She was beautiful, golden hair and a rack you could balance a beer bottle on. Sandra was undoubtedly the hottest girl in the entire school, and now was the perfect chance. The team was going to the finals, and Ben felt his scholarship had been worth the extra practices and all those failed try-outs. All of it had been leading up to this moment. Sure, there was the career as a professional football player, but that wasn't for a few more years. The moment Ben was most interested in, was the one that saw Sandra on her back in his dorm.

He finished his drink and set the bottle down on the polished bar. With all the confidence in the world he strode to her, his lips curled into a dashing, crooked smile, and his brown eyes alight with mischief. The young man swept a hand through his dark hair and said, "Hey, Sandra. You remember me?"

"Should I?" she asked, a knife to the heart.

"Oh, ouch," Ben laughed it off, "Ben Braeden, you were cheering for my team earlier."

"Right, Ben!" she gave him her full attention, her overly glossed lips tugging into a flirtatious smile, "Great job today, it was magical."

"Thanks," he put a hand on the table beside her, and ignored the vibrating of the phone in his pocket. Whatever it was, it could wait.

After all, what could be more important than feeling those pouting lips on his body?

Ben only had to wait until the morning to find out.

With a groan, he rolled onto his side, bringing his hand over his eyes to block out the glare of sunlight sneaking through the blinds. "God," Ben cursed, then remembered the events of the previous evening. He sat up with a start, and looked around the room desperately. Sandra was already gone, but she'd left a napkin, kissed with red lipstick, and scrawled with her phone number. Ben chuckled and bit his lower lip a moment. Finally, college was starting to get to be a little more fun.

He swung his feet from the bed and dropped them to the floor, hunching his shoulders and tousling his dark hair. It was then that Ben decided he ought to check his phone. His mother, Lisa, said that she'd call once a week, and his phone had gone off the previous night. With so many other things on his mind, Ben hadn't wanted to answer it. He'd drop by that weekend to see her, that would make it up to her.

A voice mail alert flashed up on the screen. Damn. Ben let out a long sigh and held the phone to his ear. The boy was prepared to receive a stern scolding about acting responsibly. He wasn't expecting the panicked voice on the end of the line.

"Ben, God, please answer the phone!" Lisa's panicked, tearful voice begged through the earpiece, barely louder than a whisper lest she bring unwanted attention to herself, "He's here, he's in the house! I ran and he's looking for me. He says we have something – I don't know what he is! Oh God, oh God, Ben, help me! Hel –"

Suffice to say, Ben didn't waste any time in getting dressed and running to his car. It was a long drive home, and despite going over the speed limit, it seemed to take twice as long. With each passing minute behind the wheel, Ben became increasingly desperate and worried. His mother had never sounded so frightened. Lisa was a strong, formidable women. Like a tiger, she'd raised him with a fiercely protective instinct. Men didn't come in and out of her life easily, so there were no angry exes to come after them. They'd never had issues with money, or fallen in with bad crowds.

And yet, he felt something eerily familiar in the racing of his heart.

The house Ben had spent his teenage years was a pretty white building, with a low picket fence around the yard, and a basketball hoop mounted above the garage. He couldn't find the house again, because in its place stood a charred husk of a building. The windows were blown out, the white paint clouded with the residue from the smoke and ash, and the door had been smashed through.

"What happened?!" he asked in a panic, barely out of the car before he started shouting at the friends and neighbours who'd gathered to point and stare, "Mom? MOM!"

Mr. Gerard from next door put his hand on Ben's chest to hold him back. The boy knocked it away and demanded, "Get my Mom!"

"They already did, Ben."

"So – so she's at the hospital?" he asked, confused, "She's okay?"

The old man looked like his heart was going to break when he shook his head slowly, "They took her out after the flames were fought back. She – she didn't make it."

"No – she can't – no! You're lying!" Ben roared, "Mom wouldn't – she couldn't – MOM!"

But she could, and she had.

Everything passed in a haze for Ben. People told him they were sorry before asking probing questions. They wanted to know who his mother was friends with, where she spent her time, if she smoked, what he felt like, and what he planned to do now.

All Ben wanted to do was join her.

Which was what brought him back to the house one night. He shouldn't have been drinking, but there was no other way he could think to dull the pain. He tore through the police tape on the door and felt the emptiness of the house resonate within him. This had been a happy place once. They'd measured his height on the door frame, and his mother had taken a picture of him with his prom date on the stairs. All of the photographs had bubbled and melted away in the frames, unable to survive the heat thrown out by the fire.

Who would do this to her?

Ben climbed the stairs carefully, heading up to what was left of his old bedroom. His mom said she'd keep it just as it was, so he'd feel at home whenever he was visiting from college. He knew she must have been lonely with him so far away, and had sort of hoped that she'd start dating again. He didn't know why, but whenever he mentioned her getting a man in her life, she looked out of the window in a wistful way as if she desired someone she'd never met. Perhaps a dream guy, or someone from her past she wasn't quite over.

The door creaked tiredly as it opened, and Ben stepped over the charred floorboards. Nothing about the room was comforting, or familiar. It was just a shadow of a life he'd had barely a day ago. He didn't feel like the same boy any more. He couldn't even fathom the idea of going back to school and continuing with his studies. The fire had taken away his entire life. If he wasn't striving to make his mother proud, then what was the point of it all?

In his fury, Ben landed a fist in the wall. He expected he'd come away with a broken hand, after all, bricks weren't at all forgiving. But he found that his hand sunk through the plaster surface, and collided with something metallic instead.

His curiosity piqued, Ben picked and pulled at the plaster, until he'd made the hole in the wall large enough to retrieve whatever was behind it. It was a fireproof box with a combination padlock keeping it sealed. His name was scratched into the front. Funny, he didn't remember leaving anything like this lying around. Perhaps Lisa had thought it would be a nice surprise if they ever renovated, like some kind of a time capsule. No, she'd have buried it out in the yard, not hidden it here.

He might have opened it there in the room had he been completely alone. But the click and roll of a bullet chamber locking into place sounded behind him, and Ben turned slowly on the spot to face who he presumed was a burglar. She had dark hair, and large, bright eyes. The girl looked a little older than him, and was armed to the teeth with vials of what looked like water, crosses, and pouches of salt.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded to know.

"This is my room."

She paused, then nodded to the box, "What's that?"

"Porn."

"You keep your porn in a metal box in the wall?"

"Mom kept looking under the bed," Ben lied quickly, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

"Hey, if you're in my house then –"

As Ben stepped forwards, the girl trained the barrel of the gun on him. He held up a hand in a submissive gesture, and took another step back.

Krissy had been a hunter for almost as long as she could remember. Although she'd thought about getting out and going to college, there really was no leaving the life. Satisfied that the ignorant kid she was facing down wasn't a threat, she lowered the weapon, "I want the box."

"Like I said, it's just –"

"I don't care what you said, hand it over."

A clatter rang out from the kitchen, and the girl turned on her heel.

"One of your friends?" Ben asked.

"Not exactly," Krissy muttered, "Stay here."

"Wait, this is – hey! Hey!" Ben called after her as the girl darted out into the hall. He shouldn't have cared what happened to a couple of thieves, but he did. Something told him that this wasn't what it appeared. He tucked the box into his jacket, then took off after her.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see.

The girl was hurled back out of the kitchen and landed with a painful thud on the ground. It didn't phase her, barely two seconds after impact, Krissy was back on her feet and charging at whatever had thrown her. An inhuman screech made Ben recoil. Under the assumption it was some kind of an animal, he crept closer.

He didn't expect to see a man, if that's really what it was. Ben didn't know many people with pure black eyes. The creature parading as a human turned to look at him, and a cruel smile stretched across his face, "Well, well, the boy is home."

"Are you – are you talking to me?!"

"Mommy didn't want to hand it over," the creature taunted, "Mommy had to go away. What about you, little boy? Do you have what we want?!"

"You killed her?! You –"

"No," he snarled, "But I laughed and danced as she burnt. We all did. Silly little Lisa, lover of the Winchester, all gone from her head! And gone from yours too, I see. All gone, all thanks to the angels."

"You're insane!"

"Hey!" Krissy snapped at the creature, "I've got one thing to say to you, you son of a bitch?"

"And what's that, pretty little girl? Your pathetic little bullets can't hurt me!"

She fired off a round into the man, then held up a knife, "Never give a girl time to carve a devil's trap into a bullet."

The demon lay motionless on the ground, cursing and shouting, but unable to make an escape. Krissy raised a hand, and from memory she recited the Latin chant of exorcism. Thick, ugly plumes of black smoke spewed from the mouth of the creature, worming through the air and then dissipating, until all that was left was the body.

"What was – what the Hell was –?!"

"We need to leave," Krissy took hold of Ben's hand, "You're coming with me."

He tore his fingers free, "Wait just a second, here! You just – with that thing and you – you shot it and – what are you?!"

"I'm the hunter that's saving your life. Now, come on, I want to know why it wanted you and I can't figure that out if you're dead."

It wasn't like the girl had a top secret base of operations, or an army to keep her shelter. All she had was a cheap motel under an assumed name. Ben was understandably nervous as they crossed the threshold, and Krissy remade the salt line on the floor behind them.

"Are you superstitious?" Ben asked.

"Aren't you?" Krissy retorted, "You just watched me exorcise a demon, you should be a little open minded right now."

"No, I just saw you waste a guy with cheap contacts!"

"And the smoke?"

"I – that was – shut up!" Ben snapped, "He was only there because of you!"

"Yeah, and your Mom died because of me too, right? Except, oh yeah, I wasn't there!" she held out a hand, "Are you going to hand that box over, or not?"

Ben took it out from his jacket, and looked out at the name carved into the metal. He was curious to know what was inside, and yet, he was also afraid. After what had just happened, that wasn't surprising. But what if there were more of those things? He wanted to get as far away from whatever he had as possible. Although he knew that if the demon thing didn't get what it wanted, it might just keep on hunting him.

With that in mind, Ben did the only logical thing. He set the box on the floor, and kicked at the padlock with enough force that it eventually broke off. Krissy made to reach for it, but Ben shot her a warning glare. His mother had died for the contents of this thing, and he was the only one who'd open it.

Inside was a letter, and a key.

"I was expecting –"

"What?" Krissy asked, "The winning lotto ticket? What does the letter say?"

Hey Buddy,

First, I'm sorry for breaking into your room. You and your Mom were on a vacation, and it seemed like the best time. I don't know if you're ever going to find this. I hope you don't, and that you live a normal, happy life. If you have, I'm proud of you, and you'll never know it.

If you're reading this letter, then Ben, I'm really sorry for what I've got to tell you.

First, you need to know, I didn't abandon you. I did what was best for you and Lisa, and what was best wasn't me. I never forgot either of you, and I always wanted to come back.

I'm sorry.

Second, all that stuff that goes bump in the night, and all the crap in the horror movies, is all real. You might have seen some of it already and not figured out what it was, but it is. Vampires, demons, werewolves, angels – everything.

Now, here's the hard part. You've got to take this key. It's for my dad's old lock up. Take it and you'll find everything you need to keep you and your Mom safe. It'll look like a bunch of worthless crap, and maybe it is, but it's going to keep you alive.

I'd be with you on this if I could, Ben. You've got to believe that. Sammy and I are walking a different path to you, and I'm happy about that. But if you ever find yourself on it, you take the first exit you can find. You get out early, and you run, you understand me?

D.W.

"Who the Hell is D.W?"

"Dean Winchester," Krissy whispered in awe, "Shit, you're Dean Winchester's kid?!"

"I don't even know a guy called Dean!"

"Well, he knows you," she said, snatching the letter out of Ben's hand, and turning it over to check the address, "We should go here."

"Now?"

"Got other plans?" she asked.

Ben wrinkled his nose, he wasn't sure he liked this woman. Sure, she was cute, but she was way too bossy to be likeable. He grabbed the key from the box, and the two took off again. It was a long drive, and by morning Ben had fallen asleep in the passenger seat of her car.

He awoke with a jolt when Krissy knocked on the window beside his head, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

"Damn," Ben cursed, and looked out of the windscreen at their surroundings. They were parked up outside a storage facility. It was in a seedy neighbourhood, and probably got used by some really weird people. He cracked his neck, and hauled himself out of the car.

"This is the place," Krissy jerked her head in the direction of the building, "Hand over the key, and I'll check it out."

"The letter was addressed to me."

"Yeah, I don't care."

Ben elbowed his way past her and into the building. Although it was early, someone was already sat waiting at the reception desk. He made up some story about how his father had told him to pick up some things, which was mostly accurate, and was pointed in the direction of the enormous storage space. Since John Winchester had died, his boys had bought out a lot more of the building to house their stuff, and that meant more traps. Krissy was adamant that Ben wait, and he was glad that he did. A shotgun almost took her ear off, and a crossbow would have had her eye, had Ben not tackled her to the ground in time.

When they were content with the idea they were safe, the pair turned on a few more lights, and took in the bizarre sight. There were lock boxes, books, guns, ammo, and swords. A beige trench coat was neatly folded, and stored on a nearby shelf, a curious amulet lying on top of it.

The biggest piece in the lock up was hidden under a sheet. Krissy gasped, "No way."

"What?"

"It's baby."

"Who?" Ben asked, and tore back the cover. Underneath was a Chevy impala, black and in great condition consider its age. He put a hand on the bonnet and closed his eyes. He knew this car. A long time ago, this hood had been popped, and a man with green eyes told him about the engine. He wasn't allowed to touch it, but he was allowed to pass tools to the man as he talked him through the process of tuning her up. He'd smiled, and reached out to pat his hair with an oil covered hand.

Ben rounded the car slowly, and opened the trunk. It wasn't locked, and the keys were inside, placed neatly on top of a duffel bag. The boy opened it slowly, and took from the top a beaten up leather journal. The initials D.W were embossed into the front, and inside were pages upon pages of information about different creatures and adventures, names, phone numbers, and photographs.

"Dean?" Ben asked quietly. His fingers trembling, he took out a photograph. It was dog-eared from the amount of times the former owner had looked at it. A man with green eyes beamed at the camera, Lisa on his arm, and a boy in front of them. Ben took a shuddering gasp, and whispered, "Dad?"