Before everything had started Dean had a secret he had kept from his family. Shortly after Sam had left for college. Dean was a mess. He was trying to keep what was left of his family together, still pissed at his brother for leaving them. A part of him couldn't have been more proud of him though for going after what he wanted. But he had his father to worry about. At least when his father was around. It was another one of those times where John had ran off on another long solo hunt. Dean was by himself for a couple months and board stiff with no signs of hunts on the radar. Until one had randomly popped up, a haunting in southern Louisiana. Just on the outskirts of New Orleans in a small run through town. He didn't expect to stay long knowing it was a simple salt and burn. At least not until he ran into her.

She ran the motel with the said haunting. A little run down with age, but well kept motel off the HWY heading into New Orleans. Her aunt was the owner. Took her in when she was young after her parents had died in an accident. She was too young to remember much about them. But a part of her still had that void of not growing up in a normal family. She loved her aunt, she did. But still wasn't the same. She basically put her time and effort into helping her aunt with the motel. But lately the place she was raised in had a presence about it. She didn't know why it was happening but there something unexplained going on. First started out with the maids complaining that there was a thief taking their supplies only to find it later in the most random spots. Then grew to windows popping open at random times and bedspreads thrown about after being carefully made. What really did it was when the maid starting screaming from one of the just vacant rooms. The main door seemed to hold itself shut and unable to budge trapping her inside. That's when she first met him. He had just checked in the night before. Asking odd questions about random smells, flickering lights or unusual signs. When he came running down the hall as she tried to help pry open the door. The poor maid behind it was this little Hispanic lady that was incredibly sweet, her name was Camila, she remembered. Spoke broken English and this time she was screaming bloody murder with the fear in her voice. Yelling 'Fantasma! Fantasma!'

When the man came to halt standing beside her, he pushed her aside brandishing a sawed off shotgun. "Camila, back away from the door!" She warned in shock of what was happening right front of her. He seemed all to comfortable in this situation. Standing a little over 6 foot, broad shoulders, incredible build, wearing a dark green collared shirt left unbuttoned with a black t-shirt underneath and faded dark blue jeans and black biker type boots. Aiming the gun at the door he hiked his leg up kicking it open with all his might and splintering her door frame. He ran in seeing a figure starting to fade just as fast as it appeared. She grabbed Camila while completely in shock of what she was seeing as the figure lunged at her the man fired off a loud bang. Hitting the figure dead on. Both Camila and Mia ran out of the room screaming. Mia stopped short just out in the hallway trying to calm Camila who was rambling off in her native language. "Lo Dejo!" Camila finally stated she ripped her arm out of Mia's hold and took off for the lobby. Not that Mia couldn't blame her, she was starting to get pissed that she lost another good housekeeper.

Standing alone out in the hallway the man that randomly showed up to help. Joined her holding an odd looking cloth bag with twine keeping it tied closed. "Piss anyone off lately?" He asked holding the bag up in front of her confused face. Now she was getting even more pissed off than scared. Especially now that the stranger seemed more arrogant and annoyed for having to rescue the situation.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her 5'2" height not at all intimidating. She barely weighed 130 lbs. Her long auburn hair in waves over her shoulders falling just below her middle back. Her dark brown eyes had fire in them now. "Excuse me?" She asked frankly annoyed.

Dean looked down at her a little caught off guard by the snarky response and raised an eyebrow in amusement. 'A spit-fire,' he thought to himself. He surprisingly liked it too. Raising the hex bag he found he lightly shook it in her face, which only caused her to scowl. He grinned, "this, little miss sunshine," he began sarcastically. "Is a hex bag, witches use to curse people. Someone placed a spirit summoning curse on your lovely establishment." He added.

She looked at the bag in his hand and shotgun in his other that was now against his side. Then at her busted motel room door and realized the damage that had been done. Dean thought to himself, 'here comes the after shock.' As he mentally sighed. She finally looked back into his green eyes and spouts off, "what the hell just happened!" As she rubbed a little hand over her face as she pushed past Dean to survey the damage of the room. Dean came and stood behind her in the doorway.

"You were attacked by a pissed off casper, and I think you just lost another maid." Dean replied casually. "Though truthfully I'm certain the spirit was just controlled by a witch. Someone with old school knowledge." He started to explain.

Mia was half listening, half not listening. When she spun to face him with a raised eyebrow, "witches?" She asked disbelievingly. He smiled cockily.

"Yep," he answered confidently.

Pushing past him and headed toward her office she responded, "you're insane!" "Not to mention crazy, plus you destroyed my motel..." She went off until Dean chimed in.

"Yeah, you're welcome, if I hadn't been there, the two of you probably would have been ripped to shreds by a spirit," Dean started, " but let's focus on the negative." "I thought people from the south were supposed to be hospitable? Not ungrateful," Dean finished causing her to halt in front of him just before she entered her office and bump into her. She turned to face him, just few inches away. That fire back in her eyes. He could smell the lavender soap she had used from the morning still lingering on her. He oddly enjoyed it more than he should have.

"What is your name," she demanded arms crossed once again. He smiled at that her intimidation methods.

"Dean Winchester and you're welcome," He grinned down at her.

"First of all Dean," she said with a hint of an accent he couldn't place. Her personality coming out full force, "I'm from Chicago, not the south. Second I'm not ungrateful, just pissed I'm about to lose my aunt's business. Third, spirits? Witches? Not real." She finished stubbornly.

Dean just scoffed, "so that human like figure that disappeared into thin air wasn't real or the this little bag of tricks, I didn't find?" Dean just focused on her, "believe what you want sweetheart that shits real and you're in danger." He threw back.

She stared back at him stubbornly. When all of a sudden she felt a force yank her into her office with a surprised scream, she flew back and her office door slammed shut in Dean's face. Leaving him wide eyed and caught off guard. She felt the impact of her body slamming into her desk and sworn she heard a bone crack, with a sharp breath kicked out of her. She fell to the floor in pain. That's when she smelt the smoke fill the air. Little orange angry flames appeared out of nowhere and began to engulf the room. She started coughing. She faintly heard the door being banged in with force. No budge though.

She could hear Dean's voice lightly in the background of the commotion. That's when the world around her went dark.