Chapter One

A's POV

I can smell the blood. The rusty scent assaults my nostrils and I scrunch my face uncomfortably in an effort the escape it. It doesn't work. The baby crying behind me is enough of a distraction, though. I turn around and look the scared woman in the face. Her eyes are wide as she tries to comfort her child.
"Babies don't respond well to stress, you know. You have to be calm for your child." I step over the salt line as I speak and take the little boy from her. One smile at him is all it takes before he's giggling and cooing. She's staring at me in amazement as she touches her husband's arm.

"Do you h-have children?" She stutters as I hand him back.

I can almost feel my blood turn icy. "No."

I step out of the circle and give the family a reassuring smile. "I'll take care of this. Don't worry."

The apparition had just recently started terrorizing the small town of Great Barrington, Massachusetts. It was an anniversary that set it off. The anniversary of the ghost's death, to be exact. Upon investigation I realized why she was going after men that are married with children. She could have no children of her own. Her husband was a stern man, to put it lightly. Once he found out she couldn't bear him a child... All bets were off for her. He was abusive at first and it eventually lead to the woman's demise. She took her revenge out on the husbands in the town because she was never able to get revenge on her own.

I'm sorry for her. She's doing this because she's crazed. Because she was treated badly in her life. IT doesn't excuse the murders, though.

"You don't understand." A hoarse whisper comes from the kitchen.

I leave the front room and step into the darkness. "I know what he did, Susanna. I know how you were hurt. Hurting these men will not hurt your husband. It will not change what he did to you."

A face flashes in front of me and I take a furtive step back. Her brown hair is disheveled and the blood on her forehead is dripping. "You don't know." She lunges at me and I throw the chain through her graying form.

I sprint to the dining room, where I had placed the only remaining link to the cremated woman on the floor. The vintage looking apron lay there, sprinkled with salt and lighter fluid. I take out my matches and sigh. "Rest in peace."

The strike of the match lights up the dark room. She's standing in the corner, her head hanging down. "I wanted to help them."

I throw the match on the apron and watch as it ignites, burning holes in the blood stained fabric. Her form goes up with it. I purse my lips as the lights in the house flicker back on. I silently hope that she can rest now. I make my way back to the front room. "It's finished. You're safe now."

The mother clutches her child in her arms and her husband hugs both of them to his chest. I half smile, as I walk toward the door. "Don't forget to make sure the fabric burns completely."

I hear a short "Thank you!" As I shut the door.

How am I supposed to feel good about this when I know there are fifty more cases out there?

My hotel room isn't exactly inviting, but it's the best thing to home I have right now. I take out my key just as a car pulls into the barren parking lot. I have one hand on the revolver at my hip as I unlock the door and step inside. I shut it just as quickly and peek through the curtains. A sleek black Impala holds two men, one very tall with tousled hair and the other with a square jaw and hardened face. They're wearing cheap suits that look like they need dry cleaned. They go to a room two doors down from mine, talking to each other. You can tell by the body language that the Marine looking one is pissed about something.
I'd never much listened to the science in things. Actually, not at all. Science suggests that when dreaming you only see the faces of people you've previously met. This was obviously false. As I look at the tall, mysterious man my insides turn. He hadn't been in any particularly good dreams.

My phone rings then and I flip it open.
"Hey, sexy thang!"

I snort. "Hi, Garth. Just finished the case in Massachusetts. What's up?"

He lets out a slow breath. "There were a couple of guys that I know headed up that way. I told 'em I had someone on the case but they wanted to 'double check.' Guess you showed 'em, A!"

"Two guys?" I mutter. "It's not those clean cuts in the Chevy, is it?"

He chuckles. "Why yes ma'am, that'd be Sam and Dean! I'll let 'em know you already finished the job. Call me when you're ready for another case, darlin'."

"Later, Garth."

I flip my phone shut and pick up the suitcase on the bed, then flip off all the lights. I go through yet another crappy hotel room door and lock it behind me, throwing my luggage into the open window of my truck as I make my way to the main desk.

The tall one, Sam, I think, is there asking something about the local police reports. The little Indian man at the counter exaggerates the murders into butcherings. I roll my eyes and wait. The guy steps back and writes something into a pad in his hand and I step up to the desk.
"I won't be needing the room, anymore. Thanks for the wonderful service." I place the key and a twenty dollar bill onto the worn countertop and smile. The Indian man nods at me and takes them both. I turn on my heel to go out the door, only to smack into something.

Rough hands grab my forearms and steady me.

"Hey, watch –" He cuts off mid-sentence, looking at my face intently.

"Sorry, wasn't paying attention." I walk out the door and see the other guy standing by the black Chevy. It looks like he's talking to it. I briefly hear him call it "baby" as I climb into my truck and shut the door. As I start the engine he looks up and does a double-take. He winks at me and I can see his muscles flex under his suit jacket. I scoff. What an ass.

The other guy comes up to him and says something, then they both look at me strangely. Garth has always had some odd friends, but these guys? I shut off the engine and stick my head out the window.

"There a problem, officers?" I put heavy sarcasm on the last word.

The tall one steps toward my truck. "Are you A?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, according to Garth. What's it to you?"

He grins. "Well I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. We were here to –"

I interrupt him. "To make sure the job was done? Too late." I smirk.

"Well, all the same, it's always nice to meet a fellow hunter."

I snort a little. "What hunters do you know? Other than Garth, the only ones I've met are either arrogant and proud or drunk hillbillies."

Dean gives me an odd look and Sam chuckles. "Well, we know the drunks and proud men, too. It's still nice to meet someone else who's... Like us."

I glare. "You don't know anything about me."

"Dark circles under the eyes, tipping the man at the desk, sarcastic bitch?" Dean stares at me gravely. "You've lost family and because of that you lose sleep. You also have nightmares and sleep with a gun in your hand. You're either smart and know how forgery works or you come from a wealthy background and you don't take shit from anyone because you know if you get attached enough to call them family then their blood will be on your hands at the end of the day. Did I miss anything?"

I shake my head, a little shocked at how well he was able to read me. I study his face, notice his hand on his pistol and the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't reading me; he was reading himself.