***7 years ago***

(Dean is 19, Sam is 15, Rose is 10)

Rose Winchester was ten years old when her dad told her the truth about his work. Thing was, she'd known for a long time before he actually said it, but until she heard those words there was still a part of her that had hope. Maybe the world wasn't full of evil after all. Maybe her family was perfectly normal.

But it was those words. Once they were out - confirmed - she couldn't deny it anymore. She saw her whole childhood; all her fears and hopes and nightmares; crash and burn around her.

"Monsters are real."

That's when the nightmares began. Not too bad at first, but then she started her research. Rented books out of the library by the truckload: 'An Introduction to Parapsychology', 'The Scientific Truth of Psychic Phenomena', 'The Evidence for Life After Death', 'An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears', 'Monsters: An Investigator's Guide to Magical Beings'. It never stopped. No matter how many terrifying creatures she discovered, there were always a hundred more.

The nightmares became night-terrors, and soon enough she wasn't sleeping at all. It was enough to drive any adult crazy, let alone a ten-year-old girl.

One night, it was three in the morning, Sam was woken by Dean's exclamation of, "What the hell?"

Sam flicked on the light to find his baby sister Rose standing at the foot of Dean's bed tipping a bag of salt over her head. Her eyes were a tangled mess of veins and her body swaying like she couldn't quite hold her balance.

Sharing a concerned glance at Dean, Sam slid out of bed and cautiously approached his sister. "Uh…Rosie? Whatcha doing there?"

Dean leaned forward over the end of his bed and waved a hand in front of Rose's face. She didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. He looked at Sam. "She sleepwalking or something?"

"Dunno," Sam said uncertainly, "are sleepwalking people meant to have their eyes open?"

Still unaware of anyone else in the room, Rose wandered into the motel room's kitchen and pulled a red container out from under the sink. Before her brothers realized what it was, she'd twisted the lid and emptied half of its contents over her clothes.

"Crap, is that….?" Dean started.

Without a word, Rose turned around and lit the stove top. A circle of flames burst awake.

"Gasoline - Dean it's gasoline!" Sam shouted.

He sprinted forward into the kitchen, Dean hot on his heels, but not before Rose stuck the fabric of her pyjama shirt into the flame and lit up all across her back and chest.

"Rose!" Dean roared, just as Sam tackled her to the ground to get the fire out.

"No!" Rose shrieked, struggling against him like a maniac. "No, no, stop! STOP!"

"It's ok, I got you," Sam said, pounding out the last of the flames. "I got you, Rosie."

"Gotta salt and burn…" she sobbed, still writhing about, "gotta salt and burn the bones!"

Dan turned off the stove and fell on his knees next to his little sister. "What the hell were you thinking, Rose? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Salt an'….you've gotta salt and burn…" Rose cried.

"She's delirious," Sam said, breathing hard. His heart hammered against this ribs like a friggen machine. Oh God, what was wrong with his little sister?

"Oh, you think?" Dean snapped. Real carefully, he swiped her up in his arms. Rose screamed out, arching her back in pain.

"Gotta get her under cold water," said Dean, "Sam - turn on the shower!"

They burst into the bathroom. Sam flipped the shower on full blast, ice cold, and Dean climbed in. He dropped down to the floor and cradled his sister under the water, willing it to ease the burns.

"AAAAAAGH!" Rose screamed, thrashing about.

"Sam, hold down her legs," Dean ordered, "now!"

Oh God oh God oh God, went Sam's internal dialogue, but for once he just did as he was told and shut up about it. Rose was putting up a real fight, shrieking and crying out her agony, while she writhed about in Dean's arms.

Dean smoothed back his little sister's hair and held her tighter, his jaw set. "Hang in there, baby."

"I-I don't understand," Sam stuttered, "why would she do that? Why would she set herself on fire?!"

"Salt an' burn.." Rose whimpered, "s…salt and burn.."

"Shh, shh," Dean murmured, still smoothing back hair from her face, "you're alright, Rosie. You're just fine." He met Sam's eyes and shook his head. Not now. First, we deal with these burns.

They left her under the water for a solid fifteen minutes before shutting it off. Rose had finally calmed down at this point and gone limp in Dean's arms. If she weren't still furiously muttering to herself, the boys would be convinced she'd passed out.

They plastered her up in layers of bandaging, wincing at the nasty three-degree burns across her chest and back. Rose cried quietly as she was patched up, but her eyes only ever fluttered half-open, so they knew she wasn't completely conscious. Nonetheless, tears dribbled down her face.

"Just a little longer, Rosie," Sam promised, "you're gonna be good as new." He dabbed her face with a towel.

Dean clipped up the last part of her bandaging. He took a moment to look at his sister. She was still a mess: blue-lipped, quivering, dripping wet, and totally lost to the world. He took her head in his hands and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "We gotcha, baby girl. You're okay."

Once they'd dressed her in some dry clothes, gotten her to take as many painkillers as they could administer, and put her to bed, Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Dad's gonna kill us."

It was two days later when Rose woke up when the discovered the cause of her delirium: turned out depriving oneself of sleep for several days could really screw you up. Who would've guessed it?

All her books were taken away and Dad got her to take some medication for the insomnia and night terrors. The pills never did very much - she still woke up in the night drenched in sweat, and some nights she hardly slept at all - but it was better than nothing.

But Rose made a promise to herself in that tenth year of her life. She didn't want to be the crazy little sister who set herself on fire because she couldn't deal with the life. No. She was better than that - stronger, tougher. Never again would the world see her drop that low. Never again would her brothers see her so small and pathetic.

One day Rose Winchester would be the toughest of them all.