My Inner Demon has Angel wings (Supernatural Fanfic)

|1| A Hunters Life

"You can't defeat me! I am--"

I cut cleanly through the vampires neck, its decapitated head hitting the floor with a wet splat. I keep my mouth closed as its blood splatters my face. Its body stands upright for a moment, before collapsing with a thud. I wipe the blood off my face with my sleeve, a satisfied sigh escaping my lips. The smell of the dead blood thickly clings in the air around me as if it is holding on for dear life. I look around the damp and mouldy warehouse, grabbing my beautiful, semi-auto pistol from the ground. Its silver, intricate patterns engraved in it. The hilts of it is wooden, my family name carved into it in cursive writing. I brush my thumb over the name. Mortem.

"You're lucky you didn't damage this" I smirk at the dead vampire. "I would of surely done something worse than cutting your ugly head off."

I slip my gun into the back of my pants. I then bend down and wipe the blood off my machete, and on to the dead vampires clothes. I then trudge out of the warehouse, not willing to take care of the vampires body. There are several of its victims in there behind me, but they were bled dry and dead. I don't have time to move them anyway.

I am in Chicago. Hunting a lone vampire. I almost feel sorry for the beast; it didn't have a nest. Creatures like him didn't survive long on their own. They needed each other to survive. Like wolves. But this vamp had been an idiot. Abducting virgin girls and raping them before sucking them dry. One night after the next. What a pathetic and disgusting creature. I hope he goes down to hell, where he belongs.

I smile as I see my beautiful Jeep. It blends in with the blackness of the night, the size of it almost looming over me. A large car for someone as small as me to own. I open the trunk, sliding my machete into the hidden compartment which holds my weapons. I close it, my boots kicking up dust on the dirt road as I move to the front of the car and slide into the drivers seat. I place my gun beside my seat, knowing to always be prepared and to have a weapon on me 24/7. I turn the key, my baby purring and roaring to life. I slowly manoeuvre it off the dirt track before thundering down the main road.

I love who I am. What I do. Being a Hunter brings a certain thrill that you normally couldn't accomplish when living a normal life. But my job was dangerous. Unpredictable. Any second could be my last. I know that. I am fully aware of that, but frankly, I don't give two shits.

My chest hurts as I remember my family, and how they were taken away from me. By one demon. One demon who snuck into their home and slaughtered them all in their sleep. Did he stop there? No. He killed every single Mortem until there were none left. Except me, of course. I survived. Barely. I have scars on my back to prove it.

I turn on some music, smiling as the noise fills my ears. The Devil in I by Slipknot. I snort at how silly it is that that song is my favourite. I softly bob my head back and forth, humming the beat. This is a treat for the night for killing a vampire. I'm not a party girl, and certainly not one that spends her entire night at a nightclub or a strip club. No. The only things I allow myself to do besides work, is sleep, listen to Slipknot, eat, and maybe have a beer. Nothing else.

After ten minutes or so, I pull up outside the local bar. I hardly go out for a drink, but I feel like spoiling myself tonight. I slam the car door behind me as I walk into the bar.

The place is quiet, soft music playing in the background. I can hear the loud clacks of pool balls hitting together, as well as soft murmurs. No shouting or yelling. My type of bar.

I make sure my leather jacket is zipped up--hiding the vampire blood splatters--before sitting down on a stool. The bar tender, an older man with a round gut and scruffy beard, raises an eyebrow.

"Corona Extra" I ask, wanting to feel beer pass my lips.

He chuckles, bending down and grabbing the beer, popping the lid off for me. "Here you go Love" he says in a raspy voice. He pushes it towards me, hearing it scrape across the wooden top before resting in my hand.

I curl my fingers around the cool, crisp bottle and smile. "Thanks."

"Hold on" he says, bending down and grabbing a fresh lime. He cuts out a wedge before sliding it into my beer through the top. "There. Perfection."

I smile a little wider, bringing the beverage to my lips and taking a swig. The lemon of the drink and the fresh lime make me want to moan. But I don't, of course. Moaning out loud in a bar gives people the wrong Idea.

"How y' do'in, pretty lady?"

I turn my head slightly to see a man a little older than me, leaning against the bar and gaze fixed on me. He looks drunk, lustful and gross. I curl a lip, knowing I can't enjoy my beer if he's going to be here. I can't ever treat myself, can I?

"Piss off" I say with a snarl, taking another swig of my beer.

Im not one of those hunters who goes around sleeping with various people. I mean, come on! Life isn't always about that. And I have a job to do. No distractions. No attachments. That doesn't mean I'm one of those bloody religious girls who won have sex before they are married. And it doesn't mean I'm a virgin. I just don't want to go banging every dude I see. Simple as that.

"Move along, scumbag" I grit, drinking my beer.

"Thats no way to treat a--"

I lash out with my foot, kicking the guy in the gut. He grunts, the air knocked out of his lungs. He stumbles back, almost falling but he grabs the bar-top to stop himself. The bar tender snorts.

I curl a lip at the man before taking a large swig of my beer. I notice the mirror behind the bar tender, and I gaze at myself with disgust.

My slightly curly brown hair is slightly ruffled, a few shorter pieces falling into my eyes. My lip has a scab, and I force myself not to start picking at it. Three, claw-mark scars peak put from the collar of my shirt, resting on my neck. The move down my neck, and I know that they continue down my back and stop at the opposite hip. My skin is pale, but not dead-white like some creatures I've seen. My eyes have bags underneath them, making me look tired, and in a way, more mature. My eyelashes are naturally thick and black, out-lining my eyes. I cringe though, when I see the colour of my eyes. Violet. Evie Mortem, the freak with violet eyes. The girl who was an outcast...

The man is at it again, leaning closer to me, his breath rancid and thick with the stench of pure alcohol. I snarl, placing money on the bar-top before standing from the stool. Im quite small, the man peering down at me, but I know I can kick his ass if need be.

I shove him back, turning to walk away but my eyes are drawn to the mirror again, where I can see a figure looking at me. He's a few tables away, standing still with his hands in his pockets. He wears a light brown trench coat, a black suit underneath with a white button-up shirt and trousers. A blue tie hangs from his neck. He has short black hair, and sky blue eyes that pierce my soul. At first, seeing him makes me feel...strange. Something deep down I can't explain. But then the intensity of his gaze....creeps me out.

I grab my beer, turning and leaving the bar, not looking back.

Who...who was that..?

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My First SPN Fanfic :3 Tell me what you thought!