Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not my characters.

A/N: This is set after And So It Begins, so if you haven't read the Riley adventures, then it might not make a whole lot of sense :)

MIKA

I suppose it started out like any other run-of-the-mill catastrophe—boring, innocuous. I didn't expect life to punch me in the gut and tear my carefully constructed world to shreds.

The worst part, though? I never even saw it coming.

Like most of the kids my age, my day started way too early. I got up. I went to school. I came home. I did homework. I went to bed.

Unlike most of the kids my age, I liked my soul-sucking routine. It was boring. It was mundane.

It was normal.

All the way up until it wasn't. But that comes later.

So there's a guy at my school. I like him. It's the first time in my life I've been in the same school long enough to like a guy.

His name is Ben.

Most of the time, he wears jeans and a t-shirt. I know this not because I stalk him, but because we have four classes together. And really, it's a crime to look that good in just jeans and a t-shirt.

Missouri, the psychic I'm staying with, says I can't date until I'm sixteen. But that's a whole ten months away, so I've got a lot of time to figure out how to get Ben to like me.

Riley once told me that boys are gross. But then again, Riley once waited around for months while her boyfriend was in a coma, so boys can't be that gross.

Of course, she wasn't all wrong. Most boys are gross. Jeremy Turner, for example, is a pig. I've seen him leering at girls' butts in the hallways. Sometimes he even whistles if their skirts are short enough. He's a football player, so maybe that's just part of his more primitive DNA.

I never did get why people like looking at butts. Then again, Riley says it just takes the butt of that one special person and...bam! You can't stop looking. Riley says a lot of weird stuff like that about Finn. He's my brother, though, so when I meet him, I'm going to keep my eyes off his butt.

Back to Ben, though.

He was nice. He smiled a lot, joked a lot. He got good grades, played soccer. He had shaggy red hair, and when he wore a baseball cap backwards, it stuck out at funny angles. He was just all around the perfect guy. And I never once had the courage to talk to him.

Until today.

School got out at three, like always. I stuck around for a little bit, talking with one of the girls in my English class about a project we were assigned together. We hashed out a tentative schedule and parted ways.

I was about to leave when I got a feeling. I get feelings a lot. Sometimes they lead to something, sometimes not. This one was important, though. I could tell. So I turned around and wandered back down the halls, until I felt the weird mental tug again. I was outside the boys locker room. Awesome. There was no way this could end well.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around to make sure I wouldn't be seen and pushed open the door.

When I first walked in, I was met with a barrage of sweaty boy smell. It was bad enough that I wanted to pinch my nose and simultaneously flee. But there was a dull thump followed by a small cry. Yep, someone was getting hit. No way I could just leave now.

I rounded the bank of lockers and stopped. Jeremy Turner and two of his friends were beating up another boy. His friends were pinning the boy's arms and Jeremy was in the midst of punching him.

Jeans, t-shirt. Shaggy red hair. Holy crap. The guy they were beating up was Ben.

Anger flooded through me, and I wondered if maybe it was impeding my good sense. I took a bold step forward. "Is this what you spend your time doing?" I asked brightly. As opening statements go, it wasn't super witty. But then again, I wasn't very good at clever quips. That was Riley's thing, and Riley's thing only.

Jeremy turned, hand paused mid flight. He looked confused. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded.

I smiled sweetly at him, twirling a lock of hair around my finger. "Looking for you, of course!" I put a lot of schmooze in my voice, wondering if that would work. Apparently it did, because he lowered his hand and took a couple steps towards me.

Okay. So far so good.

The next part would be a lot harder. However, I'd seen Riley do this before. If I played my cards right, I just might be able to pull it off.

I walked towards Jeremy, smiling and staring deep into his eyes. His eyes were looking quite a bit lower than my face, so he didn't really notice, but that was okay. When I reached him, I laced my hands together and smashed them into his gut. He doubled over. Then I grabbed a handful of his crunchy, hair-jelled spikes and shoved his head lower.

Jeremy's face, let me introduce Mika's knee. Bam! The impact jarred my knee painfully, but Jeremey dropped like a rock, which made it worth it.

"My eyes are up here, asshole," I said, moving past him.

The guy holding Ben's right arm let go, moving towards me with a scowl. I slipped one strap of my backpack off my shoulder, letting the bag slide down my other arm. Then I swung the thing with all my might, hitting the advancing guy and knocking him down as well.

The third guy, holding Ben's left arm, let go. He held his hands up and took a step back. Smart move, bucko.

Ben fell to his knees, swiping blood from his nose. He looked like he wanted to cry. I didn't blame him. Getting the snot beat out of me by the vampires had made me want to cry a lot, too.

"Get out," I told the third boy scathingly. My voice was ice and wrath. I'd gotten that trick from Riley, too. Hers was better than mine, but mine was still scary. At least, I thought so.

The third boy shuffled by me, turning sideways to avoid getting too near. He pulled the guy I'd hit with my backpack up, and they beat it.

I walked up to Ben and held a hand out to help him up. "You okay?" I asked him. He rocketed to his feet and shoved past me without a word, hurrying out of the locker room.

I flung my hands up, turning to watch him disappear through the doorway. "Seriously?" And here I was thinking that women were supposed to be the hormonal enigmas.

I stomped towards the door, fuming that I'd ripped a backpack strap for nothing when Jeremy caught my ankle. "Payback is coming, bitch," he spat, face twisted up in pain.

I shook my foot free, leaned down, and made my face cold. "I've seen things that would make you piss yourself, Jeremy Bentham Robert Turner. You're nothing but a bully, so don't think for one second that you actually scare me...bitch."

I walked out of school feeling pretty good about myself. I wanted to call Riley and tell her that I'd just had my first Bad-ass moment, but I couldn't.

I couldn't talk to Riley. Not after what I'd helped her do.

"Excuse me, miss?" a man called out behind me. I froze. Had someone seen the fight on a security camera? It was in a locker room, which probably legally couldn't be put under surveillance. Crap. What did he want?

I turned slowly, making my face as innocent as possible. "Yes?"

"Are you Mika McAllister?" he asked.

I froze. No one knew that name. I was Mika Atherton here.

"Sorry, I think you have the wrong person," I said after a too long moment of hesitation.

The man blinked his eyes and they were suddenly all black. I stared at him for a long second, and then I tried to run. Tried being the operative word. I didn't get very far before an invisible force yanked me off my feet and sent me flying through the air.

I hit the side of a car hard enough to see stars as I fell to the ground.

The pavement stung my hands and knees as I hit, but I was already on my feet and running before the pain registered. Thank goodness I was in boots, albeit cute yet functional cowboy boots, instead of the cheap flip-flops I'd originally thought about wearing.

Black eyes. Black eyes. I didn't know what that meant, but a feeling of dread curled in the pit of my stomach. Bad news. Whatever was chasing me was really bad news.

I sprinted through the parking lot, ducking and dodging between rows of cars. I ran in a zig-zag pattern with no real plan. Eventually though, I reached the end of the parking lot. Hunching behind the last car, I peered out across the two lane road of traffic.

Both the high school and the middle school were on the same road, so cars passed back and forth in a crazy stream as parents travel to and from picking up their kids.

I hesitated, wondering if I would survive a mad dash. The speed limit was technically only supposed to be twenty miles per hour here, but from a pedestrian standpoint, even that seemed fast.

Footsteps sounded behind me, and I was hit with a vision. I saw a truck, slamming onto its brakes. A horrified teenager was behind the wheel. "Get out of the way," he was mouthing, probably yelling, inside the cab of his truck. But I didn't, and the truck slammed into my body, sending me skidding down along the pavement.

My eyes snapped open, and I lunged to my feet. To my left, the same truck I had just seen exited the parking lot, accelerating quickly and noisily in a manner typical of a teenage driver. I waited, hearing the footsteps draw closer behind me.

I waited still, seconds ticking by, even though all the hair on my arms was standing up straight. Then, finally, I felt it. Now! my brain screamed at me. So I ran.

I darted straight across the sidewalk into traffic, feeling the fingers of the man brush the back of my sweat soaked t-shirt. He followed me a second later.

However sporadic and confusing my gift was, it kept me out of danger. I darted into traffic and managed to find the two perfect gaps between cars in both lanes of traffic. The man following me was not so lucky.

Behind me, brakes squealed followed by a meaty thump.

I hopped the curb, ran across the sidewalk, and entered yet another parking lot. Once I was there, I picked a car at random and hid behind it.

Crouching low behind a tire, I tried to calm down. It was impossible. I was breathing fast and hard as I peeked out to look at what I'd done. Cars were stopped. I could see the man chasing me. He was lying limp on the road, his body still and broken. As people got out of their cars and started to gather, concerned chatter filled the air.

The driver was standing at the front of his truck, staring down in shock. "He just ran right in front of me," he kept repeating over and over.

I pulled back behind the car, trying hard not to think about the lifetime of nightmares I'd just condemned him to. I'd just orchestrated someone's death, and I'd used that poor kid to do it.

Pulling out my phone with badly shaking hands, I dialed the number I knew by heart. I pressed the phone tightly to my ear as it dialed, and I waited, wiping my running nose on my sleeve.

Then it connected. "Riley?" I gasped out, tears running down my face. "I think I killed someone."

There was a pause, and my heart beat hard inside my chest as I awaited her response.

"Well, shit," she drawled, in typical Riley fashion. Then she cleared her throat. "Get somewhere safe. We're on our way."

We're on our way. We're on our way. We're on our way.

The words rattled around my head as I hung up and started to hyperventilate. They wouldn't get here on time. The feeling swamped over me, too harsh and full and overwhelming to be anything other than my gift.

Get somewhere safe. Cameras. There had been cameras in the school parking lot. They would have recorded what had happened. Parts of it anyway. Anyone or anything that was after me would be able to trace me back to Missouri's. I couldn't go there. Couldn't put her in danger.

Safe? Where would I be safe?

A vision swamped over me, making my stomach flip and my head spin. "It's okay," a rough voice whispered through the darkness surrounding me. I couldn't see anything, but I heard just fine. "I got you. Hang in there." Warmth surrounded me as strong arms lifted me off the ground. "Stay with me, kiddo. Just stay with me."

Hard asphalt prickled against my legs, pulling me back to reality. The smell of burnt rubber trickled over me, making me want to vomit. The driver had slammed on the brakes, but he hadn't been able to stop in time. That was my fault. He'd killed someone, and it was my fault for making it happen.

I tilted over, forearm stinging as it slapped against the asphalt, and I emptied my stomach. I was a killer. God, that was such a horrible feeling. Now I knew why Riley always seemed so sad and broody after killing the vampires. It hurt something inside of me to know that I had taken a life.

But I had bigger issues at the moment.

Heaving myself upright, I fumbled with my phone. I had recognized the voice from my vision, and Riley had made sure to put the man's number in my phone. I didn't know him that well, but Riley trusted him with her life.

The phone rang and rang. Nobody answered. When the voice message came on, I hung up with a sob. Fingers flying, I found the second contact Riley had put in the phone. If one brother didn't answer, maybe the other would.

"Hello?" came a sleepy voice. I remembered it well, even though we hadn't talked very much.

"Sam?" I choked out. "There was a man. Black eyes. He tried to...I don't know. He was chasing me. Threw me against a car without using his hands. His eyes...they were black. All black. I don't know what he wanted. I killed him. I think I killed him. Had a vision. Dean was in it. Saved me. Where are you?"

My vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges. I was hyperventilating.

I vaguely heard Sam speaking. I couldn't focus on the words, though. They went in one ear and floated out the other to join the clouds.

"Sam," I whispered. "I killed him." I leaned back around the tire, catching a glimpse of the body again. The head was pointed my direction, and empty eyes stared at me. I couldn't see very well because of the distance, but I could see that his eyes were no longer black.

"Please help me," I whispered.