So this is sort of a prelude to the full story I will hopefully publish (within the next to weeks, though that isn't a promise). I did toy with Jordan's age until settling on what it is now and if you have any questions I will try and answer them in my next posting.

Run Away With Me

"Running away will never make you free" - Kenny Loggins

The thought of college wasn't as appealing to Jordan as it was to Sam. She didn't yearn to be normal or have a normal life, she was raised to be a hunter and she understood that she'll most likely die a hunter. But Sam left. He packed his bags, hopped a bus and disappeared to Stanford. To live a normal life.

Now this wasn't her family anymore, not without her twin brother. Dean was pissed off and their father barely spoke to them. They were angry and hurt, but they were Winchesters above all, and Winchesters don't show weakness. So they sat idly until emotions boiled over and when they did, well things got messy and even more people were hurt in the aftermath.

Jordan left, following her brother to college.

Dean tried to talk her out of it, "Jordy, you're not cut out for college life," or "What am I gonna do without you? Stick around with dad?" He would too, because Dean followed in his footsteps ever since their childhood (not that it was much of one) and he wouldn't just stop because his little sister was walking away from their life.

Applying to late admissions and getting accepted to start in the spring at Maryland Institute College of Arts sealed the deal. She had sent in a profile of her preliminary work, mostly sketches drawn on a sketch pad that Dean had stolen for her. Landscapes were the most common but there were a few sketches of her family -nondescript as they were. There were also a few paintings from the few art classes she took in the towns they stayed in. Even photographs when she could get a hold of a camera.

She wasn't entirely sure what would happen when she finally pulled up enough courage to face John Winchester with her decision. Because her father was known to blow things way out of proportion with his stubborn personality and closed mindedness; and not wanting to have a repeat of Sam's departure, she ventured in slowly. Open with a general statement, just like her English books had told her.

"This isn't a family anymore, dad." she had started, wringing her hands when they were getting ready to leave the town they were in. Jordan couldn't remember the name, but she rarely ever did.

Dean stilled in his shuffling and took a seat on the creaky bed. Wincing at the sound it made. No one made a sound.

John, for his part, looked unsurprised; barely fazed as he continued packing away his clothes.

"I've applied to a college out east and got in." Jordan said hesitantly, once she knew her father wasn't going to blow a gasket. "I'm leaving tonight."

Her dad looked up, training calculating eyes on her. His gaze rooted her in spot and she suppressed the need to fidget and rub her hands in nervousness.

"You leave, don't plan to come back. I won't have people hunting with me who aren't able to." John sounded cold and distant, like this was something he'd seen coming. It was practiced and clinical. It made her heart clench uncomfortably and a rush of nausea rushed through her system.

She didn't go back.

Adjusting to life in college was difficult.

It felt strange and uncomfortable to be in one place for so long. After having lived most of her life in the backseat of the Impala, the constant idea of actually having a place to stay, that was hers, was bemusing.

In Jordy's first year she spent half her time looking over her shoulder for the creatures she's hunted. She still kept and iron knife under her pillow when she slept and her brother's double barrel cut off riffle packed with rock salt in the closet. Hiding such weapons when inspection time came around was irritating and tiresome. But it helped keep her sanity. Her second semester came quickly after she secured a part-time job at a local bookstore and waitressing full time at a Texas Roadhouse near the motel she rented. The summer was long and she was tired every morning but she pressed on, determined to make it at least four years before she crawled back to her father and Dean.

It was October, just after midterms when she cracked. She was going out her mind with all the school work and staying in one place. She didn't like it that guys hit on her. She certainly hated when the other artists looked down on her work just because she didn't go to some stupid, prestigious art academy. Jordan was at the college off a scholarship, so what? It was none of their business anyway.

Her pride didn't let her drop her new life and she was certainly not going to call Dean or dad and sob to them about the troubles of college life when they were out in god-knows-where killing demons and ghosts. So she did the next best thing, Jordan called Bobby.

She didn't want anything from Bobby, she really just needed to hear a familiar voice.

"Hi Bobby," Jordan didn't mean for her voice to portray the shame she's suppressed since she left, but it did.

"Jordan, good god girl, where've you been?" he sounded distraught although relieved, but wary. Always wary.

"Baltimore." she replied steadily, running fingers through knotted blonde hair.

"Your father's been worried sick," Jordan didn't completely believe him, "Dean's been a pain in the ass as of late. Missing you is my bet."

"I miss them too." she admitted quietly.

"You've been gone a long time, sweetheart, have you thought about going back home?" he asked gently.

Now, Bobby wasn't an overly soft and sentimental man but he had a special place in his heart for Jordan. It might be because he didn't have kids himself but he saw something in Jordan that pulled out a protective and decidedly paternal instinct. Jordy loved that about him but in that moment she couldn't have hated him more.

"I can't drop in the middle of everything, Bobby, you know that."

"You damn Winchesters, where is it said that you have to be stubborn to a point?" Bobby growled.

She could imagine Bobby sitting at his desk holding his head in his hands as she spoke to him, she could even picture the face he was pulling at that moment. The same one he had on his time worn face after she or her siblings did something stupid.

Jordy sat on her bed and shifted to the middle, pulling her legs up with her until she could rest her chin on them.

There was a beat before Jordan mumbled a sarcastic, "Thanks."

"Anytime," on the other end Bobby sighed. "You know you'll find your way back, don't you?"

"Start as a hunter, die as a hunter." she mused, "Goodbye, Bobby."

"Bye."

It was all she needed; a false sense of closure surrounded her. It would last for a little while, long enough for her to sort out her life. She ended the call and sat up the whole night just staring at the cellphone in her hands.

Jordan didn't call Bobby again.

There was a time in her third year that Jordy thought she saw the 67' Impala when she was walking home from the bookstore she worked at during the summer. As she was crossing the street her dad's car flew by. Or at least she thought it was. The Impala went by so fast that her hair whipped around her head giving her the smallest, teasing glance.

Jordan wasn't sure how it made her feel, to be honest. There was a part of her that understood that her life before college was dead and she shouldn't dwell on something that might've been. After all, her father told her to never come back. But there was a sense of homesickness that came with it that tore at her stomach and weighed in her heart. She missed Dean and Sam and even missed her father at times, she wanted to see Sam again and ask him about Stanford. She wanted to bicker with Dean until their father told them both to shut up. Jordan wanted to fall asleep in the Impala and cast away her worries. She wanted to go home; because even if she had made a life for herself in Baltimore it wasn't really home. Jordy felt ill for days.

It was when she noticed the Impala illegally parked in student parking outside the residence building that Jordan knew there was trouble. Her father wouldn't come to her if there was someone else to ask. He wouldn't come to her because she left and he was stubborn. Both were too proud to admit defeat so early.

Something most definitely wasn't right.

If she was being honest, Jordan would notice that she wasn't at all surprised when she walked into her dorm room and Dean was the only one lounging around.

Ankles crossed and hands behind his head, he was the picture of relaxed but Jordan knew differently. She could see the tension in his shoulders and the muscles bunched beneath layers of cotton, denim and leather. Under his eyes were purple bruises, giving away that he'd had less sleep than normal.

"Hey Sweetcheeks," he greeted, eyes still closed.

"Dean," Jordan chucked her bag on to the chair in front of her desk. "I'm surprised you picked the right bed."

Light and funny was the way to go, don't go in depth. Ask what he wants, then tell him to leave.

That life is dead, she had to remind herself.

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." He mused, grabbing the iron knife from under her pillow and waving it in the air.

"Yes, it would seem so." She sat on her roommate's bed and rubbed at her paint and charcoal stained fingers, a nervous habit.

"Besides, your roommate has too much stuff." Dean motioned vaguely to the other side of the room before sitting up, his face falling into a grave seriousness she's only seen a handful of times in her life.

"Where's dad?" it was said quietly as if trying to not disturb the peace.

"That's why I'm here," he tapped his foot once, twice before continuing. "He's missing."

"What do you mean, missing?" Her voice went up an octave.

"He left for a hunting trip and I haven't seen him since."

They were quiet for a while. Dean was watching his younger sister thoughtfully, worriedly, hopefully. He didn't know what to do if he had to find their father on his own. He was never good at doing things alone, despite what his abrasively lone wolf complex would suggest. Jordan knew this; but there was the fact that if she left Baltimore, she wouldn't be coming back.

"How long ago?" She asked, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Two days," Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Usually he checks in at least once a day but he hasn't called since he left. I know it doesn't seem likely but I can feel something different about this, Jordy. Something isn't right."

"I've built a life here," Jordy tried to convince him, but mostly herself, half-heartedly.

She wanted to feel the rush of adrenalin through her system. She wanted to feel the weight of a double barrel rifle in her hands, or watch as a ghost disappears into flame. She wanted to go, oh she craved the thrill of killing those monsters, but she wouldn't allow herself to. Not yet, anyway.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Dean snapped, his voice low and accusing.

"It's not-" Jordy tried, but Dean interrupted.

"Run away with me." He was dead serious, "Run away with me, Jordy."

She shouldn't, she knew that. But hunting was an addiction. And once you start, there is no way to get it out of your system.

"Okay."

Please review! - TJ