Analina’s Journal
Quick Summary:
A journal reveals a life shaped by the supernatural, from childhood encounters with demons to the fated meeting with Sam and Dean Winchester.
Rating: R
Trigger Warning: Demonic Rape, Graphic Violence, Psychological Horror, Childhood Trauma
Contains: Demonic Rape (not graphically described), Intense Supernatural Violence (Implied and described), Disturbing Thematic Material, Implied Harm to Children (not explicitly shown)
PROLOGUE: JOURNALS
Journals mean different things to different people. Some use them to record secrets, like teenagers hiding crushes or confessions. Others track daily events to reminisce later or monitor their health. Each one is unique.
This journal was different. I’d never been the type to keep one. I’d always thought it’d be interesting to revisit certain memories—though not embarrassing ones, like the time a pair of underwear fell out of my pant leg in a department store. I craved better, more exciting moments. But my milestones, like graduating college, seemed dull compared to others’. Nothing noteworthy had happened in my life—at least, not until the early summer of 2010.
My encounters with angels and demons began years before I met Sam and Dean Winchester, even before I was born. Those experiences shaped what my life would become. They were thrilling enough to fill a journal, but most incidents from my childhood didn’t center on me. It didn’t feel right to claim them as my story.
Before I recount the tales I should’ve written years ago, I need to share some notes for those unfamiliar with angels and demons. Let’s start with demons.
To understand demons, know this: most people recognize demonic possession from movies, which often embellish real encounters. Demons don’t always need a human body to interact with humans. In their simplest form, they appear as black smoke to the human eye, but they often possess a human body.
Demonic possession has three stages: infestation, oppression, and possession. Infestation occurs when a demon is invited into someone’s life, intentionally or not. Playing with a Ouija board can open that door. Those dabbling in dark arts might knowingly invite a demon into their home. Does playing with a Ouija board as a kid guarantee possession? No, but I wouldn’t recommend it—not after what I’ve seen.
Oppression is when a demon latches onto a person, draining them until possession becomes possible. Victims may experience blackouts or hear voices but retain control most of the time. Possession, like in The Exorcist, strips that control entirely.
My earliest encounter, the one that sparked my own experiences, began before I was born. At first glance, it seemed to involve my dad, Bill. Now, I know that wasn’t entirely true.
WHEN MY DAD WAS A TEENAGER
When my dad was a teenager, he bought a witchcraft book. Raised Catholic, he likely didn’t put much faith in it. He was probably just a curious teen having fun. He was wrong.
The only son of three children, Dad lived in a small house. The second floor had two bedrooms—one shared by his sisters, another for his parents. The attic, converted into a third bedroom for him, included a small storage area at the rear. Dad performed his spells there.
The book’s first chapter covered astral projection. After following the meditation instructions, Dad claimed he hovered over his body while lying in bed. Intrigued, he tried a chapter called “Little Helper.” Unsure what it entailed, he proceeded anyway.
After completing the spell, nothing happened—or so he thought. As he lay in bed, he felt watched, though he saw nothing. Then, a soft pressure trailed along the bed, like a finger. He still saw nothing and slept fitfully.
The disturbances worsened. He heard footsteps circling his room, pausing as if staring at him before continuing. The next night, the presence ventured downstairs to the second floor and back, always stopping to watch him.
At breakfast, his parents scolded him: “Stay upstairs or down!” He couldn’t explain it wasn’t him—they wouldn’t believe him. Distressed, he found temporary relief at a friend’s house but eventually had to return.
One night, pulling into the driveway, he glanced at the attic’s storage area window. Red eyes gleamed back, set in the outline of a pig’s body. The “Little Helper” was a red-eyed pig. Terrified, he gave the book away. The incidents subsided.
What became of the “Little Helper”? It lingered. Years later, after Dad moved out and I was born, my aunt and uncle stayed at my grandmother’s while their house was painted. My aunt had just had my cousin, and my uncle, catching a cold, slept in the attic to avoid getting the baby sick. Unaware of Dad’s past, he woke frazzled, complaining something touched him in his sleep. Only then did Dad share the “Little Helper” story.
That spell opened a door to the paranormal in Dad’s life. He didn’t grasp the consequences until years later. He married my mom, Marian, in 1981. I arrived two years later. As the economy recovered, Dad worked as an assistant manager at a local drugstore, sparking the next chapter of his—and my—life.
AN ODD CUSTOMER
One night at the store, Dad met an odd customer, an older woman who took an interest in him while he rang up her purchases.
Dad wore a nametag, so her using his name didn’t faze him. But her next words chilled him.
“You’re married, aren’t you? And you have a daughter,” she said. “Mary and Ann.”
Mom’s name was Marian, a form of Mary. Mine was Annalina, a form of Ann. It was close enough to unsettle him.
“Two Geminis and a Libra,” she continued, unfazed by his shock. “A powerful combination, Mr. Seth. I work for someone important, someone interested in you. Go home tonight, look in your dining room dictionary. He’s in there. I call him Old Nick.”
How did she know so much? How many people kept a dictionary in their dining room? That night, Dad looked up “Old Nick.” It meant Satan.
Unsure what to make of it, he dismissed her as a strange customer. She never returned. But things soon worsened. The witchcraft book had opened the door to infestation years ago. Dad never consented to possession, so the demon began oppressing him.
THE EXORCISM
I was a few months old when things turned grim. Later research revealed similarities to other accounts. Our house reeked of sewage without cause. Electronics flickered on and off. Noises, doors opening and closing, were frequent. Picture frames shattered untouched. Once, Dad saw the demon as black smoke, terrifying the cat.
Dad bore the brunt, as he was the demon’s prime target. [Trigger content hidden. If you wish to read it, highlight the text] He suffered scratches from the inside out, blackouts, and demonic rape. He nicknamed it “The Closet Monster,” as it lingered in the closet by his bed. It urged him to kill us, our family, and friends—even to roast me in the oven or push me down the stairs in my walker.
Out of nowhere, a priest from Ohio called, offering help. We lived in Pennsylvania. Initially, Dad ignored him, uncertain. After a brutal attack in the kitchen—scratched repeatedly as cabinet doors slammed like in a horror movie—he listened. The priest diagnosed a demonic attack and proposed an exorcism, pending psychological tests. Dad passed, and the exorcism was set at the priest’s Ohio parish. Mom and I, unaware of the severity, thought we were taking a “vacation” to Ohio.
The night before the exorcism, while Mom bathed me in the hotel, Dad pounded on the door, demanding entry. Mom refused, thinking he’d lost it. The outburst stopped abruptly. That night, the demon, in a final attempt, urged Dad to murder us. Then, inexplicably, fire alarms blared across all three hotel buildings, forcing an evacuation. No cause was found, but it likely saved our lives.
The next day, while Mom and I swam at the hotel, Dad drove to a rural church for the exorcism. The priests expelled the demon, named Chaos, from him. Afterward, Dad asked why he was targeted. The priest called him a pawn and warned against dabbling in spirits or spells. He also urged us to bless our house.
Multiple house blessings followed before the activity ceased.
SPIRITS
During one of the final blessings, I vaguely recall the local priest pausing on the stairs to the second floor. “I’ll stop here,” he said, blessing the rooms from below. Dad later revealed something growled at the priest near the top of the stairs. I didn’t hear it, but the priest did.
At a young age, I learned to block the supernatural. It came naturally. Our house felt cold and dank, but my room was a warm, safe bubble. I didn’t understand why the demon targeted me until meeting Sam and Dean. I was just a little girl—why would a demon care? We assumed it was to dominate Dad. We were wrong.
As I grew older, I felt more things. Going to different houses, I could sometimes feel something. Never anything evil or demonic. Just a presence that hovered around. I eventually learned that these were spirits. I didn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother me. Out of curiosity, I tried to help one spirit cross over. I composed a safety bubble in my mind and projected it out so the spirit felt safe. Then, I mentally told it to move on. I believed it worked because I couldn’t feel it anymore. The coldness that surrounded the spirit no longer lingered.
After my dad’s experience with the demon, our family went back to church. I wouldn’t say we were a perfect Catholic family, but we were practicing Catholics. In my teenage years, I began to feel something different around me. Something warm and calm. It was an angel. Distinguishing between these entities was instinctive. Being Catholic, I understood the importance of free will; even angels had to respect that with humans. Therefore, I gave my permission for my guardian angel to keep me safe from anything evil. It was easier to ignore any other entities that I came across. Nothing ever bothered me.
My Guardian Angel
It was a few years after I started to regularly talk and work with my guardian angel that I discovered his name. It felt odd for me to just call him “my guardian angel,” so I named him something myself. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I assumed my guardian angel was male—if angels had genders. I wasn’t sure at the time if they did. James was a name that stuck out to me when I was thinking of what I wanted to call him, but I never really knew his name.
One night after dinner, my mom had us discover our guardian angel names from what she learned at church that day. She instructed, “What you are supposed to do is take the bible and say the Guardian Angel Prayer, randomly open the book, and the first name you see is your angel.”
I was a little taken aback because Catholics are usually against this sort of thing. Asking for angel names might open oneself up for a demonic attack if the person did not know what he was doing. A demon could pose as an angel, and then that person would be in trouble. Quite honestly, I didn’t think this would happen, let alone mean anything, but I figured it was fun to try. My mom got Timothy, and my dad got Moses. I did mine and got Jacob. Not exactly James.
The next day, I was reading a mystery book, and the character received a note from a man named Jacob—someone the character didn’t know. One thing led to another, and the character figured out that Jacob was the Latin form of James—the person she knew. Conclusion: I really did call him by his name, or at least a form of it. A little trick on his part, but I thought it made it more special than if I outright saw James first.
For angels, I never saw them. I only had tangible experiences with James. I could feel his presence whenever he was really close. He felt warm and peaceful. I mostly talked to him about things. Once in a while, I could “hear” him respond. It wasn’t a voice; it was a feeling. A very strong innate feeling. It was my understanding that angels couldn’t be seen by humans, at least in their true forms. It was also my understanding that they had free will of their own and must respect our free will, which could conflict with helping us.
Conclusion of My Intro
That pretty much summarized my prior experiences with the supernatural. I must confess that I never told anyone how I could sense things. I didn’t want them to think I was crazy. Eventually, I became better at blocking things out completely, except for James. If I thought I felt something, I would imagine putting up this barrier, and I couldn’t feel whatever it was anymore. I hadn’t really thought about those stories for years. Until I met Sam and Dean Winchester.
Sam and Dean’s Backstory
I have not grown up with their stories, but I have learned about them throughout the course of our relationships. Their beginnings are similar, and deep down, I think that no matter what happened, we were meant to meet.
Sam and Dean Winchester are two names that appear very often in this journal. For one thing, most of everything that has happened to me recently is directly involved with them. Their story also stems back farther than just them. It also starts with their parents.
First of all, the Campbell family—Sam and Dean’s mother’s side of the family—were hunters. [Hunters: people who go after evil things such as vengeful spirits and monsters to make the world a safer place.] Their mother, Mary, didn’t want that life anymore. She eventually met John Winchester—who later became Sam and Dean’s father. Before they could start their lives together, something bad happened, and Mary made a deal with a demon to save John. The specifics of the deal were unknown at the time, but the demon wanted something from her in the future.
Fast forward. John and Mary married and had Dean on January 24, 1979. Four years later, Sam was born on May 2nd. Exactly six months after Sam was born, the demon decided to “collect” his part of the bargain. Sam was to be used as part of the demon’s plan. When Mary walked into the nursery, the demon caught her. The demon telekinetically pulled her up to the ceiling and killed her by causing a fire. John and the boys barely made it out alive. From that point on, John became a hunter and brought Dean and Sam up as such, too.
Their father died not too long ago after a car accident—demon related. He traded his life with the same demon that killed his wife so that Dean could live. Dean had been brutally hurt prior to and during the car accident. Sam and Dean continued on and found out more about the demon’s plans. Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon as they called him, wanted a special person to open the gates of hell, which weirdly enough was located in Wyoming. Amidst a selection of children, the demon had dropped his blood in their mouths, priming them for later. This happened to Sam, who later became addicted to demon blood. Sam was killed as his generation was gathered together to find out who was the strongest and most worthy for the demon’s task. Dean, following in the footsteps of his father, traded his soul to a crossroads demon to save Sam’s life. In exchange, Dean was given one year to live.
With one year up and a new problem occurring, Dean was sent to hell—with the aid of hellhounds. Sam was left to deal with the rise of a new powerful demon, Lilith. Lilith’s goal was to break the 66 seals to open Lucifer’s cage—which would start the apocalypse. With a demon friend, Ruby, Sam continued to hunt and kill demons by drinking demon blood. Drinking demon blood allowed Sam to exorcise demons with his mind. However, the blood became addictive.
Through the help of an angel named Castiel—who goes by Cas, Dean was pulled from hell and brought back. Finding Sam, they picked up where they left off and tried to find a way to stop Lilith. Their past got in their way: Dean found out about the demon blood and did not trust Ruby; Sam trusted Ruby, but he also became addicted to the demon blood; Dean was trying to get over Hell. Being tortured and eventually breaking down and torturing souls himself, set their relationship on edge. Because he started to torture souls in Hell, he broke the first seal that could set Lucifer free. Lilith continued breaking the seals as the brothers tried to stop her.
The angel, Cas, became an integral part of their party. However, Cas brought problems of his own. The angels in Heaven were starting to lose control. They couldn’t find God, and most angels wanted the apocalypse to start so that everything could end. Things would be peaceful, but at a high price to the human population. Sam ended up killing Lilith, unaware that she was the 66th seal. Hence, Lucifer emerged from Hell, and the apocalypse started.
Soon afterward, Sam and Dean found out something—the real reason why the demons and the angels took a special interest in them. They were the vessels for Lucifer and Michael. The apocalypse would end when Michael and Lucifer fought using their vessels. The only problem was that they couldn’t take the vessels without consent. So far, Sam and Dean had declined. It wasn’t too long after the final seal was broken that I first met them.
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