Sam Winchester's Daughter

chapter VII

 Taking out the trash. That was something normal right? All teens did it when they were asked. The good children did it with no questions asked. Then how come when our Lottie did it, it ended up going badly?

 Just like any normal given day, Charlotte was left doing her homework while her guardian was looking in his old books-that probably dated from the beginning of time-to help Sam and Dean on their latest case.

 Quietly tip-toeing in front of his study, Charlotte tried to not gain his attention as she headed to the kitchen to get a drink. However, she apparently wasn't quiet enough.

 "Charlotte!"

 "Balls."

 The devil stopped in her tracks and peered through the cracks that the door provided so she could see a slit of her caller's face.

 "Yes?"

 "Trash, won't you?"

 With a roll of her eyes she grudged all the way to the destination she had in mind: the kitchen. Taking out the trash was a challenge, for there were glass bottles poking out, suggesting the countless nights Bobby Singer spent finishing them.

 With a glare sent towards the direction of the study, Charlotte made her way outside to the chilly October air. The particular month of October was always her muse, with all the supernatural lore that she could explore without looking too weird. To conclude, she did not find this month scary. Yet, the night was sure headed that way.

 As Charlotte made her way to the main black, plastic trashcan, she felt a presence. Although the only shadow she saw was of herself, she felt as if she wasn't the only one outside that night. While pretending to act as if everything was fine, she was really inching her hand subtly to her left hip, where her trusty silver blade stayed in place in between her skin and the denim of her jeans. 

 With a satisfying thump of the white bag in the trash, she turned quickly to face the unknown presence. 

 It was a cat. A black cat to be exact. The types with eyes so vividly green that that's the only feature you look at. Put in a trance by the exquisite creature, Charlotte bent down in hopes that the animal would let her stroke it's fur.

 "You're a beautiful kitty, now aren't you." Charlotte crept closer and closer to the crown of the cat. Just as her fingers skimmed the very tips of the ebony fur, the cat itself hissed, baring it's white teeth and scratched the unknown hand, four straight lines of blood surfacing onto the skin of her right hand.

 Taken off guard, Charlotte stumbled back, her ankle twisting during the process and her body falling in another's arms.

 Fully attentive now, Charlotte wriggled out of the strong hold and whipped out the silver blade from her hip. She now faced her neighbor, Miss Jodie.

 Miss Jodie herself was a widow with her two children already married. It puzzled Charlotte as to why she was outside so late. This absurdity masked Charlotte's pain in her right ankle. "Miss Jodie, what are you doing here?"

 The body of Miss Jodie smiled, a right dimple showing, while her eyes turned black. She was possessed. With this realization, with all her might, Charlotte charged towards her once-human neighbor. With a flick of her hand,  the knife was sent elsewhere. Charlotte still went in, wrapping her fingers around the fleshy neck of Miss Jodie. 

 Miss Jodie herself chuckled at the failed attempt of the weak girl. Following the chuckle, she punched Charlotte to the right of her jaw. From the blow she plummeted into a darkness.

 From the darkness Charlotte awoke, tied to a chair with rope in a dark room of a cabin. The moon's shine peered ever so slightly in the room casting a light glow. Bottom-lipped busted, right ankle searing with pain, and hand slightly burning from her recent scratches, she decided that enough was enough. Cautiously pulling out her other hidden knife, the one which was engraved,  Charlotte twisted her wrist and began sawing the rope. Suddenly, the demon responsible for her busted lip made an appearance. Charlotte slowed down her movements so the possessed wouldn't notice.

"Ah, how precious. Now tell me, how are the powers like?"

 Eyebrows furrowing, Charlotte was as honest as she could be.

 "Powers?  What are you talking about?"

 Miss Jodie's worn face grew into a rage and she back-handed slapped Charlotte. Tears formed in her eyes but she dared to let them go.

 "Tell me the truth!"

 "I am!"

 The demon's meatsuit's face contorted into amusement.

 "Hmm... interesting. You don't know the truth."

 "What truth?"

 With a smile, the demon triumphantly said, "Your Sam's Winchester's daughter, dear."

 Sam Winchester's daughter? The same Sam who avoids my gaze? The one who I look so similar to?

"How?"

"Momma had a one night stand, bam, you happened. Demon blood and all."

"I will never become one of you guys. Even if it's in my blood."

 Charlotte felt the last string of the rope detaching.

 "That's why you're here, darling. My young apprentice. Aren't you just enraged that they didn't tell you? This is your time to get back at them! This is your time to join us."

 "I'm not joining anyone."

 With that, Charlotte leapt out of the chair and made sure to stab demon-possessed Miss Jodie right in the heart. The demon lit up, and Charlotte enjoyed her own personal light show. As the body of Miss Jodie dropped knee-first onto the floor, Charlotte stared at the lifeless body.

 "No hard feelings, Miss Jodie."

 Charlotte proceeded to run her ass out of the cabin. It wasn't long until Charlotte faced the highway, dawn approaching and light peering through the leaves of the trees. Recognizing the highway, Charlotte made her way to the home she had lived in for as long as she could remember, disregarding the physical and emotional pain. On her journey, thoughts swarmed her head.

 Am I one of them?

 Is Sam really my father?

 Why did no one tell me?

Approaching the door she had faced numerous times, Charlotte took in a long breath that followed a long exhale.

 Is this even worth it?

 The sun was well risen now and Charlotte could tell that Bobby was still inside the house, unaware of her disappearance. Boldly, she gave three hard knocks on the door. It wasn't long until Bobby Singer himself answered it.

 He took in her matted hair, brown eyes filled with tears, dirty face, busted red lip and infected hand. Bewildered, he asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

 With a tear unexpectedly trailing down her face, she asked the one question that popped up the most.

 "Why didn't you tell me?"