Supernatural One Shots

The Illusion of Normal (Sam)

June 6, 2007

I’m normal... Or at least, that’s what I tell people.

My name is Sarah. Sarah Woodruff. I’m 23 years old, and I decided that I’d start this diary so that if I don’t live past this week, you’ll know what happened to me. My mother died in a house fire on my 6 month birthday. My dad didn’t take it well. He tried to keep it together until I was old enough to take care of myself; he didn’t succeed. The doctor put him on anti-depressants when I was 14, and when I was 15, I was sent to live with my aunt.

I went off to college for a teaching degree. Last year, after my graduation, I started having weird nightmares. But that’s just what they were: nightmares. And headaches. The headaches I could handle until recently. They’ve started to coincide with my nightmares. I’ve started getting the nightmares during the day, too. They’ve become increasingly real, almost as if I were watching them happen in real time. I had one, about my mother. About her death.

She was in my nursery, on the day of my 6 month birthday. Don’t ask me how I know that; I just knew that was the day. She was singing to me, when she was thrown back against the wall by an invisible force. She screamed, and I sat, watching. She was dragged up the wall and onto the ceiling, where she started to bleed from the stomach. It dripped on me, and suddenly I was swept up in my father’s arms, him carrying me from the room. The last thing I saw was my mother go up in flames. It was scary, I’ll admit. But there was something scarier than that.

It wasn’t a dream; it was a memory.

A few months ago, these two guys came into the town where I’d been teaching. They were both attractive, but they seemed dangerous. Dean and Sam Winchester. That’s their names. They’re demon hunters. I know you won’t believe me; it really does sound ridiculous. But it’s true. Dean is pretty hot, but the one that gets me is Sam. Sam is cute, like a young boy, but at the same time he’s so much more attractive than Dean because he’s more compassionate. And Sam is like me. The headaches, the nightmares. He told me that I’m psychic.

What the Winchesters didn’t know is that I’d known them. For at least a month. I’d been trying to figure out what exactly I am. Why I’m like this. I understand now. We were intended to make an army, but Sam told me that I’d be okay. I just had to stick with them so they could take care of me. That’s where I am now. But it was a long journey. I’ll tell you how it all started.

I was walking out of the high school were I used to work when I saw them for the first time. I didn’t think much of the Winchesters’ presence, though; we used to have lots of people pass through everyday.

I had just resigned from my teaching job. Word was going around that I was gonna be fired because I have chronic headaches. This was a recent development; they’ve come with strange dreams in the middle of the day. Apparently, I was prone to zoning out right before collapsing to the floor in agony. I’d rather resign than be fired.

The Winchesters were climbing up the steps of the public library across the street from my high school, and something clicked. I recognized one of them. The taller one. I had a dream about him. It was weird. He didn’t die, like everybody else in my dreams tended to. I knew I had to meet him. Maybe he could help me.

You see, my dreams usually come true. Two or three days after I have the dream. It terrified me. And I could never do anything because I was never sure if the dream would come true or not. But those were the fatal ones. Sometimes I had dreams about everyday accidents, and those could be changed. They didn’t ever result in death, though; just a ruined shirt or an upset stomach. This one dream was like a nightmare of sorts.This one reeked of death, as if I could smell it, and even though know one had died, I had a feeling death was approaching swiftly for someone.