Oneshots, ideas and rejects.

(Part 1) supernatural 2'nd idea

The wind wasn't present today, but still golden, ash-blonde locks flew behind me as I sped down the empty road.
The sun was very lonely on the blue sky and it made the road look like it faded into ocean out in the far away horizon.
Faintly I could hear the words of Paul Rodgers singing to me, through the crabby radio in my motorcycle.

"Company, always on the run.
Destiny is the rising sun.
Oh, I was born, shotgun in my hand.
Behind the gun I'll make my final stand!"

I began singing along as the song started and smiled to myself.
It's definitely lonely being on the road on your own, but it's also a really cool experience, you get to be free, though besides singing, thinking and staring, there isn't really that many things you can do while driving, so thinking becomes your number one hobby.

"That's why they call me; Bad Company.
I can't deny, bad company till the day I die."

I was driving to South Dakota to visit one of my mom's old friends Karen. They hadn't talked to each other for years, but my mom wrote about her at least once in almost every single one of her journals since age 17, so I guess she wouldn't mind if I visited, especially when I told her my reason.

I looked in the side mirror as I heard a car approaching and admired it as it drove by. "Damn." I was a person with a few good qualities, one of them being the ability to know and appreciate the finer things when I laid eyes upon them. And that was one hella fine car, I thought smiling to myself.
I wonder if I'll ever have the heart to replace my motorcycle with a car..

I shook my head and laughed at my own thoughts. Yea right! Like I would ever replace my beloved motorcycle for a damn car..
The song ended and I smiled as a new one came on.

"Born to be wii-iii-iild~"

I would reach Karen's house in the evening if I continued at this speed, so I decided to finally hammer down (speed up), so I would get there early in the afternoon instead.

I arrived at where Karen was supposed to live at around 4.35 pm. A big sign hang above the entrance, but the letters were too old and faded for my bad eyes to read that far away without lenses or my glasses.

I really hope she's home.. I caught myself worrying as I tied my flannel shirt around my waist and put my dagger in it's holster attached to my belt.
If she isn't I'll have to just stay at a motel I guess?

Wait what if she IS home?What do I say? I paused right in the middle of putting my moms journal and some other stuff down in a small leather backpack I carried over my shoulder.
Just go over, knock and then see what happens, it's not that difficult you drama queen. I heard a little voice in my head complain.

Here we go..

I walked up to the front door and was about to knock when I realised it was already open. What the..

"Karen?!" I called out knocking on the doorframe.
"—Is anybody home?!" I walked in and cringed as the floorboards beneath my feet screamed at me to turn around and get out of here as quickly as I could.
I looked to the left and into what appeared to be the kitchen.

A lady stood in front of the sink, she looked peaceful, and was very gentle on the eye considering her age.
"Karen?" She didn't react and realisation slowly hit me and I blocked it off. After that she disappeared in a breeze of air, she was just a spirit.

"Who are you?" I froze as I felt a knife being pressed to my neck, and didn't dare to turn around to look at the person behind me. "Bobby what's happening? The door was open and-.. who's that?" New footsteps stopped, two pairs actually. "I don't know, I just asked her the same, I caught her sneaking around the house."

"I'm Evan Abbadon, my mom was a friend of Karen's." The knife was removed from my throat and I slowly turned around. "–And I wouldn't call knocking and yelling for 'sneaking around'." I lifted an eyebrow and looked at the three men standing in front of me.

Two of them stood together, they looked really good and was very much younger than the last one, who still had the knife in his hand, he must have been the one accusing me of snooping around, and he was the one they called Bobby.

Bobby Singer, Karen's husband.

"Abbadon... Oh! You must be Carly's daughter then?! Well I'll be damned! You grew up to be a beautiful young woman I must say, you really inherited your mothers looks, speaking of, how is she?"

"She died three or four months ago, I think, I don't really count anymore.." The two boys behind Bobby looked at me with sympathy, almost like they knew how it felt. "I'm sorry kid.."

"Don't apologise, you didn't know.. Eh, can we sit down? I can imagine how weird it must be having me come here and tell you all these things, but there's actually another reason as to why I'm here."

"'Course, hope you don't mind the boys hearing it too?" I smiled and shook my head following him into what looked like some sort of living room. We sat down where there was room, me and the taller one of the two guys on the couch and the other one and Bobby in two chairs.
Then I began explaining.

I was on a trip through my mothers past, using her journals as a travel-guide and way-pointers.
My mother was the only family I had left, that I knew of, and in the days after her funeral it was my job to go pack all of her stuff down.
While packing, I found all of her old journals.
Tears in my eyes I read them, wishing I could have just gotten a few more days with her.. and that's when I got the idea.
I would travel to all the places she had been, and maybe even meet some of the people she wrote about.
And then I started from the beginning, writing all the places down in my own new journal, each with a little box beside it so I could cross it out when I had been there.
It took me a week to pack all the necessities and get to the first place, then my journey had begun.

"—My mom and Karen lost contact with each other years ago, but she wrote a lot about her and this place, and a bit about you." I noticed Bobby flinch slightly at the mention of his wife's name. "But the fact that Karen has passed away explains why they suddenly stopped talking." I said hoping for a reaction.

"How did you-.. You inherited more than just looks from your mother didn't you girl?" I nodded and gave him a little smile.
"I saw her in the kitchen, she looked so peaceful that I thought she was alive at first, then you came."

"Anyone care to explain what the hell the two of you are talking about?" The smaller of the two young guys asked confused.
"I can see dead people."

"Ghosts?"

"Mostly just the imprints of the spirits, the ones that have already found peace and moved on that is." I corrected him. "So you're a psychic?"

"Kinda, my mom's family comes from a powerful lineage of necromancers, you know witches and stuff, but I don't really know how to do anything, I really try to avoid that stuff." I was a useless necromancer, kind of like a car without gas or a wifi without internet connection. "Why avoid it?" The bigger of the two guys questioned confused.

"Because I don't wanna end up like the rest of my family." I said simply with a subtle shrug of the shoulders. "Well how did the rest of your family end up?" He asked looking confused at me.

"Dead."