A Dance With The Devil (Spn fanfic)

The Boogie Monster

I never thought I would spend my life working at the dance studio that I had dreaded going to everyday of my high school career. But it was the family business and here I was. Waking up at 7 AM on a Saturday to go teach little devils how to tap their feet to a beat. I roll over to shut off my alarm and realize that it actually is not 7 AM, and that my mother would probably kill me in 3 seconds as it was actually 7:38 and if I wanted to waste her gas money rather than mine I would need to be dressed and ready 10 minutes ago.  

I sigh rolling over waiting for my mother to come in with her wrath. And as if on cue she comes stomping in, her poorly dyed brown hair showing her blond roots. Before she could say anything I spoke up, "I could dye your hair for you." I say knowing that depending on her mood, she would take it as a serious and quite generous offer or as a snippy comment.

"You're getting yourself to the studio, and if you are late I will fire you." She chose the latter.

"Fine, fire me!" I call out as she turns on her heels, her muscular arms slamming my door shut. I groan and roll out of bed and over to my dresser. As I pull out some workout shorts and the first tank top in my drawer I look at myself in the mirror. My dark blue, obviously not natural, hair was in a wild mess surrounding my round face. My skin was tan from the long summer we had that finally seemed to be disappearing. Not that I don't like the warm weather, but I do love when the weather changes here in upstate New York, considering the trees fill the sky with a warm hue that makes the icy air seem a little more bearable.

"You are dying my hair tonight! And not some radical color like yours!" My mother called up before slamming the door shut, rattling the house, signally her leaving me alone in the cold structure that surrounds us when we are bored and tired, also known as our beloved home. It was a small two story house, but it was enough for us. It was only us two lonely girls nowadays. My father had died when I was seventeen, leaving my delirious mother and I alone.

I quickly changed into my dance clothes and through some joggers on over top. I threw my blue hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and grabbed my coat, dance bag and phone and headed outside. It was a little dark out still, the sun just have risen a couple minutes ago. The air was warmer than I had expected since the last couple days had been cold but I guess we were back to an indian summer again. I shrug off my coat and throw it into my car, a '65 Buick Skylark. It had been my fathers and it was a gorgeous dark green, almost black.

I hopped in, putting the keys in the ignition and pulling out of my driveway. It was only a six minute drive to the studio but my mother liked getting their early to organize her notes and make sure no one has broken in over night, because you know... priorities. But even still I would be getting their five minutes early to open up my studio. There were 3 studios in the place. Mine, my mothers and a spare where I usually just invited my dance friends to hang out and drink and dance because there had been a couple poles installed. And now was the time to use it, we weren't going to be in our twenties forever. Plus it works really well for bachelor and bachelorette parties, and as much as I loved throwing those, it was a sad reminder of how single I was. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I worked at a dance studio everyday of the week, and in my spare time shooting and editing short films for my online college film classes. I never got out much unless it was to shoot or come to the dreaded studio.

But with that I pull up to my parking spot in the alley behind the studio and shut off the engine of my car. I grab my bag and watch in slow motion as everything inside spills out.

"Well that's just fantastic." I mutter sarcastically, aggressively throwing the bag back at the passengers seat. I open my car door with an oomph and then stroll over to the passenger side door. I lean down picking up hair ties, bobby pins, bandaids and other dance necessities and throw them back into the bag.