Supernatural Drabbles

Nightmares From The Past

"You think you have a choice, and that's sweet and all, but it's time you take the knife and do what you were made to do."

I feel Dad's hands on my shoulders and the longer they hold me, the longer I hesitate. I look down at the sharp knife set in front of me, next to a bowl and one of his incantation books.

I don't want to do this...

I intently stare at the knife and begin to feel tears coming up.

I should never have said anything... If I hadn't spoken to Dean, I wouldn't have to do this...

Yesterday, I told Dean I did not want to become a hunter, that I did not want to become like him, like Dad. That I want to be normal, make some friends, live an ordinary life. And Dean understood. He told me Sam feels the same way sometimes. But Dad overheard our conversation, and he got angry at me. He told me I have no right to turn my back on this life, and that I have to accept my destiny, to embrace the person I will become.

And I know that this is my punishment. Because of what I said, because I went against Dad's plans, I have to go through a rite of passage. Dad wants me to perform a spell, which he said would help him in the current case he is investigating. He told me this would mark my very first contribution to a hunt. But not a single part of me wants to do it. I keep on staring at the knife, as if hoping I can magically make it vanish into thin air. But it is still here. Dad is still here, still behind me, waiting for me to pick it up and slice the inside of my hand with it. I know there is only one way out of this for me: to follow his orders and do as I was asked.

I reach out for the knife and pick it up with a shaking hand. I look at my left hand, before opening it wide, revealing its palm. I shed a few more tears, which fall into the inside of my hand, before slowly turning my head to look to my left: not too far from me stand Sam and Dean, staring at me with eyes filled with fear and concern. I look into Dean's eyes, making him understand I am scared. But all he can do to help me is to look back at me with a sad look in his gaze, telling me I have no choice.

Turning my head back in front of me, I gulp as I clutch the knife stronger into my right hand. Still shaking, I put its blade against the palm of my left hand. Slowly, I begin pressing it into my skin, and I can feel the pain intensifying as it sinks deeper. I wince in pain as the blood begins flowing.

I suddenly opened my eyes and gasped for air as I promptly rose into a sitting position on my bed. I looked around the motel room and my eyes instinctively searched for Sam and Dean, sleeping safe and sound, unaware of the nightmare I had just had about our father.