My name is Castiel Winchester and I am running away from home.

It's kind of because of my name, actually. But, that's a long story.

All you need to know right now is that I'm in a Walmart parking lot stealing a car. Oh, and please call me Cassie.

The Toyota wagon sputters to life and I sigh in relief.

"Thank you, uncle Dean," I mutter to myself. He taught me all I know about cars. I rarely asked him to teach me about them, but when I did he was a well of information.

I sit up in the seat and pull out of the parking lot and onto the open highway. I feel myself relaxing as the miles pass.

Then my phone starts to ring.

I close my eyes. I took it with me in case of emergencies, but I should have put it on silent.

I pull it out of my pocket and shove it in the glove compartment. The music continues faintly for only a few more seconds.

My curfew was a hour ago, but my parents trust me. It was my design that they did. I was the bestest.

I had been planning this forever.

They had always told me I wasn't going to be a hunter.

"You don't have to be," they said, "Why would you if you don't have to be?"

Castiel (not me, the other one,) even said that it was 'safer' if I didn't hunt.

Oh yeah, my name. Let me tell you about my name.

I was named after an angel. He was a good friend of my parents and my uncle Dean. That's not why they named me after him, though. They probably would have given me a girl's name if given the choice. No, I was named after him because 'heaven said so.'

The line makes me sick. Oh, trust me, it made me feel special for a long time, but now it only represents everything I wish I could change about my life.

My life. Man, so far it's been peachy. That's why people run away from home. Yeah.

Ok, look. I was OK. It was all just fine. My parents are the sweetest, and I know this will hurt them. I know Cas will look for me endlessly, and I know uncle Dean will blame himself for all the training he had a hand in, I know, I know, I know.

But right now, windows open, warm June breeze, Kansas highway just flying behind me, I just don't care. I'm on the way to putting myself to good use for once.

I mean, why the hell was heaven so interested in me if they didn't plan on letting me do anything?

I'm a seer, by the way. Hi. No, it doesn't mean I can see you, or anything. I see dead people. For real. Not even joking.

It was worse when I was a little kid. I had trouble getting to sleep because I couldn't control it. I just saw them in the dark, all around. Terrifying. Then there was an incident with a demon abduction and I accidentally broke the veil and we found out Castiel (again, not me,) was still alive. It was a big day for everyone.

Ok, I'm getting distracted. I'm running away to be a hunter. 'Cause I expect I'll be good at it and help a lot of people. And the world as of late needs more hunters.

I'm on my way to an old friend's house. I met her once when I was younger, a psychic named Missouri Moseley. She doesn't live in Missouri, actually. She lives in Lawrence, Kansas, the place where my dad and uncle Dean were born.

It's also where my grandmother was killed right after my dad was born.

Lets just say, I'm not gonna visit my dad's childhood house.

It's only four hours' drive, and I pull into Lawrence around three AM. I'm not super tired; I got some coffee before I stole the car, but I'm still glad to see a motel on the main road.

I pull out my fake credit card to pay for the room. That's something else my uncle Dean taught me: credit card fraud.

The tired employee blinks at the card. "Miss Tonya Veblen?"

"Mhmm," I smile. She rolls her eyes and hands me a key-card.

"Enjoy your stay. Breakfast at nine."

I didn't know there was breakfast. Nice.

The bed isn't comfortable, but I'm tired. I mute my phone, which has rung inside the glove box nearly hourly since I left.

I know my parents are worried, and I should call them, but I'm afraid they'll be able to convince me to come home.

Castiel won't be able to find me unless I tell him where I am, and I took the tracker out of my phone, so imagine my surprise in the morning when I hear a knock on the door.

"Police," a loud voice says. I pull on a hoodie to cover my bralessness and open the door, chain in place.

The officer looks legitimate, and there's a squad car flashing at the other side of the parking lot. I hear another officer knocking at the room next to mine, and I feel a little less panicked. They aren't after my credit card; they would know the room I was in in that case.

I unlatch the door and turn on the lights.

"What's going on?" I ask the woman, stepping back to let her in.

"Miss-" she looks at a piece of paper she holds, "Tonya Veblen?"

Shoot, I'm in trouble.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Sorry to bother you, we're just checking all the rooms over; we found a stolen car in the parking lot."

Aw, man. There goes my ride.

"For real?" I say, "Man, am I glad I don't have a car."

"You don't have a car?" she asks.

"No, I hitch," I say, "Wait, is that illegal?"

"Only if you're walking on the roads," she says, "How old are you?"

"Twenty two," I lie. I'm nineteen.

"Mhmm." She sounds suspicious. "Well, without a car, you don't mind if we search the room for keys?"

"Not at all," I say, very very glad I thought ahead and put it on the outside windowsill on the back wall of the bathroom. It's likely they already found my sawed-off and the Beretta in the trunk, so I'm gunless for the time being.

Fortunately, I always carry my knives on my person. I've always been better with knives, anyway.

I pull my six-inch iron throwing knife from under my pillow and show the officer, who's name is Melissa, before putting it in my hoodie pocket.

"Smart to keep that with you," she says, "if you 'hitch.'"

I thank her for the compliment and ask when I can go to breakfast.

"Now," she says, "But your stuff has to stay here."

I grab my phone and wallet. I don't need anything else. I get a waffle on a paper plate and fill my pockets with butter and peanut butter packets.

I go into the bathroom and climb out the window to the back alley.

The walk isn't long to Missouri's place. She has a client at the moment, but quickly tells him what he wants to hear and shoos him out.

"The police are looking for you," she says, "You can't underestimate them if you're going to be a hunter."

"I'm not," I say, "I hid the keys-"

"Which they found."

"And I used a fake card."

"Which you now cannot use."

I smile at her and hold out my arms for a hug.

"Nice to see you again, dear," she says.

Missouri is a psychic. I personally think that's more powerful than a seer, but she says otherwise.

"I can only see the other side," she said when I last saw her, "You can influence it."

She seems more useful, though.

"You're here for my help, but there's nothing I can do for you," she says.

"Can you put me up for a few days?" I ask her, "Until I get new guns and an idea of where to go."

"If you left right away, I would be disappointed. If the boys call, though, don't think I'm gonna lie to them. I did that once before for your grandfather, and I regretted it from the day it happened."

I want her to tell me the story behind her statement, but I know she won't.

"Damn right I won't," she says, "Why don't you get some new clothes before police are crawling the city for you."

I walk, kicking a rock, to the thrift store I'm told is down the street. It's funny to me that Missouri called my dad and his brother 'the boys.' To me my dad has never been more than a somewhat typical dad, and uncle Dean a slightly less typical uncle. Besides the hunting, that is.

I forget sometimes that they're basically veterans. Mom too, although she met them after they had already faced a lot.

The thrift store is dusty and they only accept cash, which means I'll have to dip into my emergency fund. I can always refill it later with another fraudulent card, but it feels way too early in this journey to spend any of it yet.

I get simple clothes, some jeans, some tees, some hoodies. I throw in a pair of shiny sunglasses when I'm at the counter and get myself checked out.