A/N - This chapter is edited. Not to my liking, but just so it's not as cringe-worthy. Be warned: later chapters haven't been edited.

If you wish to edit this story please message me.

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I look at the car, 67' Chevy Implala with wonder as I sip my red strawberry flavour slush puppie. I may be seventeen, but I'm not dumb. This car's a classic. Most of all, it's in the best condition I've ever seen one. I sigh, wishing I had enough money to buy one of them, but also knowing that I have to put up with my small, little, mini; it has everything I need to hunt with; knives, salt, guns, etc.

I stand up from where I was sitting, outside the coffee shop, and walk across the road to the shop on the other side, where beauty of a car is parked outside. It's a bar, but it does breakfast at six in the morning. At least it's better than the others in terms of efficiency. I walk in, looking around. I see the wooden bar, in which a drunk man sat, and a little girl next to her mother at the best possibile distance from him. There's another man, just sitting there. Seems like a majority of people were depressed in here. I look to myl eft, double seats that face each other with a table in the middle. My eyes lay on two men sitting together eating, one on one side, the other opposite him. I walk around, sitting behind the one with shorter hair, who looks older than the two. I pick up a menu. While I scan through the treats there, I eavesdrop. The best entertainment I have while I'm on the road, while I have no one to talk to but an angel that drops by irregularly.

❝--We need to find out what this thing is.❞ I hear the younger one say with a fair amount of determination.

❝Yeah. I know. These kids won't stand a chance with it. I mean, come on. first clowns, now ice cream trucks. What's next?❞ The older one says, sitting back. ❝Where do you suppose we look, Sam? Under a bush? 'Cause the way thing's are turning out right now, we're--❞

❝Please.❞ Sam interrupts. ❝I don't need sarcasm at this time in the morning. We need to concentrate.❞ He sighs, ❝Just eat. I'll do some research on this thing when we get back. I'll call Bobby too. We need all the help we can get; I won't let these children die.❞ he says, taking a bite of his food.

I sit, stock still. 'Did I just hear that right?' I think, 'Are they hunters?' I can't help but wonder. I sigh, and get up, walking around to stand at their table. They look up simultaneously, surprise plastered on their faces.

❝Sorry, who are you?❞ Sam questions; his voice... sweet.

❝I'm Louise.❞ I say, desperately trying to thin of something to say. I pause, then smile, ❝Hey, do you now who owns that car outside?❞ I ask, pointing to the 67' Chevy through the window.

❝It's mine. Why?❞ The older one speaks up, glaring slightly.

'This is so ironic...' I think, then shake my head. ❝It's a great car.❞

❝Okay...❞ He replies, looking towards Sam, exchanging a look that clearly shows what they think of me; that I'm weird. Strange. He looks back towards me. ❝What do you want?❞

I try to think of something that would hint that I'm a hunter, and something that can prove that they are too. ❝You believe in vampires?❞ I ask, looking at them. Hopefully, I asked that with a tone that suggested that I love 'Twilight', or something?

They both give me a strange look. ❝Know how to kill one?❞ The older one asks, mockingly. I smile; what luck that he asked that question.

❝Yeah. Of course. Chop off their heads. It's the only way, hell, I think you'd get slaughtered if you tried to stake them.❞ I chuckle. I note their reactions, they're both one of surprise. I bite my lip. ❝Do you believe in the supernatural?❞