Tiny hands tugged at shiny wrapping paper, followed by curious green eyes trying to peak at look at the possible content of the wrapped present.

The small child was sat on the ground, with the present between her legs. The almost four-year-old picked up and then passed the parcel between her hands, before giving it a shake.

"Christina? Where did you find that?" came a voice.

The little girl turned her head quickly, a guilty expression on her face. She dropped the present immediately. Jim Murphy levelled himself with the small girl, whilst shaking his head.

"Where did you get the present, Christina? Did you go looking for it?" he asked once again.

The little girl shook her head, her dark fluffy hair swishing with the movement.

"It's my birthday tomorrow" she said, proudly.

The Pastor smiled at the child, taking the present away from her, and placing it on an unreachable shelf. The child followed him.

"Oh, I know it's your birthday tomorrow," he replied. "It's Sam's birthday too. Still, you know that you can't open your present just yet. You can open it, along with your other presents, in the morning with your brother. Okay?"

The little girl pouted, swinging on her heels with her hands behind her back, before eventually nodding her head. Her head turned once again, followed by a megawatt smile. The reason for her cheerful grin, was her sixteen-year-old brother standing in the door way.

"Uh oh," remarked the boy, with an identical mischievous grin. "Pastor Jim, has a certain little girl been making trouble again?"

The Pastor smirked.

"Next time, Dean, hide presents far away from your sister's eagle eyes," he replied. "She's far too curious for her own good."

Dean scooped up the small girl, making her squeak in surprise. The little girl wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, whilst burying her face in his shoulder.

"Chrissie, how many time do we have to say to you? You can't go snooping around in other people's houses," reminded the sixteen-year-old. "It's rude."

Chrissie pouted, as she gazed up at her beloved brother. If Chrissie had a violin, she would be an expert in playing it by now. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Oh don't you go giving me those big puppy dog eyes," he said. "Y'know, you'll get too old one day to pull that trick on me."

This was so typical of his little sister. Whenever she would get reprimanded for bad behaviour, she would always guilt trip him with her big emerald eyes. She wasn't the only one who would pull that expression to get their own way.

It was her other brother, Sam, that she inherited the puppy eyes from. Sam shared his birthday with his baby sister. It was originally thought that Chrissie would be born a boy, but it came to a surprise to everyone that she turned out to be a girl. Eight-year-old Sam had been slightly offended at the idea of his new sibling gate crashing his special day. Not only did the new baby steal his old bedroom, but he also missed out on a birthday party with his friends and family because of her, but those thoughts of jealously soon disappeared after a few days. Even more so due to the sudden death of their mother, precisely six months later.

Mary Winchester was killed in a mysterious house fire on the second of November of the year nineteen ninety-one. Nobody knew the cause, apart from John Winchester. He began intense investigating into the fire and his wife's death. It was only when he visited a local Lawrence psychic named Missouri Mosely for answers, that he learned the truth.

It wasn't an electrical fire that took his wife away from him and his bereaved children, it was something far more sinister. A demon had entered their home and started the fire. For what reason? Missouri didn't have answers. As John clearly stated, his wife was pinned to the nursery ceiling, with her stomach ripped open before being engulfed in flames. He wasn't the only one to have seen this horrific sight. Twelve-year-old Dean was so traumatised by witnessing his mother's brutal death, he didn't utter a word until several months later. Even now, Dean refused to talk about that fateful night. Four years later, and the subject was still far too raw for him to recall.

Since discovering the truth about the supernatural world, John began a new life as a hunter, and began to train his children in the life. Sam didn't discover the truth until Christmas nineteen ninety-two, when he came across his father's hunting journal, when he was nine years old. Christina, or as she was affectionately known as, Chrissie, remained entirely in the dark about that dangerous and scary world. John wanted to at least try and protect his only daughter, since he wasn't there to shield his sons from it. The last thing John, and the boys wanted, was for that childish innocence to shatter. They wanted Chrissie to have as normal a childhood as possible, before the inevitable happened.

"Anyway, little missy, look at the time, you should be in your bed now," stated Dean, pointing at the clock above Pastor Jim's desk. "You don't want to be cranky on your birthday now do you?"

The time was just after eight o'clock, a which was late in comparison to Chrissie's seven-thirty bedtime routine.

"Oh no," commented the little girl, resembling a koala bear, as her limbs were coiled around her brother. "It bedtime."

Pastor Jim, now seated behind his desk, and thumbing through a thick dusty book, exchanged an amused expression with the teenage boy.

"Well, at least you're in your pyjamas" mumbled Dean, as he carried his baby sister out of Pastor Jim's office.

The nearly four-year old yawned, as exhausted start to take over. She had been bounding all over the place all day, and now her battery had finally run out.

"Someone's sleepy" said Dean, in a sing song tone.

The small child grumbled, her face morphing turning into her trademark pout.

"No, I'm not" she huffed, as Dean made his way up the stairs.

The teenager rolled his eyes once more. Chrissie seemed to have an answer for everything, and always had to have the last word. There was no denying that she was a handful.

"Alright, you're not tired then" replied Dean, as he opened the bedroom door.

It was a humble enough bedroom. It was fitted with three single beds, with wooden frames, three separate side tables and lamps. The walls were once duck egg blue. Each of the three siblings could figure out who belonged to what side of the room.

At the end of the bed that Chrissie claimed, was a medium sized box, painted a mustard yellow colour, with bumble bee stickers on it. Inside were some toys from the Sunday school, the ones nobody played with. You had to be careful not to step on a stray piece of Lego, that was guaranteed to be lying about on the floor.

Sam, the bookworm of the family, had a small book shelf close to his bed, which held several long-forgotten library books, including an old copy of the Bible. Sam often kept a torch inside the drawer of his side table, if he wanted to read during the night, whilst hiding under his bed sheets, or under the bed itself.

Above Dean's bed, was a faded Terminator 2 poster, which was beginning to curl at the edges. If he was lucky, he could smuggle an issue of Busty Asian Beauty's under his pillow, beside his .45 caliber Colt pistol.

Unknown to the younger siblings, Dean had carved numerous protection runes on the underside of their bedframes, out of view. Chrissie would only ask questions, and Sam had been aware of the added decorations for a while, after a night of late studying.

"I suppose you don't need me to tell you a bedtime story then" added Dean.

Chrissie raised her head from Dean's shoulder. That got her attention.

"Sammy told me the story about the lady with the lost shoe," she said, as Dean sat down on the bed with her, placing her on his lap. "She sat on a pumpkin. Fairy lady said she had to go home before the big ticker tock when bong."

Dean chuckled. Chrissie had a way with words that never failed to amuse him and Sam. She had recently got into the habit of making up words if she couldn't find the right one.

"Sammy tells good stories" commented the small child, as Dean began to brush her hair.

Besides her big emerald eyes, Chrissie's most identifiable feature was her hair. It was a dark chocolate colour, with a temperamental nature. Most of the time it looked like she had been dragged through a series of hedges, backwards. Chrissie was never a fan of the hairbrush for this very reason.

"Ouch!" yelped the little girl. "That hurts."

She whipped her head around, and made a grab for the hand brush.

"Ah, I don't think so," scolded Dean, ignoring the cute scowl from his sister. "Your hair needs brushing every day, Chrissie, you know that. Once in the morning, and then before bed. Or else your hair will get out of control, and it'll only hurt more."

Chrissie huffed, and folded her arms. She continued to whine and fuss, as Dean brushed out each tangle and unruly wave.

Meanwhile, downstairs in kitchen, Sam was helping Pastor Jim blow up some red balloons. Normally birthdays were low key, but this year the brothers wanted to make a little effort.

"I usually forget that we share a birthday," said Sam, between puffs. "Don't ask why, because I don't even know why myself. Birthdays are just like any other days to me."

Pastor Jim carefully taped a balloon on the door frame. He glanced over at the boy, scotch tape in his hand.

"That's a modest way of putting it, Sam," he said. "However, unlike your little sister, and much like brother, you'll have fond memories of what a birthday is."

Sam paused for a moment, before handing another balloon towards the Pastor.

"That's why I wanted to do something this year," begins Sam. "I want Chrissie to have at least one memorial birthday. I still can't believe one of your churchgoers baked her a birthday cake. They didn't have to."

Jim laughed, as he taped the balloon on the other end of the door frame.

"Well, your sister made quiet an impression at the sermon on Sunday as you'll remember," he recalled. "I think everyone in the pews laughed when she cried out "My friend Gabriel says Moses has stinky feet" Though I remember Mrs Larson, who runs the Sunday school, telling me that Christina shouted out about making it rain frogs."

Sam sniggered at the memory. Chrissie was well known for her wild imagination. She would make outlandish declarations, often at very inappropriate times, and she had at least two imaginary friends, Gabriel, and Cas. Her father was wary about this type of behaviour, due to his overprotectiveness surrounding his daughter. Everyone was protective over Chrissie, and it wasn't without reason.

It wasn't just because of her very young age, but rather because of one unique trait that she harnessed. Chrissie had the gift of empathy. She could feel the emotions and physical pains of others as intensely her own. This barrage of sensations often over-stimulated the little girl, which would manifest in erratic behaviour. As Dean often put it, like a mini conductor for all sorts of crazy stuff. It appeared to be an inherited ability, passed down from her great-grandmother, whom she was named after.

Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek broke their attention. Startled, Jim almost dropped the scotch tape from his hands.

"What on earth?!" he exclaimed.

Sam continued to blow the balloons, not even phased by the noise.

"Oh that? It's just Chrissie," he commented, as he finished with the very last balloon. "Dean must be reading Hansel and Gretel again. She loves acting it out the story with him. It's her favourite fairy-tale. Especially the end when Gretel deep fries the witch in the oven. It's kinda disturbing when you think about it."

Jim just blinked in bewilderment. He then proceeded to tape a small banner that read out "Happy Birthday" across the middle section of the door frame.

"There, all finished and ready for the morning" said Jim, with a satisfied smile.

A few moments later, Dean appeared, looking exhausted.

"Sam, remind me to never have kids" he complained.

Sam chuckled, and rolled his eyes. He hopped onto the kitchen counter, his eyes glancing in the direction of the stairs.

"Is she finally asleep?" he inquired.

Dean snorted as he leaned against the kitchen table, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"Only just," he acknowledged. "You know what she's like, Sam. A freakin' silent alarm would wake her up. Anyway, c'mon, we better hit the hay too. She'll have us awake at dawn."

Sam plonked down off the counter, and made his way towards the stairs. Dean followed.

"Good night, boys" called Pastor Jim, a glass of water in his hand and a small leather journal in the other.

With the children all in bed, Jim could now write in his hunter journal in piece. John needed help with some information on a specific case a few towns over.

The following day went off without a hitch. The four-year-old was delighted at the discount baby doll her brothers gave her, not even caring that it was a cheap one from a gas station, and a jigsaw puzzle from Pastor Jim. She always enjoyed simple things. That's all that mattered in her little universe. That morning, she pottered around, pretending to comfort a crying baby.

There were of course some of her own real tears when she discovered that her father wasn't going to be around for another couple of days. She was devastated that John wasn't there for a birthday hug. Dean was there to dry her tears and to console her, like always.

"Don't cry, Chrissie," he begged, as he cradled her in his lap. "Daddy will be back soon. You can show him the new dolly that you got. So, can you give your favourite brother a big birthday smile?"

Chrissie hiccupped, her cheeks flushed pink from crying.

"I don't have a favourite brother" she sniffled, as Dean wiped her button nose with a tissue.

Dean then bounced her on his knee, trying to get her to smile. Eventually, the little girl let out a small giggle.

"That's my girl" grinned Dean.

After a quick lunch, the brothers dozed on the couch, whilst watching The Price is Right. They only woke when Jim Murphy reappeared.

"Time for the cake, boys. Where's your sister?" he asked. "She's been very quiet."

The brothers' eyes widened in unison, and the duo charged into the kitchen. Dean couldn't help but laugh at the sight that he was confronted with. Sam just gawped in sheer disbelief. Jim shook his head, with an amusement expression.

Chrissie was sitting on the kitchen table, with cake frosting and sponge all over her face and hands. The four-year-old gulped, having been caught red headed doing something very naughty.

"Chrissie?" pressed Dean, folding his arms, as he leaned against the door frame. "What happened?"

The little girl paused for a moment, trying to come up with a brilliant answer, and she did.

"I fell."

A:N HEY GUYS. Here is the new revamped version of Years of Innocence. The revamped Chris saga has begun. The originals will remain, but will no longer but updated. I will still take inspiration from the original drafts, from all original series. Future chapters will be heavily influenced from the previous. I felt a revamp was needed on the whole series, as I felt my creative writing skills have improved compared to when I first started writing fan fiction back in 2011. I cringe when I read over most of my early work. Also I've watched all seasons of SPN and I'm more clued on the show's lore and universe compared to my novice view when I started. I only began watching SPN back in late 2010. I've figured out the character of Chris better, and I know where I'm taking her story.

Stay tuned

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