Her Demons

Chapter 9

A/N: This is a crappy edit I made but pleaseeee don't steal this. Say hello to Demon!Olivia. ;) Also, sorry for the long wait. Been a lot going on recently. But, omg The Hunter's Daughter has reached over 1k votes and 30k reads! Thank you so much you guys! Ily! <3

Previously...

I pull my flask out of my bag and open it, drinking the last bit of blood that I had left in there.

Then the thought hits me.

What if it's something in the blood?

Now...

Three weeks goes by. I'm running off of little bits of demon blood here and there.

I'm slowly weaning myself off of it. The dreams have continued, but nothing like normal. Since I've been cutting back, I've been getting headaches. I have cravings, but I manage to suffer through them. Sam and Dean have noticed the slight change. However, Dean has stuck to our deal. He hasn't asked how I'm doing, hasn't asked about the dreams.

Sam and I have had a little small talk when we weren't busy working cases or busy talking about trying to find Cas. Not talking to him like we used to makes me miss the repetitive "Let's talk about where our relationship went wrong" conversations. I would give anything to have another one right now. Anyway, Sam knows that Dean is worried about me, and I can tell that Sam is worried about me too. I can tell by the way he stares at me with nothing but concern.

It's like we're in our motel room during a case, I'm at the table with my nose deep in a book. I look up; Sam is sitting across from me, quickly returning his gaze to his computer screen. I want to say something, but I decide against it, and that's how the cycle goes. We stare at each other; we don't talk to each other. Simple enough.

We're in New Jersey. Dad has kept an eye on us lately. It feels like everyone is out to get us at this point. After a case in Philadelphia, we've had to stay in hiding. We were spotted by a leviathan, and he came straight for us.

It seems that he told his other leviathan friends because we can't go anywhere without feeling like we're going to be attacked right that moment. I know, it makes us sound paranoid. But better safe than sorry.

We found an abandoned cabin, and I help Dad get things out of his trunk while Sam and Dean bring electricity back to the building. "How's it going, kid?" he asks me. Things are better with him and I now too. I've been able to get rid of the majority of his suspicions after a conversation we had a couple weeks ago.

I came up with the excuse that we were all tired and stressed out, probably made us imagine things. At first, he didn't buy it. Then I had to think up something at the last second. "I've been better since then, haven't I? You haven't been seeing any...black eyes or whatever you claimed to see," I said.

He raised an eyebrow then shrugged, turning his attention back to whatever he was working on at the time.

"I'm getting really tired of all this sneaking around," I reply as I pull out a large metal box. "What is in this thing?"

Dad takes it from me. "Let me worry about that." I grab a smaller bag and shut the trunk, following him inside where Sam and Dean have successfully turned on the electricity.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" Dean says.

"Yeah," Sam mutters. "Well, Motel 6 just isn't cutting it anymore."

"Well, I'm taking a page out of Frank Devereaux's bible on this one," Dad says. "Paranoia is just plain common sense right now."

"Weeks, guys, weeks," Dean exclaims. "We've been living off of cold showers, cold Hot Pockets, and cold freaking everything! I mean, this is the bottom that we're living in. Don't you guys get that?"