Bloodline (Supernatural)

6 - Fresh Air Won't Kill, But a Demon Could

I don't want to say Sam was right when he said I have no idea what I'm doing, but...

I should have just stuck with books.

When the Winchesters caught wind of a case, Cas joined them, leaving me to my own devices. It was a mistake on their part; I ventured through the bunker and found a weapon inventory room. Guns, blades, bullets, you name it. I opted for small blades, a pair that I found. At first, just testing the blades was practice in itself.

Then I decided to get fancy, and by fancy, I mean clumsy.

So, here I am now, currently in my designated bathroom, trying to wash the blood off my slit palm without scorching the open wound. Naturally, there is no first aid kit in sight, so that means I'm either making a band aid myself or I'm wrapping it with something until the three return from their hunt.

I need to try and hide this wound from them. If they see it, they'll definitely lock me in my room. For my safety or not, that's a cruel fate.

My blood circles the drain. The sight of it doesn't make my stomach turn. I've had my fair share of paper cuts and scraped knees. Though, I can say until now I have never cut myself with a blade.

Though it injured me, I'm keeping that pair.

I end up grabbing the nearest washcloth and gently wrap it around the cut. Deciding that I'm done with hands-on practice, I move to the bunker library. Sam's laptop is in sleep mode. Instead of waking up to an accessible menu, I find his laptop password protected. There's no indication of a password hint or said password lying around anywhere on the table it rests on.

Sighing, I go to the nearest book shelf, picking out a dusty book on demons. Using my good hand, I flip through pages, eyes skimming words that don't matter and focusing on those that do. The problem is, it's hard to say if the words I'm reading are real and not just made up by some crackpot.

At some point, the words blur together and my focus lapses. With my head pounding from effort, I take a walk up the stairs, out through the two doors, exposing myself outside. A little fresh air can't kill me.

The sky is overcast. Further away are darker clouds, threatening to storm. I decide to take a walk around the bunker. As I walk around the one side, I stop abruptly.

Cole.

Though I should be happy to see my boyfriend, I know it's not him. It's the demon possessing him that greets me. Though he doesn't sport the black eyes, I'm waiting for them to make an appearance.

"Hiya, Wills."

I cringe. It sounds like Cole, but it's not him. "Please let me be dreaming." In a blink of an eye, I gasp. Not-Cole is right in front of me, black eyes ablaze and staring through my soul.