The 4th Winchester - Book 1 (Supernatural Fan-Fic)

00. Prologue

The 4th Winchester (Supernatural Fan-Fiction)

2009

Introduction

<Katia’s POV>

The cool Wyoming breeze soothed my face as I walked up the short paved path which leads to the entrance of my little house.

I took the key from my pocket before forcing it into the lock of the front door and twisting it. The family car was parked in the driveway which meant that both Eric and Lydia were home. I gave the door a little shove, watching some splinters fall to the wooden deck below it. ‘We really need to get this door fixed,’ I announced as I entered the cosy, country-styled house before slamming the door shut.

‘Nice to see you too, Katy,’ Eric smiled sarcastically as he came from the kitchen, newspaper in hand.

‘How was school, honey?’ Lydia asked as she also exited the kitchen, following Eric into the lounge.

I’d just started back at school after summer break. Everyone started back two days ago but I managed to “persuade” Lydia that we started back on Wednesday instead of Monday. ‘It was good, Amanda invited a few of us to hers on Friday,’ I told Lydia as I let my satchel fall to the wooden floor beside my riding boots.

‘Amanda? Is she the one with the ranch?’ Lydia asked, placing her reading glasses onto the end of her nose like one of those librarians from the movies.

‘No, that’s Hannah. Amanda lives by the cathedral,’ I explained to Lydia as I took a seat beside her on the, rather old-fashioned, couch.

‘Oh yes, I remember her,’ Lydia announced as she clicked her fingers.

Eric perked up in the arm chair, which matched the same fabric style of the couch. ‘I got that new rifle today, it arrived in the mail this morning,’ Eric told me, his face was beaming.

‘I’m going with you to test it out,’ I blurted, I’ve always had a kind of “obsession” with shooting, it’s quite relaxing, yet exciting at the same time.

‘I thought you’d want to, I’ll let you try it out first,’ Eric continued. Even though the Whittaker’s aren’t my real parents’, for the past twelve years they’ve been the best guardians I could ever ask for.

‘Anyway, I should probably take my stuff to my room,’ I decided as I pushed myself up from the couch before collecting my satchel and scruffy, black converse then I ran off up the oak staircase.

                The door to my bedroom swung open swiftly, grazing across the beige carpet. I walked in, dropping my satchel onto the bed and my converse beside the wardrobe.

Once I’d done that, I sat down on my bed and admired my little, perfect room. I don’t think I’ll get over how amazing my room is. I mean it presents me brilliantly.

My double bed had a cute patched duvet over it; I’m not gonna lie, it kind of looked like either a five-year-olds duvet or maybe an elderly woman’s. At the top of my bed I had a little collection of pillows which suited my room. On the bedside table I had a lamp with a horse lamp-shade and a photo of me and my birth-mother at a horse ranch on my sixth birthday, exactly three months before she was murdered.

On the opposite wall to my bed I had a wooden, pine desk with a matching spinning chair; my laptop was in the centre of my desk. Around it I had a jewellery box which my great-grandma had given to my mom. I also had two pots of red and midnight blue nail varnish, my favourite colours. Above my desk, there was a shelf with three photos on it, there was one of me and my friend Jocelyn at a martial arts class, another with me, Lydia and Eric in Spain. Finally there was a photo of me and my dad, the only time I’d ever met him had been captured and put into a frame. I was, maybe, two months old. After that my mom and I moved from Lawrence, Kansas to my mom’s home town of Topeka, Kansas and that’s the last we heard of him. Next to the photo were two teddies, one from my mom and one from my dad.