A/n hey everyone. This actually isn't my specific work. This story is my friend's(she doesn't have an account). I thought that this story needed posting so here it is.

Disclaimer: my friend and I obviously own the Winchesters. That's why we spend hours on our computers typing away stories about them. Just kidding. We don't own them, even if we do dream we do.

10 years previously in a small town in Wisconsin

"Come on Anna, let's leave, " Jack Peters said as he impatiently tugged on his younger sisters jacket.

"Just one more second, Jack," The four year old replied. She really wanted to stay at Rachel's house just a little bit longer, but she knew she had to leave soon. A few seconds later found the fourteen year old brother leading a reluctant Anna out the door and towards the busy street.

They turned to walk down the sidewalk, Jack making absolute sure that his sister never came a step too near the road. He already didn't like the fact that there were so many cars on their road, but did they have to drive so quickly? Jack was pretty sure none of them were following the speed limit.

Jack carefully lead his sister to the cross walk and he held her small hand as they waited for the road to clear up a bit. When Jack found it okay to cross the road he began to quickly cross road, little sister in tow.

The car came out of nowhere, a silver Toyota zipping way beyond the speed limits. It wove in and out of its yellow lined boundaries as it sped toward Jack and Anna.

Jack acted purely on instinct shoving his younger sister out of harms way as the car hurtled towards them. He didn't even have time to protect himself as the he slammed into the windshield and rolled over the top of the car. He landed with a sickening thud, bloody and broken in the middle of the street, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his cheek.

Anna screamed, awakening the neighbors. Mr. Hart, who had been in the process of letting his dog out, witnessed the whole thing. He ran to where Jack landed and reached his hand out to Jack's neck in search of a pulse. He seriously doubted finding one, as Jack's body was such a mess. His head was severely wounded, and not nearly as much blood was flowing from the wound as would be expected from a living person. Jack's legs were bloodied and broken, white bone peeking out from his tattered jeans. His arms were sprawled at awkward, unnatural angles.

Upon finding no pulse, Mr. Hart pulled Jack to the side of the road before another car sped by. The person driving the car noticed them and turned around. He parked his car in a nearby driveway and jogged to the man and the broken body.

"Should I call an ambulance?" the man asked holding up his cell phone. Mr. Hart nodded frantically for him to do so.

Mr. Hart quickly titled Jack's head back and tried to breath air into the young boy's lungs. He then began chest compressions, trying not to wince at how Jack's ribs seemed to depress in unnatural places as he did so.

A few minutes later showed no results and Mr. Hart was losing hope. Anna sat nearby in shock as people gathered around. Suddenly the sirens could be heard and as quickly as the people gathered, they were broken apart by the police that came with the ambulance.

The paramedics did what they could, but they could not revive the young Jack Peters. They declared his death on Tuesday, April 27, at 7:08 pm.

3 Days Later

Michael Peters had broken upon learning about his son's death. The days that had followed went by in a blur. The funeral had happened yesterday and he was still processing the fact that his baby boy was dead.

His daughter had clammed up. She spoke to no one, interacted with no one, and no longer looked anyone in the eye. The bubbly four year old that they once knew was gone, all that was left was an empty shell disguised as a little girl.

It had been a small funeral. The Peters' had no family other than themselves so only Michael, Anna, and some of Jack's friends had come to the service. Michael missed his boy. He missed his wife. He hoped, that somehow there was a heaven and that they were together now.

He sat in despair as he watched his daughter play mutely with her dolls. The dullness in her eyes gave her actions an almost eerie effect.

She seemed to notice his staring and looked up to him. She slowly walked over to him.

"You really want him back, don't you Daddy?" The question caught him off-guard and he stared at her as though she had just slapped him.

"What?" He asked, still shocked.

She blinked, and the strangest thing happened. He blinked, staring open-mouthed at the liquid black eyes that stared back at him.

"I said, you really want him back, don't you?" Michael didn't know what to do or think, so he answered honestly. Of course he wanted Jack alive. He nodded his head slowly.

Somehow, he just knew that the thing staring back at him was not his daughter and that it was indeed a "thing."

"Why?" he asked cautiously.

"I can help you get him back," the thing answered. "Tell me," it went on, "What would you give to bring your son back?"

"Anything," Michael said slowly, trying to think of anything he wouldn't do to get his baby boy back.

The black-eyed-something tilted it's head to the side slightly. "Good." it said. "Then you will meet my friend at the crossroads just outside of town tomorrow night at 7:00 pm. She handed him a small wooden box about the size of a tissue box. "Take this and bury it at the crossroads, be patient, you may have to wait a while before she shows up."

Michael slowly began to open the box, nervous about what it contained. Upon opening it, his face contorted in confusion. He saw his senior picture from high school inside the box, along with what appeared to be a bone from a small animal, a bag of dirt, and some little white flowers with yellow centers.

He looked to the black eyes for explanation.

"Inside is a picture of you, the summoner, a bone of a black cat, some graveyard dirt, and some yarrow, which is a type of flower." it explained.

"Me, the summoner?" Michael asked, shocked. The question seemed to annoy the thing and its eyes widened in exasperation.

"Just do as I say. You DO want your boy back, correct.?" At Michael's frantic nodding it smiled, "Then trust me." With that the thing tilted back its head and screamed, black smoke filling the room.

Michael gripped the box tight with fear as the black smoke cleared away. When he could see clearly again he saw his daughter stumbling back to her doll to play quietly again.

The next day at 6:30 Michael dropped his daughter off at Mr. Hart's and drove slowly to the crossroads the demon had mentioned. It wasn't busy at all, in fact it looked like no one had driven down those roads in many years he thought as he reached for the wooden box that he had carefully stowed in the passenger seat.

He went to the center of the crossroads and easily scraped some of the dirt away. Michael hesitantly put the box into the hole. "This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done." he thought. He almost reached his hand back into the small hole to take the box back and go home, but the longing for his boy stopped him. He covered the box in dirt, wiped his hands on his jeans as he stood and waited.

It had been nearly an hour now and Michael was beginning to think he had imagined the whole thing about the black eyed something giving him a box. He cursed himself silently and was about to leave when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Well, you must be Mr. Peters." A woman's voice said. He slowly turned around. It was a woman in a black dress. She seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Who are you?" Michael asked.

She blinked and her eyes turned red. Michael took a step back. "My name is Susan. I am a crossroads demon. I know you think demons are not to be trusted but let's just say I'm here to bring your boy back. Jack was his name, wasn't it?" After Michael nodded his head she continued. "And you would do anything to get him back?" she waited for his nod again before continuing. "I have been watching your daughter, Mr. Peters. She's a good child. I will make you one offer and no others. I want your daughter's soul."

"W-What... n-no." Mr. Peters stammered, not quite sure what to think of it all.

"Oh, but Mr. Peters, I can make you and your boy forget she ever existed, and she will forget about you. No one will ever know that she was once your daughter. She can be Mr. Hart's daughter. All of her memories will be changed as will yours, Jack's, Mr. Hart's and anyone who knew her. Everyone will also think that Jack was never injured. This can all happen under two conditions. One, you give me permission to your daughter's soul and two, you move out of Wisconsin."

"B-but that's my baby girl" Michael begged.

"But how will you raise her? You are too heartbroken over Jack to care about anything else, much less raise a young child." the demon reasoned.

Drugged by this sudden new hope, Michael saw her reason and agreed. "How would you collect her soul?"

"Oh, I would give her as much time as Jack would have had without this deal, so until April 27 when she is fourteen years old she will live. Then when she dies I will collect her soul." the demon answered, cleverly leaving out the part in which the Peters girl would be ripped to shreds by a hellhound.

"O-okay," Michael agreed.

"Perfect." said the demon. "You agree to all that's been said?" Michael nodded. "Now to seal the deal." She pulled his chin towards her and kissed him.

The deal was set.

Thank you for reading. Please review and give my awesome friend some love.