Hello everyone. I'm back for more after the long wait. Its been a crazy and life changing few months to say the least. This is the next story in the Something Lost Series. I'm working on a few stories outside the series, but i've decided i can no longer handle more than one story at a time. as always, enjoy.

ps: this story is told in both past and present.

D: this is all just for fun.

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN

Chapter 1

July 1980

Tom Harrison sat on the hard plastic chair, his head in his hands. How many doctors were there going to be? How many more times did they have to do this? He thought he would be able to protect his family, he thought he would be able to keep them safe. He was a hunter for god's sake, he knew what went bump in the night and he knew how to kill it. But his little girl wasn't possessed, wasn't being attacked by a shapeshifter or cursed by a witch. She was sick. Plain old, non supernatural sick— and it was killing her.

He turned to his side when the sound of choked sobs began again. Liz was trying to hold it together, but Tom could see she was barely holding on. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, resting his head on her's. Her long, strawberry blonde hair fell in waves around her, covering her face as she wept. Tom knew holding her wasn't going to help their baby, wasn't going to make the last week go away, but at that moment it was all he could do.

Elizabeth didn't know about the things he hunted, didn't know about his double life. Tom told himself he would give it up when he got married, when he had children, but try as he might he couldn't get out from under it all. Once you saw the other side of the natural world, there was no going back. He wanted to give it up to keep his family safe, but fate had it out for him. Sick— not poisoned, not cursed, just sick. Of all the things Tom had seen and done, his little girl was taken out by an illness.

Tom stood, starting to pace— they thought it was the flu. She was their only baby, it was natural for them to worry about every little hiccup. Hell, the first time she spit up Tom thought she was possessed. So when she got a runny nose and low fever, they thought she had a cold. Liz had smiled to their toddler, rubbing her back after she gave the child some Tylenol. The next morning, they knew something was wrong. And since then it had been one long nightmare.

"Mr. And Mrs. Harrison?"

Tom looked up at the voice, his heart clenching when he saw a doctor walking toward them. He refused to get his hopes up, refused to believe the man in the white coat would do anything other than crush his dreams. The doctors never gave them anything but bad news.

"Yes." Tom's voice was weak as he helped Liz to her feet. He just wanted to take his little girl home, to have her in his arms again. He had been so proud the day he found out he was going to be a father, and now he was about to have that title taken away from him. "How is she?"

"Her fever's broken." The doctor smiled, though he looked tired. Tom wasn't sure he heard the man right.

"Her— what?" He had been prepared for the worst. Days before he had been told his baby was going to die, and now—.

"Her fever's broken." The doctor stated again, motioning the parents to sit.

Tom didn't know what to say or do, following the doctor's order like a lemming. All he could do was sit and listen, the information barely making it through the walls he had built around himself when he learned just how sick his daughter was. There was hope, honest to god hope— it was the last thing he'd been expecting. "So, she's going to be ok?"

The doctor looked down, removing his glasses. Tom's heart dropped, his new found faith dwindling. "The infection and accompanying fevers were very severe. I'm not going to lie to you, meningitis is a very serious disease, especially in someone so young. Even after the illness has run its course, there's still the possibility of complications."

"What kind of complications?" Tom asked, holding his wife as she began to cry again.

"Meningitis is a fast moving and devastating infection of the brain and spinal cord. It needs to be caught early, normally when the symptoms first appear."

Tom closed his eyes, wishing more than anything he could go back in time. They thought she had a cold, had kept her home thirty six hours after the first symptoms. It wasn't until his little girl's fever spiked to 104.1 that they rushed her to the ER, where they'd been ever since. Had they just gone to the doctor at the first sign, had they been the overprotective new parents they had been when she was an infant, this all could have been avoided. But they had decided to be calm this time, to let nature take its course, to not flip out over a little cold. Fate sucked.

"Your daughter had been battling the infection for over a day by the time we got to her. In truth, Mr. Harrison, it's a miracle she's survived this long."

"What complications?" Tom said again, his voice cutting. He didn't want to be told to be thankful they had managed to fix his mistake, he wanted to know what kind of child he would be bringing home.

"We won't know for certain until she wakes up and we can do more thorough exams. The main thing we will be looking for is any neurological damage. This could mean anything from vision problems and hearing loss to developmental delays and loss of speech and motor skills. We're going to take her in for an MRI and CAT scan to see if there's any damage to her brain or spinal cord from the inflammation. That will give us a starting point."

"Is there a chance she'll come through this with no complications?" Tom whispered, the list of problems too much for him to think about. She loved to dance, loved to run, and was just learning how to swing on a big girl swing. Hell, she was even starting to talk, and now he was being told all that was going to be taken away.

The doctor sighed, his eyes sliding between the young parents. "There's always a chance, but I don't want you to get your hopes up. We're doctors, not miracle workers."

"Please," Tom turned when he heard his wife's quiet voice, her tear filled blue eyes studying the doctor. "Just tell me what you think will happen."

"At this point, with everything we've been through. I would say your daughter has a 95% chance of developing some type of neurological complication. I'm very sorry."

Liz nodded, pulling herself up out of Tom's arms. "Can we see her?"

"Yes, of course. We're going to give her another course of antibiotics before we take her down for the MRI and CAT scan. At this moment we don't believe there's any fluid build up in the membrane around her brain or her mastoids. If we find any, though, we'll need to take her into surgery to drain it.

"Now, before I take you back to see your daughter I want to give you a rundown of what you'll see. She's a very, very sick little girl. There's going to be a tube down her throat, as well as a number of IVs and machines attached to her."

"Why's she on a breathing tube?" Tom asked, his heart skipping a beat. "She was breathing on her own the last time we saw her."

"When she coded two hours ago we had to intubate her. We've been giving her very aggressive drug's since then to bring her back. This last episode— we almost lost her. Your little girl came back from the brink, Mr. Harrison, and I'm afraid it shows."

Tom's heart nearly stopped. 'Bring her back'. His mind automatically went to the spirits he encountered on nearly a daily basis, to the other side of the veil. His baby was nearly gone, had one foot over the line, and they'd managed to bring her back. He was afraid to know what he would have now for a child. He knew what it was like to cross over, knew what was dead should have stayed dead. Coming back didn't come without trouble.

He followed the doctor down the hall, holding Liz by the arm. She was trying to be strong, trying to keep it all together, but Tom knew she was on the verge of losing complete control. And he knew she would crumble completely when she saw their baby. Tom gripped her hand tightly when the doctor stopped at the door. Liz squeezed back, both parents nodding. Even the explanation the doctor had given him didn't prepare Tom for the sight.

He could barely see his daughter beneath all the tubes and wires. She was laying in a large crib, her body unmoving on the thin mattress. There were clowns painted on the walls, flowers and drawings all around the room, but they did little to ease the ache. Tom was about to pull Liz closer to him when she pulled away. He thought she would crumble, but instead she seemed to gain strength. Tom was always amazed by her.

Liz moved over to the crib, a sad smile on her face as she leaned over the rail, gently brushing the toddler's hair back. "Hi, Angel." She whispered. "Mommy's here."

Tom's strength grew when he heard his wife's quiet voice. This was still their baby, still his little girl, and nothing would change that. Besides, he was a hunter, there was always another option when it came to treatment and he was confident he could fix any complications which might arise.

"Hey, Little Monster." Tom ran his hand over the girl's cheek. Her skin was much cooler than the last time he'd touched her. He looked up at the heart monitor, his fear surging when he heart the change in rhythm.

"It's ok." A nurse said calmly, smiling at the young couple. "It's just her way of letting you know she can hear you."

Tom looked down at the sleeping toddler again, Liz humming to her, running her hand through the baby's soft hair. It was like she'd been born again, like becoming a dad all over again. She was gone, taken away by something Tom had never prepared for. But against all the odds his baby was back, and Tom swore he would do whatever he could to make Kerri normal again.

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July 2008

Kerri's hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel. The images in her head were bombarding her, attacking her. She had kept it at bay for so long, had controlled it for years, but now it was destroying her again. Ever since the episode at the house the barriers she'd spent over a decade building had all come crumbling down. She took her hands off the wheel for a second, shaking them, trying to get the tremors to stop. She couldn't lose it, not when she was driving at breakneck speed. Common sense told her to pull over, to get help, but she needed answers. The man she was looking for lived in Washington state, not too far. But to the redhead it may as well have been the moon.

She looked down at the phone sitting on the passenger seat when it began to ring again. Dean was nothing if not persistent. He'd been calling her non-stop, but Kerri refused to answer. She had rethought her plan over and over again, but she knew she had no other choice. Victor calling after all these years— and mere hours after the attack— was not a coincidence. Something was going on and it was something the boys didn't need to be involved in. This was her father's doing, and Kerri refused to lay anymore weight on the Winchesters' already burdened shoulders.

She didn't want to drag the boys down with her. Dean and Sam had too much to deal with, had overcome too many hurtles to be brought down by something her father had done. This was her family, her life, and it was her responsibility to fix it. She never should have left the note when she found Dean, she should have just taken comfort in the fact he was alive and moved on. But that was the thing, there was nowhere for her to move on to.

Brian knew who she really was now, and the doctor hadn't called her once since the revelation. It hurt Kerri deeper than she thought it would have. She'd been the one to call off the engagement after her sister's death, she'd been the one to leave Brian behind. But he always called to check on her, always kept in touch. Now, though, he was completely gone. She was more in love with him than she knew, more in love than she thought was actually possible for her. But she should have known— everything in her life ended badly, it was her curse.

Kerri closed her eyes, taking a deep breath— she needed to control her emotions. Stress seemed to trigger her attacks, trigger her memories, and she had learned long ago she needed to keep herself calm if she wanted any chance of fighting it. But then, in her life stress was all too real a problem. Everything she'd know, the life she'd built for herself was gone, crumbling, fading, and it had been since she was a toddler. She had never had a chance, never been normal— Tom Harrison had made sure of that.

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"When I find her I'm gonna kill her." Dean growled, immediately redialing after the call went to voicemail.

"Wouldn't that be counter productive."

Dean just scowled at his brother, pushing down harder on the accelerator in response. He really didn't need the peanut gallery at the moment. Besides, in a way this was Sam's fault. "Had you just answered your phone we wouldn't be having this problem."

"I was in the bathroom. And you can't watch her twenty four-seven."

"Watch me. When we get her back she's not leaving my sight."

"I'm sure that'll make her happy."

"I don't really care if she's happy. I care that she's safe."

"Dean—."

"Don't." Dean cut off his brother, knowing what the younger man was going to say. No matter what Dean did, no matter where he hid her, Kerri would never be safe. The promise he had made to her when he was eleven years old was a promise he would never be able to keep— that was painfully obvious now.

"You actually think you're gonna catch her?" Dean knew the change in topic was Sam's olive branch, and he took it. He couldn't focus on what might happen, he had to focus on what was happening now. "I mean, she's got a good fifteen minute head start on us."

Dean had gone up to get Sam, scolding the boy for being perfectly fine when he thought there was a chance he was hurt. Sam had just smirked, telling Dean it was perfectly normal for a human being to succumb to nature. Dean just rolled his eyes, heading downstairs. He hadn't wanted to leave Kerri alone for any real length of time, and so he made sure she wasn't out of his sight for more than a couple minutes. Unfortunately, that couple minutes was apparently enough time for the headstrong girl to fly the coop.

"I'll catch her." Dean took the challenge, pushing down harder on the accelerator. Kerri had no fear of speed, driving as recklessly as Dean at times— but then they had learned to drive together. Dean's only ace— the Impala had a bigger engine than the Firebird. Even if it wasn't enough to actually catch Kerri, he could put a big dent in her lead.

"So, this Rayner guy, I don't remember seeing anything in Tom's notes about him."

"I wouldn't think he'd leave a detailed account of the man he sold his daughter's soul to." Dean bit back bitterly. He had known Tom for ten years and while the hunter always seemed a little standoffish around Kerri, Dean was still having a hard time believing he would do this to her willingly. There had to be something else going on. What kind of father would give up his child?

"You didn't hear his voice, Dean."

"You didn't see him holding a baby Kerri, Sam." Dean shot back. Sam may have been hearing Rayner and Tom's conversation, but Evelyn had taken Dean to the actual day. "She was little, just a baby, and he still agreed. There's no defending him."

"I wasn't defending him."

"Yes, you were."

"I'm just saying, put yourself in his shoes."

"I never, ever would have done that to my child. If he really wanted to fix her he should have gone to a crossroads."

"Oh yeah, that would have been a great idea. Go to hell and leave her without a father."

"She still would have had her mother."

"But then there would have been no Evelyn."

"And no Yellow Eyes. It is never acceptable to give up your kid, no matter what you get in return."

Dean would not argue with his brother when he knew he was right. He didn't care how much Tom was probably hurting, didn't care how hard it must have been to see his only child left blind by an illness. Tom never should have made the deal with Rayner, no matter how many years of normal Kerri had after. He cursed her, put a bulls-eye on her, and Dean hoped the hunter was rotting in hell.