User blog:Moose Squirrel/SNEAK PEEK OF - Horrors and Hunters

One
A/N:  Maddie met the Winchesters a little bit after the Leviathans were wiped out by Dean and Cas (?). I also stole some stuff from this very funny person at FanFiction.net named Greeting’sAndSalutations [<-- that’s a link!] on their “Guideline to surviving the Winchesters”. Props to you!

People say that hunting down demons, vengeful spirits and any other worst nightmare is unimaginable. They say that any human could die doing what they do on their first go. But they haven’t. Not yet, at least. I’ve been with them before, actually. They seem nice, especially the younger one. The oldest one is hilarious and they’ve said on numerous occasions that they do what they do to be the heroes, even though they don’t consider themselves heroes. You know the saying, right? “Saving people. Hunting things. The family business,”

Dean told me that you’re not a hunter unless you’ve died and came back. But still… they haven’t been dead dead. Sam, the youngest one, was an “ex-demon blood junkie” as Dean refers to him. Sam had powers, like to exorcise demons (his powers grew stronger if he was high on demon blood). Azazel had these “plans” for him—to lead an army and be the vessel for freaking Lucifer—but Dean shot him with the Colt, which is a revolver made in 1835 for a hunter by Samuel Colt. Locals of Kansas said it had thirteen original bullets but the boys used the last five. Dean told me he dropped the gun in 1861. What ?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-style:italic;white-space:pre-wrap;">I’m <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;"> trying to keep them alive. Ever since they found me in some woods in Oregon, Sam and Dean feel like family.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Family. Haven’t heard that word in five years. Both of my parents died because of demons trying to take me out of my nursery when I was six months old. My mom had just gone to bed; my father asleep in the arm chair downstairs with a Yankee-Red Sox game on, drunk as hell. The front door had opened downstairs, then my nursery door. I’d started crying when one of the demons plucked me from my crib. My mom got up, went in then screamed until her heart stopped as a bullet pierced through her body. My dad died trying to save her. He got shot in the head, straight through the brain.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Sam and Dean Winchester saved me. They brought me back into hunting when a vampire nearly killed me. They taught me everything they know. They’ve joked with me, looked after me, loved me. You know, it’s kind of awkward now. I realized that I am in love with Sam Winchester. But the question still haunts me: Why can’t I trust him or Dean?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Pretty sure they don’t trust me either, since they don’t know about my wings. More on them later.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I barrelled out of the way just in time as another demon rushed out to tackle me. I clenched the handgun tightly in my hand, turning and firing at the demon. It’s black eyes bored into mine and I crashed into someone. I landed on my wings, grunting with pain. The demon looked cute: short blond hair, pale skin. She was dressed in a floral babydoll with black sandals. She smirked, and flung me against the tree with her powers. A demon—dressed in a tux with red Converse—appeared in front of me, grabbed my throat, fingers narrowing and closing around my windpipe. My hands scrambled for my flask of holy water clipped to my pants. My fingertips grazed it, but never grasped it. I flapped my wings frantically, trying to hit the demon. Hey, I was reserving to every little thing that could get me outta here.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I felt the color drain from my face; the air to and from my lungs cutting off. I tried to say something rude, but the only thing that came out was a strangled grunt. I gave up with the holy water and started clawing at the demon’s hands. An amused smile crept up to his lips.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I was gonna die, being choked by a possessed guy in a fancy-ass tuxedo. <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Then the outline of the demon’s skeleton lit up with a neon orange color just before I knew I was a goner. Yellow light came out of it’s mouth as it let go. The same thing happened to the three other demons that were waiting for me to finally die and not be another problem. Collapsing to the ground with a huge gasp, I rolled onto my side, coughing and sucking in mouthful after mouthful of air. I felt Sam’s hands on my forearms, rubbing them and lifting me up to my feet. He asked if I was okay; I nodded, leaning over and coughing again.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">Sam picked me up, ignoring my protests followed by soft curse words even though I was perfectly fine with walking to the Impala. I remembered to tuck them inside the slits, their soft feathers folding neatly along my spine. Dean punched him gently in the shoulder and smirked that cute smile of his. I’ve always loved the guy for being such an ass sometimes. I adjusted my black tank top as Sam put me in the back of the car. I took a deep breath, my throat still throbbing from the demon’s grip. Dean got in as his baby brother slammed the door shut and jumped in shotgun. The fact that I felt bad for abandoning them on this hunt was eating me alive. But something out there told me that I had to go see.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I swear I’d seen someone out there. I wanted to ask them if they’d seen the spirit of the woman. She died of a possession that led to a tragic and fatal accident. I ignored the gnawing pain in my neck, resting my head on the top of the seat.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Why’d you leave, Maddie?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I lifted my head to see Dean glaring at me through the mirror. Dean Winchester, the only guy I think is adorable and hilarious has such major mood swings. “ <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-style:italic;white-space:pre-wrap;">I <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">didn’t. Something went inside me and made me walk out here,” I lied. I hated lying to either of them, but they wouldn’t believe me. I even fought telling Sam. Dean rolled his eyes. <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-style:italic;white-space:pre-wrap;">Man, I hate South Dakota. <span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">I thought.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:14.6666666666667px;font-family:Calibri;color:rgb(255,255,255);white-space:pre-wrap;">“Maddie, that’s impossible since you have the tattoo. What have I always told you?” His voice shook. I could tell he was fighting to not cry. He loved me, I think. Loved me like family. Loved me as much as Sammy.