My Winchester

Last Night Out

"I don't know, man. I still don't feel right," Sam mumbled as he looked at his computer screen once more. They had been in this town ever since the Murdaws died. The only lead they had was the smell of sulfur all over the house. 

Dean was fed up. This little town was in the middle of nowhere. The bars were boring, and there just wasn't enough chicks. He couldn't take the case anywhere, and they had scared the crap out of some girl the other day. When they heard noise coming from the house down the street from the Murdaws, they could have sworn something weird was going on. They barged in, not even bothering to use a lock pick. Turns out, it was just some girl singing a little out of tune. "I'm telling you, dude. There's nothing here anymore! If there was a demon here then it's long gone."

"Why would it just randomly kill a family and then leave, Dean?" Sam replied incredulously. 

"I don't know! It had it's reasons. Can't we just get out of here?" He mumbled as he grabbed some clothes for a shower. He stormed off into the bathroom.

That girl might not have been able to sing, but she sure did have a good taste in music. Dean didn't find too many girls around anymore that didn't mind a little Bon Jovi. She didn't look too bad either. She had dark hair and bright brown eyes. Dean couldn't help but admire the way she held that shotgun too. It didn't matter though. He had scared the hell out of her; she thought he was a murderer.

Two days later, when they still hadn't found a single clue, Dean talked his brother into ditching Illinois.

***

"Hey girl, you wanna go out tonight?" the text read on my cell phone. A grin lightened my face. A night out on the town sounded like the perfect medicine to my crappy week. I texted my friend back before heading into the bathroom to get ready. I threw on my favorite little black dress, some heels, and my leather jacket. I did a light eye makeup with some eyeliner and a red lip.

Oh yeah. A night out was just what I needed. 

I texted my parents where I was going so that they wouldn't see my attire. My father wasn't the most accepting of how I liked to dress on the weekends. I was eighteen though; I was a good kid. I was always home before my parents woke up the next morning, and I never had a hangover that I couldn't hide. Sure, sometimes I'd mess around with a boy, but I always used protection and never over flaunted myself. I'm not stupid, I just like to have fun. It was like I could be whoever I wanted to be.

I snuck out the back door of my house and climbed into Katelyn's, my best friend, car. "Aye, chica. You ready?"

"You bet," I grinned as she pulled away from my house.

Almost an hour later, we were walking up to my favorite bar. It was nearly out of town, and it was the only one that was actually any interesting. All of the ones in town only contained the sleepy eyed men and the 40-year-old whores. 

I pulled out my fake ID and walked up to the door. "Hey there," I gave the bouncer a smile as I handed him my card. I had never seen him here before; he must be new. He looked me up and down. "You look a little young for twenty-three," he commented. 

"You let me and my friends through the door and I can be however old you want me to be, baby," I said with a wink. It was a cheesy line, but I wasn't gonna waste a good one on the bouncer. His eyes traveled south once more. When he looked back up, I gave him an award winning grin.

He let us inside after I gave him a fake number. The place was full of energy.

By the end of the night, I was lip-locked onto some guys mouth. He was attractive and had only had one beer, so I figured why not? Katelyn came and got me so we could head home. I was exhausted, but the night had been so much fun. It was almost sunrise when my friends dropped me off. I stood in the driveway for a minute, appreciating the sight of my sleeping home. I like to sit out front sometimes. It was nice, and I liked relaxing and watching the life of the town continue.

Little did I know that it'd be the last time I ever would.

I took off my heels as to keep from making noise when I entered the house. I tip-toed inside and climbed the stairs, heading to my bedroom. As I passed my sister's room, I saw that her door was open, which was rare. Confused, I stepped into the room. "Kayla?" I said in a whisper. Something wasn't right.

My sister was still in that pre-teen stage where hanging out with your family sucks and your bedroom is your favorite place on earth. Her door was always closed, and she threatened anybody's life if they came in without knocking. My baby sister could be annoying, but I wouldn't have traded her for anything. We had stayed up so many nights eating ice cream and watching Friends re-runs. She didn't care what clothes I wear or what music I listen to. Some nights, she was all I had.

I flipped on the light and instantly regretted it. A sob left my throat as I looked over the scene. It was simply inhumane.

There was obviously a struggle, as the room was torn to pieces. There was shards of broken vase all over the floor, probably from where she tried to fight back, the stubborn ass she was. And there, on the floor, was my baby sister. I had never seen a puddle of blood so big. Her throat was slit and gashes marked the rest of her body. There was blood splatter covering her boy band posters.

With tears running down my face, I ran to my parents bedroom, only to find the room entirely empty. I found both of their cell phones in the house and the cars were all here. I dialed 911 with trembling fingers, and the woman on the line could barely understand me between the sobs.

I couldn't stand being in the house any longer, which is why the police ended up reporting, not only my parents but also me missing.

All I took with me was a change of clothes and a family picture, too distraught to pack anything else. On my way out, I grabbed the wad of cash my parents kept in the freezer. I was about to grab my keys when a thought came to mind. I ran into the living room to grab the shotgun when something occurred to me.

If those two idiots were here "investigating" the Murdaw case, then they must have something to do with this. No wonder they broke down my door, and I let them repair it! What if they did this?

What if Dean Winchester killed my family?