This Supernatural fanfiction is written with around season 2 or 3 and instead of 2006-2007 my story will start in 2013.
Enjoy!
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I gasped, my body flying into a sitting position on its own accord, a knee-jerk reaction to my recurring nightmare.
Pushing the sweat drenched covers off my equally sweat drenched self, I sat up and crossed my legs, dragging my hands over my face, attempting to rub away the sleep in my eyes.
Looking over towards the small alarm clock, the number 3:06am flashed green.
I groaned and fell back against my pillow, wishing sleep was a possibility.
But it isn't.
Not when the dreams are so regular.
I shuddered, shoving the remnants of the nightmares out of my mind.
Sighing, I rolled myself out of my double bed , walking over to the mirror I flicked the light on, observing the dark bags under my eyes and the messy strands of hair that had escaped the even messier bun sitting atop my head.
Walking out of the room, I stepped cautiously down the stairs, not wanting to fall face first, and end up at the bottom… Again.
Loosening my grip on the banister as my feet finally hit the floor, I tip toed over to the side table near the front door.
Letting my hands hover over my keys for just a moment, I shook my head, moving the lace cloth to the side and lifting the latch to the concealed compartment.
I plucked the small fixed blade hunting knife out of the compartment, twirling it around in my hands, focusing on getting a good grip on the wooden handle, my initials carved into the base.
Clipping the latch back into place and sliding the cloth back over the top, I turned toward the kitchen, knife by my side, ready to defend myself if the need arose.
I slipped quietly into the kitchen, the cold tiles making goose bumps erupt up my legs.
I loosened my hold on the knife, sighing with relief that nobody was in my kitchen.
Senses still on high alert, I made my way to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water, letting the water quench the dry thirst in my throat.
Leaning back against the counter, I closed my eyes, allowing the cool air calm my frazzled nerves.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the silhouette of a man leaning against the table.
Feeling the blade still sitting against the palm of my right hand, I spun around on the balls of my feet, only to find the table empty of the dark silhouette.
Shaking my head, I mumbled, something along the lines of finally going insane.
Setting my glass down in the sink, I kept the blade firmly in my hand.
Not bothering to lock the weapon away I crept up the stairs, looking to my hand, finding it shaking slightly.
I made my way into my room, deciding to read to pass time, I crawled over to my book case, my hands sliding quickly over my various books.
I pulled out two books, an Anne Rice novel and a romance novel.
Deciding that the Anne Rice novel would scare the crap out of me at three in the morning, I settled for the romance novel, pulling the book to my chest and making my way over to my window seat, drawing the curtains and curling into the many pillows, diving deep into the world of sappy romances and happy endings.
