A/N: Yes, this fic does not feature any of the main characters of the show. I just said it did because I couldn't publish it without saying it featured one of them. This is just a way to set the backstory, so just give it a few chapters. Then it should get interesting. Sorry if you were expecting some Destiel or Wincest.

Chapter 1

My eyes flew open into another blanket of pitch blackness. Shit, I was still in my coffin. So much for getting out of Hell cleanly.

I patted my body down, hoping that I'd been buried with something that could either light everything up a little or could help me climb out of my grave...all I could get my hands on were my keys-of course! My family knew I loved my car, so they buried my keys with me! Brilliant! Now all I had to hope for was that I could muster up enough strength-Wait.

Rachiel had told me I was an archdemon. Maybe I could just blast a hole through the soil and claw my way out...I took a deep breath and slowly lay my palms on the silk-lined wood of my coffin, focusing all my attention on procuring a huge blast of fire that ripped through what proved to be about six feet of dirt. Some splinters and chunks of dirt showered back down upon me, which I spat out and brushed off my body-Was I wearing a suit? I'd think my family would override my living personality and slap some disgusting, frilly monstrosity on me before burying me.

I sat up, stretching myself out a bit before hauling myself onto the perfectly manicured grass of the cemetery that was luckily deserted. I didn't even see a jackrabbit foraging for food. "Yay-" I ended up wheezing rather than speaking normally; a sign that I should have probably been trying to find some water to chug down and some food to fill my body back up...and while I was at it I would be better off finding some hunting supplies as well. It was my only career option now that any record of Sarah Hunt was most likely erased due to my being legally deceased now. I stood up carefully, not wanting to overwork what used to be my corpse.

I glanced around to get my bearings in the graveyard, straining to see through the blur that was all too familiar. Apparently being a succubus didn't fix a meatsuit's eyesight. Fuck. Glasses were now at the top of my list of supplies.

I walked briskly through the rows of gravestones and down the street, hearing sirens getting closer and closer as I went. A cop car sped by, engine roaring as I obscured my face under the pretense of the lights being too bright...I needed to get out of town as soon as possible, or people might recognize me and call me out on not being dead.

I slipped into a convenience store and perused the various snack foods, passing by a newspaper on my way up to the register. When I squinted enough to read the date on it, I realized it was January 23, 2008; ten months following the car crash that took me prematurely. I muttered, "Damn..." It had felt something like a century in Hell, half the time I was whipping the shit out of other souls, thinking it was my only way out. Silly me. I grabbed the paper and slid it toward the cashier, who said to me, "...Do I know you from somewhere?"

I breathed, "Must have one a' those faces..." As soon as he rung up the bottle of water, I tore it open and downed half of it, which made him say, "Thirsty?"

I nodded.

"What's with the suit?"

"Job interview."

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Nope. Goodnight." I slammed a five hidden in my bra-Where'd that come from? Nevermind-and made my way out to the parking lot, where I hotwired a crappy old Accord and drove off for the edge of the suburbs. It wasn't until I'd hit the border that I realized what was happening and broke down. I'd never see John again. Ever. I was stuck with all the hunting knowledge I'd gathered before going to Hell.

I tried my best to get the idea out of my head, but he mattered so much to me that my eyes were soon flooded with tears and I had to pull into a McDonald's parking lot and just let the waterworks go.

I cranked up the radio and sobbed, slamming my hand onto the steering wheel in sheer frustration and anguish; I kept beating the hell out of the car until I was too exhausted to continue. John had probably been the single most important person to me, and now I was willing to bed that he died in the crash as well.

But I couldn't sit there much longer. The sun was beginning to come up, and the radio was reporting a mysterious explosion that came from a grave in the local cemetery.