Alright, so I'm still unsure whether i'm going to add to Hopes and Dreams or just leave it a three-shot, but I am positive that Sam won't leave me alone when it comes to writing. Here's my new series on Sam and my OC, Michaela :) Hope you enjoy. Please tell me what you think!
Thanks a lot to CFEditor for supporting me and being honest!
The night is dark and cold, the road in front of a faded, deserted warehouse empty and silent. It's a peaceful scene, just as it's been for years.
That is, until the shots ring out through the abandoned building and the terrain around it, bright bursts of gunfire shining through the dusty windows with every bullet that's released, reflecting off the camouflaged hood of the midnight Impala parked behind the structure in the dark. Moving quickly and quietly through the shadowy interior, Sam Winchester struggles to maneuver his large frame around all the junk that seems to be lying around. This ghoul is quick, and he can't seem to get a clean shot at its heads. He doesn't have to look over to know that Dean's having the same situation. His breathing is loud in his ears, wisps of white slipping from his lips when he exhales. He keeps his guard up, looking for anything out of place. The ghoul is quiet, careful. It knows there's company.
The brothers split up. Sam can only hope that this will succeed as he presses against a dusty wall that he knows the monsters are located behind. It's that vibe, his sixth sense telling him there's something dangerous. Something that's been raging through this cold Minnesota town for weeks. Something that, if done correctly and quickly, Sam can kill.
It's feeding. He can hear the much too unpleasant sounds emitting from it, and they send a disgusted shiver down his spine. Anger rises up inside him, and his hand clenches the shotgun at his side tightly. Deep breath through his nose and the slight pain of slamming his jaw tight, it takes seconds for him to roll to the side and locate the culprit. Hazel eyes dart around, analyzing his angle, and his finger pushes on the trigger.
The shot is deafening, but it wasn't his gun that went off. Shocked, the younger Winchester swallows and steps back, hoping it's his brother that shot. It's not. If it had been Dean, the creature would be dead on the ground. The shot was clumsy, undetermined, hesitant, and with horrible aim. With all of that, the ghoul had enough time to pounce on its attacker.
A scream echoes through the space he's in, panicked enough that it sparks Sam into action. Dropping his gun, he knows he's going to have to do this at a closer range, risking his life. Something glints in the dark. A knife, a machete, calling for him, offering to perform its purpose. Without a second thought, Sam scoops it up and dives in. The ghoul has its prey—a young woman?—held up against the wall, hand around her throat, smirking hungrily as the girl struggles, craning her neck as she chokes, legs kicking. As Sam coils himself, the monster drops the wounded and whirls around, powerful hands colliding with the hunter's chest and sending him crashing to the ground, the knife skidding away from him. Quickly, Sam scrambles back to his feet, ignoring the pain in his head and deciding to hold off the creature, at least until he can locate his weapon. The ghoul has an awful advantage, but Sam's larger and knows most of its weak points.
The unknown girl is slowly waking up, trying to make sense of her fuzzy surroundings. Sam struggles as he's struck endlessly, bruised and bloody as he manages to land a couple hard punches. The girl gasps and strives to get back on her feet, mustering all the strength she has. Her head is spinning, but someone is getting killed because of her and she's not about to allow that. She manages to get on her knees, black circles blocking her vision. Her hands search for her weapon, the one she had dropped. She mentally curses herself before her fingers collide with something hard. Hands shaking, she picks the gun back up and shoots blindly.
Sam unleashes a howl of pain as the bullet slices through his arm. What the hell? He was helping the damn girl! The ghoul smirks at yet another advantage and attacks. Sam falls to the ground under it, struggling to continue fighting. But the monster is too strong, too hungry, and Sam doesn't have anything to defend himself.
Well, he might have something.
With a swift swipe of the blade, the ghoul's head is sliding off its neck and falls to the floor with a dull thump. The body stills and drops onto Sam, who kicks it off with a grunt. Panting, he can't help but laugh humorlessly. Dean's standing over him with that signature smirk, the machete he had lost in his big brother's hand. With a groan, Sam is hauled up, his hand flying to the flesh wound once he's up.
"You good, Sammy?" His brother's question is a mix of concern, amusement, and arrogance. The younger rolls his eyes.
Dean raises his eyebrow, but shrugs it off. He looks over to the dead creature on the ground. Sam sighs. Once again, Dean shows up just in time to save his life. He doesn't want to think about the possibility of what could have happened if he had been too late. Suddenly, a gun clatters to the ground, and the brother's turn to the girl panting against the wall.
"Thanks." She whispers, dark eyes staring up at them.
Dean arches an eyebrow. Sam just glares.
"Do you have a death wish?" the taller man demands. "What the hell is wrong with you? That thing could have easily killed you."
She sighs. "I had it under control."
"Oh yeah, I can see that." Dean comments, rolling his eyes. He looks at Sam. "Who's she?"
"Good question. All I know is that she tried to interfere with the ghoul, got herself hurt, and shot me."
The girl rolls her eyes. "I was aiming for the—"
"Well you missed!"
Dean sighs. "Sam, let's just go." He grabs his brother's jacket and pulls him to the exit, rolling his eyes as the younger brother grumbles the entire way.
"Wait, Sam?" a thoughtful look crosses her face. "Winchester? Like, the brothers?" Scrambling to her feet, the girl follows.
"Hey, hey wait!" she limps over to them, grabs Dean's arm. "You guys are hunters?"
They look at her. No response. She sighs. "Look, my name is Michaela Valastro. I'm a hunter too, ok?"
"Obviously not a very good one." Dean says, making her jaw clench. "You're lucky we were here, or that ghoul would've had a nice dinner."
She nods. "I know." She bites her lip. "But that's expected of the Winchesters, right?"
Two pairs of green eyes snap to her attention. Michaela swallows. "Look, can I get you guys some drinks? For saving my life and all that?" Her eyes dark to Sam and his bleeding arm. "I can stitch that up and make sure it doesn't get infected."
Sam doesn't look at her. Dean looks thoughtful. Pretty girl offering to buy him a drink doesn't sound so bad. She seems to know who they are too, and they can't just let that go. Glancing at his brother, he sighs. "Okay, fine. But you have to tell us who you are and how you know who we are."
Michaela may not know how to hunt very well, but she sure knows her medical procedures. Her fingers weave the needle and thread in and out of Sam's skin quickly and softly, careful not to cause him too much pain. When she's done, the cuts the floss and leaves him with the cleanest stitches he's ever had. Completely at ease, she cleans off her supplies and slips the small first aid kit back into her back resting on her hip, offering him a small smile.
"They should fade in about a week. The scar won't be too noticeable." Softly she adds, "And I'm sorry you took the bullet and the ghoul didn't."
He shakes his head, a bit mystified by her. "Don't worry about it."
Dean sits on one of the beds in the motel room they've taken a short amount of residence in and hands Sam a beer courtesy of the damsel no longer in distress. "Alright, Michaela, talk. How do you know us?"
"I don't." she admits, a bit sheepishly. "I've heard your names floating around before, wondered what made you so special." She shrugs. "I guess I found out."
Dean raises an eyebrow and chuckles. "Alright then."
"I'm new at all of this." She bites her lip.
"Obviously." Sam adds.
She throws him a look. "I'm sorry I got in the way, okay? I was trying to figure some stuff out, and I almost got you killed."
"Happens all the time, just not with reckless newbies." Dean smirks at her, and it annoys her.
She doesn't stay very long. As soon as her beer bottle is empty, she's up and gripping the door handle before they can open their mouths.
"I should go."
"Hold on," Sam speaks up, standing. "Where are you gonna go?"
Michaela shrugs. "Try to kill some evil sons of bitches. Maybe get killed in the process." She laughs, but Sam doesn't. He doesn't get the joke. Then again, no one seems to.
"You can't just dive into another case. You gotta learn your stuff. Folklore, myths, how to handle a gun…"
"Look," she stops him before he really gets into it. Her hand on his chest makes him look down into her dark irises. "I'll be fine okay? I can handle myself." A smirk plays on her plump lips. "You gotta make mistakes if you're gonna learn something."
Sam swallows. He's not sure what to do. Something is telling him not to let her go off on her own, but who is he to stop her if he doesn't even know her? He and Dean sure as hell didn't need a third person to worry about, especially one as inexperienced as her. He's torn between leaving her to her own protection and refusing to allow another innocent person's life to slip through his fingers. He doubts she'll last another job on her own.
And that to the fact that she interests him. She doesn't seem to know anything about the supernatural world, and yet she's completely determined to do this on her own, no matter how much danger she will put herself in. She's stubborn and closed off, and he can't figure out what to make of her.
She's out before he can make a decision on what to do, slipping into the cold dark night, away from him.
His wound didn't start hurting until the headlights of her car faded into the black.