Destined (SPN/TVD/TW)

Prologue

( REWRITING. BEWARE.)
It was eleven thrity-eight p.m.
On a secluded road in the outskirts of Virginia. In a 1982 Pontiac Trans Am, a young woman traveled toward the only town in a hundred miles. It was a good place to camp out and let things blow over, and that was exactly what this young lady was looking for. A place to hide...

My mind was sluggish and barely operable. My lips were cracked and my mouth was basically a desert it was so dry. I hadn't slept in over forty hours. In fact, the only thing keeping me awake was a disgusting redbull, coffee, and 5 hour energy concoction. My bloodshot eyes stung from my lack of sleep and overall physical condition. I looked, and felt, like a disheveled sack of rat guts. My clothing was like the face of a bloodhound, my hair appeared as if I'd picked a fight with a raccoon, and I smelt like I had been on the road for two days straight.

With nothing but two minute restroom breaks and a quick stop at a fast food place twenty-eight hours ago, I had plenty of reasons to be sour. I was exhausted, starving, and ready to kill anyone who crossed my path. I hadn't driven all the way across the flipping country just for bragging rights. If anything, I had set a new record for doing it in the shortest amount of time possible...

But fear is a powerful thing. It can make people do some pretty crazy crap. And in my case, it made me drive over twenty-five hundred miles to get away from a bunch of dogs...
Speaking of which, the bandage on my upper arm had almost completely soaked through with blood and infection.

To say that it hurt like a hellhound had personally taken a bite out of my arm would be a massive understatement. It was the one thing souring my mood. I could live on the road, I've done it multiple times before. I know what a headache is and the definition of dehydration very well. But this bite was not something that I would easily recover from, if I ever did.

......
😪
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A loud, blaring noise stopped me from dosing off completely. Wide awake now, I let out a shriek and jerk the wheel sideways. Narrowly avoiding slamming through the guardrail and plunging to my death. Since jerking the steering wheel sideways isn't the best idea, my car spins a complete one hundred eighty degrees before coming to a stop.

The adrenaline rush faded quick, and I was left sitting in the front seat struggling to get air into my frantically expanding lungs. The headache from before had turned into a massive migraine, and my heart was trying to break it's way out of my chest rather violently. It only lasted for a couple of minutes, this panic attack of sorts. In that time, I thought I had died. That I'd come all this way, running from an inevitable doom, to crash off the side of a bridge.

Flashing lights in my rearview mirror dragged me out of this deranged state of mind. I hadn't died, and even if I had I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be around to talk to the officer walking up to my window. The uniformed man shined a terribly bright flashlight into my window, "Ma'am? Are you alright? It looks like you fell asleep at the wheel and just about clobbered that rail over there." He made a gesture to the rear of the vehicle. Since I'd spun around in my crazed attempt to not die, I could only assume he was pointing at the wall I had almost demolished.

So he must have been the loud noise I'd heard, blowing his horn to wake me up. I opened my mouth to respond, but then I noticed something that snatched all the breath away from my lungs. Another figure was coming toward my car. A tall, dark figure that moved with the grace of a lion about to suffocate it's prey. My gut twisted itself into knots of displeasure, screaming at me to run away.