Okay, I posted this a LONG time ago and deleted it, because I update too slow and yeah. Now, I forgot how to upload, so I was very embarrassed when all of my paragraphs were taken away, and I had the first chapter published with no paragraphs. #ew. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and you don't think it's too extremely cliche. I tried to make it a little different. (:

Each chapter will start with a memory or flashback of Maryse and Sam and Dean as they were growing up (at least for the first story in the series - the first season). Some of the memories or flashbacks will relate to the chapters, some will not.

I don't own Supernatural.

C-H-A-P-T-E-R

1

Maryse - 7

Sam - 13

Dean - 17

John glanced back at the two of his younger kids as he drove. Rae was sleeping soundly; Sam was wide awake and looking out the window. Right when he turned back to look at the road, a defiant voice came from the back.

"Dad, why are we going to Jack's? Rae just probably had a nightmare and—"

"We're going, because I said so, Sam," the man replied. His eldest, Dean, looked back at Sam, giving him a warning look to tell him not to start an argument again, but the look was in vain.

"All I'm saying is that Rae is seven," he snapped, "Kids have nightmares, and this is probably one of them. Jack is probably fine." John almost chuckled at the fact that Sam called Rae a kid, and had it not been for the disrespect, he would have.

"Sam, when I say we're doing something, you do it. No questions," John ordered. He gave a relieved sigh when his son didn't try to continue the fight.

I woke up to a sharp sense of uncertainty. It was a powerful feeling, something in the pit of my stomach, making me feel indecisive. I had no idea what I was possibly trying to decide, which caused me extreme confusion.

I laid there in the hotel bed, listening out for his breathing. It wasn't there; he wasn't there. I turned over in my bed to see an empty bed across the room, heavily veiled by the darkness of night.

Where was he? Should I go find him? He wouldn't have gone off to hunt alone, would he?

Slowly, I got up out of the bed, my body's tired reluctance protesting. Even though I may have wanted to curl back up into the pillows and find sleep once more, I knew I needed to go look for him. It wasn't often that us Winchesters left the motel room without so much as a note. I sluggishly threw on a pair of sneakers and walked to the door of the motel room, grabbing a key and a handgun on the way out.

Once I stood outside, I slipped the key into the pocket of my sweatpants and the gun (after clicking the safety on) in the band. I then took note of the black Chevy in front of me.

So Dean hadn't left. He was still at the motel, but the new question was where? I looked up and down the gum-clad sidewalk that wrapped around the building, almost missing the silhouette standing in front of the vending machines at the end of the sidewalk under the stairwell.

"Dean?" I called.

He looked up at me and tilted his head to the side, probably wondering why I was even up. I walked towards him, feeling my sloppy, long braid slap against the skin in between my shoulder blades each time I took a step, and when I reached him, he surprisingly didn't question my presence. He only asked, "Did you want anything?"

I shook my head, taking a small and quick glance at the dirtied glass over the probably stale chips and candies within the machine. "Nah, I'm good," I answered. Then I turned back to him. "Could you not sleep?"

Dean brought his hand to the slot of the machine to slip dollar bills in and paid for whatever he was about to get. "I slept," he told me as he pressed the buttons and retrieved his food, "I just got a phone call."

"Oh." I started to follow him as he turned towards our room and began to walk. "Was it Dad?"

"Yeah, but I didn't pick it up in time." We'd reached the motel room and he pulled a key out of his pocket, beginning to unlock the door.

"So…did he leave a message?" I asked as he swung the door forward and walked in. I followed and grimaced at the musky scent of the room. I had grown accustomed to it when I was asleep and in here before, but now, the smell was fresh and pungent. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, considering that I'd been living in motels like these since I was eight months old, but it still got to me for the first minute or so of breathing it in.

"Yeah," Dean answered, walking towards the table and taking out his gun. He set it on the table along with his room key and grabbed his cell phone. "I want you to listen to it. There's an EVP."

I walked past Dean to my bed and pulled the gun I'd picked up out of the band of my sweatpants near the small of my back. I placed it under my pillow and then walked back over to Dean, setting my key down on the small table. "Alright," I said, gesturing to the small phone in his hand with a head nod.

My father's voice broke through the dark silence that was in the hotel room, and with it, came an obnoxious rustling noise. It made it hard for me to hear what my father was saying, yet I was still able to hear the nearly-absent whispering noise in the back ground. Sure enough, there was an EVP, not that Dean would have been wrong, anyway.

"I want you to clear it up for me before we leave for California," my brother told me, and my eyes shot from the phone to his face. I nodded my head, but still asked, "Can I go back to sleep for right now though?"

I heard him chuckle before he nodded, and I walked back over to my bed, kicking off my black and white sneakers. Then I quickly hunkered down in the scratchy yet welcoming covers, and I was asleep not two minutes after shutting my eyes.

I stared at the computer screen, waiting for the cleared up version of the EVP on Dean's voicemail to sync into his phone.

"Hey, did you hear me?" my friend's voice said from the other side of my phone.

I shook my head at myself. "No," I said, "Sorry, Austin, I—"

"It's okay, Ris," he chirped in that cheerful way of his, "I was just saying that at least you heard from him, ya know?"

I sighed and continued, "Yeah, it's good that I heard from him but a voicemail with a creepy EVP in the background isn't all that promising." The laptop gave a little ding! signaling that the sync was finished. I tucked my cell between my shoulder and my neck and unplugged Dean's phone, setting it nicely across the table from me. Then I reached for my partially hidden phone and held it to my ear once more.

I could hear Austin's breathing on the other end. He was trying to think of something positive, something other than what he'd said that one time when I got a B— on my algebra test and flipped. He'd leaned over towards my desk and said, "Hey, on the plus side, you don't turn into a ravenous dog three times a month."

I'd so eloquently responded with, "No, I just have my period for a week."

So, now, when the monotone sound of his breathing stopped, I was expecting the words before they reached my ear. "Hey, at least you don't turn into a ravenous dog three times a month."

I let a small smile slip across my lips and chuckled, when I heard the doorknob being jiggled. Dean was back. "Hey," I said to Austin, "I gotta go. Dean's back, and we're probably gonna be hitting the road now that I got this EVP cleared up. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright," he said, "Bye, Ris."

I hung up and stood to go open the door, but Dean was already waltzing in before I could make it halfway there. He had a bag of fast food in his left hand and was slipping the key in his pocket with his right. "Oh, thank God," I said as I doubled my pace towards him and grabbed the bag of food.

Dean gave it to me and continued into the room towards the table where the computer and his phone sat. "Did you get it?" he asked me.

I nodded while opening the tin foil that was wrapped around my burger and said, "Yeah, click play and you'll hear it." He did and a voice came from the speakers, saying the ominous message that had completely worried me earlier.

"I can never go home."

Dean gave me a questioning look and then asked, "Did you put it on my phone?"

I nodded, a mouth full of burger keeping me from responding verbally.

"Alright, get your stuff together, Tiger. We're leaving."

That got me to hop to. We were going to get Dad, and that made me relieved. I knew he was alive. I could feel it. If he was dead, I would be aware; I wouldn't feel him, his presence.

I choked down the rest of my hamburger, trying to get a move on. Even though my clothes, toothbrush, deodorant, and brush were already packed — anticipating us leaving, I had packed early — I still had to get my computer and the rest of the weapons around the hotel room. I closed my computer and pulled the charger from the wall, knowing the old dinosaur had turned off. It wouldn't stay turned on unless it was plugged to a charger and the charger was plugged into an outlet, but I didn't really mind to be honest. Dean was the only one that minded; he said it took up too much time, having to go to a motel or something. I started for the various weapons around the room: knives, handguns, one sawed-off shotgun, and lastly, salt. After throwing them all into a duffel, I made my way out to the Impala to wait for Dean, who was packing the last of his things.

"How did you get packed so fast?" he asked, walking towards the trunk of the Impala where I stood.

"I packed before you got back. I assumed you'd wanna be off for Jericho ASAP," I replied, saying the acronym as if it were a word.

He opened the trunk and tossed his duffel in, throwing me a glance. I put my bag and the weapons in beside his bag. "We're not going to Jericho, not yet, anyways," he told me.

I scrunched my nose in confusion, watching as he closed the trunk. "Then where are we going?" I asked. I started to panic a little at the thought of not helping Dad right away. I was about to insist on the importance of us getting to Jericho, and quickly, when Dean said something that mad me smile despite the circumstance.

"Stanford."