❝You're a demon.❞
❝And you're not entirely human.❞
❴ SEASON 1 - ONGOING ❵
All her life, Iona Hardy has been intrigued by the darkness and what it will do to a person. W...
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The faint tune of a song playing off in the distance combines with the ringing in my ears, as I stir awake. I'm blinded by the harsh headlights from the semi-truck, still smashed against the side of the Impala. My body is nuzzled into Dean's from the crash, slightly hanging out of the now open door. The headlights shine off the fresh blood on his face – so much for the napkins. I slowly lift my arms out from under him and try to turn in my seat, but my right leg is numb – probably broken. Raising my fingers to his neck, I check his pulse and it's barely there. In front of us, Sam's head twitches.
"Sam?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and dry.
I hear a car door slam and freeze in place. Footsteps crunch along the dirt and make their way over to the driver's side door. The man – presumably the insane driver of the semi-truck – rips the door off by its handle and stares at Sam, with eyes as black at night.
"If you touch him, I swear, I will end you," I spit through my teeth, trying to maneuver myself over Dean and out the door.
"You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else," he gestures towards the Colt in Sam's lap.
"Who says I need a gun?" I threaten, a devilish smirk playing at my lips. He chuckles and then retreats out of the poor man's body into the night sky.
The man drops to the ground, finally gaining control over himself. He looks up at the car, realizing what just happened. "Oh, my God..."
"Ona," Sam whimpers, out of breath. I grab his seat, steadying my body back to where I was.
"Just stay calm, Sam," he turns his face, his eyes struggling to meet mine, and then looks towards his father.
"Dad?" he doesn't answer.
"Did I do this?" the old man stays on the ground, calling out to us in shock.
"Dad..." Sam tries again, louder this time, more desperate. He lolls his head against his seat, over towards us.
I scoot closer to him, having no real room to move, since my door is completely inverted. "Dean," I check his pulse again.
"He's still alive, Sam. He's holding on," I place my hand on Sam's shoulder and he slowly reaches up to grab it.
"Sir, I need you to call an ambulance!" the man perks his head up, in relief that someone is still alive, but doesn't move. "Right now!"
He scurries towards his truck, digging through the front seats to find his cellular device. Minutes pass and I'm fighting to stay awake, my eyes drooping heavily from the blood loss in my head. The last thing I remember hearing is the incessant blabbering of the old man speaking incredibly fast to the paramedics.
