Strange, the way things can change in your life. In ways you'd never have expected in the past.
When I was a little girl, I would pretend and dream of being a famous singer. I wanted to touch the world with my words and voice. Make them cry, make them vent their anger, or excite them.
But the music business was a tough egg to crack, as I'd come to find out. Famous people were either extremely talented, or extremely lucky. Usually both. I was only twelve when I gave up that dream and started hunting.
I grew angry, lonely, dark...and so did my taste in music. I didnt want to be a pop star, I wanted to be a rock star. Wailing loud and passionately into the microphone about truth and real pain.
In my most secret of hearts I held onto that dream, but it never came true.
When I got a little older, I thought maybe my mother would help me become a witch like her. She turned me down, forbade it. Said my talent as a psychic was not something to tamper with by means of magic. Even so young, I understood the severity of her warning and I stayed away.
When the drugs came into my life, I didnt care about my dreams. I barely cared about hunting monsters, either.
And yet here I was, one year after the apocalypse fell flat on its face, living both my dreams and sober.
I hadn't seen Dean or Bobby but once since then, rarely calling them up. And when I did, it was for information on monsters.
Castiel...He never came back.
The so called love we had was but a bitter memory. For months it tore me up inside, I would cry for hours at night, desperately searching for him in my visions but he was beyond my reach. He had blocked me out completely.
Slowly the pain became frustration, then anger, then utter, dark indifference. I sought my own path in trying to forget him.
I had a new life now. I joined a group of people, all musically and magically inclined. Together we were both a coven and a small time rock band. Personally I wasn't much of a witch, but I was part of their scheme nonetheless.
We'd enchant our instruments, our songs and lyrics. Then using my voice and my power, we ensnared our patrons.
It was brilliant, really. And relatively harmless. Essentially our music was designed to make the fans give us money, or valuables. As much as they had on them. Sometimes the spell would linger long enough that they'd transfer money to our accounts long after the show ended.
With that money, I renovated my house, added rooms and expanded the basement to a full fledge panic room and arsenal.
I had a wardrobe full of new clothes, a few expensive tattoos, accessories, a new car...I had professional make up and I was regular at the hair salon to keep my new color vibrant.
I dyed it purple-black.
When I wasnt singing and swindling, I was hunting. Primarily ghosts.
Naturally as a psychic, it was my specialty. Ghosts were common. In fact, most people that believed in ghosts, didnt believe in other monsters. Meaning a ghost was the worst of their problems, and they'd do anything to get rid of them.
Even pay money.
I knew I was being bad. Using magic and my power for a profit.
But I was in a dark, and selfish place. I'd become a workaholic, and maybe even a bit of a shopaholic. Just trying to fill the void.
I'd spent hundreds of thousands of dollars filling that void. Particularly on the house, that I rarely stayed in because I was always on the move. I did anything I could not be alone or bored or both.
Truthfully, I was no longer myself. Aside from the empty vanity, I'd become more violent than usual. When I came across something other than a ghost, it met a terrible, painful end. Contending with a hunter like me was a monster's worse nightmare. Hell, I dont even think Dean was this scary.
I scared myself.
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Seer《Book 1: Season 5-6 》
قصص الهواةMy brother's had their story, I had mine. I didn't know they existed, until I died... I was a psychic, I knew that, but I never expected to be stuck in my grave and watch their story unfold as I laid dead and motionless. I knew them well, watched t...
