopeful person in the puddled confusion.

"We'll find her," Officer Richard Drive says. "I have no doubt in my mind."

Glancing up at Taylor, Amy frowned deeply, wondering who had written this article and if it was honestly published in a local paper. Through she knew of Willow, if only that it was a small town somewhere near West Hartford, Amy was curious as to whether or not they were in the habit of posting outlandish pieces. Seeming to catch onto her friend's clear skepticism, Taylor rolled her eyes and snatched the page from Amy, nearly giving the girl a paper cut in the process. Folding the article in half and placing it with the rest on the coffee table, Taylor crossed her arms as her phone vibrated in her hand, pushing the button on the side to silence it while she stood with an annoyed stare fixed on Amy.

"I can only guess what you're going to say."

Softening her eyes, Amy bunched her jaw. "Taylor…"

"Look, okay. I know with what happened with your dad and everything that you don't want to be involved in this crap, but you can't just ignore me like you have been just because I chose to do the right thing," Taylor snapped.

Wondering where her friend was coming from, Amy swallowed hard and took her stare off of Taylor, instead choosing to glance around. She could understand why Taylor was angry with her for ditching her for the library and the gym, especially since the two had become best friends in the time that they had known each other, but suddenly exploding on her was causing Amy to wonder what had happened and why she wanted Amy to read that article in the first place. While it was possible that Taylor was tired of looking into this supernatural thing alone, Taylor also knew that Amy didn't want any part of it. Why was she suddenly acting like Amy had left her out to dry?

As though picking up on Amy's thoughts, Taylor rolled her shoulders back. "I tried to give you space with this, to give you time to figure out that you're being selfish. Amy, you can't just sit around and be in plays and do your homework like you're a normal person. You were attacked by a demon, we both were, and yet I'm the only one who recognizes what that means—"

Narrowing her eyes, Amy frowned. "And what does that mean?"

"That we were brought into this! Amy, we can't just ignore what happened and act like we don't know what's behind the curtain anymore. If we know what's out there, we have to do something about it, we have to help people!"

Taking a step back, Amy swallowed hard in confusion, wondering how Taylor could have possibly arrived at that idea after only being knocked out by a creature that had been exorcised by Amy's biological father—Taylor hadn't even faced the thing. The fact that they knew certain beings existed didn't mean they had to go seek them out and kill them… did it? In all honesty, Amy had never thought of it before, instead focusing on the fact that she wanted to be far away from anything involving John Winchester and demons. But was she being selfish in thinking that she could just continue on being normal now that the thing was back downstairs and now that John was gone?

Tapping her fingers against her leg absently, Amy let out a short breath. "I need to think about this."

Crossing her arms, Taylor shook her head, disappointment obvious in her expression as though she had expected Amy to automatically agree to assist her with what she was no working on. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't take too long."