Author's Note: Second try at a Supernatural fic…Review and tell me what you think. You replies will help me decide if I should continue on. Oh and state who would better a better pairing you and Dean or you and Cass.

Chapter One: Remnant

"The day I met my father I knew my life would never be normal again. Somehow I didn't feel sad or happy. I felt complete."

-A piece from Io's journal

Solitude, a scary thing, especially when your solitude was caused by something unexplainable. By something that destroys everything and everyone in its way. You knew the end wouldn't be pretty…but this…this was far from your own imagination.

Your town was the first to go. The first to lose power, water….sanity…loved ones.

The road appeared to be bleeding as the rain washed the human blood away. Pain, there wasn't any left not for the headache or the cut along your cheek, nothing. Your tears stopped flowing after the second week, you became numb. So the sky was weeping for you.

Drops of rain hit a metal sign that swung in the wind. Familiar buildings had holes in them with broken windows and fallen brick. The road was crack and flooded as cars still line the sidewalk with the exception of one that ran off the road and into your favorite diner.

The fear of looking up froze you into staring at the ground. You could see the water dripping off your brunette curls and your bare toes disappeared under the tainted water that flowed by. Steam rose up and away as you breathed. There was a hand lying on the pavement, unmoving, dead. You could only see the palm and fingers from your gaze but you knew who it was.

Your mother.

Her blood washed from your hands. Your mind was blank, void nothing but emptiness.

Thunder clap across the sky, causing the dark to light up. The storm in your chest grew heavier; heart pounding yet your mind was silent.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You barely tense. Thinking it was better to confront the man you straighten and turned to him. He held an umbrella, black like his eyes. Pale, he was, under the dark clouds and navy suit. His cruel smile made your stomach churn. Your numb emotions where heating up.

He sniffed the air, "Such a sweet scent. I would love a taste." You could see the ugly, demonic face underneath that human mask. The demon looked around, noting the carnage, the dead and bloody bodies of his comrades lying over car doors and on the pavement.

"Did you do this my dear? But what could have such power?"

You pulled the knife out of your pocket, lightning flashed and you threw it. As the light disappeared the blade was already successfully imbedded between the man's eyes. His skull flashed in orange light, flicking like a flame until it blew out. You limped over holding a hand to your injured left thigh. The suit had fallen to the ground, lifeless and you pulled the blade out of his head.

"My mother treated me as if I was nothing more than an average child. She protected me from the truth even some would say that was the wrong choice. I beg to differ." -A piece from Io's journal

You walked for what seemed like years. The next town wasn't far however with an injured leg and well walking it was going to take longer than expected. And you had reason to believe it wouldn't look any different than your hometown.

Fortunately the town appeared fine. You were the only thing out of place. Matted hair, bloody cheek, and limping didn't set bystanders in a jolly mood as you passed by. You ignored many who asked you if you needed help or who were staring and guiding their children away from you.

You pulled on the strip of you satchel and prepare yourself before entering a diner. A bell ring as you open the door and then a lady at the counter welcomed you – sort of, she kind of stopped halfway when she saw you. She was middle-aged and pear shaped. A sincere concern crossed her face as she skirted around the counter. "Good heavens child. What happen?"

The kind woman had strawberry blond hair with gray high-lights and wore a Dorothy (from The Wizard of Oz) blue dress and white apron. She was afraid to touch, either because you appeared so fragile or it was the fact you were dirty.

You gave her a reassuring smile before speaking, "Rough week." Your voice didn't resemble how you really felt but you didn't want to frighten the lady more than you already had. She returned the smile, "You can say that again. Come, have a seat?" She guided you passed a couple of guys sitting at a booth before yours. They eyed you carefully, seeing as you were the only one else besides them in the diner it didn't bother you as much.

You slumped into the booth, sighing as your back met soft cushion. The lady waited patiently, letting you rest and relax. "What can I get you?"

"Ah, a coke…and a hamburger, a very big hamburger."

She laughed before leaving you. You leaned your head against the seat and winced as you lifted your wounded leg on the other seat. It was then that you realized you had no shoes. You starting to remember why but quickly regretted it.

The ceiling lost your interest as your eyes grew heavy nevertheless you stay awake. You thought it was best to sit up straight and look outside the window. Kids played cat and mouse on the side walk as mothers raced after them, a couple window-shopped a jewelry store hand-in-hand, a man yelled a patrol officer who apparently was writing him a parking ticket, it was normal yet beautiful. You had to leave this town, quick.

Half-tempted you grabbed your satchel and prepared to walk right out of that diner. A new voice stopped you, "Here's your coke."

You pushed yourself away from the waitress, wincing at her face. Quickly you recovered not wanting to cause too much attention. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry but the owner is busy. She has a good eye for helping people."

Her fake smile made chills run down your spine. Did demons not know how to act normal happy? They always seem to overdo it. Her ponytail bounced when she walked and talked and her eyes disappeared behind her cheeks when she smiled. "I'll be right back with your meal."

She left you contemplating. Should you drink the coke or not? You were starving and thirsty but drinking a soda from a demon just doesn't feel sanitary. Leaving the demon in town wasn't good either…you had to get rid of her.

The straw spun around the glass between your forefinger and thumb. You watched as the ice cubes glided in a circle around the glass.

A face caught your eye, he'd been staring at you for quite a while but you were trying to act as if you didn't notice. Not that he was ugly, with his mischievous green eyes and ulterior motive smile, he was definitely not ugly. He held your gaze as the other man continued to talk. You felt guilty that you actually wanted to talk to him. And you weren't sure why he was looking at you to begin with. You looked a totally mess remember and his gawking made you self-conscious.

A plate was shoved underneath you, "Here's your hamburger, Io."

You froze, "How do you know my name?" Violently you heart shook and you had to control your trembling. Still locked eye with the man in front of you until the man's brow furrowed. He overheard your question and his friend looked back. They had a strange alertness to their eyes like they knew what was stalking me.

"Pardon me? You're the one right…the last remnant of that town, no?"

Her voice was coated with mockery and pleasure. You weren't sure if she was pleased that she found you or that you were the last of your town, either way you know she had to go. Eyes pleading you silently asked the men in the other booth to disappear. They ignored you.

"You know my father was chosen to cleanse that town, hand-picked by Lucifer himself. And it would have been a success if it wasn't for you killing everyone."

You slowly unfolded your napkin, pulled out the fork and simply slid your hand back under the table. The demon didn't notice she was too busy blabbing about revenge or something. Hatred clouded your judgment and adrenaline fed your storm. You gripped harder on the handle of the fork.

"I'm kind of grateful for you killing him, he was an overbearing father who-,"

"Clearly it was because you talk way too much," your friends always said your fearlessness was your fatal flaw; you only ever saw it as a strength. "You little bitch," the demon sneered.

You stood from your seat, throwing the coke in her face before you stabbed the fork it the middle of her chest. She only laughed, "That tickles. You should know that doesn't work." The boys stood from the booth as you replied, "Oh, I know."

A surge of energy pulled up from your stomach. You felt your hair stand on end as a static charge ran down your arm. Then a spark from your fingertips connected with metal – the metal fork in her chest. She shot back slamming into the counter, knocking over dishes.

Your knees buckled and you caught on the edge of the table. Stupid, stupid, you were barely alive and you used something that drain you dry. "Woah there, Sammy!" A hand caught you as you tried to get up but failed. "I'm here…she ran for it," said apparently Sammy or Sam you weren't sure.

Your vision was failing becoming dark around the edges. Air rushed by you as you were lifted up from the ground by a hand at your back and one under your knees. You clang to the stranger as he yelled at his friend to hurry up.

"Hey, stay with us."

You wish you could but the darkness was too inviting.

"Stormy weather was the best type of weather. At least to me it was. My heart always thumped more loudly during a thunderstorm almost like it was singing a tune I didn't know…a language I didn't speak. And lightning, the glorious light would spark energy in my veins making me feel better than I did before. My mother always thought it was strange when I prayed for a thunderstorm if I was sick." -A piece from Io's journal

"Bobby, she flew five feet across the room."

"Maybe more if the wall wasn't in the way."

Hushed whispers quickly grew in volume. Your body felt so drain and whatever you were lying on was far too comfortable and warm to bother moving. Out of the three voices you recognized two and that was a comforting thought.

Was it odd for you not to act abruptly, seeing as you were surrounded by strange/unknown men? Some would say yes, but they didn't know you.

"I heard you boys the first time," an older and shorter by the range of his voice, man spoke, "But that doesn't mean we should trust her."

"She flinched at the demon's face, Bobby. Obliviously she isn't one of them."

You sat up slowly from what seem to be a cough, a deep purple and ugly cough. The smell of mothballs filled your lungs. Your arms achy and shook as you position yourself on the edge of the cushion.

A most needed stretch relieved your muscles only for a moment. You sighed you defeated and pushed yourself off the ugly yet comfortable cough. A hallway was to your right and you assumed that was the direction of the voices.

You stepped lightly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, holding onto the wall for support. An archway was just ahead, passed the stairs and lead straight into a study or office. You saw shadows of two men and one was sitting, grudgingly in a wheelchair. His orange beard and trucker hat didn't seem to match but yet it strangely did for him. It was his voice you didn't know, "But the fact she can see what's underneath the meat suit doesn't mean that she's on our side."

The boys were silent, apparently distracted by the fact you were up and walking. You leaned on the doorframe, "On who's side?"

The trucker turned to look at you, embarrassed for being caught. He didn't say anything only looking toward the pair that got him into this mess. They got the hint that this was their problem so they should fix it.

"Hey," said the one with the green eyes and half-ass smile. He acted as if he wasn't sure how to approach you, as if you were a snake or a leper.

"I won't bite," you snapped annoyed by his reluctant and disrespectful approach. His smile was more real then. You were more human than he had expected. He must have been on the fence, agreeing with both debaters, "Sure Sparky."

"Now with condescending nicknames? Is this how you usually treat your guests?"

"No, No…Please ignore my brother," the taller, more sensible, brother defended. He held out his hand, "I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." He hesitated when you reached for his hand and you smile before slapping your hand in his. Sam jump slightly but sighed in relief when nothing happen. You noticed Dean's shoulders had dropped, "Damn."

"Pay up," Sam pushed his hand toward his brother who searched his pockets until pulling out a small wad of cash. You watched as the light reflected off Dean's silver ring as he counted out the money then handing it to his brother.

"A bet?"

"Yep, Dean believed you could fry people with your touch but Sam believed it was controllable." You turned to the trucker hat man who looked more exhausted up close. "I'm Bobby their royal ass kicker."

"So you saw?" You flexed your fingers in front of you. Nineteen years successfully hiding your secret ruined in one, stupid, moment. Your somber expression silenced them. They stared at you waiting for you to recover.

You sighed and smiled, "I'm Io…now can I borrow your shower?"