" i'm sick of this shit! "
Or
When a girl moves to her mother's hometown of Hawkins, Indiana and gets pulled into to all kinds of crazy, monster hunting crap.
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From Lawrence, Kansas to Hawkins, Indiana.
A ten to eleven-hour drive that would've been miserable if not for Margaret's excellent taste in music. Hells Bells by ACDC blasted through her old radio speakers as she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. With no motel in sight and an empty energy drink sitting in her cupholder, Margaret hoped the loud music would be enough to keep her awake.
The road stretched farther than Margaret could see but she kept her eyes out for directional signs, a map sat on her lap with her route marked in John's nearly illegible handwriting. As she passed another reflective sign she sighed and looked down wondering if her sight was going because she was tired or if she had just missed a turn. Taking one hand off the wheel she held the map up, her eyes narrowed hoping that help her see better.
"You did not miss a turn." The voice was familiar and irritating. It also scared the bejesus out of Margaret. Her foot slammed on the break as she shrieked, her heart hammering. Her breath was shallow as the truck came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. Margaret leaned forward to let her forehead lean against the wheel, her head slowly turned to the side.
If Camael could be killed by mortal means, Margaret Winchester's glare would've put him six feet under. If he could feel something like amusement, he might've smiled but instead, he kept his passive mask in place.
"That was rather overdramatic, wasn't it, Margaret?" Her glare intensified tenfold as she continued to stare at what must be her karmic punishment. She must've done something truly horrible in her last life to deserve being followed around by Camael. He would show up at the strangest times and more to the point, uninvited.
"What did I tell you about just, just showing up like that?! It's creepy and terrifying." Margaret exclaimed, furious and experiencing an adrenaline rush. She placed a hand on her chest hoping it would slow her heart.
"If you would pray regularly or answer the dreams I send you I wouldn't have to show up," Camael explained calmly. Margaret hates how unaffected he was about everything. It was like talking to a marble statue; perfect but cold.
"I already gave you my answer. I said no." Margaret told him quietly but firmly. He had visited her after her father's death and claimed she had a great destiny to help raise heroes and save the world or something like that. Margaret was too busy laughing at him to pay attention. When it had set in that he was being serious, Margaret had told Camael to kick rocks.
Camael might not have understood the reference, not being human and all but he understood the sentiment. All the, same he was doing his father's work and has been pestering Margaret about it ever since. He wouldn't leave her alone no matter how many times she had insulted him and Margaret didn't know a way to kill him or keep him at bay. How would one kill an angel? She sure as shit didn't know and had poured in all her efforts to find out.
