Clara is my name, and don't wear out to the point of where I'm gonna have to change it. Anyways, I'm the youngest of the Singer sisters. Yes, the Bobby Singer is my pa, but sadly, he has passed on and it's just me, my oldest sister Elsa, and our middle sister Noel. Elsa and I hunt sometimes, but Noel is finally getting her chance to go to college, and I guess that's one of the only upsides of pa being gone. One of the only upsides for sure.

Now, it was a normal day in the Singer household. I was downstairs making breakfast in the kitchen. Elsa had finally rolled in that morning, her dark hair all mussed up, and her favorite red lipstick was smeared across her face. I knew she had been on a hunt, and it was probably a hunt with a happy ending as I liked to call her endeavors.

Noel sat at the table, across from Elsa, with her nose shoved into a book. Her hair was in a messy, dishwater-blond bun, and her black glasses were sliding down her nose. Like usual she was in her own little world.

I sighed, and slid them both their scrambled eggs and bacon before sitting down with my cereal and coffee.

Elsa looked at me funny, her brown eyes snapping curiously. "You're still doing the whole vegetarian thing, aren't you?"

I nodded, and took a swig from my brown coffee mug. "Weird," she muttered in response, brushing her long, soft brown hair out of her face. Then she picked up her fork and started eating. "You're missing out," she said after a few moments of silence. "I don't know how you can do it, Clara-Bear."

"Ew," I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "Please, don't call me that."

Noel looked up from her book, her pink lips curving up into a small smile. "Aw, but Clara-bear."

I rolled my eyes, and went back to my coffee and cereal. We were silent. That is, until-

BANG! We all shot out of our chairs at the noise, and Elsa pulled out her gun. She was very paranoid, and I mean all the time. Noel's blue eyes scanned the room quickly, and frantically. It was morning, but it was cloudy out. I could tell because of the window above the sink.

"I'm going into the entryway to see what's up," Elsa whispered to us, practically hissing.

"Let me go with you," I argued quietly, setting my jaw and crossing my arms over my chest.

"No," Elsa snapped, easing towards the door of the kitchen, starting to nudge it open with her foot. "I'm the oldest, and I'm taking care of both of you!"

"I'm taller," Noel muttered, looking down at the table.

"Oh can it, Noel," Elsa shot back, exiting through the kitchen's swinging door. I blew my hair out of my face, and followed her anyways. She glared at me over her shoulder, but continued towards the entryway.

We crept through the living room silently. I stayed away from her at least a foot, and she had the gun raised and pointed, ready to shoot anything that popped out at us. I turned and found that Noel was behind us. I smirked at her. It was just like old times.

We swung around the corner, and someone shouted. My sister was ready to shoot, but I slammed her into the wall.

"Sam?!" Noel squeaked incredulously from behind us. I looked up, and the moose of a man was standing in front of me. His brother was thrown over his shoulder. They both looked pretty banged up. Noel fluttered past us, and Elsa shoved me off of her.

"What the hell happened?" Elsa barked as they helped Sam lug Dean inside. I squeezed around them to shut and bolt the door. When I turned around, they were already hauling him up the stairs. I bit my lip, and groaned, before padding back into the kitchen to find the homemade first aid kit.

When I came upstairs, Noel and Sam were standing outside of Pa's old room, talking quietly, their heads bent together. I nodded to them, and sneaked past, and into the room. Elsa sat on the bed beside Dean, holding his hand. He was unconscious, and blood soaked his head down to the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel one. When I entered, she quickly took the box from me, and sent me away. I sighed, and slipped around Sam and Noel once again, before heading to my own room.

My room was across the hall, and after I shut the door, I locked it, and shuffled inside. It was small, but doable. I had had it since I could remember, and back when. . . my mother was alive. Thankfully, my sisters never entered my room. If they did, they would think I was crazy because every inch of my walls are covered in drawings and paintings. They're all the same person too. Adam Miligan. Trust me, I am not a crazy stalker. I'm a psychic, and for some reason, all of my dreams are Adam's tortures. The torture he suffers everyday with Lucifer and Michael in the pit. It's terrible, the things he goes through. Luckily, I only see portions of it. When he was on Earth, I knew him for but a moment, and he was tortured, but then again, so are all Winchesters.

I wandered to my bed, and threw myself down on the mattress. My ceiling was starting to be covered as well. My most recent fit (fits usually happen when I'm sleeping, and I wake up only to draw my visions) was a colored pencil drawing of him in shackles, and it was terrifying. His body was warped , and his bones jutted out at odd angles. A sheen of sweat covered his body. His chest was bare of clothing, but scratches, scars, and throbbing, oozing sores covered him. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was twisted into an agonized scream. Why I kept these drawings, I don't know. It gave me a sense that I wasn't just having dreams, and that something so detailed couldn't happen in my imagination alone. It almost helped, but having these visions were starting to wear me down. I was starting to fear for my own sanity.

"Clara!" It was Noel, and she was banging on the door. I flew up, and yanked myself off of the bed. "Clara! Open the door! We need you for a bit!" I padded across the room, and it hit me for a moment, we were hosting two extremely attractive men, and Noel and I were still in our pajamas.

I swallowed down my unease, and unlocked the door, but only opened it a fraction so that she could see my face and my eyes; not my room. "Why?"

Noel blew out a long sigh. "Okay," she mumbled, leaning forward as if someone besides me would hear her, but I had a feeling that everyone else was downstairs. She licked her lips, and rubbed her neck. "I kind of asked Sam if he wanted a cappuccino, but you know how that ended the last time I tried to use the machine, and I. ." She blushed, and bit her lip. "I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him. You know how good I am at that, Clara."

I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time that morning. "Let me get dressed, and I'll be down there in a minute."

Noel jumped up and down a bit, clapping her hands. "Yay! Thank you!" When she left, I locked my door again, and changed into dark jeans, my favorite pair of boots, and an artsy t-shirt Pa had bought me while he was on a hunt with the boys. It was black with Van Gogh's Starry Night printed on the front of it.

In the kitchen, Sam and Noel sat at the table. They were talking about something that was flying way over my head as I made three cappuccinos for us. As I brought the third one to the table, and set it down, my head started to pound. I rubbed my temples and sat down across from them. Noel stopped mid-sentence and cocked her head at me. Her blue orbs were curious. Sam stopped too, and swung his head towards me. His brown eyes looked more haunted than ever.

"Are you okay, Clara?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

I nodded, and gave a bit of a forced smile. "Uh, yeah." Another wave hit my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My God it hurt.

"Clara-bear?" Noel wheezed out. Her chair scraped back, and it was like something stabbing my ear drum with multiple needles.

"Don't call me that, Nolly!" I seethed between my clenched teeth. Even in pain I managed to tease my sister with her own childhood nickname. I wished I could see the look on her face, but another wave of stabbing pain hit the middle of my forehead. An image was starting to penetrate my vision, but it hurt so damn much.

Suddenly, I was outside. It was daylight; early morning to be exact. The horizon was gray with bits of pink, and orange across the clouds. The grass I landed on was soft, and was damp with dew. It glistened when the light touched it. I was standing in an empty field. And as I scanned it, something was tugging at the corner of my consciousness. No, not something, someone.

I looked down, and almost shrieked. At my feet, was Adam. I fell to my knees, and looked down at him. He was out cold. I tilted his chin up, my choppy hair fell in my face. His jaw was a geometric perfection, and his short hair, a beautiful multicolored blond. He laid on his back, and I touched his cheek. His light, vivid blue eyes snapped open, and he looked up at me. Almost instantly he almost seemed to recognize me. "Clara?" he practically whimpered. He looked so pathetic and torn. "I'm alive." He laughed. "I'm alive, and away from them." He smiled. "Come get me."

"But I don't know where you are," I argued.

"They'll know." Then he closed his eyes again.

Just like that it was gone, and I was on the tiled floor of my kitchen with Noel and Sam leaning over me, their brows wrinkled with worry.

"Clara-bear!" My sister screamed. "Oh sweety, are you okay? You've been out for five minutes!"

I struggled to sit up on my elbows, but Sam gently pushed me back. "You might not want to get up yet," he warned. "You fell on the floor, and laid there muttering. . ." He paused, and looked warily at Noel who was on my other side. "You were muttering the name 'Adam.'"

I nodded eagerly. "Yeah," I said without breaking Sam's gaze. "Because he's alive."