AN: I don't own Supernatural, Dean, or Sam, sadly. If I did, I wouldn't have time to write. ;)
Also, this is my first SPN fanfic. I'm a little nervous and a little excited. So. I'm going to beg for reviews here because, apparently, I'm not above that.
PROLOGUE
I had been a nervous wreck since I called Dean. I knew it would take him a couple days to get there, but I would still feel my stomach roll every time I heard my doorbell ring. It got so bad that come Thursday, two days after I had called, if I even heard a car roll down the street, I would run across the house and look through the front window. I was a disaster. I didn't really even understand why it was such a big deal. I had a crush on him, sure, but so did every other red blooded woman that came across his path. He was the bad boy with a heart of gold that makes girls weak at their knees. And he was damaged. Desperately wanting to please his father, a savage need to revenge his mother's death, and dealing with his brother's abandonment to go to college. I think that one hurt most. His mother never chose to leave him. Neither did his father, really. He was just consumed by revenge, too. But Sam did choose it, and I think that was what made it the worst. I couldn't blame Sam, although I would never tell Dean that. I hadn't been raised to be a hunter like Sam and Dean had, but my mom and dad were both hunters and I was moved around just as much. After finding my parents' bodies brutally murdered after a hunt, I vowed I would never become a hunter. Especially wouldn't raise my children in this life style. So who could blame Sam for wanting out? For wanting something normal, something healthy, where he could make friends, establish relationships. Dean did. Dean felt like Sam was saying he was too good for the family business. Of course, Dean couldn't come right out and say it. The one time I tried prying any emotion out of him, he'd said he didn't "do chick flick moments". But I could see the pain in his eyes. No matter how quickly he was able to cover it up, I still saw it.
Dean... We had met three years ago. He and his dad stopped through town hunting down Yellow Eyes, the demon that killed Dean's mom. My parents had some information, so John and Dean stayed at our house for a few days going over everything. I was 16. Dean was 22. And gorgeous. Hunting had given him lean muscles that flexed with every movement. He had sandy hair that he kept short and spiked, hazel eyes that saw right through you, and an angular jaw that screamed masculinity. I was smitten. In all the schools I'd been to across the country, I'd never seen a boy as breath taking as him. Not even close. And perhaps that was just it. They'd all been boys, with normal lives and normal parents who had normal jobs. Dean was the first member of the opposite sex I'd met that was even close to my age who could understand my life. Who I didn't have to lie to about my past or where I'd been before, what my parents did... I could be completely honest with him and unjudged. It was liberating. And I felt, at times, that he opened up to me, which I got the impression he didn't do often. Despite my school girl crush, a friendship was formed. When Dean was feeling especially lonely or I was having trouble with kids at school, the other was only a phone call away. Around the time I graduated, we needed each other less and less. It had been just over a year since I'd last spoken to him, but I needed him now. He was the only person I knew to call. My parents had refused to train me as a hunter, and I had never been interested in learning. I didn't know what to do, but I knew Dean would. He had to.
AN: My following chapters will be much longer. This was just the prologue and needed to be short. I'm hoping to update atleast once a week. With Christmas and my daughter's birthday looming ahead of us, though, I'm not going to promise anything. Remember - reviews will make me try harder to stick to my deadline!