Where it All Began//Supernatural Fanfiction

11- Of Grave Importance

"We're not going to die," Sam assured me, "you're safe." I gulped, unsure on whether to believe him.

"Let's go get Dean, we'll come back later," I nodded slowly, the words 'come back', echoing ominously in my brain.

We exited the house hurriedly, mostly because I was for once, ahead of both Sam and Dean. My feet taking me as fast as I could to the shelter of the impala. I opened the door and jumped in, burying my face in the soft leather and breathing in deeply.

"Charleston! I'm so glad to be back- thank you for always being there for me," I cried into the seat, my heart slowing from its rigorous pumping.

"Wait..Charleston?" Dean asked incredulously, "Did she just call my baby, Charleston?" He asked Sam.

"What?" I broke in, "When I stole Baby, I didn't know he was a she.. and that she already had a name- so I named it Charleston, it felt like it fit."

"You had her for a day," Sam replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

"So? You're point is?- we went through a lot together, don't judge us." I defended, crossing my arms and sticking my chin out in defiance.

"Where now? I don't know about you guys, but I'm in the mood for chili."

Unfortunately, the diner that we attended was fresh out of chili. Literally, the waitress having given the last bowl to a pregnant mother. So I opted for potato soup, Dean ordering his usual hamburger, and Sam, after a thoughtful moment, decided on a simple caesar salad wrap.

"So Blair," Sam broke in as soon as the waitress had left with our orders, I looked up from where I had been subconsciously picking my nails.

"Hmm?" Sam sent a look towards Dean, the kind of look that shows an entire conversation in a single glance. I raised an eyebrow, their antics slightly worrying me.

"What's wrong?" I questioned, the worry clear in my voice.

"Nothing's wrong, we just had a question," Sam spoke for the both of them again, another reason behind my increasing nervousness.

"And?" I prompted impatiently, anxiety building up in my chest.

"How did you get out?- of the mental hospital?" He finally spat out, his eyes boring into my own. I shifted uncomfortably under their intense gazes, Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, a row of wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

"I don't know, honestly, I kind of just walked out," I answered finally, Sam frowned confusedly, his head tilting slightly to the side in thought; while Dean looked plain confused.

"Walked out?" Dean repeated disbelievingly, I shrugged again, unable to find a good explanation.

"Yeah- they left the door open one day, so I ran out- found where they were keeping all the patient records, found my shoes- and left." I understood the reason behind their disbelief, something about the whole situation there felt too, rehearsed. At the time though, I didn't care, I was getting out of the dungeon; at that point, I would have done anything. Sam and Dean both studied me closely, as if deeming if I was really telling the truth; then looked at each other again, a silent exchange of words passed between them. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the bowl of potato soup that had been set in front of me now unappetizing.

"Well- I've had enough for one day, what do you say we hit the books- see if we can find any information on Mrs. Watson." Dean said finally, setting down his half eaten burger and giving me a small smile.

"I already talked to James, her only living relative- said she was buried in a WestPark Cemetery ," Sam added in as he got up, grabbing his jacket that had been slung over the back of the chair. Dean nodded approvingly, muttering a quiet 'great', before taking another huge bite of his burger and getting up as well.

"So.. Where to now?" I asked, curiosity filling me as I followed my brothers out of the diner.

"Tell me, how do you feel about grave digging?"

^-^-^-^-^ -^-^-^-^

"We're gonna' get caught," I whispered fiercely, my voice drifting loudly through the silent cemetery, "and we're going to die, we are so going to die, I can't even vote yet. How can I die when I haven't even voted? Voting is essential for our country, well, I don't know if I'd even be able to vote because they think I'm a little psycho. Do they let crazy people vote? I think they should, just tell them which candidate is cooler and they'd vote for him. That's what I would do, but, I'm not crazy. Am I? I don't think I am- but you never know. Crazy people never think they're crazy. They think they're perfectly sane- which makes me think. What if they are the sane ones, and we are the insane? But because they really know what the world is like, the government sends them to mental hospitals to subdue them so they wouldn't incite a rebellion and wreak havoc across the globe. I like that word, havoc, do you know how to spell it?" I paused slightly, mind reeling, "I think you spell it H-A-V-O-C, but you never know because it could be a C-K, not just an O-C. Or it could be spelt H-A-V-I-C-K, that sounds about right. Not-" I was cut off by a hand clamping over my mouth. I blinked, stunned.

"Blair, please be quiet." Sam pleaded nicely, unlike Dean who was still holding his hand over my mouth while giving me the stink eye. I stopped talking, breathing heavily from my rant, mumbling a meek 'sorry' as Dean slowly removed his hand and they got back to work. A little while later, which I was personally glad of because my arm that had been holding the flashlight had become weak with fatigue, we heard a solid thump as shovels hit the wood of the coffin beneath them. Soon, splintered remains of the lid were scattered across the grass, and we stood above it. Looking at the rotting corpse solemnly as if it were our own family member. With practiced skill, Sam and Dean poured salt and gas over the body, coating it thoroughly before Dean lit a match. Dropping it inside. The skeleton burst to life, warm tongues of fire licking at the air above it, sending warmth into my frozen body.

We stayed standing in the same place, quietly watching the fire until it slowly died down, leaving a stinking, black heap of ash in its place.

By this time I was falling asleep on my feet, the events of the day, though slightly exciting, having worn me out; and by the time we walked back to Charleston, I was practically sleep walking.

"Goodnight," I murmured, curling up in the seat, "tell me when it's Friday."

I DID IT, I DID IT.

*breaks out into dance*

Okay, so this chapter is kind of a filler before things start heating up.

I'M SO EXCITED TO GET TO THE INTENSE STUFF BECAUSE YEAH.

*clears throat*

Now, questions:

How do you think Blair did on her first hunting trip? I wanted it to be a slightly simple one, just because I wanted it to be kind of light for what is soon to come *cackles*.

My car-in-the-future's name is Jorge, if you have a car- did you name it? And if so, what is it? If you don't- what would you name it?

BYE PEOPLE, LOVE YOU ALL, *Sends a package of virtual donuts*