Supernatural: Introductions

So this is kinda my version of a Supernatural fanfic. I love the show, and had this idea in my head for a long time. Part of my desire to write a Supernatural fic was to write a GOOD female character: one that wasn't a bitch or a slut. Or both. If you guys don't watch the show, then that's cool, I don't think you necessarily need to have watched all of it to get what the story is about.

Supernatural: Introductions

With a strong push of the motel door, Dean swaggered into the room, dragging the heels of his feet into the floor, Sam following a few steps behind. The room was dark, with only the beam of light from the street lamp shinning through the doorway. The Winchester brothers had become accustomed to bouncing around from crappy motel to the next crappy motel since they were young. At the time, it was like an adventure; they didn't realize the lifestyle they used to fill their imagination would eventually become their future, especially for Sam. Sam hadn't always meshed well with his dad, John, or his brother. As he got older he formed his own dreams and future plans that didn't involve continuing the family business. Dean, on the other hand, was born to take after his father, not only in his choice of music and scruffy, bad boy look, but also in his determination to rid the world of demons and monsters.

Dean kept walking past the light switch, further into the room. “Hey, Sammy, turn on the light.”

Sam scoffed. “Of course, your highness,” he replied. He stepped over and flipped the little plastic lever and the florescent light flickered on.

“I was wondering when you two were gonna be back,” a voice said.
Both Dean and Sam sharply turned to face the small round table near the window, the direction that the unfamiliar voice was coming from.

Dean's hand went straight for the gun wedged in the back of his pants. “What the―”

“I mean, I left the cemetery over two hours ago, and I assumed that you guys wouldn't be too far behind me,” the girl said. She sat with her feet on top of the table, worn Chuck Taylors sticking out at the bottom of her jeans. She rested her hands on her stomach―she was completely calm.

“How did you get in here?” Sam stood in a readied position, prepared to counteract the girl if she made any sudden movements.

“And who the hell are you?” Dean asked loudly, gripping his pistol.

I guess you guys must have stopped for some drinks or something,” she concluded, ignoring both of their questions entirely. “But two hours? Really? Come on, you guys were just burning remains, not like it was ol' Yellow Eyes.”

Sam stood straighter, his full attention on the girl in front of him. “What did you say?”

She turned to Sam, “Yellow Eyes,” she repeated.

“Hey!” Dean shouted. The girl quickly looked at Dean and saw him holding his pistol tightly in his hand, his finger curled around the trigger. “I asked you a question. Who the hell are you?”

“Geez, Dean, someone's a little hostile. You didn't the number of some chick at the bar, I'm guessing,” she said.

Dean jerked his head back. “How do you know my name?” he asked.

She shrugged, “Who doesn't know your name in this business?”

“This business,” Sam repeated. “What business?”

The girl swung her legs off the table and sat up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. “Damn, you guys ask a crapload of questions,” she grumbled, clearly annoyed.

“And you have yet to answer any of those questions,” Dean pointed out. “So I'm just gonna have to ask you again: who the hell are you?”

It was clear that Dean was the sort of guy who wanted answers fast, no time to waste on anything. It was even worse when he felt threatened and at a loss of control of the situation. Sam, who was still standing closest to the door kept looking back and forth between his brother and the girl. When she mentioned Yellow Eyes―the demon that killed both his parents and his girlfriend, a topic not known to the everyday person―Sam got the feeling that she was one of them.

She stared at Dean for a moment, then brushed her bangs out of her face. “My name's Kim Takara.”

Dean smiled. “Well, Kim Takara, it was great of you to stop by, but I'm afraid it's time for you to leave now.” He cocked his gun and pointed it straight at Kim.

“Holy shit!” she gasped.

“Dean! Wait!” Sam yelled, holding up his hands.

“Wait?” he looked back at Sam, “What do you mean, wait?”

Sam bit his lip, then said, “She knew who Yellow Eyes was.”

“So?”

“So. That means she's just not a normal person...” he trailed off, hoping that Dean would understand what he meant.

Dean lowered his gun and thought for a moment. If she wasn't a normal person, then what was she, he thought. Then upon coming to a conclusion, his eyes widened and raised his gun back up. “Only demons would know who Yellow Eyes was.”

“Whoa,” she said, holding her hands up in front of her face. “You think that I'm a demon?”

Dean nodded. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

“Dean!” Sam stepped forward, holding his hand out toward Dean, keeping his eye on the pistol.

“Wait, a demon,” Kim said, “you mean a demon that could do...this.” She closed her eyes tightly and sat motionlessly in the chair.

Sam stood next to Dean, and they both watched her closely. They knew what would happen next once she opened her eyes. They would see black, soulless, demon eyes, the kind that haunted their dreams for years. With reflexes like a cat, Dean was ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

In one quick second, Kim's eyes opened, and the brothers caught their breath. “Rawr!” The girl growled like a cartoon lion, her eyes perfectly normal like they had been before―dark brown.

“Goddamn it!” Dean shouted, letting out a deep sigh as he lowered his pistol.

Sam dropped his head down with relief, wiping his face with his hand.

Kim was laughing to herself, clutching her stomach. “Come on, that was funny. Because I'm not really...with the...” she gestured to her eyes, “and you guys...” Suddenly she stopped and cleared her throat. “Never mind.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean put his gun back into the back of his pants. “Great, she's got a sense of humor,” he muttered.

“Some people say it's my charming wit,” Kim grinned.

“Really?” Dean said, looking over at the girl. “Because I just think it's annoying.”

Kim pressed her lips together, nodding her head. “I'll take note of that,” she said.

“Dean,” Sam said.

“What?” he asked defensively. “This girl just punked us into faking that she was a demon, as if Ashton was gonna pop out from underneath the bed or something.”

Kim raised one eyebrow. “That's actually a really scary thought.”

“Okay, but seriously,” Dean began, “now that we know you're not a demon, you're really gonna have to start answering some of our questions. Like how the hell you got in here.”

Sam nodded. “And how you know Yellow Eyes.”

Kim pointed to the front door. “Well it's pretty easy when you guys don't lock the door,” she told them. “I thought I'd have to pick it or see if the window was cracked. But, nope, you guys made it real easy for me. All I had to do was turn the knob and voilà.” She smiled.

Dean snapped around to face Sam. “I thought you locked it when we left.”

Sam thought, a quizzical look on his face. He shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I forgot.”

“Nice,” Dean glared. “But it was locked when we came back.”

“Duh,” Kim said. “I locked it. I didn't want some bad guy or criminal coming in while I was here,” she chuckled.

Dean tilted his head. “You know, you're kind of a smart-ass.”

Kim casually shrugged away that insult. “Yeah, I know. One of my many personality quirks.”

“Oh, I'm sure you have many,” Dean added, exchanging sarcastic smiles with Kim.

Sam cleared his throat, gaining back their attention to what was really important. “Okay, so we know you're name and how you got here. But how do you know who Yellow Eyes was?”

Kim leaned forward in her seat. “I think the better questions is why do I know Yellow Eyes.”

Sam exchanged a curious look with Dean. This girl had a way with words, she was smart. “I'll right,” he said, nodding, “I'll bite. Why do you know Yellow Eyes?”

“You want the truth?” she asked them. They both looked at her, very attentively. “He was my piano teacher,” she answered. “He's very musically inclined.”

Dean snickered, shaking his head. “There's that smart-ass sense of humor again.”

“I know, sorry about that. I haven't found the ON/OFF switch for it yet,” she said.

Sam chuckled, rubbing his temple. Kim was basically a mini-Dean, with her nonstop sarcastic humor and her obvious preference to always have the last say. “Okay. Kim, can I call you Kim?”

“As long as I can call you Sam.”

“All right, Kim. Honestly, how do you know Yellow Eyes. We,” he said, looking up at Dean, “we really need to know.”

Kim took a deep breath in, and as she did so, her posture changed. She sat up straight in her chair and looked completely serious. “I had a run-in with him when I was younger, when I was six,” she said. “That was the one and only time I ever saw him, but, he sure did leave a lasting impression. Granted his visit wasn't as personal as his visits to you guys.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You know about us?”

She scoffed, as if that question was just a joke. “Who doesn't know about the two of you? Who doesn't know about the Winchester legacy?” She looked over at Dean, “You were the first person to vacation down in Hell and come back without a tan. Although you did gain some new angel poker buddies.” Then she looked at Sam. “And Sam, you were the chosen demon baby-puppet for Yellow Eyes that could see the future and predict all kinds of misfortune.”

“Wow.” Dean looked genuinely shocked.

“What can I say? I'm very well-educated,” Kim said.

There was no doubt in Sam or Dean's mind that Kim was different than most people. But to say that she was a hunter like them, it was too early to tell. She could've just been a supernatural-junkie that read up on the brothers and had great research talent. It was a little strange, however, that she suddenly appeared in their motel room, oozing with all this information about their lives and their job. The questions in the brother's minds were: What was she doing there? How did she find them? And what did she want from them?