Author's Note: I DO NOT own Supernatural or any of the characters, except for my two OCs: Miakoda 'Kodi' Jane Taylor and James 'Jamie' Joseph Taylor.

Prologue

A lone figure, a small-statured girl with curly, chocolate brown hair, about eight or nine years old, stood at the edge of a forest, watching as a three-story farmhouse burnt to the ground.

Tears fell from the girl's dark gray eyes and slipped under her thick, black glasses, dripped off her small chin, and, eventually, were soaked up by the fabric of her black T-shirt.

The girl's legs were covered in navy-and-gold plaid pajama pants and she wore an oversized leather jacket with fabric arms and hood, along with a pair of beat-up, black, hightop Converse.

The girl's name was Miakoda 'Kodi' Jane Taylor and she, along with her father, younger sister Victoria, and younger brothers Michael and James, had lived in the burning house.

Her father and, at least, two of her three siblings that been killed by something —probably a demon— and her father insisted she burn down the house to get rid of any evidence of their being a demon attack.

The three or four bodies laying in the house as it burned were the only family Kodi had ever had, except for her Uncle Charlie, but Charles Taylor lived in the southern part of North Dakota, while Kodi and her family had lived in the northern part. It would take days for her to travel to Uncle Charlie's.

Kodi kissed her pointer, middle, and ring finger and lifted her hand to the burning house.

"I love you, Daddy, Tori, Mikey, Jamie." Kodi whispered to cold, still, night air. Kodi turned and disappeared into the forest, alone.

Oh, but don't worry. Kodi wasn't dead, nor would the possibility even really happen, yet, for Kodi was raised a hunter; a person who hunted supernatural beings, and could take care of herself for as long as it took for someone to take her in or for her to make a life for herself. And, she wouldn't be alone for long, now.

14 Years Later, Stanford College Cafe, Northern California

I smiled at the 5'8'', messy, black-haired boy with the smiling dark gray eyes who was joking around with customers as he took their orders and gave them to the chef.

That boy was my younger brother James 'Jamie' Joseph Taylor who I'd thought, up until nine years ago, had died in the demon attack or the fire with my father, younger sister, and other younger brother.

We had lived her, in Northern California, for the past five years or so, ever since I turned seventeen and was able to enroll in the high school for my last year of schooling, as I'd always wanted to do, ever since I'd walked into that forest 14 years ago and never was seen once anywhere near a school.

I'd dragged Jamie, who was only fourteen years old, here and enrolled him in high school, too. I graduated as valedictorian a year after we got here and got a full ride to the local college, Stanford University. Jamie graduated four years later (he got a full ride too; lucky, huh?) and is starting his first year of college at Stanford. I'm on my fourth year now.

Jamie and I made money by doing odd jobs that paid okay and that nobody else wanted to do around the area at the beginning, renting an old, run-down apartment from a sweet old lady named Meredith until the owner of the Stanford College Cafe, Kathy, heard Jamie and I make music together, where she promptly hired us both as entertainment and waiters.

Now, I'm a bartender and Jamie's a waiter and we've finally got enough money to buy a car and start hunting again. We haven't lost our touch in all the years its been since I've actually been on a hunt; not one bit. Jamie and I used to go out and, I'm sorry to say it now, steal guns and ammo from gun shops and shoot empty beer cans off fences. Sometimes, we'd steal bb guns and take turns being moving targets; after putting on nearly every single shirt we owned, of course.

Nope, haven't lost our touch. Our father sure taught us well. After our mother nearly died when I was 6 months old and a demon nearly killed me, Dad taught every one of us everything there was to know (or, at least, that he knew) about hunting the supernatural.

Right now, we were working at the Cafe, me bartending and Jamie waiting tables.

Personally, I preferred waiting tables because drunk men usually hit on me and it was very awkward and slightly disgusting, but Kathy put me on bartending duty and that was that.

I was kind of a recluse, with only my brother for company, but there was this one boy my age, Sam Winchester, and, dammit, I still love that boy, even after all he did to me.

Sammy was a sweet 6' guy with shaggy brown hair, sweet hazel eyes, and a puppy-dog look no-one could say 'no' too. I met Sammy outside the library my first year at college.

I was being picked on by a huge group of guys, being teased for being tiny (I'm only 5'2'') and for wearing all kinds of baggy, plaid shirts and stuff like that. There were ten or so guys, all around 5'11'' or 6', and I knew I wasn't going to be able to take 'em on all at once. Sammy was turning a corner and saw me being picked on and just pushed through 'em and shoved 'em off me. He picked me up off the ground and offered to get me something warm to drink and walk me home.

He took me to a cafe just 'round the corner and bought me a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and sat me down and asked me if I was alright. I told him I was and hugged him tightly, for saving me, of course. Don't go getting any 'ideas'! The poor guy nearly trembled as he tentatively hugged me back. He told me I was the first person to hug him in years. My heart broke for the lonely genius who seemingly didn't get along with his father and older brother and didn't have a mother. He told me how his father raised him and his brother as hunters and Sam didn't want to be a hunter, so he left and started college. I told him how I was raised a hunter too; Jamie was the only family I had left because nearly my whole family were killed by a demon. Sam walked me home and told Jamie what had happened, then Jamie thanked Sam profusely, telling Sam how I was the only thing he had left. Sam ducked his head and blushed and said 'it was nothing' in his adorable, shy kinda way.

We became the best of friends and spent nearly all our time together, until Sam met Jessica Moore, a nice, somewhat thick, blonde and never really hung out with me ever again. He was always with Jessica. Always out drinking with her and, eventually, they bought a flat together. A big one that was two-stories and nothing like the cozy flat Sam used to have. I helped Sam moved in because, even though I loved that man more than I loved myself or, hell, even my brother, I wanted Sam to be happy. And, if that blonde bimbo made him happy, I wanted him to marry her and father her babies and live with her for the rest of his life. I wanted Sammy to get the life he deserved.

Then, Sam went on a road trip with his older brother without telling me. Granted, he hadn't talked to me in nearly six months, but I still felt alone and, hell, even betrayed. I felt like Sam didn't care about me anymore; like he was just using me for some sick thing in the back of his mind. I threw myself into work that weekend, bartending and waiting tables nonstop until I heard Sam was back in town.

By the time I swung around Sam's place after my latest shift, the place was on fire, I heard Jessica was dead, and Sam was already halfway out of town in his brother's black '67 Chevy Impala. I memorized the license plate, KAZ 2Y5, to hold onto some semblance of Sam.

After that, I really stopped talking to anybody except Jamie, Kathy, and a few of my favorite regulars. I never made any more 'friends' because I was afraid they would just get up and start ignoring me and, eventually, leave me, just like Sam had.

Truly, I never stopped loving Sam or craving his shit-eating grins when I made him laugh or did something he deemed 'cute.' I missed the smell of him when he hugged me tightly; like mint and spice. I missed the feeling of his arm slung lazily across my shoulders as I hung my arm around his waist, one finger clinging tightly to one his belt loops on the other side of his worn jeans. I missed stealing his plaid shirts and wearing it over to his old place the next day, seeing the shocked look on his face for a moment before he started laughing and pulled me into a hug and told me he hoped I never changed, then sat me down and made me a cup of hot chocolate in my favorite mug of his and rye toast and butter, just the way I like it, laughing the whole time, like me wearing his stolen plaid shirt was the funniest fucking thing in the whole world.

He'd say 'you ever going to give that back?' after giving me my toast. I'd always grin real wide and say 'nope,' popping the 'p' the way Sam always told me he thought was an adorable thing I always did when I was feeling cheeky.

I missed the movie nights where he'd invite me and Jamie over to his place (of course, this was all happening at his old place, before Jessica came 'round) and Sam and I would curl up in his loveseat and Jamie would stretch out on one of the couches and we'd all watch horror movies and we'd laugh at all the dumb things the characters did before they were killed. Jamie and I would fall asleep in our respective places and Sam would throw a blanket over Jamie and picked me up and carry me into his room and tuck me into his huge, queen-sized bed that smelled like mint and spice, kissing my forehead goodnight, and leaving the room to sleep on the other couch in his living room.

Sam indulged my strange Harry Potter obsession and bought me one of the three pieces of jewelry I own, a simple iron necklace with a circular pendant with the numbers '9¾' punched out just because he thought I'd like it. I wear it everyday, never taking that necklace off. For my 22nd birthday, he bought me a simple, iron infinity ring, saying I'd be his best friend for 'infinity,' and a small, adorable, light yellow female puppy with perky ears, and a fluffy, dark-reddish brown-tipped tail. Sam told me the puppy's name was Pepper. I had joked, as I clutched the sweet puppy in my arms, that he should have named the puppy 'Salt,' after our hunting roots. Sam had laughed and had wrapped me and Pepper up in a hug.

By now, I was crying as I dried glasses behind the bar with a rag. Remembering these things about Sam were painful, but not unwelcome. They were happier times, even if they caused me pain now. Forgetting them would be even more painful and, in a hunter's life, you had to remember all the happy things, even if they were painful sometimes, because they're still happy things. And hunters are a little short on happy things.

"You alright, Kodi?" Jamie asked, gently laying a hand on my shoulder, all cheekiness and mischief gone from his demeanor. I had always told Jamie everything; we are all we had, after all. Just me and Jamie.

"Jus' thinkin' 'bout Sammy," I sniffled, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.

"Don't think about 'im, Kodi," Jamie said as he pulled me into a hug. "He's a douchebag for leaving you here without telling you, for ignoring you went he met Jessica, for practically everything. Except for saving you from those boys."

"You alright there, darlin'?" Kathy asked, swooping in like an eagle, a hand on my shoulder. Kathy was a fifty-something lady with kind light blue eyes and graying auburn hair who happened to be very fond of me and Jamie.

"Yeah, yeah, I just," I sniffled. "Need to step out for a minute."

"Go right ahead," Kathy said kindly. "James, you cover for her, alright?"

Jamie nodded and took his spot behind the bar, while I slipped out the back door.

I stepped outside, arms wrapped tightly around me as the wind whipped the loose edges of my shirt around, and turned to close the door behind me. I turned back around, breathing deeply with my eyes closed, and, when I opened them, there was a man standing a few yards away from me.

The man was tall, around 5'11'' or 6', in a dark jacket, a gray shirt, and a dark gray pants. When he turned around to face me, I could see the wrinkles of malice lining his face and his strange brilliant yellow eyes.

"Hello? Who are you? Can I help you?" I asked warily.

"Of course you can," the man grinned maliciously, reaching his hands out to place them on both my shoulders. "Miakoda Jane Taylor."