Summary: First story in a series based off an RPG. What if Sam and Dean met hunters with pasts similar to their own?
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean, or any of the characters mentioned that have shown up on the show.
A/N: Any questions or comments welcome, please review.

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Plains, Kansas

Sam Winchester took a seat at the steakhouse, propping open the laptop as he waited to be served. The case of the moment was one where there had been three mysterious deaths, all without leaving a trace. The police were ruling them as suicides, but Sam knew better. He was alone this time, having had an argument with his brother Dean over who was the better monster hunter. It was silly, perhaps, but the both of them had set out on separate cases to prove just who was better.

After searching through local house records and locations and finding nothing, he looked up, wondering why he hadn't been served yet. A waitress was passing by, looking like she was having a bit of a rough day, but was one of the few on duty.
"Hey, Miss. Excuse me." Sam said in his usual shy voice, noticing the waitresses name tag read Anna.
The waitress glanced back at him, slowly walking over. "May I help you, sir?" She asked.
Sam put on a charming smile, happy to have caught the waitresses attention. "I'm hoping so, yes. I'm Sam Jefferson of the National Police." He pulled out one of the many fake ID's in his collection and showed it to her. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Hillson's death, would you?"
He gestured to the seat opposite for her to sit down. The waitress gave him a funny look.
"Just give me a sec, okay? I have to get this order, than I'll come over and talk."
She walked away, and returned only moments later. She took the seat across from Sam and got this hurt look in her eyes.
"The Hillsons….well, what all have you heard about it?"
Sam shut the laptop, looking at the waitress. "I know this must be hard for you, and I'm really sorry about your loss." He told her, piecing together that she must have known the deceased, based on the sad expression she wore. "But do you think you could tell me any reason someone might have wanted to make her suffer? And did you notice anything different about the way she was acting in the last few days before her murder?"
He took out a small notebook, holding it at the ready to jot down any information the waitress might give him.

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Elkhart, Kansas

Dean Winchester drove into town, trying to finish his own case quickly, just to prove to his brother that he was the better hunter. Silently he hated the thought of his brother being across Kansas, working on some case without him. What if something happened to him and Dean wasn't there to protect him?
He glanced at the passengers seat, at the place his brother usually sat, and wondered just how he was doing. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He was scrolling through his contacts and was just about to click on Sam's name when a group of kids ran unto the street in front of him. He swerved, stopping the car on the side of the road.
"Hey! Watch it, you little punks." Dean said, getting out of the car, agitated. He looked down the pathway the kids had come from, wondering just what had happened, and started to walk down it.
At the end of the old road, Dean found an even older derelict house where the screams of the kids were still echoing. He pulled out his shotgun, loaded with rock salt bullets, and started up the steps of the house. As he got closer, the screams got louder and louder. He cocked the gun, slowly turning the door handle….and then jumped back as three teenage girls came bursting through, screaming.
"Hey…..whoa! Wait!"
The teens didn't listen, just barreled past him. As Dean went to go back inside, two more teens came out. These teens were two boys, both laughing. They noticed Dean standing there, gun drawn, and jumped back. With terrified expressions they ran away from him and Dean walked inside.
He dropped his gun at the sight that met his eyes: projected on the main wall was poorly made image of what appeared to be a ghost.
"Dude, you have to be kidding me." He said, kicking the projector. His case had been, after all, to look into a spirit that had been tormenting local teens. So much for that.
Dean picked up his gun, not believing he had wasted his time on a teenage prank. He should have known when nothing came up on the house, but he blamed that on Sam not being around. Sam always had been better with the research, Dean just never wanted to admit it.
He walked back down the path leading to his car and threw his sidearm into the trunk. As he got into his car, he slammed the driver's door shut. "Damn you, Sam." He said to himself, knowing what his younger brothers reaction would be when he found out Dean had just gone on a wild goose chase. He rested his head on steering wheel, humiliated and annoyed. There was nothing paranormal in this town and he knew it.
Picking up his cell phone, he clicked on Sam's name a second time and listened to it ring a few times before his brother answered.
"Hey, Sammy, finished yet?" He asked, putting on a cocky tone. Dean had already decided he was going to lie. There was no way he was going to let his younger brother, the one he was supposed to be better than and to protect, beat him.