Sick of all these people talking,
Sick of all this noise

Her pulse raced as the pot of boiling water trembled in her grip. Gently, she tilted the pot so that the water trickling into the ceramic blue bowl, the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. As she filled the bowl halfway, the teenager placed the warm pot back in the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer. Her body quaked as she relived the events that was leading up to this summoning, her lower lip trembling.

"Okay," she mutter quietly, running a hand through her unruly auburn hair. "This is for you guys."

Shakily, the girl held her hand over the bowl of steaming water. With a bit of hesitance, she drew the blade down the center of her palm and clenched her fist together as blood trickled from the wound. The chant poured out of her mouth like a second language:

"Bound by blood

I, Savannah, call upon the Three

The Crazy, Castiel

The Soulless, Sam

The Demon, Dean

United as one

An impending doom."

Clenching her teeth, Savannah Emerson grabbed a bandage roll next to the steaming water on the table and ripped off a piece. Gently, she wrapped the bandage around the palm of her hand with a light hiss of pain. The nineteen-year-old leaned over the bowl of water that was now mixed with her blood, checking for any sign of changes within the mixture.

"I swear," Savannah mumbled, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. "If you guys actually did this, I will murder you two myself." She let out a soft sigh as she placed the bloodied knife in the kitchen sink, her mind racing at thoughts of her two best friends, Juliette and Molly.

The lights flickered, sending the whole quaint home into utter darkness. The midnight moon wasn't settling Savannah's nerves one bit, and she grabbed a screwdriver from one of the kitchen drawers. A faint mumbling sound came from the living room, and her grip tightened on the small weapon. Entering the living room, Savannah let out a small shriek of surprise as she was pushed up against the wall, someone's hand tightening around her wrist that held the tool.

"Ow, ow, ow!" She hissed, letting go of the screwdriver as it bounced onto the floor. The grip loosened, but the stranger still held her up against the wall. The lights turned back on and Savannah was met with a man in his late twenties-early thirties with green apple eyes. He wore a red flannel with a black shirt underneath, and she noticed the blade on the ground behind the stranger.

"Well, hello, sweetheart." His voice was deep and gruff, and Savannah struggled in his grip.

"Put me down!" She exclaimed, pounding on the arm of the man, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, his green eyes were replaced with black coal eyes and his grip tightened even more. Savannah couldn't help but mumble the word, her own eyes wide:

"Demon."