Stage of Salvation

1.01 Stage of Salvation

As I made my way deeper into the forest, I felt tiny, just like an ant as I looked up to the giant trees that looked down on me. I shivered as the cool wind swept across my face and made the falling leaves dance around me. In the distance, I could hear the mocking birds singing peacefully and it calmed me down, making me think of home. Home. The place I am far from. The place where my older sister Allison is dead. The last thing I remember was Stiles being finally safe from the Nogkitsune's evil wrath. It had only been moments before my devastated father went to work, making sure all of us teenagers knew what to say to the police to pass off her death as a random mugging and not the work of supernatural ninjas. (Side note: I. Hate. Ninjas.) This made me wonder if Scott thought about how my father could keep himself together enough to think so practically. "It's what we do..." Were the final words I heard my father say to him before I left home. I hadn't heard or spoken with my father since then. I walked further into the forest, the smell of rotting leaves filled my nostrils. I pulled my hood over my head to cover my face and went on. Suddenly, a rustling next to me stopped me in my tracks. Out of pure instinct, I drew my bow and aimed it in the direction where I heard the sound. I slowly crept towards the noise, goose bumps appearing on my arms. I jumped back, realizing that the noise was just a squirrel bouncing rapidly up the tree. I slung my bow on my back and reinserted the arrow that I hadn't used into my quiver. It was then that I realized I was moving closer to a building in the distance. Minutes later I got there and saw that the building was a motel. My stomach is rumbling heavily, but I know that these places are beyond me. But it would be a smart idea to get food and finding some in the motel would be the best place to do so.

The motel was just like any other ordinary motel in existence. As my grandpa said, going to a motel was the same as choosing junk food or a Hi-Point C9, you realized it was gonna be seriously underwhelming but it was cheap and available. This motel was no different. It had two stories with a railed balcony on the upper level. Within moments, I was strolling straight through the door as if I had a room there, which I clearly did not. Once I'm inside the receptionist gives me a warm smile.
"Can I help you?" She asked me.
"Hi, I was wondering if I could get an extra key for our room? My idiotic brother lost it."
"Sure! Can I have a name for your room?"
I paused for a moment before thinking of the most random name I could come up with on the spot. "Winchester."
"Alright. Here you go!" The receptionist hands me a key that has a four digit room number on it. And as it turns out, there's someone actually with the last name Winchester that's staying here. Just my luck. I find myself at the top of the stairs, and notice the hallways going off to the left and right. They appear to be straight, and are lined with doors on both sides. It looks like the entire second floor is just an endless line of rooms. I quickly find the right room and use the key to get inside. There are weather reports taped to the wall, marked up, books strewn around, and post-it notes everywhere in the room that I just entered. I was expecting to find some sort of leftover food, not this. Then something immediately catches my attention. A small black revolver was sitting on a coffee table in the middle of the room. I head over to the coffee table to get it since I can't help but be curious. But as soon as I do so someone comes up from behind me and slams me hard against the wall. I struggle to remain still and unmoving as the person pins me there. I feel like a rag doll, held in place and unable to move. My body feels cold from the wall's chill, and I can hardly keep my eyes open.
"Who the hell are you?" The person snarled. The voice appeared to be male and filled with anger and disdain. I don't answer which makes the man tighten his grip. Their grip is like a vice, suffocating me and restricting my breathing. It's almost as if they are the wall itself, keeping me trapped with just a touch. Whoever this guy is, he sure is strong. I feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, and the cold wall seeps through the gaps in his clothing, making my skin tingle. His breath is hot and heavy, as he leans closer to me. I can feel the pressure against my sides increase with every passing second, as if it was trying to crush every bone in my body. My voice is muffled against the wall, and I try to move again, but find that my arms have been pulled behind my back, making any attempt at escaping futile.
Seeing my struggle, a much younger man who seems to be in his early twenties from behind him with a fringe of short shaggy brown hair and light green eyes speaks up: "She's just a girl. She might not even be a-"
"Shut up. Dean, get the holy water." The man barked at another younger man who was standing beside him with a gun pointing at my face, which he lowered in order to do what he was told. Once he came back with a small canteen, I saw that he had green eyes, light freckles on his face, and short-cropped Ivy-league hair that is dark blonde. He looked vaguely similar to the younger man behind him who seemed extremely concerned yet alert. At that moment, I felt a splash of cold water down the edges of my hoodie. The man who was still pinning me to the wall waited for a few seconds before sighing in what seemed like he was trying to maintain his composure. "Now I'm going to ask you this one more time. Who are you and how did you get in here?" I wasn't going to give in but now it seemed like I had no other choice but to reveal my identity.
"Argent. Toralei Argent." The man is silent now as a stunned expression appears on his face while the two younger men behind him look confused. I feel a sudden release of tension as the man holding me lets go. My muscles loosen and relax, allowing me to take a deep breath as the wall's cold surface no longer presses against my back. I slide down the wall slowly, my feet now finally able to reach the ground again. My body feels sore and weak, but I take a moment to recover before taking a step forward towards the man who has now stepped back away from me. Though he doesn't speak, I can feel the tension in the air, as if something heavy and unknown still lingers between us.
"What's a little hunter doing out here all alone?" He abruptly asked, knowing what I am and obviously ignoring the tension.
"I would say the same for you three." I remarked. Winchester. It wasn't just a random name I made up as a lie to the receptionist, it was a name I remembered. The Winchester family hunted monsters just like mine. Except that they lack an army of followers, a collection of high-tech monster-killing weaponry, and an abundance of money and power to back them up. I recall reading the name on a hunter tracking list that my grandpa showed me after my mother died. Based on my prior knowledge of the hunter world, I knew John Winchester was a pretty damn good hunter, some say even as good as my own father. I also discovered that John Winchester is the patriarch of the Winchester family, the spouse of the late Mary Winchester, and the father of Dean and Sam Winchester, whom I thought to be the other men present. Then I look at the weather reports taped to the wall, marked up, books strewn around, and post-it notes scattered everywhere around the motel room.
"So... I'm assuming you guys are hunting something, right?" I ask, breaking the silence that seemed to have built up in the room. The three Winchester men looked at each other before Sam nodded.
"Yes. We're hunting a demon," He says with an air of seriousness and an intensity in his voice that leaves no room for argument. I'm taken aback by this sudden reveal, my eyes widening in surprise and unease. I raise an eyebrow, my disbelief palpable. The three Winchesters hold my gaze, their expressions not changing.
"Are you serious? You mean a devil horn, comes from hell, demon? I thought demons were myths." I say. First a homicidal Alpha Werewolf, a Kanima, a Darach, a pack of Alpha Werewolves, a striful Nogkitsune and its band of annoying Oni, and now a demon?! My life can't get any more worse than this, can it?
"Trust me, demons are far from myths, kid." Dean spoke aloud. John goes to sit at a paper strewn table, the small black revolver in front of him. Sam leans against the counter in the room while Dean paces like a stir crazed tiger at a zoo.
"So this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just... nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time I picked up a trail." John promptly stated.
"And that's when you took off." Dean remarked.
"Yeah. That's right. The demon must've come out hiding, or hibernation."
"Alright. So what's this trail you found?"
"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us."
"Families with infants?" Sam asked his father.
"Yeah. The night of the kid's six month birthday." John responded to him.
"I was six months old that night?" Sam questioned once more.
"Exactly six months."
"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death... Jessica. It's all because of me?" Sam said with a pained look of realization on his face. I watch as Dean rushes over to reassure him.
"We don't know that, Sam." He stated firmly.
"Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean." Sam retorted, the volume in his voice rising. I could tell by Dean's body language that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the conversation now.
"For the last time, what happened to them wasn't your fault."
"Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem!" Sam shouts. The sound of his voice echoes throughout the room, echoing off the walls and filling the space with a palpable feeling of tension. I can see the muscles in his neck and jaw tense.
"No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!" Dean yells back.
"Okay. That's enough." John says standing, acting as a mediator. The brothers take a breath and calm down. John fills us in on the rest of the story, that he's always been one step behind the demon, and could never get there in time to save anyone. That there are signs days before, cattle deaths, electrical storms, just like what happened a week before his wife Mary died. And in Palo Alto before Jessica, Sam's girlfriend, died. And they're starting again – in Salvation, Iowa. I intervened to say something when the Winchesters were gathering their belongings and about to depart from the motel room.
"I can help you guys go after this demon." What the hell am I doing? I'm the stupidest hunter alive.
"No. Absolutely not!" John remarked. "This doesn't concern you."
"If this demon is as powerful and dangerous as you say it is then it does concern me. And it looks to me like you could use all the help you can get." I replied, crossing my arms.
"She's right, dad." Sam said. John gave Sam a challenging glare. Sam gave John a stare in return, and John finally gave up.
"Fine. She can help." He stated reluctantly, then he turned to me. "But you're staying with me." I nod in response as I begin to assist the Winchesters in gathering their belongings before leaving this motel room and heading towards our destination of Salvation, Iowa.