I wake up to my phone ringing. I yank it from the charger and try to focus my blurry vision on the screen. I see 5 missed calls from an unknown number.
  I answer, slightly confused and half asleep.
  "Yeah?"
  "Elizabeth. Thank God. I need your help. I called your dad a million times. He must be busy on a case. I need-"
  "He died." I bluntly tell her. She sounds afraid.
  "Oh." She takes a long pause.
  "I'm sorry. Forget it." She seems really upset by the news. She sounds young like me.
  "What time is it?" I utter it out while fumbling the phone and trying to see the time.
  "I shouldn't have called. I'm really sorry Elizabeth. He talked about you all the time."
  "Are you okay?" I express concern for her and let my guard down a little.
  "No. I have this case and it's a little bit more than I can handle. I think I pissed off a nest of vampires and they're on my ass. I killed one of their one and it threatened me that they'd come after me. I'm a little out of my league."
  "Okay. Listen to me carefully." I sit up in the bed.
  "Get somewhere safe now. Right now. Go to a cabin in the woods or anywhere remote and hidden. Don't make any credit card purchases. If you're hungry, wait until I get there and I'll buy you food." I turn on the side lamp.
  "Most of all, have a machete ready. Or hit up your local morgue for a ton of dead man's blood. It slows them down."
  "You're going to come help me?" She sounds so relieved.
  "I'll do you one better. I have backup."
  She says thank you about a million times and then hangs up. I didn't even get her name.
  I stumble out of my room to see Sam and Dean already awake. It makes me feel safer knowing they get just about four hours of sleep every night.
  "I just got a call." I jump right into it.
  "It's a girl. She sounds young. She says she needs help. It's a vampire nest." I present the idea to them but they don't seem all that eager.
  "I told her we would come help." I wait for their response. They look at each other, seemingly reading each others minds.
  "I don't think that's such a good idea." Sam responds.
  "We need to help her. Besides, there will be four of us. I don't think it's out of our realm of possibility."
  Dean responds now, speaking to Sam.
  "We have been itching for a hunt."
  "Okay. One hunt. You'll follow our lead the entire time, no questions."
  "Deal."
  She sends me her address when we get on the road. She assured me that she's safe and I assure her that we are on our way.
  When Dean starts the car, little splashes of rain fall onto the roof. It is very calming as he drives, I watch drops of water form and then fall down the side of the window, distorting how the street lights look as we drive by. Light, playful, sprinkles of water soon turn to heavy and threatening droplets. It sounds like someone is beating the top of the car with each drop, the skies are really emptying themselves tonight.
  The window that was calming to watch before is now giving me anxiety. As my dad used to say, it's raining cats and dogs. I swear I can hear my dad's voice in my ear, telling me that the rain is a good thing. He loved the rain. I loved the rain because he did. Now, the rain has become a constant reminder of how much I miss him. Now, he is dead and I hate it. I hate it with every inch of my body. I sit in rageful silence, watching the sky carry on. We used to dance in it, admire its beauty, the beauty of beginning again, the whole water cycle, the thought that water could restore itself into as many forms as it wished to, that it could evaporate and melt and freeze and do anything and then pour from the sky and start all over.    

  Now, I am angry at the rain. I am angry that the clouds get to release themselves and become empty. I am angry that I can't be like the clouds. I am angry that my dad isn't here to make me not angry about the stupid rain clouds with their stupid ability to release themselves and endlessly repeat the process of being full and empty, full and empty. I am full and empty at the same time. Full of fear, saddness, worry, guilt. Empty where it counts. Empty when it comes to hope and fullfillment, empty when it comes to feeling safe. One day, my cloud rained and the water cycle stopped. There was never more water to be evaporated into my cloud, it just all stopped. All the frozen ice melted, all the melted ice froze, everything hasn't been the same since he died, everything has been out of balance, defying the rules to make my life harder.  As far as I'm concerned, the rain is mocking me.

   Dean pulls into this little gas station, water splashing everywhere as he turns the wheel. It looks almost as if we are driving in a creek because of how much water is hogging up the roads. There are two other cars parked, that's it, and the cashier inside appears so bored and sleepy. I relate. I see him ringing someone up, as if he is on autopilot. I see a few stickers through the gas station windows, like "WE ID" and the typical gas station decorations. Very fancy stuff.

  "Hey, Elizabeth." dean turns around to me and I snap out of my own head and back into the real world. The anxiety driven, real world.

  "Hey, Dean." I respond while still thinking of the bored cashier.

  "Can you pay for gas? And get me some pie?"

  Sam looks at me too and I understand what is going on. Yes, we need gas and Dean needs his pie. But also, they are going to talk about me while I am gone, like two teenage girls. The fact that they think I don't know is the funniest part of it all. Such is life. I'm feeling generous, I'll let them talk.

  "Gotcha." I take the cash that he hands me and prepare myself to step into the rain. Cold water slides down my back as I walk, at a normal pace, in the rain. It pours down on me. When I get into the store, with flourescent lighting, I feel safe from the stupid rain.

  The cashier, barely keeping his eyes open, glances at me for half a second before returning to stare at the bland colored wall. I try not to slip with each step, looking down at the slick tiles on the floor. I recall when I used to count the tiles at school, on the way to Principle Perry's office. Ah, the simple times. It has only been a week or two. Time flies when you don't know what the fuck is going on.

  I scan the isles, my eyes roaming unsuccessfully on the plastic shelves, lookung for pie. I wonder what they're talking about that is so important that I can't be around to hear it. Ah, but at the same time I don't really care. I continue scanning the plastic shelves and I see it. Pie! What a strange thing for such a tough man to be in love with.

  I walk towards it, my eyes fixated upon it, and feel my body bump into something else. Confused, I look away from the shelf and see a man in a black hoodie staring at me, with tired eyes. He smells of smoke, the smell of cigarettes lingering in around his jacket.

  "I'm sorry." I immediately realize I bumped into him while neglecting to focus on my surroundings because of the pie.

  "Whatever." He aggressively walks away from me, leaving me with a guilty feeling and taking his cigarette scent with him. Great, he has probably had a rough day, and here I am bumping into him, a clumsy idiot making his day worse.

  As I grab the pie, I make my way to the register and smell him again, standing behind his tall body. The lights flicker and threaten to turn off, the rain pours against the roof. I look out to Sam and Dean in the Impala. They are facing each other, having a conversation about something I would assume is pretty intense based on their body language.
  The hooded man glances at me before exiting the store. I see him light up a cigarette while standing outside.
  "Um, hi. Can I get $30 on pump 2?"
  I place the pie down along with the cash Dean gave me.
  "You're all set." He responds. He bags the pie up for me.
  I exit the store, seeing Sam and Dean still chatting.
  "Hey." The man speaks to me.
  "Hey?" I respond.
  "The rain is really coming down hard tonight." He takes another drag of the cigarette.
  "Uh yeah. I suppose it is."
  "You here alone?"
  "No. My uh my Dad is in the car." I begin to feel extremely uneasy.
  He grabs my arm and pulls me close to him, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
  "You smell. Let me go." I struggle in his grip.
  I look to Sam and Dean and see Dean get out of the car. "There's your dad." He releases me.
  I jog over to him.
  "What was that all about?" Dean glares at the man.
  "I don't know. He was a freak." I hand Dean the pie. He begins pumping the gas.