Hello, I am The Queen of Ghosts! Boo! xD Anyways, I decided that I would write this story for my friend Olivia, and I hope you guys all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone on Supernatural, though I wish I did. xC

Death. Is it truly the end? Dean knew that it wasn't. He knew about the deceased that lingered in this world, seeking bitter revenge. Hell, he's seen it with his own eyes.

He's felt the pain of loss, over and over again, each time a spirit or demon took another loved one away from him.

Just thinking about everyone he's lost made him want to just drown out the images with a few beers. Mom. She was the first to go.

One night, when Dean was about four years old, his mother had gone upstairs to check on his baby brother, Sam.

That was the last time Dean had seen his mother.

Dean's father ran to his wife after hearing her shriek and was greeted by a gruesome sight.

She was plastered on the ceiling, her skin a strange, chalky white. Her blonde hair billowed away from her eerily calm face, her eyes as dark as the pits of hell.

Just to make matters worse, Mary erupted into a column of flames, igniting the room that held her infant son.

Dean's father had told him to take Sam and run outside. Dean, a terrified young boy that couldn't have been more than four or five, blindly obeyed.

That night changed everything.

For years, Dean was trained in martial arts and weaponry. His childhood was lost as the Winchester's travelled around the United States, John desperately searching for the demon that had murdered his wife and destroyed their family.

Dean shook his head to rid himself of the flashback. It was pointless thinking about the past. There was nothing he could do to change it.

He took another swig of his beer, the bitter taste barely registering. He had no problem drinking six or seven of these, much to Sam's dismay. Sam knew that things were rough with Dean, but it didn't mean that he didn't worry about him. Especially what had happened on their last mission...

"Dean? Dean?!" A voice interrupted his thoughts. Dean looked up and met light green eyes filled with concern.

"Sorry, Sammy. I was just thinking." Dean shrugged and chugged down the rest of the beer. He met his younger brother's eyes again and noticed that there was a slight tinge of sympathy. Dean scowled darkly.

Sam sat down across from him and looked like he wanted to discuss what happened, but Dean cut him off. "No."

"But-"

"No."

"Dean-"

"No."

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. Dean knew that his brother wanted to help, but it didn't matter. You can't fix everything.

Dean took this opportunity to look around the bar, and his gaze was met by a sultry brunette with hazel eyes beckoning him to come over. For once, he ignored it. Unfortunately, Sam noticed, and wrinkled his nose.

"You know what," Sam said, smirking slightly. "I think you need a girlfriend."

Dean was caught so off guard that if he had still been drinking, he probably would've spat it out.

"What?" He looked incredulous. "Why in the hell do you think I need a girlfriend?"

"So that you could find someone that you trust to talk to." Sam explained. "I know you don't want to tell me what's going on with you, I don't know why, but you can't just keep this bottled up inside."

"I'm pretty sure that I can."

Sam sighed. "I just want you to be happy. To have someone that you care about and who understands you. Someone who'll be there for you. Someone who you can tell all of this to."

"And what," Dean said harshly. " you have a lot of experience with that? Because I'm pretty sure that you never told Jessica any of this and look what happened to her."

Sam stiffened at the mention of Jessica, his deceased girlfriend, that was killed by the same demon that killed their mother.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean it." Dean quickly apologized.

Sam's face twitched slightly before he spoke in a cold tone, "Stop that."

"Wha-"

"Stop doing that. The whole, "I don't need anybody" bullshit."

Dean suddenly felt angry, but before he could say anything, Sam was already speaking.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you keep on pushing me away?"

Dean sneered slightly, starting to get annoyed with his younger brother. "Listen, I don't know what you mean-"

"That's the problem." Sam said, his voice strained slightly. Dean could sense that he was just as annoyed, but for a completely different reason.

Suddenly Sam stood up. "I'll meet you back at the hotel room." he said coldly, gathering his stuff and muttering under his breath about how dense Dean was.

"I can still hear you, jackass." Dean called out halfheartedly. He left money on the table and walked out of the bar. He needed to clear his head.

Lily was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling as usual. There really wasn't much she could do other than look at the cold, blank ceiling. If she looked anywhere else her eyes would burn from the harsh white walls and floors.

She hated it at St. Augustine's Mental Institution.

All of the patients just milled around like zombies, so hopped off on drugs that they couldn't form a coherent thought. Well, if they could have before they were "medicated". The doctors and nurses always wore the same plastic smiles, trying to assure them that St. Augustine's was a happy place.

Lily knew of no such thing as happiness.

Her childhood was just a blur of having beer bottles thrown at her, the glass shards imbedded into her skin and soul. Finally, at the age of seventeen, she could take it no longer. She ran away from home and never looked back.

Living out on the streets wasn't easy, especially since she was so small. She was only 5'3 and about ninety pounds, her parents neglected getting basic necessities such as food. Despite the fact that her pale skin was taunt and you could distinctly see her bones, many would've described Lily as pretty. She had long, raven black hair that reached her small waist in loose curls. Her eyes were wide, a blue that was harsher and more unforgiving than the depths of the sea.

For five years she lived out on the streets of Brooklyn, sleeping in subways and alleys, constantly dodging rapists and gangs. Many were surprised that she survived that long. Her secret? She wasn't the type of person you fuck with.

After spending years getting beaten and yelled at, her once calm demeanor was broken. She became a raging alcoholic like both of her parents with a very violent temper. Despite her stature she was strong, strong enough to kill. And kill, she did.

Well here is the first part of the story, I hoped that you liked it. Don't forget to leave a review! Bye!