A/N: Hi guys! Taking a little break from Growing Up Winchester to write this one. It's the last in my Atlantic Canada series, set in the beautiful province of Prince Edward Island (shameless plug, it's gorgeous, I highly recommend a visit if you can!). I know the concept has been done before, but I really wanted to tackle it myself. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

She'd recognize that face anywhere.

True, eight years had passed since the last time she had seen the brothers, since her daddy had picked the taller one for one of his "hunts." He looked a little older, hair longer and less wavy, a few more bags beneath his eyes. But he still had that spark of attitude that he remembered from those few days, the wry smile, an air of toughness despite the gentle exterior. The kind she may have found attractive under normal circumstances. But Benders weren't sociable. They had stopped playing the game after her family had been killed by the tall one and that lady cop, but no way in hell did they just stop and have supper (please pass the peas) like folks. That's why she had moved with her cousins Billy and Jason. Their farmhouse in Prince Edward Island was as far away from folks as the Hibbing, Minnesota, homestead; hidden along a lone dirt road, nestled on the outskirts of the Acadian Forest. Perfect for recluses like the Benders. It helped that they hadn't drawn much attention to themselves, too. They didn't socialize, but they never stirred the pot, either. You don't mess with us, we won't mess with you. It wasn't ideal; Missy was itching to go back to the Bender Family Business, but sometimes you gotta bite the bullet and do what it takes to keep your ass out of the fire.

But the brothers changed that.

She didn't know their names. Didn't know where they were from or what they did. But she did know that they were gonna pay for killing her Pa.

It was luck that she had crossed paths with the brothers. Missy didn't like going out in public but she'd heard Billy saying that she "saw 'em two boys who killed Lee n' Jared" in town. There weren't many bars in Bear River, and it didn't take long for her to spot her prey, downing bottles of Moosehead and shooting pool in the lone table in the corner. She smirked slightly as she made her way to the bar, ordered a Bud, and positioned herself at a table near where the brothers were. The shorter one was stuffing a greasy mozza stick into his mouth while the taller one snorted.

"Seriously, dude, how can you eat that crap? You're gonna have a coronary by the time you're fifty."

"Well, at least I die happy," the shorter one grinned, chasing the appetizer with a generous swallow of beer. When Tall Guy chuckled, his brother responded by grabbing another mozza stick and taking a large bite. Missy listened to the light banter with a hardened heart, disgusted at how those who had murdered her family were so oblivious. Daring to glare at the pair, she sipped her own drink, turning down a server with a curt wave of her hand. She remembered what her Pa had taught her when she was just a young girl: "Be patient, Missy, when ye hunt." And so she sat patiently, nursing a few drinks, listening for anything useful.

After twenty minutes, her efforts paid off.

"So what do we got on this one, Geek Boy? Any of our usual suspects?" Missy arched an eyebrow in interest as the Tall One pulled a folded up newspaper from inside his jacket and slid it across the table to the other man, who read it with curiosity. "Guess so," he concluded after a few minutes. "Been a while since we ran into one of those fuglies."

"Yeah. Last one in Black Water Ridge. Was kind of hoping it wasn't, but no way those killings are grizzly attacks."

"Great." The shorter finished his last mozza stick and crumpled the grease coated parchment paper into a ball, tossing it into the red plastic serving basket. "Guess that means we gotta hit the sack. You do need your beauty sleep, after all." With another of his cocky grins. Damn he was a fucking smartass.

"Shut up."

"Not going to be fun, though. Fuckin' hate camping."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Dean," Tall Guy said dryly. "I can never understand how someone who faces the shit we do on a daily basis is afraid of flying and hates spending a few nights in the woods."

"For one, planes crash. Second, I am not afraid of camping. Just like my bed to be where I can lock the freakin' door at night. Besides, you have your clown thing."

The tall one grunted and began to gather his things hastily, the other one called Dean hastily finishing his beer. Missy watched until the brothers had left the bar, and quickly got up, following as close as she dared. She waited as Dean climbed into an ancient muscle car and gunned the engine, watching the taillights disappear into the night. She was in no hurry to follow, risk getting caught; Missy Bender knew how smart those boys were; the one named Dean had found them all those years back. Missy was smart, too, but she knew she wouldn't be able to outwit the brothers. She'd guessed from their conversation that they hunted, too, and would be able to smell out someone following them from a mile away.

But they didn't bank on leaving the receipt behind.

In his hurry to leave, Tall Guy had missed a few papers which had fluttered to the floor. They were mostly for unimportant things; gassing up that monstrosity they drove; snacks; lunches at diners from when they were in the US. But one slip, the name S. Hendrix scrawled on the bottom, caught her attention. It was a motel receipt, for the Island Inn. Missy had smiled devilishly and pocketed the crumpled up paper. Now, as a light summer mist began to fall, Missy climbed into her cousin's GMC van and headed out into the night. She knew she didn't have much time. The brothers were planning on hiking, and while Prince Edward Island's woodlands were sparse, it would still take far too long to set traps on the off chance she would capture Tall Guy. No. She would find their motel, go from there. It wasn't far to the Island Inn, a ten minute drive tops. Smiling to herself, she jabbed the keys in the ignition, the rusted van protesting a few times before finally groaning to life. As she pulled onto the highway, Missy smiled to herself, began whistling to herself. She remembered something her Pa had always said before hunting, back when she was still a young'un in Minnesota.

"This is gonna be fun," she whispered.