Violet and Deanna

Deanna

"How dare he suggest that our own mother wasn't related to us?!"

As soon as they were out of the hearing range of the fresh-faced cop who had attempted to interview them, Violet started to curse the man out in rapid French. Deanna sighed.

"He was just doing his job, Violet. We have a different last name than our mother, it's a valid question. You can't go around insulting cops, even if it's in another language," Deanna said. She shot her twin a glare.

"Remind me again why I let you call the cops? All they do is cause problems. We know what happened. The devil's trap broke. The demon killed mom. The police aren't going to do jack shit about a demon. We are," Deanna said. She pulled the keys from her scuffed up leather jacket and ignored the look Violet was giving her. Violet was giving her that look of careful scrutiny she usually reserved for their mother. Deanna unlocked the car and looked at Violet.

"What?" Deanna demanded.

"Dean, we couldn't have just left her there. People would've thought we killed her..."

Violet suddenly froze, her hand on the handle of the car door.

"Oh god. Our mother is dead. She left a mysterious note, which we took from a crime scene, and the police are going to think we murdered our own mother. Dean, I don't think I can do this," Violet said. Deanna leaned over the hood of the car.

"Violet. We're leaving town as soon as we get the money. So we can get away from this house and find our nonexistent father, like Mom apparently wanted," Deanna said. Violet looked at Deanna for a moment before physically relaxing. Deanna knew her twin well; Violet needed to work, and finding their father would be the kind of distraction working usually provided. Violet opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat. Deanna held back a grin and got behind the wheel of the car she had poured her sweat and blood into. She pulled Connor out of the driveway and away from that stupid house she'd been confined to for half her life.

"I keep telling you it cannot be too hard to find him. We know his last name: Winchester. We know he is or was a hunter. And we know that either you or me are named after him. I'm putting my money on you, since Violet isn't very manly," Violet said. Violets pulled a knife from her Michael Kors booties and started to absentmindedly polish it, another habit she had picked up from their mother. Deanna rolled her eyes and jammed her foot harder against the gas pedal as they sped down the road that led to the bank. She wasn't sure how close on their heels the police would be, but being fast would never hurt their case. She jerked the wheel to the right and Connor joined the line to the archaic bank window.

"I bet he was here on a job..." Violet murmured. Deanna ignored her, concentrating on the line to the bank and thanking everything holy that their town was tiny and so far behind the times that their large with drawl wouldn't ring any bells. Their car was only one car away from the window. Deanna looked over at Violet and smacked her arm.

"Violet! Put that away! Do you want the bank to call security when they see it?"

"Sorry." Violet slipped the knife back into her boot as Deanna pulled up to the window. The camera swiveled around to face them as the window slid open to reveal Jimmy Morgan's smiling, bruised face. His smile faltered slightly as his eyes fell on Deanna's face. Deanna smiled sweetly at him.

"Hey, Jimmy. How's life treating you?" Deanna asked. Jimmy's eyes narrowed slightly at her.

"My girlfriend broke up with me and half the football team jumped me on Friday," Jimmy said, his voice wavering slightly. Deanna smirked.