Hey, guys! I'm back with another story! Please forgive me for putting my profile on hiatus, and other stories... Anyway, thanks to my great beta/ co- writer, Phoenixofthelostandforgotten, or Fedora as I call her. She is the reason why this story actually makes sense. She is awesome, and you should go check her page out. I'll stop rambling now. Enjoy.

~Miss Vannix.

Prologue:

My life wasn't always in the suburbs, rockin' that white picket fence. No, I'd spent the first fourteen years of my life in and out of foster homes, some better than others, but most feeling like I was living in the fires of Hell. I met Ingrid at the young age of twelve. She was just like me, in and out of foster homes, suffering the way I was. She was different from me, though. She had a better outlook on life than I did, and somehow, I always despised her for it. But, in the end, that's what saved me. I was a twelve year old hooked on crack, with needle scars in the crooks of my elbows and dark circles under my eyes. Cuts littered the tops of my thighs. I was ready to die, or ready for my next hit. I couldn't tell which. But, then I saw her out of the haze of my eyes, her pale skin quickly turning red in the hot summer sun, and her curly red hair shining in the rays. I was immediately jealous. How could anyone live in this hell holeand look so happy? Always a smile on their face?

I know I couldn't. She'd come up to me, introduced herself, and I had a nasty reply waiting on the tip of my tongue. I could tell the remark had hurt her, but I couldn't bring myself to care. But Ingrid still forced herself into my crappy little life. She pushed and pushed at the walls surrounding my heart, and I was forced to care about this wonderful person. After five months of knowing Ingrid, the cutting stopped, and instead, whenever I felt like I was going to die from the pain, I let her hold me, or I went in search of my next fix. It took almost a year for Ingrid to get me to quit, to get some help. I spent three months in that place, fighting my addiction. I came out victorious, and she was there, waiting for me. A huge smile split her face, one that reached her warm green eyes.

Not even a year later, somehow we struck luck. We both got into better homes than we'd ever been in. Our stomachs full, and nice clothes on our backs. When we graduated from high school, we had graduation caps perched on our heads and huge smiles on our faces for the picture. Ingrid encouraged me to study at Harvard. I got in on a full ride scholarship for their great medical program. Yeah, me. Hooked at crack at the age of twelve, debating dropping out of school to work on the streets. Jacklynn Smith, going to Harvard. But, that was a little over nine years ago, now. My life has changed drastically since then, and all thanks to Ingrid.

She'd saved me, and now it was my turn.

I sold my soul for my best friend to live.

...

My name is Jacklynn Smith. Or, if you want to go by my biological family's name, Winchester. I sold my soul for my best friend, Ingrid. She was dying slowly… and I couldn't just sit there and not do anything. Well technically, I didn't sell my soul. The only way the damn thing would offer to deal with me was if I offered to carry his child. I'm in search of my biological brothers; they deal in these kind of things. I just hope they can help me. The demon was very clear; if I try to drop the deal in anyway, Ingrid dies. If I try to hurt this… thing inside me, Ingrid dies. Talk about a rock and a hard place. As the search for my brothers grew cold, I grew more worried and scared. After about a month of staying up all night looking for clues, anything that would lead me to the infamous Sam and Dean Winchester, I found a lead that sounded promising. Robert Singer.

I drove up the gravel path into the salvage yard. Rusted and broke down cars surrounded my little black Kia. When I pulled up to the house, I shut off the engine, and sat looking at the exterior of the house. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt. I dropped my head to the steering wheel of my car, closing my eyes and praying this lead wouldn't be a dead end. I couldn't take another one of those. I'd break down.

I jerked the key out of the ignition and opened the door, setting my feet down on the gravel. I tried to shut the car door as gently as I could, but still winced at the bangthat echoed around the yard. I made my way up to the front door, gravel crunching under my tennis shoes. I walked up the wooden steps and across the porch to the peeling front door. Before I could raise my fisted hand to knock on the door, it was flung open and I found myself staring down the barrel of a rifle. I jumped back with a little scream. It wasn't everyday I had a rifle shoved in my face. At least not anymore.

"What do you want, ya idjit?" The gruff voice came from behind the gun.

I gulped down the fear in my throat and played with the keys still clutched tightly in my hands. The cool October wind bit at my exposed skin as I squeaked out an answer.

"I'm Jacklynn Smith. I'm looking for my biological brothers… Sam and Dean Winchester…?"

I watched in shock as the old trucker slowly lowered his rifle and stared at me with wide blue eyes.

"It's you."

Bobby POV-

The last thing he'd expected to see on his porch was the long lost Winchester. The last time he'd saw the girl she was just a little baby with dark hair sitting in a car-seat. Now, she was a full grown woman with long, dark hair the same color as Sam's, but curlier. She was tall for a woman; he'd peg her at five feet nine. She resembled Sam in her looks, but her eyes were all her mama's. Big and blue surrounded by dark lashes. She wore a plain gray t-shirt, a light jacket over that, well worn jeans, and tennis shoes. Bobby could tell she had no weapons on her, and she wasn't raised in the hunting life just by her stance. Her long fingers played nervously with the keys in her hands. She was really Sam's twin. A moment later, he had her wrapped in his arms, squeezing her tight before he could really even process it. He let go of her and realized the girl was freezing. He quickly pulled her into his house, and shut the door behind them, throwing the entryway into shadow. He stared at her while she finally seemed to find her voice.

"What… What do you mean 'It's you?'"

Her voice had a melodic lilt to it, and was soft. As he looked at her, he wondered what had brought on the search for her brothers. He walked into the living room and gestured for her to sit down on the couch. He set the rifle down on his desk, then kneeled in front of her.

"Girl, you're the long lost Winchester. John, your biological daddy, gave you away before you was even a year old. I tried to talk the old coot out of it, but once that man had his mind made up, he didn't change it for nothin'. Sam won't remember ya, but I think Dean will. Maybe."

He took a deep breath as he looked at her, watching her digest all the information he'd just gave her.

"Now, what trouble have ya gotten yourself into?"

Suddenly, she broke down in sobs, her shaking hands covering her wet cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the sobs she heaved.

"I made a deal."

Bobby sighed and dropped his face into his hands that were propped up on his bent knees.

"What is it with the damn Winchester family? Always thinking you have to sacrifice yourself for someone else?"