Demons (Supernatural Fan-fiction)

Room Service!

"Hello?" Sam said over the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. I found something," I told Sam, re-reading the newspaper report to myself.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Fifteen people have went missing in the past month," I began, "they all were found, dead in a river with their hearts ripped out of their chests."

"Sounds like a werewolf," he replied.

"Um.. okay. I guess that makes sense because they were all found with large, wolf-like lacerations on their bodies and tufts of animal hair were found inside of the cuts," I said, examining the article further.

"Okay, I'll let Dean know. Can I have some names of victims? I'll check and see if they are here," he explained.

"Um, Jack Arthur, Dillon Cage and Jill Jackson are the three most recent victims, all found within the past week," I replied, checking on the computer. Someone knocked on the door.

"Room Service!" shouted a voice from the other side of the door.

"No thank you!" I called back.

"Who was that?" asked Sam on the phone.

"It was just room service," I chuckled, "worry wart."

"Room Service!" called the person again, knocking harder.

"I said no thank you!" I called again. The door burst open and a tall man with a long, white scar across his cheek and over his clouded eye stepped in the room. He pulled out a long, deadly-looking knife and held it up to me.

"Get over here!" he shouted. I tucked my phone in my pocket, making sure not to hang up, and stood, shaking with fear. He walked over to me and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, dragging me outside.

'How was nobody seeing this?" I thought angrily, struggling against the man's grip. I kicked and screamed and struggled against his iron grip, but his hold on me never faltered. I finally thought to slip out of the shirt I was wearing and run, thanking God that I had put a tank top on underneath my shirt.

I struggled and slipped out of the shirt, running as fat as I could in the direction of the police station. I heard a shout from behind me and two pairs of heavy footsteps behind me. I sped up as mug as I could, finally in sight of the station.

I lifted my phone from my pocket, and seeing the call had not been dropped, I told Sam to help.

"Sam, I'm being chased! Please help!" I cried into the phone, only a couple yards from the station. The man and whoever else was behind me were slowly catching up to me, which scared me.

I heard something on the phone and Sam hung up. I ran into the station and closed the door behind me, locking it. The man and his partner, a shorter man with tattoos all over his arms, stopped at the door, pulling out guns to penetrate the bullet-proof glass.

Seeing this, I turned and ran down the hall and ran. I heard glass shatter and I picked up speed, finally finding the morgue. I ran in, but Sam was nowhere to be found. I heard two gunshots from halfway down the hall.

I stepped out to see my pursuers in a puddle of their own blood and Sam and Dean standing behind them, guns still held up. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I whispered, slipping down the wall and sitting on the cold, linoleum floor with a hand on my forehead.