Supernatural 1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. All other OCs belong to me.

1

Both boys traded doubtful look. Their dad's journal was lying as well as empty beer bottles in the table. They started arguing again.

"However, I think we should check it out," Sam demanded. "This haunted house was written on Dad's journal."

Dean scoffed. "I don't think it's necessary. There hasn't been any kidnap or death report since 57 years ago. The house is no longer haunted, and Dad didn't write too many details about the house. Besides, it has been stopping happening before Dad start hunting. Maybe it's just a note. It could have been a Glenn Close wanna be."

"Or a real witch, or might even a real demon maybe." Sam sighed as he turned his laptop to his brother so that Dean could see the reports on the webpage Sam had surfed before. "Check them out," Sam said as Dean scrolled the page down. "Those murders that happened earlier around the neighborhood were awful. The blood was drained out from their body…"

"Vampires?" Dean cuts as he skimmed through the screen. "Or crazy Pagan Gods?"

"Possibly not. Just continue reading, will ya? The victims were mutilated sadistically, their hearts were ripped out from their bodies, and so was the brain. The teeth were missing; some of the body parts were even boiled."

"Gross!" Dean pushed the laptop away, disgusted. "I think that's how those Glenn Close things got the inspiration."

Sam rolled his eye ball. "Look Dean, it looks like some unrevealed mystery, and I'm really curious with what has been killing every 13th full moon for almost a century—anyway tomorrow would be the 13th full moon phase. Oh, and also, some demonic omens were found around there the past few days. So, we're goin down?"

"Demonic omens? You should've mentioned that previously." Dean packed his things. "Yeah then, we'll hit the road again, Sammy!"

Grace was alone in her room, struggling with her school papers. Her brother, George, had just leaved the house in a roar of his motor cycle. She sighed. Ironically she had to stay with piles of books and papers that were waiting to be reviewed while his brother had his Saturday Night Party with his classmates. Such a pain being a bookworm, Grace thought.

She turned on her laptop, getting ready for her work. As she waited for the computer to load, she got herself to the kitchen for some task-accompany snacks. It didn't take a long time for her to get back to her room. But her room was nothing like she had left couple minutes ago. The windows were open widely, letting the cold night wind blew, messing her papers around the room. Grace frowned. She was sure she had locked the windows since the autumn started.

She shivered. Not sure why; a little afraid for the strange thing that just happened or because the cold wind. But she tried to ignore the goose bump and closed the window, making sure she locks them tight. There, across her house, under the street lamp, parked a classic black car. She slightly remembered the car, she was sure she'd been seeing that car before. But her memory tracing was distracted by the flickering lights of his table lamp. Grace sat in front of her table and tap the lamp several times; it usually works to make the lamp work steadily again. But then, the lamp just turned out dead. She inhaled deeply. Time for change the lightbulb, a voice in her head said.

To the storage room she went, trying to find the replacement for the dead lightbulb. She searched the whole room but the lightbulb were nowhere to be found. She remembered George replacing kitchen's lamp last few days. She was sure threre were packs of new lightbulbs. Grace concluded that it must have been her brother who kept the lightbulbs somewhere around the house.

Grace reached the phone to call George, asking whether he keep the rest of the lightbulb. Why would he kept the lightbulbs anyway, she talks to herself. She pressed her brother's phone number and waited for the dialing tone. Weird, she thought. There were no dialing tone; there were even no static on the phone. The line was down. No way her parents forget to pay the phone bill that the line being cut off. The company even had just sent two of their maintenance crew last morning, asking weird things that not related at all to the phone connenction. Screw the phone company, she cursed as she rushed to her room, getting her cellphone to call his brother. That way, she cursed again. She looked upon her cellphone screen and she found the 'no signal' sign on it.

Grace was about to given up with the table lamp when suddenly the lights were down; it was total black out on her house. It took a few second for her to adjust her sight. She relied only to a dim light from the street lamps. _Great_, she thought sarcastically, _after the phone line, now the lights. What's next?_

Next was a rattling sound from her roof, followed by the sound of the window that suddenly burst widely open. The cold wind blew from every direction. Now Grace wished she never asked what would happen next.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

2

Dean yawned on his seat. "It's boring. Nothing's gonna happen. It's-oh-so-quiet, Sam."

Sam kept his eyes over the house mentioned on their Dad's journal. "Just wait a couple hours then we'll leave."

"Yeah, to the magic fingered motel. I found a great motel around. They've got this Magic Finger, you know? And also pay-per-view," Dean laughed. "Anyway, you still got some quarters, don't you Sammy? I'm gonna need a lot of quarters back then."

Sam tried to ignore his brother when the light of the house they had been watching suddenly out. "Something _did_ happen Dean," Sam rushed out from the car, grabbing his full with equipment bag. Dean huffed as he followed his young brother.

The Winchesters were getting inside the door when they heard noises of falling things. Sam kicked the front door open and found a room with a shaking door; someone behind the door must be frantically trying to open the door. Another kick from Sam and the shaking door slammed open.

Inches away from them was, a thick black smoke floating in the air. With a shot of a rock-salt gun from Dean, the smoke faded and disappeared.

"Well, that was close," Dean put the gun down then starred to the pale trembling girl who was lying beside the door. "Lady, are you alright? You look dead pale," He helped the girl up. She shook her head no.

"Then this should help you out," Dean reach out a bottle of beer from his bag then offered it to the shaky girl.

Sam who had been looking around to make sure that the thing that attacked the girl had gone dropped a disbelief look to his brother. "Dude! This girl is still shaken and you offered her beer?" He took the beer from Dean's hand; avoid him to give the beer to the girl.

"Relax you, pretty boy, I'm just joking," Dean took the beer from Sam and effortlessly open the bottle before drank it out. "Beer's great ya know? You really don't want some?" He still offered the beer to the girl. Again, she shook her head no. Sam dropped an annoyed sight to his elder brother while Dean continue drinking innocently.

The girl looking at the boys, confused. "Hey, don't I know you guys? You're from the phone company, aren't you?"

Dean and Sam traded a look, and then they both smiled. "Ah, we've got busted stalking on a girl, aren't we Sam?"

-supernatural-

Grace sat tightly in the back seat of the Impala, trying to get herself calm. She looked at the boys and ask in skepticism. "Supernatural hunters, eh?"

Sam nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, that's what we do," Dean added, "Saving people; hunting things. Family business."

Grace, uncomfortably raised another question. "And the thing, black smoke whatsoever who tried to do any harm in my room, was that a ghost or something else?"

"We're afraid it was a demon," Sam's answer in hesitate.

"Yeah, but demon isn't usually scared people like that before possessing someone," Dean said. "So, Gracey, you really didn't found anything strange around your house lately?"

Grace inhaled deeply. "No. Not until tonight."

Sam thinking deeply, "It's weird. You didn't happen to find any strange symbol in your house?" Grace shook her head.

"So, if this thing is not things that we usually hunted down, is it only a Glenn Close wanna be who just raise from perdition after 57 years fasting of slaughtering people?" Dean throw a blank look to the house.

"Would you mind stop telling things about Glenn Close, Dean?" Sam sounded annoyed.

"Hey, I'm just sayin! You're such a douch bag," Dean replied.

"Wait. A bag," Grace shouted. "Uh, my brother did found a bag, a small bag consist of, um, dried herbs and things when we cleaned up the basement. He burnt the bag and it flamed blue. Did the bag means something to you guys?"

The Winchester boys look at each other then speak in unison, "_Hex Bag._"

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

I squinted to those two guys who were-once-phone-company-maintenance-crew. They had just told me that my house might had been a witch lair— or something like that. None of their words made any sense to me. I mean, come on! It is 21st century and they talked about Supernatural things? I starred at my house, the light was back, but some lamps flickered weirdly. I have live there since I was a kid. My parents live there, my grand parents live there and nothing strange ever happened in the house.

"Okay Bobby, thanks," the taller boy—Sam, said as he turned off his phone.

"So, what did Bobby said?" asked the other guy, Dean.

"Uh, it wasn't a witch lair," Sam answered. I inhaled sharply, thanking God. "But, it was once a sacrificial spot for witches who wanted to have some kind of greater power. For centuries, this entire estate was an open land. Here, they did the sacrificing ritual every 13th full moon each year. This, um, witches, sacrificed women—sometimes virgins' blood, first-borns internal organs like hearts and brains to the demon, and," Sam cut his words, seemed disgusted, "eat soup of their victims' body parts."

I gasped. That was just the grossest horror story I've ever heard. Both Dean and Sam shared the same disgusted expression.

Sam continued his story. "Then, about 60 years ago, people started building houses here. It was when the murdering and kidnapping started of people who residence in this house started."

"Why would they kidnap the house owner?" Dean frowned.

"So that they could use the house freely to do the ritual. The sacrificing ritual could only be done with the witch and their victims in the sacrificial spot," Sam explained. "Three years after the serial killing at the house, a man named Franz bought the house. It seemed like he was the one who planted the hex bag."

"Franz was my grandpa," I told the boys. "But he never told us anything about the hex bag thing."

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "I've told you, Dean. This is such a unrevealed mystery case."

Dean sneered, "Yeah, right you self-righteous kid. And what about the black smoke there? Was that a demon? Does Bobby know anything about it?"

Sam shook his head no. "Bobby had no idea what that thing was. Do you think it was a poltergeist, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Cause it was afraid of pure iron? But ghost never took a form of black smoke before."

The boys keep arguing about things I didn't understand at all. This conversation about evil things made me sick.

"Guys, could you please knock it off?" I half shouted. "I don't understand what the hell are you guys talking about. This horror things, witch, demons, ghost, supernatural things are so overwhelming. You two said you are hunters, right? It's your job to take care of these things. Can't you just, do your job; exorcise the house or anything just to make that thing leave?"

Sam looked at me, seemed concerned. "Yes, yes, we will do our job. But firstly, we have to make sure what kind of thing that almost attacked you there."

I pressed my head against the cold car window as I closed my eyes, tried to rest my mind for a while.

"You should get some rest, Lady. You look real tired," Dean suggested.

"Yeah, I am," I whispered.

"Maybe you can go back to your room. We'll salt the doors and we'll look after you as we work for the research of this bwitchy things," Dean told me.

"NO," I said defensively. "I'm not going back to my room, to my house with that witch ghost around during this sacrifice season."

"Ah! To the magic fingered motel then," there's a burst of excitement in Dean's voice, "I'm thinking of how comfortable sleeping with the Magic Finger on my bed."

"My brother is still out there, and he could have gone home any time. He would be worried if he couldn't find me anywhere," I told him. "Plus the mess inside the house would just add up his nerve. And the ghost what-so-ever could attack him too."

Dean looked disappointed, but he agreed me.

"If I may, uh, I'd like to sleep here, in the car," I suggested, looking nervously to the car's owner.

"You what?" Dean asked in confirmation tone, I barely read his expression. "A baby wants to sleep on my baby Impala?"

Not a good idea, I suppose. But then Dean broke into a big grin.

"It's alright, Gracey. Every chick is allowed to sleep on my baby Impala."

* * *

Sam shut his laptop, looked confused. "No lore about things that attacked Grace."

"Yeah," Dean agreed as he flipped his phone off. "No books in Bobby's library tell something about it."

"Cause it's not something ordinary."

Dean and Sam turned their head in the same time to the sound that came from the back seat.

"Dammit Cas! Not only suck on goodbye, you also suck on polite unshocking hellos," Dean hissed.

Castiel sat in the back seat, next to the sleeping girl. "I apologize."

"Then what is it?" Dean demanded.

"Something that would bring Lilith back," Castiel answered.

Sam frowned "It's one of the seal?"

"Yes," Castiel said without a tone of doubt. "We must stop it before demons break it."

**TBC**

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Supernatural, Mystery