Considering it was ten at night, I was walking down an alleyway in Jericho, California, and I was alone, I was walking as fast as I could.

Oh, did I mention I was five years old?

"Hey, girlie, are you all by yourself?" Some drunken guy said, waddling over to me.

I glared balefully at him. "Sure, but I ain't going anywhere with you," I said, starting to walk again.

"Where do you think you're going?" He said, grabbing my arm and spinning me around.

"Well, I was going to look for a box to sleep in for the night, but it looks like I'm gonna have to kick your face in first."

I kicked him in a spot that probably made stars pop up in front of his eyes, twisted his arm backwards, and kicked his kneecap. He doubled over; groaning and I took that opportunity to run like hell.

I ran for like five minutes when I tripped over a rock in the middle of the road.

"Whoa!" I heard a guy say as I felt strong arms grab me and pick me up.

"Let go of me, you dipwad! Let go, let go, let go!" I screamed, kicking him.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, dang, girl, stop! I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear!" He said.

I finally stopped kicking and looked at him. He had on a leather jacket, and he had brown eyes and hair. He looked at me, too and stopped dead.

"Dean?" I asked, completely stunned into silence.

"Marianna?" He asked, staring at me.

"Oh my God," I said, throwing my arms around his neck.

I started crying as he hugged me tightly.

If you haven't figured this out yet, the guy's name was Dean Winchester.

The twist was that my name was Marianna-Grace Winchester.

The bigger twist was that we were siblings.

The biggest twist? I've been dead for twenty-two years.