Supernatural-Chapter 1

“Your father’s in here with me. He says hi by the way. He’s going to tear you apart, taste the iron in your blood.” The Demon inside John Winchester said to Dean (27 yrs. Old) and Sam (23 yrs. Old). Dean and Sam are John’s sons. Their fifteen yr. old sister Amy was lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding. Dean and Sam were pinned to the wall. The Demon possessing John used his power to do so. He had also knocked Amy down on the ground, so hard that she bled. He was a powerful demon. The Demon held the Colt, a legendary gun made in 1835 by Samuel Colt. Legend states that the gun can kill anything, any paranormal/supernatural.

“I want to kill you.” Sam said, sounding mad.

“That’ll be a neat trick.” The Demon says, placing the Colt on the dark brown end table. “Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.” Sam tried to use his telepathy to float the gun over to him, but he couldn’t. The demon wouldn’t let him, too powerful. All Dean could do was look over at his bleeding, unconscious sister on the floor. He wanted to make sure she was breathing; he didn’t trust what the demon inside John told him. After all these years, they finally met up with the demon. It probably possessed John because it was the only way to trick them, but he could have just possessed Amy. That wouldn’t have been fun for The Demon. So, that’s why he decided to possess John and make John kill the rest of his family. Dean began to say,

“If she’s dead, I swear to God-

“What are you and God going to do?” The Demon asks. “As far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The demon the killed in the alley was my boy.” Dean sighed. He couldn’t believe that those demons that possessed people were this demon’s children. But now, they’re dead.

“You got to be kidding me.” Dean said. The Demon scoffed.

“What? You think you humans are the only ones who can have a family? How would you like if I killed yours? Oh, wait...I forgot, I already killed your mother in 1983.” scoffed The Demon. “But still, two wrongs don’t make a right.” he smiled. Dean gave him a bad look that said he wanted to jump on top of him and kill him. That would only get John killed too. Dean suddenly looked back at his sister.

“Yeah, I bet you’re real proud of your children. Oh, wait, I forgot, I wasted them.” sneered Dean, smirking. A second later, The Demon lets John resurface to see what’s happening and then The Demon takes over John’s body again. He walks over by Amy and yanks her up, then pins her against the dark wooden wall of the cabin.

Amy isn’t unconscious anymore. She opens her eyes when her beaten up body allows her to. She looks around. Tonight, The Demon found them, the Winchesters found him. The Demon wanted to kill them and The Winchesters wanted to kill The Demon, the almighty leader of all the other demons, perhaps the father of them all. This demon was more powerful than anything else on this planet. That didn’t sound good.

Amy sudden stares at the yellowish-orange eyes that hold the beast’s taunt towards her. They’re sinister. They’re somewhat disappointing as well. Why were they like that? John looks at her vigorously. When Amy tries to look away, she can’t. She’s condemned to stare into John’s eyes, those daunting, fearful eyes. The Demon has a powerful hold on her, so powerful that she can’t move. Amy is able to move her eyeballs to the left (where John isn’t in the way), but The Demon makes John walk over to the left. Amy looks to the right and The Demon walks over to the right, staring at Amy. What is The Demon doing to her?

“Such a failure.” John says. When The Demon makes John talk, it’s the voice of John.

“Why don’t you get it over with?” suggests Amy. John smiles and says,

“That’s all part of your m.o., isn’t? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth.” Amy’s eyes become dark with anger.

“What’s that?” she asks. The Demon lets John resurface.

“This family doesn’t need you, not like you need them,” Johns states. “Sam and Dean are my children, not you.” Amy seizes.

“You hate me that much? She replies, not knowing if John was talking, but she knew he was. It was all the truth. She believed it, but she didn’t want to. Too much to handle.

“I never wanted you.” John explains. He wasn’t lying. Tears rolled down Amy’s face. She now knows the terrible truth. She knew it. If she wasn’t meant to be born, then why was she?

“Pathetic, you’re such a mistake.” sneers John.

“Stop it.” John orders the demon that possesses him. He’s fighting the demon inside him, he’s begging. Then, the demon resurfaces. Amy finds herself bleeding copiously from her chest and from the pores on her face. She can feel shredding of the skin, ripping of sinew and the sticky dark red blood that spills from her battered body. Blood suddenly oozes out from her mouth as she moans from the pain.

“Dad please…” she begged. “Don’t let it kill me.” John looks at her with a devious smile. Amy begins to cry and tries to plead to her brothers. No use. Pleading won’t work.

“Daddy please!” she cries as more blood pours out of her mouth, pores, and chest. She struggles to breathe and before she goes into unconsciousness, she hears John say,

“I’m not your father and you’re not my daughter.” After that, he attacks Dean with his power like he did to their sister.

All of a sudden, Sam and Dean break free from the hold. Sam grabs the Colt and aims it at John’s leg. He was going to end this all.

“You kill me, you kill Daddy.” Sneers The Demon. Sam shoots John in the leg and John resurfaces, falling to the ground unconscious. He’s not dead, but injured in the leg by a bullet. There’s only one bullet left in the gun now. It’s all over- The Demon’s dead, the war is over, and everything will be back to normal and.

Sam runs over to Amy, who’s lying on the ground. She’s cold.

“Oh god, you lost a lot of blood.” Sam says concerned. “It’s okay. It’s all over.” All over? Sam slowly walks over to his father and aims the gun at him. He counts the seconds till John wakes up.

One second.

Two seconds. John’s eyes open wide.

Three seconds.

Four seconds. John exclaims,

“Sammy! It’s still inside me! I can feel it. You shoot me in the heart!” Sam doesn’t know what to do.

“No.” Dean says. He’s lying on ground, bloody. He had been bleeding from his chest and mouth before. He still had enough strength to speak.

Sam had tears flooding his eyes. He could not kill John. If he did, he would never be able to forgive himself and everything would be over (that’s not the point). Is killing John the right thing to do? Suddenly, The Demon shoots out of John’s mouth and fades away. John is disappointed.

******

The Chevy Impala’s tires screeched and collided against the ground as it tore through the black void of night. Sam (23 yrs. old) yanked on the wheel when he took a turn far too fast. Sam was mad, angry at himself for not saving his older brother (27 yrs. old) from the torment at the invisible hands of the demon that devastated the Winchesters before. Sam was also mad at his father John for not showing any compassion towards his own son (the 27 yr. old) and daughter, who were both dying at the same time.

When Sam swerved as he drove the Impala, he then realized he was driving farther than too fast. He didn’t care, thought that he needed to make every second count. Blaring one the tape player was a tape playing.

John sat in the passenger seat. He thought that with Sam’s near to reckless driving, the car would lean heavily and, it did. Sam clutched onto the steering wheel tightly.

“Hold on, the hospital’s only ten minutes away.” he said.

John ignored Sam, his own wounds, and ignored his oldest son (who’s bleeding to death) in the backseat. But worse of all, he still ignored his daughter (15 yrs. old). She was on the verge of death. Right now, the clock is ticking for her. Her heart would give out anytime. She felt paralyzed. And all John cared about was his obsession of killing the demon that devastated this family before.

His breathing slightly elevated from the bad pain of the bullet wound to his leg.

“Sam, why didn’t you kill the demon? Killing it comes first, before me, before everything.” he stated to Sam. He didn’t even take a glance, never checking on Dean and Amy in the backseat. But, Sam took time to through the review mirror. A few times, Amy moaned. Dark red blood was still pouring out from the pores on her face and bleeding from her chest. Her clothes were all bloody, so were her fingers. Dean’s bloody fingers fisted in his shirt, clenched tightly against ravaged shirt to dull the pain in a futile attempt and was bleeding from his mouth and chest. In the bad condition he was in, all he cared about was Amy.

The worst injury that Amy was inflicted with was words. She didn’t know if the kind words came from John or the demon that possessed him at the time. And she didn’t know if the hateful (hurt) words came from John or the demon. If the demon spoke kindness, then the hurt words came from John. If Amy believed that then Sam knew she was dead. Amy and Dean were broken. Amy was beyond repair and John was mad about the demon.

“S...Sam, w...when are we g...going there?” Amy weakly asked, franticly breathing. When she talked, she stammered. She couldn’t help herself from doing it. If she continued to bleed from her pores and chest, she would bleed to death like Dean could if they don’t get to the hospital on time. Amy’s heart beat wouldn’t last that long. Sam put his eyes back on the road, shaking his head.

“No sir, not before everything.” Sam said to his father. “Look, we’ve still got the Colt. We have one bullet left. We can start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon…”

The rest of his words suddenly became buried by the cacophonous sound of metal pounding into metal. There was absolutely no time to see the headlights of the attacking white truck, and no time to escape its relentless onslaught. The truck hit the Impala at more than a full throttle with impacting with its midsection in an explosion of steel and glass. From the semi’s twin exhausts, black smoke belched as it revved hard. The wheels juddered as it ploughed the Impala forward while twisting its frame as it almost gouged the car into the ground.

Soon, the truck eased off, allowing the Chevy Impala to settle. Then, silence. The tape player was still playing lyrics from Credence Clearwater Revival, still echoing from the faded speakers. The demonic driver in the truck rammed the shift into reverse gear quickly. The truck lurched backwards, waiting for its finish. The truck stopped, and steamed hissed from the radiator (caused by the ambush) as the liquid dripped onto hot metal and evaporated into the air, perfuming the night with the sickening stench of antifreeze. The crumpled Impala was like in a behemoth from hell. The car stood no chance of escape.