AN: Well hello beautiful person! Thanks for taking an interest in this story. This is my second Supernatural fic that I've written. I'm going to try writing both of them at the same time (if you're interested, the other one's called Brother, Let Me Be Your Shelter). I'll also try to be a little bit more regular with my updates now that I've got two going. Typical disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the actors or anything (though I wouldn't mind having a couple of them at my beck and call), so don't sue me if you don't like the way I use the universe. I'm not making money from this either. This one is a bit different from my other one in that it starts up later on in the show. But I'll shut up now so you can read.

Olive Thompson was not dressed for the weather conditions. It was below freezing, snow was falling heavily from the sky, and all she was wearing was too-short jean shorts, a thin t-shirt, and a threadbare hoodie. At the moment, though, Olive couldn't have cared less about the temperature or the fact that she was most definitely going to have hypothermia if she got out of the weather alive. She couldn't care less because in her head she was flying high above it all, shimmering brown wings spread out as she coasted on the air. She was under the influence of too much alcohol and even more drugs.

She hadn't walked into the bar that night with the intention of getting dangerously high and drunk. She had just wanted a meal and some escape from the cold. She managed to beg a meal and a drink from the barkeeper while she considered "working" that night to boost her funds a bit. But she had balked at the idea of having to suffer through a night with some strange man who might smell of piss and shit, so she had motioned the barkeeper over and told him to get her the best he had for what money she had left. She handed him a wad of cash and he came back with four small plastic bags, each with a different powder in it. He told her what each one was and then left. She retreated to a back room, where they kept the tools needed to get high.

Olive had only meant to take one bag of drugs. But she hadn't felt anything after downing the first, so soon the second, third, and half of the fourth bag followed. By then she was higher than she had ever been, save once, and she headed back out to the main room. At the bar she ordered shots and downed those, giggling, before looking up at the television for a moment. Her favorite show, Supernatural, was on and she stared at it, mesmerized, before getting another shot. "You okay, Olive?" the barkeeper asked as he watched her down her fifth shot of whiskey.

"Oh yeah," she slurred. "I'm fine."

"How are you paying, then? You just used all your money for the drugs."

"I'll pay you after I work tonight. I'll pay you tomorrow."

The barkeeper sighed but nodded. She would be back at the bar anyway, so if he could keep an eye on her and make sure she paid what she owed. She smiled and then left the bar, oblivious to the chill of the mid-winter air.

Now Olive was walking down the middle of a road, singing badly to herself. Snow covered her: it was stuck to her eyelashes and hair and it was caked to her worn tennis shoes. She didn't notice her steps getting slower, or that her body was starting to sag, or that her nose and fingers were blue from the cold. She didn't know her organs were shutting down, both from the influence of drugs and alcohol in her system and from the weather conditions. She didn't even notice the sound of a car approaching until she turned to see headlights huge and right in front of her, and she screamed at the same time that the car's horn blared at her. She tried to dodge out of the path of the car but found that her feet wouldn't move like she wanted them too, so she fell sideways onto the road as the car managed to swerve around her without hitting her.

The car screeched to a halt, the deep rumble of its engine somehow familiar to her. Then there was the slamming of car doors and someone called out, "Hey, lady!" She tried to stand to confront the people who'd almost run her over but she could barely push herself up. "Hey, are you alright?" the same voice asked, this time closer.

"Dean," a second voice said. "Look at her. She's covered in snow."

"Yeah, I can see that, Sam." There were footsteps, and then the blurry face of a person entered her vision. "Hey. Hey! You there, lady?"

A second face appeared leaning over her just as her vision cleared. She blinked once, twice, three times, then came to the conclusion that she must be hallucinating. Probably the drugs, she thought, nodding. But she giggled and decided to go with what she thought she saw. So she reached up as best she could and pointed at the second person. "You're Sam fucking Winchester," she said, slowly and carefully. Then she laughed her head off because she'd made a reference to the gag reel for season ten of Supernatural.

The thing was, it really was Sam Winchester and his older brother, Dean. They stiffened when she said his name, then looked at each other in confusion when she started to laugh. "Think she's a demon?" Dean asked.

"I think we should find out." Sam stood and went to the trunk of the Impala, taking out various weapons and tools. He came back over and splashed Olive with holy water. She didn't react, so he shrugged. "Not demon."

Dean took a silver blade from Sam and made a cut on her arm. Still no reaction from her. "Not shifter or werewolf, either."

"And I doubt she's a vampire. So I guess she's just a civilian?"

"I guess so. Hm." Dean grabbed her gently and set her upright against the wheel of the Impala before searching her pockets for identification.

Olive giggled and said, "You're Dean and you like frisking women." Then her brow creased as she thought about it. "Or maybe it's frisky women?" She started mumbling to herself: "My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone." Her voice got louder as she said, "Well, that last part's not true. You've killed lots of people, Mr. Dean, but I don't mind. Most of them were monsters anyway." The brothers had frozen in place again when she had been quoting Dean, but then the man snapped back and finished his search of her pockets.

He flipped open her wallet and read her license. "Olive Miranda Thompson, twenty-seven, of Winterville, Maine." His search also uncovered a small plastic bag half-filled with white powder.

"Is that what I think it is, Dean?" Sam asked, squinting at the bag.

Dean stuck his finger in, then licked the powder off. He made a face and replied, "If you think it's drugs, then yeah, it is."

"So she's, what? High?"

"Looks like it. And half frozen to death. Her hands and face are almost blue." Dean made a decision then. "Alright, let's get her to a hospital." He lifted her as Sam opened the back door of the Impala. As Dean slid her into the back seat, he noticed an anti-possession symbol tattooed on the back of her neck. "Hm. That's weird."

"What?"

"She's got the same tattoo as we do, except hers is on the back of her neck." Her arm fell off the seat as he let go of her and he noticed another tattoo on her inner arm, this one of an exorcism in fancy script. "And there's an exorcism on her arm."

"Weird."

"You're telling me." Dean slid into the driver's seat and turned the Impala back on. Soon they were pulling up in front of a hospital and Dean took Olive to the ER while Sam took advantage of the WiFi to run her name and license number.

"So?" he asked as his elder brother and the random druggie girl sat down in chairs next to him.

"So they're going to try to get her admitted as soon as possible," Dean answered. "But since she's not actually dying yet, she's going to have to wait."

"Great," Sam sighed as Olive giggled in the seat to his left.

"What'd you find?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Olive Miranda Thompson from Winterville doesn't exist." They both looked at the mystery girl, who was now staring cross-eyed at a piece of her dyed-blue hair that had fallen out of her ponytail into her face.

"Hm."

They sat there for a while longer, waiting for a doctor or nurse to come out and admit Olive, who was steadily getting worse. She had grown quiet as they sat, and then her head started drooping forward. At one point she almost fell out of her seat and Sam had to reach over and catch her quickly before she hit the floor. Then the shivering started, which slowly progressed to shaking. Dean took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders tightly, hoping that would calm her down. It didn't work. A few minutes later, Olive had fallen to her knees on the floor and was throwing up the meal she'd had at the bar earlier, gasping for breath between heaves. Sam ran for the nurse on duty while Dean knelt beside this stranger he'd almost hit on the road and did one of the greatest services a man can ever do for a woman: he held her hair back while she puked on the floor. He wasn't overly worried until what came out wasn't food any more; it was blood.

That's when a doctor and a team of nurses rushed out with a gurney and lifted her onto it. They wheeled her away into the hospital and then a janitor came out to clean up the mess she'd left on the floor. The nurse on duty asked them a few questions and then they were leaving, sliding back into the Impala and heading for Bobby's.

When they were sitting in Bobby's kitchen as he angel-proofed the house, they told him about the girl they'd almost hit. "That sounds strange," Bobby said into the silence that followed the story.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "I know we've got bigger fish on our plate right now, but we need to make sure we go back and talk to her once she's better."

"Yeah, for sure," Dean said. "No one has an anti-possession symbol and exorcism tattooed onto them if they don't know what it means."

Sam nodded. Then a thought occurred to him. "You think she was a fan of the Supernatural books?"

"What, the ones Chuck wrote?"

"Yeah. The publisher had an anti-possession symbol tattoo on her-"

"Yeah, I remember." Dean was silent as he considered the possibility. "Maybe. I don't know. She didn't seem like a reading kind of person." Just then Dean's phone rang. "Hello? - yes - really - well if she gets better, would you let me know? - thanks." He hung up and said, I guess we'll have to wait until she wakes up to ask her."

"Wakes up?" Bobby asked.

"The doctor says she slipped into a coma after they got her into the emergency room. Not surprising, seeing as how she had four different drugs in her system reacting to the whiskey she'd had as well."

Sam shook his head. "I'm surprised she was still alive when we found her."

Dean nodded, then stood and said, "Well, that's a mystery we'll have to put aside for another time. Let's finish angel-proofing this house and then hit the sack."

AN: Alright so that's chapter one! I know it's short and you guys are probably like wait, who is she? Why is she there? What the heck? You'll just have to stick around for chapter two! If you really do have something to say, just leave a review or PM me. Thanks!