Transcendental

We Are Young-F.U.N.

Snow drifted from the overcast sky, adding to the layer of white covering the ground. Adelaide Faye breathed in the crisp, winter air. For the first time since the beginning of November, the streets of New York were quiet. Gone were the bustling shoppers getting a head start on the holidays , the hundreds of cars, and seemingly endless traffic. The city was quiet. Serene, even. It was days like this Adelaide favored most.

Her arms felt weighted with the many grocery bags she carried. They were loaded with jars of coffee beans, tinsel and other Christmas decorations, and several rounds of ammo. Delilah, her roommate and co-owner of the Manhattan Mocha, had decided to wait until they ran out of coffee to send her to the store. They bought and operated the shop together, Delilah working as a barista and she as a waitress. It was their main source of income, and was a perfect cover for their real business.

With every step, her Christian Louboutin heels sunk into the snow. Adelaide had a thing for luxury clothing, and felt she had perfectly coordinated her outfit that day. Her white, form-fitting turtleneck and matching pants offset her periwinkle blue trench coat, the same shade as her heels.

Seeing the fluorescent lighted sign of the shop gave her an overwhelming feeling of relief. Nearing the entry, she fumbled with the groceries, attempting to free her hand to open the door. Through the window, she could see the shop was vacant, with the exception of Delilah. Her best friend sat on a bar stool, enjoying a chocolate chip mocha.

Adelaide's fingers closed around the doorknob. She could feel the grooves of the symbol that she had singlehandedly burned into the metal. The mark that distinguished the shop as a supply store for hunters. Not your stereotypical boot-wearing outdoorsmen, but a more atypical breed. They were the hunters of the supernatural, of demons and monsters. It takes one to know one.

Delilah heard the door chime, signaling that someone had entered the shop. She set her drink down and turned to Adelaide. "You're early Ada, thought you said the store would be packed," Delilah said. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Yeah, you should have seen the produce section," Adelaide answered with a joking wink. "Oh, and I scored. Two for one boxes of cocoa powder."
Delilah chuckled, "Nice."

"Any customers while I was out?," Adelaide asked while she unpacked a bag of spices and powders. She then turned her attention to a parcel of salt, and the boxes of ammo. Hunting necessities. "Just a couple of hipsters, my kind of people." Delilah was pleased by anyone of an alternative or hipster style. And the Manhattan Mocha was a magnet for them. It had vintage, yet cozy decorations that gave it a warm feel. The Manhattan Mocha was rival to even a Starbucks. If a Starbucks secretly sold unregistered weapons and blood. Well, demon blood to be exact.

By the time the groceries were unpacked, it was a quarter til' 5. The Manhattan Mocha would close in a little over three hours. Adelaide and Delilah drifted through the rest of the evening, completing their normal routine. There was the 5 'o clock work rush, and a few straggling customers throughout the rest of the night. While Adelaide cleaned the counters and swept the floor, Delilah scoured the news for any unusual stories. Strange murders, weird happenings, anything out of the ordinary. Her search was unsuccessful. Delilah sat there frustrated. "Nothing, damn it." Adelaide looked up from the coffee machine filter she was changing. "No potential cases?" Delilah looked back at her, "What do you think?" Adelaide chuckled. "I think you're a player addicted to the game. Enjoy taking a break." Delilah sighed. "I guess you're right. I'm a thrill-seeking addict."

Delilah looked at Adelaide, and extended her hand for a fist bump. "Salt and burn?" Ada returned the bump. "Salt and burn."

They finished cleaning the closed coffee shop, and prepped for the next day. Not only was it the first Sunday of December, but their day off. Adelaide planned to take advantage of the opportunity, and decorate the shop for Christmas. They had bought a tree the day before from a makeshift lot in an abandoned parking complex. On the other hand, Delilah was going to walk around the city for potential photo ops. And maybe even try to find a lead on a hunting case.

After they finished their chores, they went upstairs to their apartment. It was a large, 1 room studio with a bathroom . The apartment was beautifully designed with wooden plank flooring, brick walls and wooden beams on the ceiling. It had an alcove with two, twin size beds and curtains separating them. It served as the "bedrooms." There was a chef's kitchen with butcher block counters, and a wine rack. Parallel from their kitchen was the "living room," and finally was their office. It had two matching desks, and a large bookshelf. The office was in a corner, separated from the rest of the apartment. Much like how their business was a separate part of their lives all together.

After they had both finished showering and changed into their pajamas, they slipped on coats, scarves and slid into their boots. Delilah grabbed her prized Polaroid camera, and Ada got out her portable record player and a few vinyls. They headed up to the rooftop, after grabbing two canteens full of cocoa. It was there that they spent their evenings. Delilah would take pictures of the city. It was always most beautiful at night. Adelaide would play her vinyls, and they would sit there for what seemed like hours, taking it all in. It was so peaceful. They had spent a week decorating with strings of lights and had moved a comfy sofa up there.

For a brief moment, everything was right with the world. The lives of Adelaide and Delilah were perfect, neat, and tidy. Delilah seemed to realized that fact. "Tonight, we are young," she whispered.

After awhile, they headed back down to their apartment and go to sleep.

That was their typical everyday routine. In an ever-changing world, it was the one thing that remained the same. That is until one fateful morning. The morning they met the Winchesters.

Hey there!
Josie here, I'm writing this story with one of my best friends Natalie, who just so happens to be an amazing writer. The story will start to change between povs soon, and lol I have school so updates may be slow!
All rights go to Supernatural and Eric Kripke, only Ada and Violet we own
Carry on my wayward sons:)
Enjoy!