A/N- This is my first Supernatural fic ever. I've just started watching the series on Netflix and I really really love it. Like, more than love... I would do certain things to certain people on that show that I can't say for anyone else I know in real life (*cough* Sam *cough*). Anyway, the brothers and some other made up characters of my own show up in the next chapter, so please read, comment, and enjoy! I apologize for any mistakes, I read through and checked as thorougly as I could. If there are any big problems, I beg you to point them out. Constructive critiscism is greatly appreciated!

manhattan-dreams

Prologue

Christmas was just hours away when I woke up from the sound of screams at three o'clock in the morning. The first thought that came to mind was that Mom and Dad were fighting. They always did this... always had to ruin Christmas. Not just for me, but for themselves too. I burrowed into the covers and tried not to hear what I knew I would... the violent "I'll kill you if you don't show me where you hid that beer" or the stupid, "You're a retard" that echoed through every room of the house when things got ugly. Although, that wasn't what I was hearing.

It was just screams. Violent, blood boiling screams coming not only from Mom, but from Dad too. A "get off of her", and a "help, Rylee, help!"

That was when I pulled off the covers and got up. I walked out to the living room and noticed neither of them were there and that I could barely hear the screams. My mind traveled over to the shotgun resting with my Dad's hunting supplies and I grabbed it.

I turned to look for where to go, first staring out each of the windows through the dark, not being able to see anything. I'd picked up a flashlight on the way, when my attention turned to the bay window, our Christmas tree lighted with the magnificent angel on top. My eyes traveled to the ground, where a thick, red, puddle of blood was soaking into the carpet. I hurried out of the open window, then, and began to follow the trail.

I stayed quiet, Dad's gun in my hand as I followed the crimson fluid, my flashlight so low on battery that it flickered every three or four steps. With every leaf that ruffled along with the blowing wind, my mind would go on a stage of high alert. It was hard to focus on the one thing I was looking for, which was Mom and Dad.

I'd followed the trail all the way through the woods behind my house, to the old chicken coop Dad had built for me about ten years back, after he bought me chicks for Easter. A memory of the horrid day he took them away to be killed flashed in my mind and I pushed it back. Why in the hell was I worried about that now?

My heart beating at a quick pace, I tried to stay light on my feet as I walked closer to the coop then pushed the door open. I was worried that the loud creak would alert whatever was in there... if there was anything. If there was, I was caught, so I drew in a deep breath and burst in, the gun locked and loaded, my senses on high alert and myself ready to shoot whatever would come out at me.

A mouse scuttled across the ground and without thinking I shot at it, blowing it's tiny body to bits and sending it's guts all over the wall it was closest too. The smallest feeling of guilt crept up in my veins, but I pushed it away as I did with everything else that came to mind. I had to focus on finding Mom and Dad, and that only.

I continued moving forward, to the caged outside of the coop. I almost didn't want to round the corner and look. A certain apprehension coming from a sixth sense held me back, but I still pushed myself to turn around. As soon as I did, I wished I hadn't.

My parents were both laying there, though they were almost indistinguishable. Their faces... their bodies... every part of them was scratched to hell. They were laying in pools of their own blood, so fresh that they were just beginning to flow into each other and mix together.

I should've ran back home... called 911 just then, but I was too numb to move from that place. So, for seconds... hours... minutes I stood still, just watching as more and more blood bubbled up from my parent's bodies and mixed together with the dead leaves and the tiny hint of frost that lay on the ground. It was only when I felt a wetness in my feet that I realized it had soaked into my cheap boot-slippers that I had opened just earlier that evening as a pre-Christmas gift.

I examined their faces, noticing not a pattern to the cut, not one at all. One deep slice was nowhere near the next, and they just rested on top of each other, criss-crossing in the most random way.

It was almost dawn when I stood up and decided I'd go back home and call my grandmother. She'd know what to do. She always did. I stumbled forward and as I put weight onto my left foot blood oozed out. In an emotional rage, I pulled the boots off and swung them so far over the fence that they got stuck in a tree. I did the same with my socks, though they fell through the branches and landed on the not-so-far-away ground.

The tears that should have started falling a long time ago finally pushed themselves out of my eyes. I made small weeping noises all the way out of the coop, until I rounded a corner. But I still stayed on high alert and kept my eyes forward, scanning the wooded area I'd played in all my life.

That was when I saw it. This thing... it looked half human, half animal, staring right at me. It's stature and face could have been just like me, it's golden hazel eyes reflecting off the sun that had just peeked over the mountain and it standing up tall, on two legs. But its feet, its nails, its long, stiff, bloody, and out of place golden hair told me that it wasn't human. There was no way.

"Hello Rylee," it blinked and turned it's head in the slightest manner.

"What are you doing here? What are you?" Every instinct told me to blow it's head off. Everything I'd learned told me to run away. Something told me not to do either.

"I have a plan for you, my dear." It stepped forward and brushed my blonde bangs and brown hair behind my ear. "You can come with me, and we can live off the land... forever."

It bent down and time seemed to go slow as I pulled the gun up, knocked it in the head, then put every last bullet in the M 98 through it's chest.

That was when I ran.

The cops showed up thirty minutes after I called. I was a bloody, nervous wreck as I explained in a speedy tongue everything that had happened. They gave each other puzzled looks as I led them out to the place where I'd shot the woman, right beside the coop.

I began to look around, noticing a lack of blood... and a lack of a body. What the hell? I had shot that thing right there. Something was up.

They left me alone when they spotted my parents. I tried to scream at them, to tell them they were dead as they knocked down the fence and tried to see if there was any chance they were alive. After looking for minutes all around where I'd shot the thing, I surrendered myself from my mind and laid down on the ground, begging to the God I didn't believe in that this had all been one messed up dream.

I wouldn't get that lucky.