Running From Insanity

6. Magical Falling Books

Being alone for a couple of hours, I had a lot of time to think. Mainly about my life now. About the monsters, since I didn't seem to question them earlier. Like, do Vampires really sulk around in the dark? Do Werewolves really have hair grow all over them?

No hunter was around to answer my questions, and they wouldn't be there for a while. More thoughts dug themselves into my mind. Being alone, I saw no harm in saying them out loud.

"Do wooden stakes really kill a werewolf? Are vampires really allergic to garlic? Do ghost, if you walk through them, really cover you in ectoplasm?" I paused and stopped pacing. "That would be some Ghostbuster shit right there." I then found myself humming the Ghostbuster theme.

Yeah, I know, normal people don't do this. But I've been in quarantine for almost ten years, I'm not normal. Especially with human interactions, so I've learned. This is what I would do in that mental hospital all day. Talk to myself. Hum. Plan escapes. You have no idea how many times they caught me drawing up plans to bust outta there. It's ridiculous.

I looked at the clock next to the bed. I frowned, I still had a while.

"No Sam and Dean to answer. I don't know any other hunter." I paused as I face scrunched up. "If there are any more hunters. These three might be the only ones."

Four, I reminded myself, now being a rookie hunter myself. There's four now.

I sighed and propped my head in my hands. My eyes closed as I felt a wave of chills hit me. A shaky breath escaped my lips once I opened my eyes. My breath floated as a white puff before fading. My hair stood on end.

Just like Marin's brother...

Thunk.

I looked over at the bed and saw that a leather book had fallen from Dean's bag. The cold chills went away. Along with whatever caused the book to fall. Still a little spooked, I waited for a while before scooping up the book.

I flipped the worn leather book in my hands, wondering how long this had been used. To this day I still don't know. I opened the front cover to find a name and initials.

"John Winchester," I said aloud. "H.W.? Who is H. W.?" I'm assuming John Winchester is related to Sam and Dean in some way since their last name is Winchester.

I flipped through the pages, my jaw dropping at the drawings and writing. All things supernatural were covered in these pages. Demons. Werewolves. Vampires. Windigos? Shapeshifters? And many more I didn't know.

I hunted through the pages, reading all the so-called 'Lore.' My eyes scanned the words like I was drawn to them.

Werewolves are only killed by a silver bullet to the heart.

Sunlight does not affect vampires! Behead them!

Shapeshifters are just as vulnerable as humans. Anything can kill them. Preferred weapon, gun.

So far I have found no weaknesses for demons. The most you can do is exorcise them back to Hell. No sightings of the Yellow-Eyed-Demon yet.

"'Yellow-Eyed'?" I questioned, skipping a few more pages.

November 9, 1983,
It's been two months since Mary burned in our house. I miss her so much. Dean isn't holding it up very well. I'll have to knock that out of him. I talked to some of the locals in Laurence, Kansas and learned that Demons are real. I can't believe it, but that's the only thing that could've done this. Sam has been mute since we left our home, his eyes periodically looking weird. He's tried to tear the Impala seats. I think the Demon hurt Sam. That's the only explanation. We have no more home. We only have ourselves and the Impala, which Sam has tried to destroy. I've found out about a place called 'The Roadhouse' where these, 'Hunters' go and get jobs and intel from the owner. It's my next stop. Hopefully, she'll have tabs on the Yellow-Eyed-Demon.