A/N: Eventual Spoilers. Loosely based around season 9. AU because Bobby is still alive.

Empty black pavement stretched before me. The loud rumble of my truck's engine was only just barely drowned out by the sound of my blaring music. My destination was only a couple more miles up the road. The current case I was working involved only what I could assume to be a poltergeist. I had received a call a few days ago about the malevolent spirit from an old hunting buddy that I sometimes still did favors for. He had told me that a family from his hometown had been killed in a horrific way, matching the description of a family that died the same way in the same house in 1927. All signs pointed to angry ghost. I just needed to go check it out, make sure it's a poltergeist and not some copy-cat killer. Then I could salt and burn the bones. It would be incredibly simple.

I turned down my music as I pulled up a gravel driveway and to a dilapidated looking house. It looked like it was in the process of being restored. The family that moved in must be the first to live in it in a very long time. I turned off the engine and made my way up the rickety front porch steps. Crime scene tape was still bordering the house and covering the front door. I twisted the knob and stepped inside. The furniture was flipped and everything was in disarray. Blood stains were still streaked across the walls and the floor. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. There was definitely something in this house.

My first instinct was to get out of the house, so I quickly turned and bolted out the door. It wasn't until I had already made it back to my truck that I realized what I was doing. I'm a hunter for christ's sake. I don't run from ghosts. I kill them. Hesitantly I made my way back into the dusty old house. I needed to find information on the family that lived here in 1927. That way I could narrow it down so that I can burn the bones. While searching through the house I came across a string hanging from the ceiling, most likely leading to an attic or crawlspace. Of course, my job has to be as creepy as possible, so I knew the best place to search for some information would be in the scary hole.

The attic was dusty and covered in spider webs. There were a few boxes littered across the floor. I checked every single box, each time only coming across old clothes and baby toys. It seemed that every box in the attic was from the new family that had just been slain. Doors slamming and screaming made me jolt to my feet. A chair went flying by, narrowly missing my head. I was making it incredibly angry. I needed to find some kind of information, but I don't think any information existed in the house. So as quickly as I could, I made my way back to my truck, dodging flying pieces of furniture as I ran. This ghost is stronger than any other I've ever encountered before. I definitely needed to find a library so I could find out how to take this asshole out.

My truck roared to life and I turned back on my music. I hadn't even put it into reverse when a black Impala pulled up beside me. I turned my music off and stepped out of the cab. Two men exited the Impala. I studied them for a moment, trying to decide what to say. How do I explain what I'm doing at a crime scene? Better yet, what are they doing at a crime scene?

Before I could speak though, the taller one with shoulder length hair approached me and showed me a badge. An obviously fake badge.

"Agent Plant and this is Agent Smith, we're going to need you to leave this crime scene ma'am." The other man spoke.

"You can cut that out. I know you're hunters." I replied.

The smirk on his face fell but he quickly regained composure. "What?"

I pulled out my badge and they both sighed in relief.

"So you're a hunter too?" Fabulous hair guy asked.

"Yes, my name is Nina." I reached my hand out to shake theirs.

"Sam." He shook my hand.

"Dean."

"Oh, I know you…the Winchesters right?"

They both nodded and rubbed the back of their necks. They looked a little uncomfortable at being recognized by a stranger. Well, they are kind of like celebrities in the hunter world.

"So, what's in there? Have you been inside yet?" Dean spoke.

"Definite poltergeist. Extra hostile. I'm going to the local library right now to see what I can dig up about a family that died here in 1927."

"We could come with you and offer some help, since we drove all the way here to look into the murders." Sam replied.

"Uh…ok I guess." I said with a shrug. I usually hunted alone but it would be nice to have a little company.

We rode separately. I didn't trust leaving my truck and it seemed the eldest Winchester was just as in love with his Impala as I was with my F150. My old truck was incredibly special to me. It had been my grandfather's back when he was a hunter. He died long before I was born though, but I truly hated that I never got the opportunity to meet him. The truck had been handed down to my mom, who in turn eventually gifted the rusty green clunker to me.

It was in the very same truck that I found his journal, which he had titled 'field notes'. I wanted to find the monsters he wrote about. I was fascinated and consumed by the information when I first stumbled across the book. My mother had begged me to not follow in his footsteps. It had only gotten him killed way before his time.

After finding the notes I constantly came in contact with monsters. It was like it had unleashed some kind of cosmic bad luck on my head to have that kind of knowledge about things that most people don't believe actually exist. Each time I came under attack I fumbled my way through, barely making it out of each fight alive. So I started training to become faster and stronger. I also taught myself how to use weapons.

I dropped out of school and took to living on the road at the young age of sixteen. Now at twenty seven, my hunting skills have definitely improved. Not so much that I didn't still have a lot to learn though. There were still several types of monsters I had never fought before. My grandfather had kept notes and all kinds of books on monsters he had hunted throughout his time on Earth. Most of my hunts consisted of poltergeists and vamps. I felt ready to broaden my monster hunting but every case I ever caught wind of was the same old thing. I had to wonder if there was a reason for it. Maybe my hunter friends were just trying to protect me. It was uncommon for a girl to choose this path, and my mentor Frank was very protective of me.

I pulled up to the small library and stepped out of the truck. Sam and Dean followed suit. We each entered the library and I made myself comfortable in front of a computer while they went to find books. I searched for information on the house and the family that had been murdered there. I came across a few articles about the massacre. According to the first search I brought up, on November 26th 1927 a man named Cliff Swartz murdered his entire family with an axe before hanging himself in the barn. I dug a little deeper to get information on their gravesite. After jotting down their names and the address of the graveyard, I closed out of the tabs on the computer and went to find the Winchester boys. They were sitting across from each other at a table talking in hushed voices. I overheard Dean say a name that sounded mildly familiar. Crowley.

"What's everyone whispering about?" I asked in a loud whisper.

"Nothing," Dean quickly dismissed my question. "Find out anything?"

"Yeah, a family of six were murdered in the house by the father. He hung himself in the barn afterward."

"Murder suicide. Great. It could be any one of their ghosts wreaking havoc in that house." Dean stated.

"Yeah, so, we just burn all their bones. Simple." I replied.

"But that's a lot of diggin." He responded, looking very tired. He looked like he hadn't slept in years. "Got any idea where they're buried?"

"Yeah, they're buried in the local cemetery. It's the only one in this town."

"Well let's get to work." Sam stated as he stood from the table.

I followed them to the parking lot where we went separate ways to our vehicles. I followed the Impala to the graveyard. When we got there we searched the cemetery for the Swartz family. At some point during our trek through the headstones I broke away from the two of them.

It wasn't long before Dean caught up to me.

"So, how long have you been a hunter?" He questioned.

"Since I was sixteen, but I killed my first monster at fourteen." I replied.

"Wow. You started young. Kind of like me." Was his response. "So you've been hunting for what, five years?"

I laughed, "Try eleven years. I'm 27."

His smile widened showing his perfect white teeth. He was incredibly handsome. Breathtaking even.

"I've heard a lot about you, Dean." I told him. "I actually stayed with Bobby Singer not even a week ago actually. He talks about you guys a lot."

"How do you know Bobby?" He asked.

"Frank Taylor, my mentor. He told me I could stay with Bobby anytime I was hunting in Sioux Falls. Last week I was, once again, hunting a poltergeist. When I finished the job, I crashed on his couch for a couple nights. I've been doing that for a few years. I'm actually surprised this is my first time meeting you guys." I responded.

"So you said once again like all you do is hunt poltergeist." Dean laughed a little.

"Don't laugh, I really do only hunt them. Well, pretty much anyway. I do occasionally hunt vamps."

"So you've never come across any demons, I assume?" He spoke.

"Nope, never. Although, I would love to know more about them. Most of my knowledge of monsters comes from my grandfather's field notes. He only ever mentions a demon once, and he didn't seem to be very familiar with them. The only thing I know is that cross road demons do exist. He came across one once." I didn't get into the details of what his meeting with the demon entailed.

"Your grandfather met a cross roads demon?" Dean's voice cut through my thoughts.

I started to respond to his question but I stopped speaking when we came across a row of graves. Each headstone had the name Swartz etched into the stone. They were old and not well kept. Obviously no one had been to visit these graves in a long while. That gave me confidence that we would most likely not get caught digging up their bones.

We called Sam over before pushing our shovels into the soft ground. We spent most of the afternoon digging before each body was salted and burnt.

With exhaustion evident on our faces, we made for the exit in silence. I threw all my supplies into the bed of my truck before turning to say goodbye to the Winchesters.

"Thanks for the help guys. I'm going back to the house to make sure the poltergeist is for sure taken care of." I said as I pulled myself up into my truck.

"Want us to come with you?" Sam spoke, a slight look of concern was splashed across his face.

"Look, you guys don't need to worry about me. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself." I was kind of annoyed at the fact that they thought I couldn't handle a damn ghost.

"Catch you around, Nina." Dean replied as he ducked down into his car. The Impala pulled away from the cemetery and I waited until they were completely out of sight before leaving.

I entered the house. Everything looked the same in the dark, except extra extra creepy. My flashlight was barely enough light. I really probably should have waited till morning to come check the house out again, but I was just so ready to get the hell out of this town and onto bigger and hopefully more interesting things. A part of me was incredibly curious about why Dean had asked about me about demons. Are demons something he and Sam fought on the regular? I couldn't even imagine what that would be like.

I walked further into the house. The presence that I had felt earlier was gone. We had completed the job and it was probably one of the easiest ones to date. I sighed before hastily leaving the dark and creepy house. No matter how many times I had done this before, it still scared me to no end.

I was back on the interstate in no more than thirty minutes.

After a couple days of driving I stopped in a small town to hunker down for a few days. I couldn't drive anymore. As desperate as I was to get back to the only place I ever called home, Frank's, I couldn't take sitting anymore. Who knows, maybe there would be a case for me to work in the little town of Manchester.

The hotel I was staying in was the only one in the entire town. It was decently nice, but incredibly empty. It occurred to me that I was most likely the only guest. I was a bit put off by the fact but nevertheless, I was exhausted and the bed looked incredibly comfortable. I crawled underneath the covers with my grandfather's field notes in hand. I turned to the page that had information on demons. It wasn't much information to go on, but I found what it was I was looking for. The name that I had heard Dean say. Crowley. I knew I had heard it once before and there it was written in ink at the bottom of the page.

The entry read,

In Hickory, NC. I came across a man who drunkenly told me he had sold his soul to a demon. He said he went to the crossroads and buried a box containing a photo of himself, graveyard dirt, a black cat's bone and yarrow. I didn't believe anything he said until I, unable to withstand my curiosity, went to the crossroads myself to summon the deal making demon.

I made a deal. In ten years he will be back to collect my soul.

I won't stop until I find a way to end him. I will stop at nothing to kill the demon Crowley before he takes me to hell.

That was the only information provided by his notes. The only mentions he ever makes of demons. In the end I assumed he hadn't been able to kill the demon Crowley because he never made mention of him again. It was unknown to me if the demon had actually claimed my grandfather's soul or if he had been killed before his ten years were up.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Bobby's number.

"This is Bobby." His voice came through the other end.

"Hey Bobby, its Nina." I spoke.

"Nina, haven't heard from you in a few days. How is everything? Did you catch your poltergeist?" He asked.

"I did. Sam and Dean helped."

"So you finally met them, huh? I hope they didn't piss you off too bad." I could hear the smile in his gruff voice.

"Yeah, it was really nice having some help digging up graves." I responded with a laugh.

We were silent for a moment before I finally spoke again.

"Do you know anything about the demon Crowley?"

More silence came from his end.

"Bobby?" I said.

"Yeah, I'm here. I know the demon Crowley. He owned my soul once." He replied.

I gasped.

"But, I found a way to get it back. Obviously. Why do you want to know about him?"

"My grandfather mentioned him in his notes. He made a deal with him. I overheard Dean talking about him in the library when we were working the case. That's why I assumed you may know something. You're always involved in their lives."

"Well, if you want I can give you Dean's number. He might be able to give you a chance to speak to the demon yourself."

My heart raced at the thought of meeting the demon that may or may not have killed my grandfather. Determination hummed through me.

"How? Does Dean have him on speed dial or something?" I asked sarcastically.

"Actually yes."

"What? Bobby, I was joking." I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not. Believe it or not the idjit has helped them out a few times. Albeit for his own personal gain, but help is help."

I paused before replying to him. I needed to let all this new information sink in. Hunters working with demons? It was too much for me to comprehend.

"I'll call him. What's his number?"

After taking down Dean's number and hanging up with Bobby I decided I needed a drink. I poured myself a glass of extra cheap red wine before dialing his number. He took forever to answer. I had my finger on the end call button when I heard his voice rumble through the speaker.

"Hello?" His voice sounded thick with sleep.

"Hey Dean. It's Nina. Remember me?" I asked with a small laugh.

"Of course I remember you." He replied.

I blushed at that. Which was odd to me. I'm not typically the blushing type. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't." I could hear him trying to clear his throat to sound more awake. "What's up?"

"I got your number from Bobby…" My voice trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to ask him about his demon friend. "The other day when we were in the library, I overheard you and Sam talking about someone named Crowley."

"What about him? Did he do something to you?" His tone shifted completely.

"No, no. Not to me personally. I knew I recognized the name. My grandfather came across him. He wrote about it in his journal."

"What did he write?" Dean sounded fully awake now.

"He wrote that he sold his soul to him. I want to know why and if he claimed his soul. Bobby told me you could help me get closure." I felt more confident know. Judging from Dean's tone, he wasn't exactly friends with the demon, more like frenemies.

"I can help you get the information you want. Do you have a pen and paper?"

I dumped my purse out onto the bed and pulled out a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

"You can come to our home. We have a pretty convenient room to hold demons in. If he cooperates we won't have to use the room though."

"It's good you have a backup plan." I responded with a laugh.

"We know how to get information out of him. It's kind of a thing we do." His voice sounded so cocky when he spoke. He was obviously used to succeeding in his battles.

Dean gave me the address to their home, which he called the bunker. I would have to drive all the way to Kansas. I groaned before falling back on the pillows. Currently I was in Kentucky. More traveling was the last thing I wanted. The only driving force was that I would soon get answers about my deceased grandfather.

And possibly revenge. If Crowley killed him, I would make it my life's mission to end the demon bastard.