I wake up lying in a dark, cold room. I hear the crickets outside and soft snoring noises inside. I close my eyes again, wishing that the stale sheets are imaginary. I block the sound of soft rain outside, desperately searching for the humming of my bedroom's air-con. I roll over and feel the scratchy blanket around my arms as I try to tell myself that it's my own soft, worn out blanket. I try to convince myself that everything was just a dream and I am only having a long, bizarre dream of being able to travel between two places because an angel gave me a gift. I tell myself that it's just Wednesday morning and I have school to go to, bullies to put up with and homework not done. I shut myself out and pray that I am right.

I feel the hope drain away from me as reality strikes and I find it harder and harder to face the truth. I hide from the sun rising and slowly lighting up the room. I bring my hands over my ears and curl up into myself. I burrow under the covers and sink as far in as I can. This cannot be real, I cannot have just died and been given another life somewhere else. I remain defiant to the sounds of people getting up and moving about in my own room. I close my eyes tighter as if it would block out the sounds of groggy men waking up.

"Pierce," a voice I refuse to recognize. "It's time to get up. Pierce?" A large hand touches my shoulder and I curl up even tighter. "Pierce, come on." The voice tugs on my blanket and I grip it tight. "Please, Pierce, wake up."

I give up convincing myself that it was all just a dream. I feel tears stream down my cheeks. Mum is dead, Dad's alone and I'm living under the care of two ghost hunters of some sort. I let whoever it is gently tug the blanket off me but I still remain in the same position with my eyes closed and quiet sobs shaking me.

I hear sighs and shuffling of feet. "I'll take care of her," another voice says. "You go get everything to the car." This voice is gruffer than the first and I know whose it is but I just don't acknowledge it.

The bed dips and I feel my shoulders being scooped up. "Alright, c'mere you," the voice says. I am then picked up and gathered into his arms. I loosen up at the intimate contact and his arms tighten around me. He just lets me cry into his t-shirt as I drain of all hope and belief. Neither of us say anything until after I calm down slightly and he speaks up. "You think you're gonna be okay?" He asks. "Come on, let's get into the car."

I nod and he helps me get up. I pull on the hoodie and coat they left out for me and wear my boots. Keeping my head cast down the entire time, I see that he waited for me at the door. I look up into his green eyes and try a smile.

"You'll get used to it soon," he replies. He means the pain, the sorrow and the grieving. I can't imagine what he has been through. I appreciate the fact that he didn't tell me that it will get better for I am sure that it would not. He smiles sadly down at me and I walk to the car.

Sam stands up from his leaning position while he waited outside for Dean and me. "You okay?"

I nod and say, "I'll survive." I open the backseat door and climb in as Dean starts the car. "Where are we headed now?"

"Breakfast," Dean answers. "Then we figure where to go next."

"I thought you guys were on your way to Tennessee?"

"That's just a general direction for us to go," Dean says, keeping his eyes on the road now filling with cars. "I don't really like staying in one spot for too long."

I keep silent and look out the window to watch the passing scenery. My hand reaches up to my neck and touches the circle with the star in it hanging from my neck. I feel the leather rope that keeps it in place tug on the back of my neck. I remember when Dad gave it to me when I was younger. I loved it and put it on. I never took off the necklace again. Dad had always told me that it would keep me safe when I told him about the monsters in my closet. I believed him and I still do.

Lost in my daydream, I don't realize that we have pulled up to a small diner. We walk in and get enveloped by warm smells of coffee and pancakes. We sit in a booth and a middle aged woman wearing too much makeup and a uniform came to take our orders. Sam and Dean both order a short stack and coffee, I followed suit but changed the coffee to tea instead.

When the lady walks off, Sam pulls something out of his jacket. I realize that it's a leather notebook that I've seen them refer to a couple of times during the last case. He places it on the table and flips through the book. Dean leans across the table to look at what Sam is looking for.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asks.

"Just seeing if Dad knows anything about this Summoning Key," Sam answers, looking up to pierce me with his bright green eyes. He returns to flipping page after page of the rather worn and well used notebook. "Right," he says. "What's your last name? Your father's name, maybe?"

I tell him and he nod in acknowledgement. Dean looks at me from his seat next to me. He shrugs and lets Sam do his thing. While waiting, I release my messy, tangled hair from the hair band I put in there since last night. I do my best to tame my tresses down a bit before giving up and pulling my hood over it. I keep my hair band on my wrist to keep from losing it. The waitress serving our food interrupts Sam's searching. He looks up and thanks the waitress. We tuck in and Sam resumes consulting his father's notebook.

"There's nothing in here th-," Sam stops at the back of the book. "Never mind, I found something." He turns the book around so Dean and I can see what he's found. He taps on the last page where it there is a date on top and my father's name in capital letters.

I read snippets from the page. "A year ago, he completed the tasks and the tablet crumbled to ashes… He doesn't have the key. It is suspected that his child may have it. I promised him that if anything happens to him and his wife, I would care for the child as my own and keep the girl safe… Train her to be strong and be able to defend herself… Make her my own daughter and that Sam and Dean would be her brothers and also take up the family business… Tell her he's sorry for putting her through this, he wouldn't have done it if he had the choice." That is the last line, John Winchester wrote about my father. Slotted under the leather cover is a small piece of paper with my name on it. I pull it out and unfold the little note.

I recognize Dad's handwriting immediately. It reads, "I couldn't keep you safe, I have been a terrible father. Trust and follow the Winchesters, they are much stronger than I can ever wish to be and you will be safe in their hands. They are good people. I'm sorry I can't spend more time with you. I wish I could be by your side through this dangerous life you were forced to live because of me. I may not have given you much but I wish I could. Just know that wherever you are, no matter how far we are apart, your mother and I love you very much. You're an amazing girl and I know you'll survive for a long time. This is my last piece of advice to you: no matter what comes to you, be brave and face it with your chin up."

"What's that?" Dean asks.

I feel my nose tingle with impending tears. I haven't cried so often before in my life, and I hate it. It makes me feel weak and useless. I give Dean the letter. He reads it with a little frown creased on his forehead. He looks at Sam and let him read the letter as well.

Sam reads it and studies me with a sad smile. I look at him with a lost look. I am unsure if they would take me in. I am just some strange girl they picked up from the side of the road that somehow had connections with their father. They let me stay with them so far, I don't see them to not do that now. Then again, I have this curse upon me that sets supernatural things on my tail. It puts them at risk, why would they risk their lives for me?

"Well, now that that's out, I suggest we start training you," Sam decides.

"Training?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam says as if it's a very obvious thing to suggest. "She's going to be coming with us, she has to know how to throw a punch and handle a gun."

Dean shakes his head, "No, we're supposed to keep her safe. Safe means not putting her in circumstances where she needs self-defense."

"It's okay," I cut in before Dean can continue. "I'd feel a lot better if I can defend myself, whether I need it or not."