I am quite an imaginative person, always having characters and story lines in my head and first thought of Ronnie from watching Supernatural. Could love change the person she is? This is the first original story I have decided to publish online - please comment/favourite/follow. Enjoy! Patricia x

Epilogue

Most beings are fortunate enough to have clear and happy memories of their mother. Most beings do lose them at some points in their lives, but they're still lucky enough to have spent some happy years with them. The first and only memory I have of my mother is that one memory that haunts me every night. But it's also the one that motivates me to do what I do. Kill Vampires.

When I was only seven years old, I saw the most frightening thing no other seven year old should ever be able to witness. The graphic image I encountered has stayed me with since and will continue to stay with me forever. It is the sole reason for making me the way I am, today.

I walked in on her – her face was still, pale and lifeless and her body splattered with drops of blood – being murdered. A demon of a man hovered over her; his lips and teeth sharply caressing her neck, as my mother screamed out in pain.

Though I stood quiet and mortified in the shadows – between which I have walked these last ten years – the man could sense and see me. I remember his eyes looking up, catching my eye with his solid and perfect beauty. A demon, a beautiful demon he was. He glowered down at me, licking his lips whilst my mother fought for life, thriving with agony and pain. A snarl – his last – erupted from his mouth, proving possession over my destroyed mother.

Unable to break eye contact I admired him. He, distracted looked away from me, onto something farther behind me. My father. Hearing my father´s gun being pulled back, I ducked and for the last time, stared into the beautiful demon´s face. The gunshot hit his chest, hitting his heart and the demon crumbled to the floor in as much pain as my mother had been, for she was now dead.

The demon´s body pruned-up, old and horrid – the opposite of what it had been only moments ago. My father, lifting me from behind carried me, and dropped me on the floor, centimetres away from where my mother lay. He embraced her, tears spilling from his once-warm eyes, now replaced with hatred for the demon that had just done this. I couldn´t even cry – the shock of the moment still hadn´t reached me. I, still in shock dropped to my knees, and with my right-hand caressed his cheek.

My father looked up at me, circling an arm round my back and bringing me closer to him so he could sob into me. "Ronnie, the man... he was a vampire," he whispered. "Vampire."

The word for me had meant frightening characters from books I´d been read. Only characters. But the evidence was there. My mother´s neck was plagued with… with holes. Bites were his fangs had pierced through her skin.

For days and weeks later I lay awake in my father's arms, remembering the details of the event. The vampire-demon, as my father called him, had done this, and my heart screamed revenge at my every thought of him. I´d always remember his beautiful face – his pale, fine details, his beautiful blonde hair… his eyes. Red – vivid like blood, haunted me every night, reaching out to me, assuring me the same end my mother had taken.

But his beauty did not calm my loneliness. I felt alone, more than ever with only my father to look after me, to protect me… to understand me. We became closer than ever, submerged in the secret that had torn our family apart. I removed myself from society, being nothing but a ghost at school and detesting any other company but my fathers. No-one else had experienced what I had; no-one else had watched their mother´s life being taken.

We began to hunt the demons, rejoicing at every kill. My father would teach me to hunt during the day, and he himself would leave during the night to finish groups of them. I was left alone at home, and began to look after myself from a young age, and even after him too.

The hunting came at a price. We became obsessed with it. The only satisfaction and happiness my life carried was when at my hand, or at my father´s another of these demons was murdered and sent to hell. We met other hunters along the way, sometimes even hunting in packs.

I was only 13 when I dropped out of school, to dedicate myself to the life I had chosen. I remember my first kill. I was only 10.

My father and I had finally tracked down the coven of the vampire who had murdered my mother. This was one of those occasions when reinforcements were needed, so my father Jensen and I were joined by another hunter, Jared. Tactically and ready we approached their nest during daylight, giving us the clear advantage of being able to escape under the sun's rays. The coven, which previously had held five members now only consisted of four; three women and a man. The man was small and quick, his red hair flying like a torch. The three women were differently built; the tall one was blonde that could have easily been confused for a model. The other two looked at her as if for inspiration, and as my father had taught me, that meant the blonde was older and wiser.

The two newborn women were easy to kill. Their senses had not yet strengthened, and with one easy wooden bullet, graciously fell to the ground, crumbling away. The man and the blonde agile woman seeing this became aware of our presence. They scanned around the room, trying to find us in the darkness of the shadows; but I had grown around them all my life. I knew their every move and they were just too easy to manipulate as covers.

On spotting my father and Jared, the man first flew up, snarling at both of them. I knew I would not be able to take it if I were to lose my father too and that´s when my instinct struck. With a silver chain wrapped around my arms, I ran at the demon from behind, ready to kill him. Using the chain, I wrapped it around his neck, weakening and forcing him onto his knees, as the chain stung him. A quick shot from my father and he too had stilled and died.

Only the blonde woman was left. I hoped upon seeing the three of us she would crumble with fear. My hope was destroyed, as her reaction struck me by surprise. She grinned a wide smile from ear to ear, replacing the sad emotions she had let surface only moments ago. A giggle, erupting into laughter escaped from her lips.

"I am 1000 years old," she laughed, her voice only a sound in the room as she flew and jumped from place to place. "One of the eldest of my kind around. Do you really believe you can take me on, and live to tell the tale?" Her voice rang as she chuckled, her laughter filling the room maliciously.

She stopped in front of me, but she did not harm me. Instead she stared at me, circling me over and over again as my father rapidly tried to make it to where I stood. It was as if there was something interesting about me – maybe the fact that I was a 10 year old in a battlefield – that astounded her.

"Bitch," my father began, attracting her attention back onto him and away from me. Within a blink of an eye her face was seconds away from his and his breath halting. "No-one should get to live that long."

Jared, from behind chained her neck with the silver chain I had use with the male demon. My father, from in-front, chained her hands and wrestled her to the ground. Then I, grabbing the wooden stake form the pocket of my leather jacket, plunged it – my fear erupting through it – into her heart, and watcher her die, imagining it was the bastard that had taken my mother´s life.