Unprepared, a Supernatural fanfic

A/N: Okay, I haven’t written all of this story yet, but I’ll try to keep the updates regular. Say, once a month? Okay, well, read on! Oh, and the title is liable to change, I just haven’t found one yet. Suggestions?

PROLOGUE

I flopped down on my bed and stared at my ceiling. I was SOOO bored! Honestly, school was out and all my friends lived in different states! Well, two in different countries, but still!

The only person that DID live near me was Sabina (who I had a variety of nicknames for- Bina, Bambina, Bambini, Bambi, et.c) and she was going to see a musical with her father.

“Stupid rich fathers who take their daughters away from bored best friends,” I mumbled vindictively.

I wasn’t really mad, of course- Bina hardly ever got to see her father and, unlike MY father, hers actually wanted to see her. As for the rich part, well, my family was probably just as wealthy. They had to be, for me to go to school I did.

Sabina and I both went to Arlingtons’ Institute of Education, a high-class boarding school where only rich and privileged could afford to send their children. It had also been mine and Bina’s home for the past six years (not counting summers). It was there Bina and I met.

You see, we both live in New York, and not even that far apart, but New York is a big city, and it would have only been pure coincidence had we met before. But, anyhow, it turned out that both of our rich-ass parents had decided to send us to the same school, and we became best friends.

We weren’t roommates at first, and that was most likely a good thing, because we probably would have killed each other. Instead, we gradually became friends. But in 8th grade (our fourth year there) Bina’s roommate was pulled out of the Institute and we requested to be put with one another.

And from then until this year we had lived together practically all year long, and were like sisters. Me and her. Asha and Bina. The crazy one and the equally crazy. We were like sisters- really close, twin sisters- we dieted together, ate most of our meals together, did a lot of stuff together- you get the idea. Well, except for double dating, because of an incident that I’d rather not mention.

Anyway, APPARENTLY all of that amounted to NOTHING because I was alone in my room, doing NOTHING! I didn’t have a pet, mostly because I wouldn’t be here to care for it for the duration of the year, and I didn’t like going shopping or going to the movies alone… Grr.

I sighed, and then brightened as I remembered the books that I had dragged home from the library at school- there had been a new shipment of books from one of my favorite authors! There were eight- I picked one and ran to my Reading Room- a little cozy room with a big comfortable chair- I only had about two and a half hours before my father’s chauffeur came to pick me up for my marksmanship lesson.

“Hi, James!” I said as I slipped into the car. I was wearing a pair of jeans, and an older gym T-shirt. I had learned a long while ago that if I wore something heavier than that I would sweat MUCH more than I would ever like to.

I had started the classes the first year after I came back from The Institute- my father had insisted that since he was an important person, people might try to hurt me to get to him (Which, granted, sounds conceited, but is kind of true). After I had mastered the basics (I was mediocre), my father bought me my own Beretta Model 87 to practice with at home (we had a shooting range at both of our houses, since my father was also a marksman) and when I was at school.

Yes, at school, and no, neither myself nor my father are terrorists of any kind. I practiced in the woods behind out school a good mile out early on Saturday mornings (because, face it, who would get up Saturday mornings when they didn’t have to?). My father just wanted me to keep practicing since I wouldn’t be able to receive any lessons during the school year. I do expect that some money exchanged hands for me to actually be in possession of such a weapon on school grounds. I had, of course, only ever told Bina.

James (my chauffer, in case you didn’t get that) dropped me off a block away from the shooting range where the classes took place- I had requested that my father not make it known that I was his daughter- I would be immediately pegged as rich and snobby, as it had happened before.

You see, most of the kids that took lessons here were children of cops, who weren’t exactly rich, and I was picked on for the first year I went here. By the second year I was in a different class entirely, so it didn’t really matter.

“ASHA! How many times have I told you, if you lock your arms, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

I sighed. Even after all these years, I STILL did that. My instructor, Dan, said it was because I thought too much.

Stupid Dan.

I watched mournfully as the other kids in the intermediate-advanced class hit ridiculously near the target every time. Seriously, though, they all had the whole year, while I had about two measly months. Blech.

I set my jaw and got into position again. Until I got it right, this girl was gonna work her ass off.

A/N: Okay, I know this is pretty short, but I basically just wanted to give you an introduction to Asha and her life. Reviewing, suggestions, what you want to happen; all of it helps.