Chapter One.

Okay. So this is going to be that oh-so-common "sis-fic" that people seem to be pretty into. However, from what I can tell from some of the ones I've read, this one is going to be a bit different. This will be in the sister's point of view, but not only that, it's going to have more of a "story telling" flair. Now, what I mean by that is, I hope you are able to picture the story being told TO you, not necessarily just through the sister's eyes. I hope that makes sense, and I hope you get the experience I am talking about.

Please, review the story so that I can fix things that need to be fixed or I can know what it is you do and do not like about the story.
I have not tried to take anyone's ideas or anything, so if this seems at all similar to other stories you have encountered, I am really sorry, that wasn't my intention and I don't want anyone to think I am trying to rip them off or something.

There is of course a necessary disclaimer as I own nothing related to the actual series of Supernatural. Just a love for the characters and the story line itself.

I really hope you enjoy this story! Thanks for reading!

Perfect. This was just perfect. I actually couldn't imagine anything more possibly happening to make this already delectable situation worse than what it was for me at the moment. I mean, let's run down the list shall we? First, my lovely father whom I adore, don't get me wrong; I'm every bit a daddy's girl as any, but he ditched me alone in some strange town and no direction. That's right; he just left me to rot there with not a single explanation besides the quickly scribbled note that read "Find your brother. Love, Dad". My phone was completely destroyed – thanks to my lack of ninja skills and cat-like reflexes and abundant amount of clumsiness – due to the two point shot I'd made in the toilet yesterday. I couldn't even call my brother to let him know what happened or my dad to try and figure out just what it was that made Daddy Dearest split. Every call I did make had gone unanswered by both parties and that seemed to be forever ago. Now I was sitting here in the tiniest lobby ever, handcuffed to a police desk for questioning because apparently hitchhiking is illegal in this tiny town of wonder.

I felt disgusting as I sat in the folding chair and stared at the file cabinets that resided next to a door that I assumed led somewhere way more interesting that the desk ridden and file cabinet cluttered room I was in. I hadn't showered in what was probably the close side of a week, and to be honest, I stunk. But hey, the odor seemed like a better thing to deal with than the sketchy results of some low down, back woods, trucker bathroom. I'm tough, yeah… my dad trained me but I didn't grasp the concept or handling quite as well as he'd hoped. I still jumped when the gun went off in my hand, the kick threw my body back in twists and I'm not exactly rough cut like my brother. All this played in my mind when I made the decision that although I wasn't as tough as people probably wished, I knew for a fact that I sure as hell was not an idiot. I can handle my own against most, sure, but those men were much larger than my 5'7" self and I was alone with a single pocket knife. Johnny Cade might have been able to make that work, but I wasn't as confident in my lack of back up aide.

My normally chestnut colored hair was so greasy and oily that it looked like an inky black as it hung down my back from where it was gathered into a high ponytail. I had been told to sit here because there was a more important case going on in the town and a man was being questioned in the only room they had… small towns, huh? The portly officer pulled out some paperwork and gave me an annoyed, disgruntled look that clearly said he didn't want to be the one dealing with me in all my stinky glory.

"Now, what did you say your name was?" he asked dryly as his eyes shifted over my figure as I sat there chained to his desk, my feet crossed and stretched out in front of me.

"I didn't," I grinned, flashing my pearly whites at him. Batting my long dark lashes over my emerald eyes, I saw his hardened look relax and a small smile spread across his face. Oh yeah, I totally had this charm thing down.

He settled back in his chair when his phone began to ring noisily from the top of his desk. Holding up an index finger, signaling to me that it would be a moment – as if I hadn't already assumed – he leaned over and picked the device up off its cradle. "Sheriff's office," he spoke calmly. The silence hung heavily in the air before he suddenly began writing down information and his eyes widened at whatever news he was receiving. "Thanks, we're on our way." Hanging up the phone, he caught my eyes. "Stay put, would ya?"

I rolled my eyes and lifted my cuffed hands as high as I could into the air, which happened to be only mere inches away from the desk leg I was wrapped around. "I'm being held prisoner, remember?" My tone was snarky, I'll admit, but I mean, he was the one who stuck me here… did he really think I could bust out when I couldn't even reach the paperclip sitting in my short's pocket? Because trust me, I'd definitely considered that option, and my arms were about as useful as a T-Rex's at the moment.

Either way, he grimaced and ran into the interrogation room. I don't know what went down on that phone call he got, but there were suddenly more than just the portly officer and me in the lobby slash main office area of the vicinity. I watched as the men gathered their things and another man stepped through the door, walking past me without a single glance. "Let's go," he ordered as he picked something up off the desk to my left and pushed through the main door behind my new best friend. As the last of them filed out, the lights shut off and I was blanketed in a darkness except for the light that shown from the moon through the window over one of the desks; I threw my head back and groaned.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I yelled from where I sat. Pulling against the desk leg, I struggled with trying to reach my pocket and swore I heard a small tap, causing me to freeze instantaneously. Looking around the room with widely peeled eyes, I froze when I saw a shadow on the other side of the glass window in the door next to the file cabinets. "Aw hell," I muttered as I began jostling against the cuffs. Here I was, unable to get to any weapon, stuck to some stupid desk, and the only other guy that was deemed an authorities' problem was on the loose, only separated from me by a wooden slab. Awesome… The door slowly opened and a tall figure came through on cat like feet. Whipping my head up to look at him, we stared at each other for a second before pieces clicked into place and recognition crossed both of our faces. "Dean?" I asked, sighing out of relief.

"Becca?" he shifted his weight and looked at me. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I pulled my hands up as far as I could go so he could see just what kind of predicament I was in. "Oh… you know… picking out china patterns."

"Shut up," he growled as he moved and was suddenly kneeling in front of me, working on the cuffs around my wrist with a paper clip. "Dude, you stink."

"Screw you, I smell like roses," I bit back with a smirk as he finally released me from my restraints. I stood up with him and instantly threw my arms around his large torso.

I could feel the hesitation and I didn't care. I knew Dean. The guy was my best friend and he was the farthest thing from publicly displaying any kind emotion, but I was relieved and he would just have to suck it up for a minute or two. "Why aren't you with Dad?" his chest grumbled with the words as he seemed to almost struggle them past his lips.

Pulling back from him I looked at him with confusion. "So you haven't heard from him either, huh?"

"What do you mean? Becca, you were with Dad, what happened?" he had that tone… You know, the one that just makes you feel like a child who got a detention or something? The one where you have to answer while sheepishly looking down at your oh-so-fascinating sneakers that were hopelessly old and peeling away from the rubber soles that they used to be attached to?

"Well," I began rubbing the back of my neck and his face told me to continue to the actually relevant and important pieces of the puzzle. "Yeah, so I wake up one morning and Dad's M.I.A. Completely AWOL, Dean, nothing left except my duffle and a note saying "Find your brother.". That was it. I don't know where Dad is. I followed him as best I could and it led me to this town, besides, this is where his last case was centered, right? Well this is as far as I got… I don't what's going on, why you're here… why are you here?" We were walking out of the sheriff's department now and into the empty parking lot. "And where is the Impala?"

"Come on," he ordered walking ahead of me by a few paces. "Why didn't you call me when Dad went missing?"

"I did call you, you didn't answer your phone," I scoffed as I followed him.

Eyeing me with that "you wish" look, he looked forward and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I was on a case."

"And a case is more important than your baby sister? Wow, what a dick," I joked.

"Shut up," he barked playfully before stopping and looking at me with his shit eating grin. "I have a surprise for you."

I eyed him cautiously. Dean's surprises in the past didn't make me feel too hot. There was one time his surprise began with "pull my finger" and then another one it was him eating my burger and fries. Somehow I got the raw end of the deal every stinking time. "I don't want it, whatever it is."

"You'll like this surprise."

"Yeah, you said that last time… then I ended up with a snake in my bag."

Leading me to a phone booth, he stepped inside, nodding for me to stand watch outside. I didn't hear all of his conversation, but when I saw him flashing around that thick leather bound book, I flew the folding door open quickly and gawked at him with what I am sure was a vacant expression. "…same old ex-marine crap; when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates?" I asked him, grabbing the journal from his grasp. He nodded his head at me with a weary look before continuing his conversation while I leafed through the book and found the page where Dean's name was circled with the coordinates written underneath.

"I'm not sure yet," he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. "Sam? Sam!"

My head shot up. Dean continued to frantically shout out Sam's name before swearing and slamming the receiver down on the hook. "Sam?" I asked. My mouth was dry. "As in… Sam, Sam? Like, like, my twin Sam?"

Dean caught my eye. "Surprise," he frowned.

Sam was older than me by a few short minutes, and growing up, neither he nor Dean let me ever forget it. I mean, they were both decent brothers, but they were my older brothers none the less. Four years ago he split and it seemed like he didn't look back. I thought he and I had been close, being twins and all, but the minute he stopped answering my calls I pretty much decided that the amount he actually cared was next to nothing. That's when I turned to Dean and he became my rock.

Dean and I were sprinting down the highway as the thoughts of Sam flooded my mind. I was sure glad Dean knew where we were going, because I was lost. I saw an old house in the distance and there was a car rumbling with its lights bright and blinding as we neared. It was the Impala and from what I could tell, there was no one driving it. As I skidded to a halt behind Dean, he slammed a handgun into my chest, and I heard a masculine yell and saw the flashing of a woman in white in the front seat. She was hunched over and staring down at the leather interior. Dean raised his gun and shots rang out, causing me to jump in surprise.

The glass of the window shattered and before I knew what was happening, the woman was back and Dean was firing again. Hearing him shout my name, I raised my gun and began firing right along with him, my eyes wincing and my body twitching with each shot. Dean neared the car and I lowered my gun. A body sprang up from the seat and the car shifted into gear before plowing through what I was sure was termite infested wood; hopefully anyway, I didn't see the Impala not having thousands of scratches on it.

"Sam!" Dean screamed just as I yelled, "Son of a bitch!" in surprise.

Dean and I made our way forward, guns raised as we hurried into the now open wall. Dean threw his gun to the ground and ran to the door of the car asking if Sam was okay while I stood at the trunk, my gun pointing everywhere as I scanned the house for any sign of any thing. I heard the grumbling of an answer from Sam and Dean began unlocking the Impala's doors and working his way into the car. As they did whatever it was they were doing, my attention was drawn away from them and to the flickering of the woman's ghost once more. "Uh, hey Dean…" my voice trailed off. He didn't respond. "Dean…" my voice grew louder and more frightened. Still no response. God bless… "DEAN!" I shouted.

There was a clunk as his head smacked into the roof of the Impala. Pulling out of the car, he turned to look at me, clearly annoyed. "What!"

"Sorry to break the moment, but your woman is white is reminiscing over there, and I'm thinking we should probably figure out a way to get rid of her," I seethed as the ghost picked up a photo frame and stared at it.

Dean eyed her before turning and helping Sam out of the car completely. I sped over next to him, never lowering my gun and bumped him with my elbow. "What do we do?" I whispered up to him.

He didn't answer me as the ghost stared at us from over her photo. Her eyes filled with anger and I swallowed audibly, my hands loosening and tightening their hold on the firearm as I struggled to not freak out. No matter how long I have been a part of this life, it still freaks me out. This crap just isn't friggen natural and it was scary for a reason. Dean might be able to build some sort of macho guy exterior and pretend he wasn't afraid but me? No way, man, I totally show emotion. Call it feminine or whatever but when I'm scared, I am straight up freaked. My body shakes, the color drains, I twitch, and then I stutter and hide behind my daddy or big brother… kind of like I was doing now. Twenty-two or not, I was a big ass baby when it came to this stuff.

The ghost threw the picture to the floor and I sighed out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in. I tried to calm myself down and kept telling myself to get some sort of grip on whatever it was that I didn't have a grip on. The lady moved around the room before a dresser slid across the floor from next to the staircase and towards the Impala. The next thing I know, I'm sandwiched between metal and wood, pinned, and the gun has gone flying onto the floor. Guess my perfect day just got loads better. The dresser was pinned against the lower part of my torso and Dean and Sam's waists, and even with all three of us pushing, it was pretty much immobile. I snapped my eyes to the ghost's as she moved closer to us and the light behind her on the wall flickered on.

I'm guessing it wasn't her that caused the lights to illuminate though; because her reaction was surprise and she began searching the house, causing the grunts in my chest as I struggled against the dresser to disappear and search around the area with her, afraid of what could happen next. Dean looked at me with a worried expression and although I couldn't see Sam's face, I heard his gasps of breath and uncertainty. Great. I'm guessing we all heard the water at once, because from what I could tell all, of our necks cracked with how quickly we spun them to see clear water running down off of the stairs and to the floor of the wall the dresser had been against. The woman in white was looking farther up the stairs, and I was blocked by my huge sibling, leaving me unable to see whatever it was she did, but judging from her face, she was not happy. The water was flowing faster now and spraying as it slipped off the edge of the stairs and onto the floor. The ghost walked around the debris to the foot of the staircase, staring up at it with a pained, hurt expression.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." Are you friggen kidding me? Ghost babies? Do you know what is scarier than ghost babies? Well… a lot of things actually, but in my mind, nothing sounds creepier! Those sweet little voices that ring like Satan's nails on a harp, I shudder just thinking about it, and as a matter fact, I shuddered then, catching a confused look from Dean. Ugh, I hate, hate, hate ghost babies. I blinked and then saw the ghost babies standing behind the lady, holding hands and wearing proper clothing; and they were looking at her with all of their ghost baby creepiness. Gah. Moving quickly, they wrapped their arms around her and she screamed as light emitted from what I can only assume was inside of her. It was like I was watching someone take an x-ray from the inside of the body, I swear I saw her skeleton as she screamed. The entire house shook and then blue and black smoke filled the air as the woman and the children burned and spilled to the ground in a mixture of goo and ash before leaving nothing more than a wet spot on the floor while the light and smoke imploded around them and disappeared with the scream.

Sam and Dean shoved the dresser off of us and walked past me, and farther into the room. I started panting and fell into the side of the impala, staring at the spot the three ghosts had just been standing in moments ago. I heard them talking and couldn't exactly register what it was they were saying while I continued to try and catch my breath from the pressure that had just been removed from my lungs and lower abdomen.

"Hey, saved your ass," Dean was now standing in front of me, eyeing the Impala after nodding to me and receiving one from me in return; a silent conversation letting him know that I would be okay and just had to have a moment to regain my composure. "I'll tell you another thing. If you scratched my car, I'll kill you," Dean told Sam as he inspected the vehicle and then turned to face our brother.

Sam smiled at Dean as he stared at the same spot and then moved to the opposite side of the vehicle, checking out every possible inch of the exterior. I caught Sam's eye and he just stared at me for a moment before smiling at me with that innocent "Dean's a jackass" smile that always seemed to cheer me up. I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around him tightly, receiving a very welcomed and missed embrace. Pulling away from him I punched him in the arm. "Who the hell do you think you are, not answering my calls, huh? Don't you start acting like Dean," I smiled at him only to receive that twinkle in his eye that I missed and wrapped my arms around him once more as I heard Dean grumble from the other side of the car, telling me to shut up.

We were speeding down the highway in the Impala that Dean deemed unharmed, minus the headlight that was not currently working. I was sitting in the backseat, leaning over the back of the front, looking at the journal that was sitting in Sam's lap while he had a flashlight on it, reading the coordinates that Dad had written down. On the side he had a map out and was finding out just where it was we were supposed to be going.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," he told us.

Dean nodded his head, and I couldn't see his expression, but from the way he said, "Sounds charming." I knew it had sarcasm all over it. His tone seemed held back, there was something there at he wasn't showing or allowing to come through via his vocabulary.

"How far?" I asked as I tapped Sam's shoulder with the back of my hand.

"About 600 miles," he said as he double checked the map and pulled the flashlight out from between his cheek and opposite shoulder.

Dean turned to face him. "Eh, if we shag ass we can make it by morning."

I smiled but Sam's face made that go away in an instant. He looked surprised and a little taken aback. He seemed to be struggling to form words. "Dean… uh…um," there was a silence as my brothers looked at each other. Dean looking hopeful and like he wanted to beg Sam to not say whatever it was that was coming out of his mouth next and Sam looking slightly guilty yet like he knew this was going to happen. Me? Yeah, I was sitting in between the two yahoos not knowing what this little moment of unexpressed whatever was.

"Dean? What's he not saying?" I asked as I looked at my eldest brother.

"He's not going," he answered me as he looked past my now completely fallen face and over to Sam.

I opened my mouth like a fish out of water. Not going? But, what does that mean? Sam was here, in the car, with us. Of course he was going. "Of course you're going!" I told Sam as I looked at him completely hopeful.

"The interview is in like ten hours… I gotta be there," Sam told Dean.

"What interview? Dean, what interview?" I growled turning in my seat to face him.

"I got this interview for law school, Becca… I could get a full scholarship out of the deal," Sam's voice was low and expectant, like I was supposed to just back this interview or something.

I looked at him with narrowed eyes and a tightened jaw. "So you're just gonna leave us again? Like this interview is more important than finding Dad or something?"

"Becca," he started as he turned to face me.

"No! Sam, why'd you even come on this case then, huh? To tease us, make us think that maybe, just maybe we could finally have our brother back? And now you're leaving?" my voice cracked and I felt the lump rise in my throat. I was growing angry with myself for allowing my emotions to get the best of me. I was angry, not sad, which made my feeling of having to cry cause me to be even angrier. I hated that the trigger for my tears was anger; it made every fight with anyone completely awkward and stupid before causing sit downs that led to talks that I didn't necessarily want to have. Yet, here I was, pissed off and fighting tears from slipping down my cheeks.

"Don't be like that, Becca," Sam told me with a stern voice.

""Don't be like that"? Are you kidding me!? Do you know what it's been like since you left? No! Because you don't answer a phone to figure out just how much your family needs you, Sam; you just walk away and never look back… just leaving whoever might need you or miss you in your past with no real closure. No, I'm sorry, you're right. I'm just being like that, you know, a sister who feels betrayed and cast aside and like she was just some sort of "one last time" deal. Yeah, I'll just stop being like that," I told him as I threw myself back against my seat, crossing my arms and sliding into the shadow behind where Dean sat. I stared into the dark forest as we drove on.

There was momentary silence and I saw from the corner of my eye, Dean's eyes looking at me through the rear view mirror.

"Dean, I gotta be there," Sam said quietly after giving up on trying to get me to look at him and forgive him for whatever it was that he'd stupidly thought he didn't do wrong. Idiot.

Dean seemed just as pissed as I was. He went from looking at Sam to looking out of the window, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he tightened his lips and mouth while gripping the wheel so tight I saw his tanned knuckles go white while he glared through the windshield. Dean nodded his head in response to whatever words I knew were flying through his head.

"Yeah… yeah, whatever… I'll take you home."

The ride was pretty much silent after that and whatever talking had occurred I sure as hell was not a part of, no matter what Sam said to try and lighten my mood. I was pissed and I felt like I had every single right to be, I was not backing down, no matter what he said or did. After what seemed like friggen ever, Dean pulled the car up in front of a building and Sam gathered his things, throwing a few glances my way only for me to glare at him in response. Dean shut off the engine as Sam stepped outside of the car and looked at us through the window. Glancing back at me and my angered expression, Dean nodded his head before looking at Sam.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later on," Sam suggested to us.

I scoffed and turned away from him, fully facing the door to the side of me, making sure my back was completely to him. I heard Dean respond with, "Yeah, alright" before a few slaps were made on the door and the engine roared to life once more. I sighed, ready to be away from the headache that was my twin when I heard Dean call out Sam's name. "You know we made a hell of a team back there," he said with a grin.

I didn't look to see what Sam's response was but I heard the "Yeah" float through the window of the Impala. Dean finally shifted the car into gear and we got out of there, much to my satisfaction.

"You gonna talk to me?" Dean asked me as he flipped the radio on after a few moments of silent driving.

"There's nothing to talk about," I grunted from where I sat behind him.

Dean nodded his head before a sound that was something between a snort and laugh erupted from him. "You know, I get what you were saying back there, Becs. But what do you want -" Dean stopped talking.

The radio was suddenly static and I moved from my spot and leaned over the edge of the front seat. "Dean… is that?"

"Yeah," he said before spinning the car around suddenly and flying back down the road towards Sam's place. Slamming the car to a stop, he ripped the keys out of the ignition, and flew out of the door with a slam, ordering me to stay put.

I hated not knowing what was happening, but when someone gave me an order, I learned early on to obey it. I couldn't sit still in the car and started freaking out when I saw flames and smoke pour from a window in the building. Flinging myself out of the car, I got to the foot of the steps just as Dean carried Sam down. Moments later ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars arrived and a crowd had gathered. I was standing next to Sam at the trunk of the Impala, finding it hard to look away from the disaster in front of me.

Sam sighed and I turned to face him. "Sam," I started but he shook his head.

Dean was suddenly beside us, staring at what it was Sam was doing. We both watched as a tear slid off of Sam's face and he sighed once more. I couldn't help myself, I wrapped my arms around him, and allowed silent tears of true sadness to streak down my cheeks, my large eyes meeting Dean's, a non-vocal message that I didn't want it to be this way. He nodded at me as Sam gripped me tighter to him. He let go but didn't push me off of him, allowing me to continue my embrace while he closed the shotgun and tossed it into the trunk. "We got work to do," he announced with a steady voice before slamming the trunk closed.