Andi King didn't know how to play nice, because quite frankly, she didn't like people. She was a loner and that was how she liked it. Especially with a sadistic demon dead set on destroying her and anyone she got close to.
But that all changes when...
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I found myself in my hotel room alone. For the first time in a long time, there was no peace in the quiet. Even when my head was completely clear, I still found myself picking apart the last two days and how Dean had taken a quick hold of my life.
I couldn't get his words out of my head, though.
She has issues.
She's dangerous.
She's going to get me killed.
Last night seemed to prove otherwise, but I knew it wouldn't be long until it actually did happen. It always happened. No matter how hard I tried or fought, everyone I got close to ended up dead - and somehow, they knew this.
This is probably why I was standing here in this empty room as Sam and Dean loaded the car and why I pretended I was asleep this morning when they decided to have a friendly little chat about me over black coffee.
Sam didn't hold back either. The first thing out of his mouth was how he thought there was something wrong with me. He told Dean about everything he saw last night. How the Scarecrow just stared at me and then let me be. Like I wasn't worthy of a sacrifice.
How I ended up being scarier than the giant who had visions was beyond me. I could barely contain myself as they talked about Sam like it was no big deal, and if my drinking and my exploits were more of a danger than the boy who saw people die, then it was pretty clear we were not meant to work together.
There was no beating around this bush because they all knew it would have caught fire if they continued to circle. So I did what they wouldn't do or were afraid of doing in fear of disobeying them even further.
I walked away from it.
They left a little after sunrise. They made sure I was awake and caffeinated, pretending that everything was okay as I scarfed down the sliver of pie Dean had left.
I was flooded with relief the moment they stepped out of the door, but I waited until I knew they were at least a town over before I packed what little I had onto the back of my bike we had retrieved last night.
I pulled off the bandages around my wrists and slid into my leather gloves. The tight straps dug into my skin, but instead of taking them off to relieve the pain, I welcomed them as a painful reminder that I was still alive, and even though I was dangerous, I was still vulnerable.
I debated sending them a message, but the last thing I needed was running from yet another Winchester. John was one thing. He was too busy in his own little world to be bothered with tracking me down, but the boys, dead set on appeasing him, would stop at nothing to find me, and I needed as big of headstart I could get.
