Where it All Began//Supernatural Fanfiction

18- A Knife in the Dark

"courage comes in unlikely places"

-Gildor, The Fellowship of the Ring

A year ago, if you would have come up to me and told me that in a few months I would be travelling around the world with my brothers. Who happened to be fugitives of the U.S government, and spend their time living in cheap motel rooms and hunting down the supernatural.

I wouldn't have believed you.. in fact, I would have probably laughed in your face and told you to get a life.

Now, if you would have told me that my 'brothers' weren't really my brothers, and I was actually a pawn of an ancient evil that had been biding its time and waiting for the exact moment to spring out of the darkness and plunge the earth to its doom at the hands of, alleged brothers.

I would have told you to check yourself into a mental hospital.

But, in light of the fact that I've already been in a mental hospital, and I am currently living through all of the above.

I don't have much to say.

Besides the fact that maybe I should check myself back in.

Because after this, I'm going to need major help.

I couldn't quite describe the events that had transpired before, I just knew that at one point, I was standing the the study of a dead man, and the next, I was standing in a college dorm.

The dorm was sparsely decorated, a few throw pillows lazily tossed on the couch, the counter bearing the usual college staples. Sam and Dean lay in the middle of the living room, Sam, draped over the couch like a massive throw rug, and Dean, laying on top of a broken coffee table. At the same time, their eyes fluttered open, and they sat up, rubbing the backs of their heads painfully.

"Dude, what happened?" Sam asked, squinting sleepily at his brother, Dean shrugged.

"I dunno man, the last thing I remember was beer pong.." he stated, his eyes glassing over as he struggled to remember. Finally, deeming the case hopeless, he shrugged and stood up. Brushing off his wrinkled shirt and stretching. Sam followed, wincing at the bright light streaming through the open curtains.

"Who opened those?" He questioned, stumbling over to where they were and shutting them tightly, placing a hand on his aching head. It was then I noticed something slightly different.

The worn stress-lines that I had grown accustomed to around Dean's eyes were gone. His face holding a youthful, joyous appearance that I had never seen.

Sam was slightly shorter, his hair brushing the tops of his eyebrows and curling slightly at the ends. His eyes were brighter, younger, filled with something I hadn't seen much in them before, true happiness. They were younger, as if we had magically travelled back in time.

I stood helplessly beside them, unable to partake in the events, and unable to jog their memories.

"Where's Jess?" Sam asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes and stumbling over to the kitchen to scrounge for food.

"I don't know," Dean replied, groaning slightly as he held a hand to his forehead, "she's your girlfriend-- I'm never drinking this much again."

I snorted at his statement, in the real time, I was surprised Dean still had a functioning liver with the amount that he drank. Sam's question, though, was answered when the door to the small apartment swung open and a girl walked through, singing loudly and holding bags of groceries in her hands.

"Hello boys," she announced loudly, laughing when both brothers groaned and complained about the noise. "Nice to see the two of you awake and alive-- by the way, Sam, you, are buying me a new table."