There it sat in a motel parking lot, that stupid car hauling around two stupid thieves. I had a run in with a couple of hunters about a week ago. They stole some supplies from my hideout when I was out on a hunt. I guess they were hunting the same ghost I had been hunting. I saw them drive off, and I had been tracking them ever since. I noticed they changed their plates a couple of times since I first started tracking them, so at least I knew they were pretty decent hunters. I wanted to make sure I knew what I was stepping into. I didn't know when I would make my move, but at least I knew where they were staying so I had time to think. I decided to stay at the same motel and work the job in town while I had the spare time.

"A room for one please," I told the man at the counter. He rolled his eyes as he smacked on his gum, being very impolite as he checked me in. He looked up over his wide framed glasses, staring at my card.

"Would that be debit or credit," he mumbled under his breath, not even sounding like a question.

"Credit," I replied.

"Have a lovely night," he muttered, obviously ready to leave.

"Yeah, okay," I commented, paying for my stay and heading towards my room on the second floor. I bounced up the stairs with my duffel bag and room key and unlocked my room door, stepping inside and locking it swiftly behind me. I threw my stuff on the bed and started for the bathroom. I needed a shower more than I needed anything right now. Being on the road for an entire day without showering could make a girl go nuts.

I stepped into the bathroom and began peeling off layers of grimy and sweaty clothing, removing the pistol I kept in the waistband of my pants, making sure it was still on safety. I carefully set it inside the bathroom sink. I peeled off my clothes, tossing them on the cold tile beneath my feet. I started my warm shower and stood under the water for at least thirty minutes. I made sure to wash my hair as good as possible. It was a tad bit oily after a day. I scrubbed my body, washing off all the excess dirt and dead skin cells. I had not hunted since my favorite arsenal had been stolen, but I still felt the need to scrub really hard.

That's the only thing I could do before I hear some fumbling around in my motel room. Great, I thought. I forgot to salt the entrances before I started showering. Usually, I salted the entrances as soon as I unlocked my door, but for some reason, I let my guard down. I quickly turned off the water, wrung out my soaked hair, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. I grabbed my pistol and took it off of safety, clicking a bullet into place. I decided that whatever was in my room would be there to kill me, or at least try. I eased the bathroom door open just a tad and slipped my gun through the opening, quickly stepping out to see a mutual feeling of threat, two guns pointed in my direction. I watched as they stared at me in horror, probably not expecting to see a woman in a towel pointing a gun at them.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked in horror. "Get out of my room!"

"My apologies, we thought you were someone else," the taller of the two apologized, lowering his gun.

"I'm calling the police," I lied. I never called the police, but I knew it was always the best threat for robbers.

"No, Sam. This is her. You've been following us," the other guy stated. Oh no, I thought. These are the two guys in the Impala.

"Oh, you must be the two dicks in the Impala, aren't you?" I snapped, feeling proud of my attitude. "Thanks for taking my supplies back in Indiana. I'll have those back now."

The two men exchanged looks in confusion, furrowing their brows at me. "What supplies?"

"And thanks for killing my ghost I was hunting, assholes," I remarked. "Now give me my arsenal back."

"What arsenal?" the taller one, Sam, I presumed, asked.

"The one you found in that abandoned cabin in Indiana. I know you took it, I saw you." I raised my gun higher and stepped closer. "Give it back and I'll let you guys leave peacefully."

The shorter one chuckled. "You look harmless."

I aimed my gun at his right shoulder and pulled the trigger. There was barely any noise from the gunshot. The guy immediately grasped the wound, shooting me a look of pure terror. I watched as blood poured out of his shoulder rapidly, as if it were magnetized by the air surrounding it. "Sam, she shot me!" he shouted. "You stupid bitch!"

"Gun silencers," I chuckled, raising my gun back to his head. "Awesome, huh? No cheesy sound effects. Now, give me my damn weapons."

"Calm down, Dean. I'll go get her supplies. Then, I'll patch you up," Sam shakily stated, heading out to their car to retrieve my stuff.

I walked over to the one called Dean and pushed him over into a chair. "Now, you're gonna tell me why the hell you took my stuff." I threw him a towel, still pointing my gun at him. "Apply some pressure, I'll fix it in a minute."

He rolled his eyes, still clutching the wound. He bit his lip and winced at the touch of his own hand. "I think I can take care of myself, thank you," he sarcastically replied. "We didn't know the weapons belonged to someone, we thought they were abandoned."

"Yeah, you sure did," I agreed sarcastically. "Like some idiot would just leave that precious arsenal in the middle of nowhere. Clearly you're more professional than that."

"We didn't think," he replied, wincing every time the fabric of the towel grazed over the hole in his shoulder. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a warm bottle of whiskey from my bag. I popped it open and walked over to him. With one swift move, I poured some of the whiskey on his open wound, causing him to bite his lip and wince in pain.

"Pussy," I mumbled. He looked at me wide-eyed.

"I really hate you," he stated, trying to ignore the burning sensation he felt coursing through his shoulder.

I chuckled. "I really don't care." The tall guy, Sam, walked back in with my stuff, setting it on my bed. "I'm gonna go put on some clothes. You two idiots better stay put or you'll wake up tomorrow with a cap in your ass." They both stared at me in horror as I walked over to my duffel bag, pulling out all of my drinks and snacks. "Help yourselves, since you've already made a habit of thieving my stuff. There's apple pie on the table." I grabbed my clothes and walked into the bathroom, quickly changing. I listened in on their conversation.

"Man, let's get out of here. She's crazy," I heard one of them say. I knew it was Dean. "We'll deal with her in the morning."

"Dean, I don't think it's a good idea. She'll be back in a minute. She'll catch us trying to leave. You see what she's capable of," Sam stated, laughing to let Dean know he was making fun of him for getting shot by a naked girl.

"Shut up, Sam. She seemed harmless in that towel," Dean said.

Before they could say anything else, I came back out clothed in an oversized Kiss t-shirt and some shorts I liked to sleep in. My hair was soaked, so I had a towel to dry it. "I can get that bullet out, or he can. I'm assuming it's the latter," I stated. "Better hurry, he's bleeding out." I walked over to the television set and turned it on, staring at some stupid Spanish drama channel. I flipped over to the cartoon channel and saw Wylie Coyote chasing the roadrunner. I solemnly stared and remembered watching this as a child with my older brother. I glanced over at the two boys and saw Sam carefully stitching Dean's wound. Dean glared at me the entire time.

"Don't look at me like that," I coldly stated. "You're the one who stole my stuff. You asked for it, drama queen."

"Who are you?" the taller one cut in before Dean could say anything rude.

"Do I look like the type to tell you?" I snapped.

Sam shrugged. "Well, if you're making us sit here, you might as well tell us who you are."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I suppose I owe you that much." I glanced over at Dean's shoulder. "Just call me Ev, though you won't be seeing me again after you leave."

Sam nodded his head. "I'm Sam, and that's my brother, Dean."

"You're brothers? How cute," I joked. "Yeah, I had a brother. He was the biggest asshole on the planet." I thought about my brother, Jeremy, and his slow, painful death. "I don't miss him."

"What happened to him?" Sam asked. Dean was listening intently, still poking at the bandage on his shoulder.

"Ah, you know. He sold his soul and he paid the price for it. The deal was his soul for a couple of strippers and a few million bucks." I sighed. "I was there when the hellhounds got him. Not pretty."

"You didn't go after him?" Sam asked, feeling really sympathetic.

"Why would I? He didn't do anything worth saving. He made me feel horrible and he killed his girlfriend." I shrugged, popping open a beer. "My niece saw it all." I thought about what I was saying and wondered why I was telling these two my personal business. "I don't even know why I'm telling you guys this. I don't even know you, much less trust you. And I obviously don't care about either one of you, especially the smartass." I took a swig of my beer. "I guess it doesn't matter, anyway. You guys can leave now, if you want to. I just wanted to make sure you returned all of my stuff, and it appears you did." I stood up and checked my arsenal. Everything was there that I had missed dearly. "Sorry about shooting you, Dean. Just watch what you say around strangers."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean stood up and walked over to the table where the pie was. He looked at me. "You said we could help ourselves, right?"

I nodded. "Take the pie as an apology. I didn't have anyone to share it with, anyway."

"You hunt alone?" Dean asked, curious.

I nodded, slumping down on my bed. "Since the death of Jeremy, yeah. That's two years now, I guess."

"So your brother's in Hell, huh?" Dean asked. "He must have been pretty awful for you to not want to get him out."

I sighed heavily. "Yeah, I miss him sometimes, but he was such a dick, y'know? He thought he owned me. He sold me a couple of times to some demons, so I traded something valuable to get him to Hell quicker. It was just some stupid demon deal. It wasn't my soul or anything. I wanted him gone."

Sam glanced around the motel room and headed towards the door. "Well, I'm leaving." He opened the door and stopped as he realized that his brother wasn't coming with him. "Dean, you coming?"

Dean was stuffing his face with the pie I offered them, making this obnoxious smacking noise that nearly drove me crazy. "In a few, I'm going to stay here and finish this pie."

Sam chuckled and nodded, turning away and closing the door behind him. I rummaged around in my duffel bag until I found my big salt container and walked over to the door, spreading the salt out in a thick line, almost as if I was sure I would be attacked by something. I could never be too sure of anything with this occupation, though.

I was finished salting, lost in thoughts drenched in blood and sorrow, when Dean's voice interrupted me. "This pie is amazing," he beamed, the happiness in his voice the same as that of a little boy. "Where did you get it?"

I jumped, startled by the interruption. "Uh," I stuttered, "I baked it." I thought about baking the pie and why I did it. "Last time I was in a house with a stove was just a couple days ago, so I just decided to bake a pie. I hadn't done it in so long I almost forgot how, but I guess it's like riding a bike. You never forget."

Dean made a grunting noise, but you could tell it was a happy grunting noise. "Really? How in the hell did you find the time to bake a pie?" He shoved another piece in his mouth. "This is awesome."

I smiled softly. "Thanks. I was at an old friend's house, Aaron. He has a stove. He'd done so much for me that day, so I decided to bake him a pie, but by the time the pie was ready to eat…he was gone."

Dean stopped mid-pie crunch. "Gone?" he asked out of curiosity. "Gone how? Dead? Missing?"

"Just gone," I replied ridding all the worry from my voice hoping he couldn't detect it.

He didn't need to detect it, though. I could tell he believed he had a case. "And you didn't look for him?"

"I didn't have time," I sternly stated. Then, I slammed my fists on the sides of the armchair and stood up. "You assholes took my arsenal! Finding it was my first priority." I turned to look him in the eyes. "I will look for him first thing in the morning, okay? It isn't of your concern, anyway. Can you leave now?" I turned away from him. "Thanks for returning my arsenal, now leave, and take the damn pie with you."

I could tell Dean was offended, and a bit upset. But he hid the feeling quickly. "Okay, whatever." He took up the remainder of the pie and headed towards the door, still clutching his shoulder.

"Don't screw up my salt line," I demanded. Dean spun around on his heels to face me, looked me in the eye, and kicked a gash in the line of salt. Then, he walked out of the door, slamming it behind him.

"God, what a tool," I muttered under my breath, fixing the salt line he had messed up. I did feel like I had been rude a bit too soon, for I kind of liked the brothers. I could tell they were great hunters.

I headed for the two windows of my motel room and salted the entrances of those, as well. Pesky demons were always trying to break in. I decided that was good enough and laid down on the big bed made for me. I crawled under the covers and planned out how to find Aaron before surprisingly slipping into a peaceful sleep.