Hunters Don't Cry (Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter One

A/N I don't own Sam or Dean Winchester, I only own my original characters. Starts at the begining of season four. This story may not exactly follow the timeline set up by the show.

Dad told me to push it away. Ignore the articles I saw in the paper. Ignore the salt along the door and the gun under my pillow. But by then it was in my blood.

Be normal, he said. Normal like homeschool? Normal like the first twelve years of my life spent driving around the country with my family finding and killing things that aren't supposed to exist? I wasn't even really sure what normal was by that point.

I didn't see another option. I ran. Of course, I did it to hunt. I hated "normal." It was so boring. I wanted to save people. To matter.

I took off toward Wisconsin. Having read a pretty strange obituary, I was very sure there was a job in a little town called East Creek.

It took me three days to get there with a combination of buses where I would get off in random cities, then hike a mile to the next town, and find a bus there to keep Dad off my tracks. I bribed people into buying me the bus tickets. By the time I finally reached East Creek, I had used so many fake names, I swear I almost forgot what my real one was: Ryder.

Let me tell you something about hunting. It's a lot easier when you have a car or at least a cell phone. In fact, I didn't bring any electronics except for a laptop I had bought. The money for which came from the period in time when Dad was trying to make me "normal" and had offered a "normal" person allowance.

Having bribed yet another adult to check me into a motel, I settled into my room.

Taking a flask from my bag, I filled a glass with holy water and set it on the nightstand. Then I salted the windows and door. Dad was always saying how important it was to do this. He was so careful about demons, and yet we had never hunted one.

I recalled a hunt where we were taking a look at a vic's home and found sulfur. The second Dad saw it, his phone was out and he was dialing. Mom grabbed my hand and quickly lead me to the car.

"Yeah," I heard Dad say. "We got one for you. Found some sulfur. We are leaving right now," he said. "Thanks, John. Danielle and I, we uh, we owe you one. Thanks." We got in the car and sped away, leaving the case behind.

Tearing myself away from the memory, I sat down and opened my  journal, running my fingers over the soft leather cover.Embossed on the leather in gold was a devil's trap.

I quickly wrote: "September: East Creek, WI: I found an obituary in the paper. Alex King was found dead inside his home with wounds that replicated if he had jumped off a twenty story building. There are no buildings even close to that height in East Creek and even if there was, he wouldn't have been able to drag himself into his house with wounds that bad."

I pulled out my laptop and started typing.

After several hours, I gave up. This Alex guy was squeaky clean. Not so much as a parking ticket. He was just an ordinary sales rep. The house where he was found was clean too. 

I glanced at my watch. Nine already? I was immeadiately hungry. Hopefully there was a diner or something that was open late. As I left, I hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. There was a bus stop directly in front of my motel, so I waited there for a few minutes until a bus creaked to a stop in front of me.

I got on and immeadiately noticed that I was the only one on the bus. The driver eyed me through the mirror. "This is my last run of the night," he said. "And it doesn't look like anybody else is getting on, so I'll just take you straight to where you want to go."