(Reminder that "Y/N" means "your name" - insert your name wherever it says Y/N. Also, this doesn't match EXACTLY with the plot of Supernatural. For instance, Mary died shortly after Sam was born, so technically this wouldn't make sense, but it's just a story I wanted to try out. In addition, their age in this fic doesn't match the age in which they found the bunker. Regardless, just assume everything Sam and Dean have gone through happened previously. Thanks for understanding!)

Chapter One: Hide-and-Seek

"Try again," Dean insists, holding up the focus mitts for what seems like the eight-hundredth time. "Eyes on the target."

You groan and lift your fists - which are neatly wrapped around the wrists to keep them safe - and swing again. You connect with the center of Dean's mitt, but Dean is barely affected.

"Focus, Y/N!" Dean shouts encouragingly. "Hit harder!"

You breathe out as you throw another punch with your right and then one with your left. Sweat drips off your forehead, but you keep on swinging.

Dean narrows his eyebrows. "Don't give up on me yet, Y/N. Let's see what you've got!"

You sigh and lower your arms, exhausted from all the boxing you'd been doing with Dean since the crack of dawn. You appreciated the training, but it seemed excessive. "Dean, I'm tired."

Dean frowns. "Tired? There is no being tired when you're hunting monsters."

You roll your eyes. "Why can't I just go for a run with Sam and call it a day? I have to be fast too if I want to live."

Dean crosses his arms. "So that's what Sam's been drilling in your head, huh?" He looks disgusted. "You're a runner now?"

"I just like running with Sam sometimes. Is that a crime?" You put a hand on your hip, realizing that Dean isn't going to give up until you give him what he wants. "Fine, fine. Put 'em up!"

Dean smirks, raising the focus mitts. "That's my girl."

You swing once, twice, three times, more forceful with each hit. Dean almost looks like he is struggling to keep the mitts still. You crack your knuckles and swing again; this time sending Dean's arm backward. He grunts, and you hit the other mitt. His arm flies back again.

"Okay. Okay!" Dean shouts, and you stop hitting. "You got me! I'm pretty tired too."

You smirk. "Oh, now you're tired. Right when I actually break you?"

Dean takes off the mitts and tosses them aside, wiping his forehead with his shirt. "Did I stutter?" He lets the shirt fall and grins. "You actually did okay, though. Your form needs work."

"Thanks, bro," you groan sarcastically, flashing him a smile. Then, you plug your nose, laughing. "Now go take a shower. You smell."

"Almost as bad as you," Dean responds lovingly, ruffling your hair as he walks past you.

You smile to yourself and start unwrapping your wrists as you skip toward the bunker kitchen. You absolutely love the bunker; it's like a castle, but cooler. It makes you feel powerful, yet safe, with all the warding.

Still, you wish your brothers - Sam and Dean - would bring you hunting more often. Well, at least let you get out of the car when they took you. They tended to be a bit... Overprotective. Especially because you are the little sister; the little girl of the family, even though you're an adult. You're twenty for Chuck's sake! You assume it's the age gap that makes you seem so young; Sam is two years older than you, while Dean is six years older than you. You'll probably always be their little sis.

You skip into the kitchen, tossing the wrapping into the trash, and notice Sam on his laptop at the table.

"Hey, Sammy," you say as you walk toward the fridge, praying that there is actually food in it for once. There is, but it's leftovers; nothing worth eating for breakfast.

"Y/N," he calls as you close the fridge, beckoning for you to come closer. You walk over to him and sit across from him at the table. He looks around as if it is some big secret and whispers, "I have something for you."

Sam pulls a brown paper bag up from the seat beside him and sets it on the table. "Take a look," he insists, pushing it toward you.

You narrow your eyes and pull the bag toward you. Why is he being so secretive? "Is it a trap?" You giggle.

Sam smiles softly and shakes his head. "You'll have to see for yourself."

You take a deep breath and open it slowly, feigning fear. However, there isn't a trap inside. You stick your hand in and pull out a blueberry bagel. "A bagel?" you ask, inspecting it carefully. It's still warm, and the scent makes your stomach growl.

"I thought you'd be hungry. Dean's been working you pretty hard lately," Sam explains.

You smile, taking a bite. "It's delicious," you mumble with your mouth full. "Thank you."

Sam looks pleased at his handiwork, crossing his arms. "You're welcome." As you take another bite, he scrunches up his nose, smelling something unpleasant.

"Oh," you mumble, still eating. "I haven't showered yet."

Sam shakes his head, smiling at you. "Dean hogging it?"

"I heard that!" Dean shouts as he enters the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. He clicks his tongue. "You're up, Y/N."

You finish the bagel, blow Sam a kiss, and head off to the shower.

When you're out of the shower, dried off, and changed, you wander around the bunker looking for your brothers. They're not in their rooms, or the kitchen, so you head to the war room. They usually hang out in there or in the library.

You enter just as Dean throws Sam a pistol, which he stuffs into a duffel bag. They must going on a hunt.

"What's going on?" you ask, crossing your arms as you walk up to the map table. It's covered in papers and old looking books.

Dean smiles smugly, cocking another pistol. "Vampires. A whole nest." He tosses the gun to Sam, who catches it with one hand and puts it in the bag.

You turn and lean against the table. "Oh, really? The source good?"

Sam nods. "Bobby's friend's friend. He said he's tied up with a different nest at the moment and can't get to this one."

Dean examines his machete, dragging his finger along the tip. "Woo, that's sharp."

"So, why the pistols then?" you ask, tilting yourself so you can look into the bag.

Sam zips it up just as you see what looks like jars of a dark liquid. "We like to be prepared."

Dean half-laughs. "You know, Dad always said-"

You and Sam groan, but join in with Dean to complete the phrase. "You can never be too careful."

Sam glances at you and smiles, and you respond by sticking your tongue out at him playfully. He pretends to be shocked by the gesture at first, but eventually sticks his tongue back out at you.

"So," you speak up, "where to?"

Sam tosses Dean the keys to the impala. "Only an hour away," he heaves up the duffel bag. "Superior, Nebraska."

Dean punches you gently in the shoulder. "We should be back by, what? Midnight?"

Sam nods. "Sounds about right."

"We don't really have much to eat other than soup," Dean rambles, staring toward the bunker garage, "so you can eat that, or you can go out and get something. Just don't stay out to long. And stay out of my room. Last time, you-"

"Wait a hot sec," you interrupt, running up and blocking the hallway. Sam and Dean stop midstride. Dean looks confused, but Sam looks at you with pleading eyes, as if he is begging you not to say it. Too late. "I'm going too."

"Y/N-" Sam starts.

Dean cuts him off. "No. How many times am I going to have to say this to you? You're not hunting. You're not ready."

"Dean!" You shout. "I'm an adult! I'm not going to just sit around here and rot for the rest of my life!"

"That's why we let you go out on your own now, Y/N," Dean tries to explain. His voice is still harsh. "You can go to the mall, the movies, bowling for all I care. You're allowed to leave."

You throw up your hands. "I don't want to go to the movies! I want to be hunting! With you!"

"That's enough," Dean snaps. "We've had this conversation one too many times. I told you time and time again. No." He looks at Sam. "Help me out here."

Sam bites his lip. "I really don't want to-"

"Tell her," Dean interjects, commanding his younger brother. "Tell her that she's not ready."

Sam reluctantly gives you a look, and you lose it. "Even you, Sam?"

Sam runs his hand through his hair and mumbles, "This is exactly why-"

Dean ignores Sam's comment. "Even him. We don't want you to get hurt. When you can show us you're ready, we will consider it."

You feel tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. You are an adult. Dean shouldn't be able to boss you around anymore. You clench your fists and impulsively scream, "YOU'RE JUST LIKE DAD, YOU KNOW THAT?"

Before you can get yelled at again, you turn and sprint down the hallway toward your room. Tears from all your anger start to wet your face, but you don't let it out until you've slammed the door to your room.

How could Dean do this to you? Make you feel like a child for all these years? He treated Sam like a kid sometimes, but he never excluded Sam from a hunt. Why were you different? Because you're a girl?

You could remember life on the road with Dad and your brothers. Dad was never around, so Dean took over caring for you and Sam. Those were some of your fondest memories.

Dean got to go hunting with Dad sometimes, but you and Sam were always left behind when that happened. It hurt, for both of you, when Dad chose Dean. Sure, he was the oldest, but you felt utterly useless.

After a while, you grew up, and started resenting all the moving, secrets, and tension. Dad yelled at Dean, yet Dean did exactly what he said. Dad seldom yelled at Sam, but watching Dad beat on Dean over and over with his words was too much for Sam. He went off to college and left you with a bipolar father and his good little soldier. That betrayal hurt for awhile.

It was another year after Sam abandoned you before you ran away. You were too young for college and had missed too much of your high school education to go back, but you were smart enough to live on your own. Well, not quite on your own... You stayed with Bobby sometimes, Ellen other times. Thus, you were really close with Jo.

Dad visited occasionally, but shunned you for running away from the "family business." There were moments when he'd return after a good hunt and greet you like you were daddy's little girl. However, most of the time it was explosive fights. "You're just a girl" and "you're tearing this family apart" were common phrases he threw around.

While you hated visits from Dad, it was the only chance you got to see Dean. Dad would yell at you for a while and then go talk with Bobby about the lore he came for. That's when you'd sneak off to find your big brother. The first few times, Dean didn't want to see you. But he couldn't resist his little sister for long.

You could tell he missed Sam, too. Dad had no reason to visit Stanford, so Dean didn't get to see Sam that often, if at all. You, on the other hand, made trips once a month to see Sam, which was more often than you got to see Dean. It made you feel bad, that your brothers couldn't see one another, but there was nothing to be done. That is, until Dad went missing.

One day, the impala arrived at Bobby's. Both brothers witnessed your tears of joy when you saw them get out of the impala together.

Now you were shedding tears, not because you loved your brothers for coming to rescue you, but because you hated them from abandoning you.

After awhile, you decide to emerge from your room and stop wallowing in your sadness. Besides, you have a plan.

You grab your moss green bag, throw in some food and a bottle of water, and pull out your machete from under your bed; the one Jo had given to you. You look up the route to "Superior, NE" on your phone as you throw on your coat - which is actually just a red flannel - and tie up your combat boots.

You sprint up the stairs in the war room and grab the door handle, nearly smacking your face against the door. What just happened? You push and pull, just to make sure it's not something you're doing. "That little..." Dean locked it. How are you sure? You know Dean as well as he knows you. He saw this coming.

Lucky for you, you know there is a spare somewhere in the bunker. Time for some hardcore hide-and-seek.

"YES!" You shout as you pull the key from underneath Dean's "Busty Asian Beauties" magazines. Of course he thought you wouldn't look there.

You sprint up the stairs again, unlock the door, and toss the keys down. You won't be needing them anymore.

"Ready or not, here I come."