No one knows what it's like, and I pray to whoever is listening that you won't. Being a hunter isn't as fantastic as everyone thinks it is. One crappy motel to another, greasy food every night, and don't even get me started in how many paper cuts I have from making fake driver's licenses. Being a hunter sucks, but it's the family business.

I was born a freak. My mother was a demigod and my father is a hunter, has been since birth. I have never been accepted by anyone that is still alive. My grades are through the roof and I don't particularly stand out in a crowd. Curly brown hair, brown eyes, tan complexion, and glasses aren't exactly the boldest combos on a sixteen year old girl. My mom died around the time I stole a Chevy '67 Impala. Biggest mistake of my life.

I was happily sleeping in my crappy little motel when two men broke into my room with guns.

"Are you kidding me? Baby got car knapped by a kid?" He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of my bed, but I pulled back.

"Dean, let go of her, she's just a kid!" the taller guy with long hair yelled. He grabbed the shorter guy, Dean, and spun him around. I tried to make a break for it, but ended up tripping over my duffle bag. The taller guy helped me up while Dean closed and locked the door.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the living-"he cut himself off midsentence. He walked over to me and tilted his head slightly to the right. "Abby?"

"How the hell do you know that name?" I stood up abruptly and faced the man, who seemed a lot less angry. "Don't ever say that name!"

"She was-"

"Shut up! You would've never been able to know who she was! You didn't know what she had to live with! Shut up! Just shut up!" I picked up the blue notebook that was on the bedside table and locked myself in the bathroom.

Thud, thud, thud. "Come on kid! Just open up!" Dean shouted in frustration.

"Dean, give her a minute."

"Sammy, she looks exactly like Abby. Abby died…" Dean's voice trailed off. "Kid, just open the door."

I choked back tears. I reread the passage in my mom's old notebook.

Dean Winchester will be the death of me! I don't think he has realized that I'm pregnant yet, but it doesn't matter, he is leaving tomorrow. He'll never know. Not until I'm dead.

-Abby

I unlocked the bathroom door and walked out slowly. I held back the tears, even though some escaped the brims of my eyes. I stood there in my clothes, since I don't change into pajamas at night, and wiped the tears off with my flannel sleeve.

"So you're the son of a bitch that got my mom pregnant sixteen years ago." I smirked, and all of the tears came pouring out. "Hi dad."

"Dean…" Sam murmured. He shoved his hand into his hand pocket and pulled out a flask of clear liquid and a small silver knife. "Dean, we have to test her."

"I'll do it." He snatched the flask away from Sam, opened it, and drenched me in cold holy water. He then grabbed the knife and pulled it across my arm. I flinched at the cold metal piercing my skin.

"She's clean." Dean handed the objects back to Sam. He dragged his hands over his face, and for an instant, he was an old man that had seen too much. Then he assumed the role of a man in his late thirties and handed me a bandana to cover my wound.

"Well kid, what's your name?" he asked.

I tied the red bandana tightly around the cut then looked at my father in the eye. "Jordan." I sat down on the bed and looked at my lap.

"Well Jordan," Dean said sitting next to me and draping his arm around my shoulder, "welcome to the family."