Fighting The End : A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter: 1

The dusty New York air seems heavy in the dark alleyway. The echo of busy streets fill my ears. The smell of garbage and sewage is so strong I can almost see it, and feel it seeping into my skin.

"Are you looking for someone ma'am. A dark garbage filled ally way is no place for a fine lady like you." A low raspy voice bellows behind me. Slowly I turn to look at the face of a dirty bearded man.

"I do believe it is non of you're business. If I were you I would run while I could." I say, trying to keep my voice as low and threatening as I could. The man just smiles, showing a very toothless grin.

"Sorry ma'am but I believe I'm the one your looking for." As the man speaks, what's left of his teeth seem to sway trying to get free.

"I'm sorry. But I am not the same girl you must be waiting for." My words are hard as stone. I turn to leave, but the man grabs my arm.

Anger builds up in every muscle of my body. "No man, nor woman has the right to touch me unless permitted. Now let go of me, or you will wish you never set foot in this ally. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." He drops my arm immediately, and limps as fast as he can out of the ally. I watch him go until he turns the corner.

Once he is gone, my pacing continues. John has never been late to meet up with me. He's always been strict to his word.

I stop pacing, and close my eyes. He always says if he was late to go to the Hatton Way Motel, and wait for him in room twenty four. Twenty four is the date in January of his first borns birthday.

I take a quick breath, then open my eyes and head to the Hatton Way Motel.

The darkness of the streets cover me, as I hustle to the motel. The sign for the Hatton Way is mostly burnt out, and broken from its many years of service.

Slowly I step though the entrance of the cracked glass door. A short scrawny lady, stands watching the small TV that hangs over the front desk.

"Those two brothers really are something huh." She says still staring at the screen. "Too bad they are so handsome. If they weren't out robing banks like lunatics, I would snatch the tall moose like one up before he knew what was coming." She shakes her head and turns to face me.

"Well aren't you such a pretty young face! What can I do for you sweetheart." I smile as kindly as I can manage.

"Can you tell me if room twenty four is in use?" She looks down to here computer, and quickly types. After a moment passes she smiles, and looks up. "Yep. A few days ago two F.B.I agents checked in."

F.B.I would be a new cover for John. And who could the second person be. "Did they leave a name by any chance?" The woman shakes her head. "Nope they told me it was urgent, flashed their scary lookin' badges, and where gone. After I gave them a key of course."

I nod, then turn to leave. Behind me the woman calls out, "Why ask so many questions just to leave?"

I simply reply, "It's urgent." Then walk out the motel door.

Swiftly I fast walk towards room twenty four. Outside the door to the room, a black 67 Chevy impala is parked. A smile spreads across my face. The license plate reads Kansas. I know it's Johns.

I remember the first day I saw John he had this Impala. He actually hit me with it, then insisted to take me to the hospital. But once he got me there everything was healed. That's when he knew I was not human, and to my surprise he was a hunter. But before he had the chance to kill me, I screamed that I was not someone he wanted to kill. Then he heard me out, and actually became someone I learned to trust.

I run my finger across the front rim, and find the dent still left from my leg. He treats this thing like its his whole world, but doesn't fix my leg dent. Another smile settles on my face. Something that comes so rarely, yet brings so much joy.

Finally I step away from the Impala, and take in a breath before knocking on the door.

On the other side, I hear motions. Footsteps, a gun being cocked, unsteady breaths. My wolf hearing can definitely hear two people.

The door clicks, and I sidestep out of the way. As the door opens, light spills out on the cement to the side of me.

"Hello?" A deep raspy voice fills the silent air. Definitely not John. In one quick move I pull out my dagger, swing around the door, and shut it behind me. Then hold my dragger to the throat of the man with the deep raspy voice.

"Who are you." I growl in a threatening tone. The man narrows his eyes. "I think we should be asking you that. Considering we are not the ones invading your motel room."

I press the knife a little harder into his throat, just enough for it not to bleed. "Just be lucky you weren't naked." I snap. He chuckles a little. Then looks over my shoulder. "You just going to stand there Sammy?"

Before I can react, a sharp knife is pressed to my throat, and a strong hand pulls be backwards away from the man. My dagger drops to the floor with a loud clang.

I study the man, who is wearing plaid, and a leather jacket. His hair is a light chocolate brown, and formed up into a little fohawk. His eyes are hard, and emotionless, but I can see the years of wear, and worry behind them. Peeking out from the collar of his shirt looks like a anti possession tattoo. He is definitely a hunter.

He grabs a bottle of water from the desk, and spills half the liquid on my face. It tingles, and smells sweet. Holy water. "I'm not a demon." I say irritated. Then we cuts me with a silver knife. My whole body jerks in pain. "Ohh you will pay for that, barbie face!" I growl.

He looks at me with surprise. "A shifter?" He looks at the man holding me back.

"Not exactly." I say though gritted teeth. He eyes me with an expression I have seen before. "Just answer my question and I will be gone."

He folds his arms across his chest, and nods, "I'm listening." I look once more around the room, and listen for a third breathing body, but don't hear a thing. It makes no sense the Impala is parked outside. "Where is John Winchester."

The mans face goes completely blank. Then all too quickly anger fills the blankness. "Who the hell are you?" His voice full almost shaky.

At the mention of Johns name, a layer of him seems to peek it's way to the surface. And the reality of everything hits me hard in the face.

The way the man moves, talks, what he wears all mimic John. In farthest part of my mind I remember the face of a young boy always on the side of his father. The day after I met John, one of his sons was always curious about me. Asking why I was so different. Somehow we had a friendship that was very different from any other. After all I did look his age, but was far from it.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." I murmur. Still trying to convince myself. It would explain the Impala. And also the fact that he called the man holding me back Sammy. His little brother Sam.

His eyes widen. A sense of realization settles on his face. Hundreds of emotions cross his face at once.

"Malaya Frey. Long time no see."