Chapter One: Familiar Faces

I was running as fast as my legs could carry me. It was pitch black outside, and I could barely see what was in front of my face. However, it wasn't what was in front of me that I was worried about. I knew without looking back that the creature was closing in on me. Hearing the monster's vicious snarls alerted me that I needed to run even faster. My legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were about to explode (thanks, asthma), but I kept going; knowing that if I slowed down I would never breathe again.

I was on my way home from class, taking the usual trail to my apartment when it jumped me. I didn't even know what 'it' was; I just knew that it wanted to kill me.

The adrenaline and fear kept me running, but I knew that my energy would soon wear off. I felt my body start to slow down, despite my desperate plea to keep running as quickly as possible. I knew I had reached the end of my limit. I could now hear the creature's rough, ragged breathing close behind me. It snarled, preparing to attack.

And then the worst possible thing happened. I tripped over a large, thick stick and fell to the ground. I looked up in terror, and was shocked to see that my pursuer looked humanoid, but I knew that it definitely wasn't a human. It had animal-like glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth. Then I looked harder and saw that it had long claws like a savage cat.

I looked into the bloodthirsty eyes and saw hunger, a deep hunger that would drive the monster to do anything to kill me. "Please don't," I pleaded in a horrified whisper. I didn't want to die, not at 22 years old. I was not a very religious person, but I thought a silent prayer to live. Please, God, don't let me die like this. Let me live, please.

The humanoid beast grinned murderously and laughed. I knew that it was over. But I also knew that I could not die without trying to fight the thing. I picked up the same stick that tripped me and thrust it into the chest of the monster.

It howled in pain, but there was no real effect. All I did was make it even angrier. It made a loud roaring sound at me and aimed its claws at my throat. I quickly held up my arm to block the lethal blow, and its claws ripped into my arm. I shrieked in agony and tried to kick it away, but there was no such luck. It was much stronger than me, and I knew it. It was just about to go for my throat again and I knew very well that there was no way for me to fight it off. I was preparing to die (at least, as best as I could) and shut my eyes.

I screamed when I heard the gunshot, and my attacker staggered and collapsed to its knees. I looked around wildly to find out who had saved me. In the thick darkness, all I could see were two figures standing before me. The taller one held out his hand to help me up, and I accepted it. I gritted my teeth when he pulled on my injured arm, but I was grateful for his help. The shorter one walked over to the collapsed beast and slowly moved his foot over to prod it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I warned in a weak voice. I was starting to feel the effects of my loss of blood.

He ignored me and prodded the creature, checking if it was dead. There was no response. "This doesn't make sense," he stated. "Bullets can't kill these things."

Suddenly, it grabbed the man's foot and threw him to the side. I heard the sickening thud as his head hit a rock. I saw his silhouette fall to a crumpled heap; the silence proved that he was unconscious.

The tall one who had helped me up yelled, "Dean!" and ran to the monster, attacking it savagely with a knife. He managed to give it a few nasty cuts, by the sounds of its pain-filled roars, but the creature cleverly twisted the man's hand around and grabbed the hilt of the knife. Then, it pinned him up against a tree, and my rescuer was now the one who needed to be saved. He looked at me – well, at least I thought he did, I couldn't really see – and yelled, "Grab the blowtorch from my bag! Hurry!"

Why he had a blowtorch in his bag, I didn't know, but frankly at that moment I didn't care. I dashed over to the bag and frantically searched for the blowtorch in the dark. I heard the man gasping for air and knew the creature must have been choking him.

I found the blowtorch and threw it to his outstretched hand. Suddenly the darkness of the night was illuminated by the light of the erupting flames.

The fire gave me enough light to see what was going on. The creature was currently burning to ashes and the man with the blowtorch looked relieved, tired, and strangely familiar. The unconscious one looked very familiar as well.

Sure, I had almost been killed and here I was thinking, "Where have I seen them before?" I should have been thinking, "A supernatural freak of nature almost killed me!" But no, I was more concerned about my rescuers' identity.

I looked at the tall one. "Thanks, you saved my life," I said to him in relief that the whole ordeal was over.

He replied in a tired tone, "Don't mention it."

I smiled even though I knew he couldn't see it, since the fire had gone out.

He turned to me and said, "You're hurt." It wasn't a question.

I suddenly remembered the piercing pain in my right arm and winced. "Oh… that. Don't worry, it's nothing," I lied, trying to keep the obvious pain out of my voice.

He came closer and gently grabbed my arm to look at it. He pulled out his cell phone to use as a light. "That doesn't look like nothing," he stated. He sounded genuinely worried about me.

I looked and saw that he was correct. There was a long, jagged laceration running almost the entire length of my arm that was covered in blood.

"Well…" I said quietly, trying to fight away the feeling of light-headedness. "At least blood doesn't bother me… Mostly."

He must have noticed that I was trembling and said, "It's okay. Let's get back to the car and we'll fix you up back at the motel." Then he looked puzzled. "Speaking of 'we', where's Dean…" And then he became pale. "Oh, crap."

He ran over to the other guy, apparently named Dean, and started to shake him. "Dean! Get up!" he shouted. Dean didn't stir, so the other guy decided to smack him in the face. Still no response.

I was starting to get concerned. "Is he okay?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, he's fine. This happens a lot, although it doesn't normally take this long for him to wake up." He sighed. "I guess we're just gonna have to carry him back to the car."

I wondered what they could possibly do to get knocked out and injured on a regular basis, but I figured that it wasn't the best time to ask.

"Okay." I walked over to Dean and helped pull him up. I wrapped my good arm around his side and his friend got his other side. Our "carrying" ended up turning into "dragging", but it still worked.

I looked to the guy on the other side and said, "I know this is kind of random, but may I ask what your name is?"

He laughed faintly and replied, "Sam. My name is Sam. And my unconscious brother is Dean, as you probably heard before."

Sam… Dean… No, it couldn't be. It had to be a coincidence, but I decided that I would check. "Nice name, I'm Faith."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to almost take a faceplant. "Faith? You don't mean… Faith Lancaster?"

I looked at him, as well as I could in the darkness. "You're Sam Winchester, aren't you?" I asked, with my smile about to break out.

He replied, "Yeah! It's been a long time." I could tell from his voice that he was grinning.

"I know! 8 years, right?" I asked, glad that the darkness hid my smile.

"Yeah, since freshman year in high school," he replied, obviously still smiling. That was one of the things that I remembered about Sam – That no matter how much his life royally sucked, he always tried to smile.

We made little conversation as we walked to the car, because we were both extremely tired from fighting the creature and our long trek while dragging an unconscious Dean along.

There was one thing that I needed to know. "What was that thing that attacked me, Sam? I'm guessing that you know."

He hesitated and took a deep breath. "Well," he began. "It was a wendigo."

Having absolutely no idea what that was, I asked, "Um… A wendigo? Care to clarify?"

Sam laughed nervously and explained, "A wendigo is a human-like cannibalistic predator that hunts humans when they get lost in the woods or are alone on trails. The funny thing is that they used to actually be humans like you and me."

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "There's no way that… thing used to be one of us."

He chuckled at my tone and continued. "That's an explanation for a later time. Anyway, if they catch you, which they almost always do, then they take you back to their hiding spot and well… eat you alive. Then they sleep for about 20 years after they've eaten enough."

I let it all sink in. "Wonderful… So, if you weren't there, I would most likely be dead or dying right now."

He didn't know what to say. "Well…" he began, but couldn't think of a reply.

I smiled and said, "Thank you, Sam. I owe you and Dean my life."

I couldn't see him very well in the poor lighting, but I was pretty sure that he was turning slightly red.

"It- it's no problem," he stammered. "There was someone who needed help, so I had to do something."

I looked at him over Dean's head. "That's really brave," I said quietly, and then I mentally kicked myself after realizing how lame and incredibly cheesy that sounded.

He was probably becoming even redder. "No, not really. Dean and I just do what we have to do to make sure that no one dies when we're able to save them."

We finally got to the car and I stared at it in awe. It was the same shiny, black Chevy Impala that I remembered from freshman year. "You still have your dad's old Impala? I always loved this car!" I exclaimed.

Sam smiled and replied, "Yeah, I remember. But it's not really mine; it's Dean's."

We opened up one of the doors and laid Dean across the backseat. Sam got in on the driver's side and I rode shotgun. When the 80's rock music came on, I felt like my ears were about to burst. I jumped and stared at Sam in astonishment, because the blaring sound didn't seem to bother him at all.

He noticed my reaction and turned it down. He grinned at me in amusement. "Sorry," he said. "Dean liked to keep the music loud."

"I can tell," I said sarcastically. My ears were still throbbing.

He kept grinning in amusement, which kind of annoyed me. "I'm glad to know you find me funny, Sam," I mumbled. I looked at him, and for the first time that night I was able to really see him, because of the passing street lights. I was trying to push the thought of him being handsome out of my mind. Thinking about an old best friend in that way was slightly awkward.

As he drove, I continued the conversation from earlier. "It's true though, I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you and… Dean." I forced myself to say the older brother's name.

Sam laughed and I became irritated. "What are you laughing about?" I asked indignantly.

He continued to laugh. "You're still bitter about my brother, I see. It's been 8 years; isn't it time to forgive and forget?" he asked me in amusement.

I suddenly felt as if my blood was boiling. "How can I? Every time I look at him it just reminds me of what he did to me. I can't forget it, Sam. It was horrible!" I exclaimed defensively.

He was quiet for a moment. "I know," he said gently and with caution, careful not to make me even more upset. "But he's changed, I promise. You can't keep hating him for what he did in high school and tearing yourself up in the process. Life is too short to hold a grudge like that, Faith."

I gave him no response. I thought about what he said and knew he was probably right; I just didn't want to admit it. The pain in my arm was too much for me to carry on a conversation any longer. I tried to ignore it as best as I could, leaned my head back into the headrest, and succumbed to sleep.

When I woke up we were pulling into a parking lot. I looked at the sign and it said, "Motel". No fancy name; just "Motel".

Sam turned off the car and looked to the backseat. He reached around and started shaking Dean again. "Dean!" he shouted. "Wake up, you've had long enough of a nap!"

I was trying not to laugh as I heard a grumble from the backseat. "Looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake," I remarked.

Sam chuckled. "That wendigo got you pretty good, didn't it?"

Dean sat up and started rubbing his head and wincing. "Shut up, Sam," he snapped in a not-so-pleasant tone.

"Somebody's grumpy," I said sardonically.

Dean gave me a look that was a cross between confusion and a glare. "Who are you?" he asked accusingly. "And why are riding shotgun in MY car?!"

It didn't surprise me that he didn't recognize me. I was taller and my dark brown hair was a lot longer. I also wore contacts instead of actual glasses.

I had a bit of a mischievous smirk. "You mean you don't remember me, Dean?" I asked in a faux-sweet tone. "You always were a bit… absentminded."

He gave me an angry glance before looking to Sam. "Who is she? And why is she insulting me?"

Sam smiled in pure amusement and said, "She's the girl we just saved. You know, Faith Lancaster?"

Dean's face went pale. "Oh. Her."

I forced myself to smile. "Yeah, me. Look, I really shouldn't be rude. You did help save me after all. Thank you, Dean," I told him sincerely.

He nodded. "Of course."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my door. "But I still don't like you," I replied bitterly.

Dean gave me an insulted look. "You'd think I'd get a little more gratitude since I just helped save your ass!" He said angrily.

"I said thank you, and I meant it. However, that doesn't mean I have to like you, Dean," I argued.

He shrugged and replied, "Fine, I don't like you either."

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. Dean looked at Sam for help. Sam held up his hands in defense and left the car, leading me to the motel room.

When we got to the room, I realized I had never in my life been happier to see a bed. My muscles were aching and my eyes were stinging with fatigue, but the blinding pain reminded me of something more important than sleeping.

"Um… Could someone please help me with my arm?" I asked, my voice weakening. My arm was covered in blood and it looked, well, unpleasant.

"Yeah, I'll get the first-aid kit," Sam offered as he walked over to the side of the room. He pulled out their makeshift medical kit and opened it. We sat on the edge of one of the beds and I looked into the box. I saw excessive amounts of gauze, tape, dental floss, needles, bandages, anti-bacterial ointment, and a small bottle of liquor.

I blinked. "I take it that you two have never been to CVS?" I asked half-jokingly.

Dean walked in the door and shut it behind him. "We do the best with what we have," he stated. "By the way, thanks for leaving me back there, you ungrateful little-" He cut off when he saw my arm. "Ouch," He remarked, actually looking sympathetic.

I winced. "Yeah, 'ouch' pretty much covers it."

Sam walked over to the sink in the bathroom and wet a cloth. He returned and wiped off the blood surrounding the wound. I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears. There was no way that I would let Dean see me cry. I had a bad feeling that this pain was nothing compared to what was coming.

He pulled out the liquor bottle. "Okay, be prepared. This is probably going to hurt like hell."

I gritted my teeth and looked at a fixed point on the wall. As soon as the alcohol touched my wound, I felt like my arm was on fire. It took all of my effort not to scream, or faint for that matter. I grabbed Sam's hand unintentionally and squeezed it with all of my remaining strength. I was cursing quite colorfully.

When he finished pouring the alcohol over my wound, I felt the pain start to ease a bit. But that doesn't mean it didn't still sting like a bitch.

"Well," I gasped. "That stung a bit."

Sam and Dean looked at me with concern. "Are you alright?" Dean asked.

I nodded. "I'll live," I stated. It wasn't as bad as before; the pain was starting to turn into numbness. I tried to ignore it as Sam pulled out the needle and dental floss; I had always been afraid of needles.

He saw the fear on my face and said, "This won't hurt as much as you think it will. The worst is already over, I promise."

He reassured me a bit, but I couldn't help wondering if that was one of the same it-won't-hurt promises that dentists make to kids so they don't throw a fit. I pushed that thought aside and tried to think of pleasant things. Surprisingly, I didn't feel much as Sam started to stitch up the wound, only a dull sting.

"So," I started, trying to make conversation to distract myself. "I'm guessing you didn't learn how to do all of this by watching late-night reruns of House."

He laughed and responded, "No, I didn't. We have to learn how to fix ourselves up with the stuff we do."

I hesitated. "I'm not trying to pry, but what exactly do you guys do?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer already.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean asked from the other side of the room, where he was sitting on a desk. I had almost forgotten he was there because of his silence. He continued, "We hunt the things that go bump in the night. That's always been out family's job for as long as I can remember. It's our responsibility."

I could tell from his tone and Sam's look how much they felt responsible for hunting the supernatural. I felt bad for them, having to exchange a normal life for a miserable and dangerous one. I felt guilty for having fun and going to college while Sam and Dean risked their lives on a daily basis to save people like myself.

We sat in silence as Sam finished stitching my arm up. "All right," Sam finally remarked. "You're all done."

"Thanks, Doc," I said teasingly.

Sam smiled. "Don't mention it." And then his face turned serious. "I do have to say, you took 'the supernatural exist' thing very well. Especially since you were almost killed by a monster not too long ago," he said suspiciously.

Dean crossed his arms and gave me the 'tell us everything' look.

I sighed. "Yeah, because that's not the first time I've encountered them," I admitted.

They looked surprised. "What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

I looked down. "Four years ago, I was still living at home with my parents in Virginia. It was the summer before I was about to go to college," I began. I didn't want to tell this story, but I knew they would get it out of me eventually. They were looking at me intensely, wanting to hear everything. "I was out partying with my friends, celebrating the end of high school. Since I still lived at home, my mom and dad enforced a curfew of midnight. It was almost 1 AM and I was wondering why they hadn't called me yet to tell me to come home. It wasn't like them, you know?" I looked at Sam and he nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"So I decided to go home and see what was going on. I thought my parents were probably arguing, just like they did every day. When I pulled into the driveway, it was absolutely silent, which was odd. When they argued you could hear them shouting at each other almost down the whole block. I thought, 'Maybe they just fell asleep'. I unlocked the front door and walked in. I yelled 'Guys, I'm home!' and there was no answer. I went upstairs and walked to their bedroom and I-" I broke off, not wanting to say it.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes; I could almost see the event unfolding as I spoke of it. "I saw them get killed by vampires."

What was originally surprise on Sam and Dean's faces were now pure, cold shock. I started to tear up, remembering the fanged creatures tearing into my parents' throats.

Sam put his arm around me. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Faith," he told me.

Dean was quiet. He didn't know what to say, and I didn't blame him. What are you supposed to say when someone goes through something like that? He just looked at me with sadness in his eyes. I hated it, I didn't want pity.

"Don't be sorry," I said. "There's nothing that could've been done." And it was true—how were you supposed to fight off a bunch of vampires when you're just a teenage girl with no fighting experience?

Dean asked, "What did you do? After you saw the vampires, I mean."

"I ran, of course. I went back to my car and drove away as fast as I could. I never went back after that night," I explained. "It was weird though… They didn't chase after me or anything—they just let me go."

We sat in silence for a moment. "I should probably be getting home," I said, standing up.

"We'll drive you," Dean offered.

"Wait," Sam said. "It's late and you're injured. I'd feel a lot better if you stayed here tonight."

I was puzzled. "What?"

Dean was even more confused. "Yeah, what? She'll be fine, she's a tough one," he said, nudging me on my good arm, earning a glare from me.

"Don't touch me," I told him.

Sam persisted. "Plus you just had a bit of a traumatizing experience; I don't think you should be left alone right now."

He gave me his famous Puppy-Dog Eyes and I sighed. "Fine, I don't care anymore. I just want to go to sleep," I surrendered.

As I scanned the room I noticed a problem. "There are only two beds," I observed.

Dean smirked and said, "The other half of my bed is always free."

I looked at him in disgust and snapped, "You're such a perverted creep, Dean Winchester!"

He shrugged. "I've been called worse."

I rolled my eyes and collapsed on one of the beds. "You two can share a bed. Brotherly love," I commented.

"HELL NO!" they shouted in unison.

"Fine," I said. "I don't care who shares my bed, I just want to go to sleep." After that statement, I drifted off.

(Sam's POV)

Faith was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. After he saw she was no longer conscious, Dean looked at me in anger. "It's awesome that we saved her life and everything, but why does she have to stay here, Sam?"

I looked back at him and said, "I know you two don't get along, but I just have this feeling. A feeling that she needs us."

Dean gave me an exasperated look. "Is this another one of your crazy psychic premonitions? Why in the hell would she need us?!"
I shrugged. "I don't think it's a premonition; just a feeling. But we're not abandoning her, and that's that."

Dean sighed and lay down on the other bed. "You're not gonna let me live in peace, are you?" he asked as he threw his head down on the pillow.

I grinned. "And what kind of brother would I be if I did that?"

A/N – This is my first SPN fanfiction, so thanks for reading! I already have the next two chapters done and saved on my laptop, but I want to see if people like this first. Please comment what you think, and feel free to give me constructive criticism, as long as it's respectful. Stay tuned for chapter 2!