Hey, so I thought I'd have a go at some supernatural fanficiton.

And nope, I don't own anything, except my own character.

Chapter 1

I limped back to my beat up red pickup having fallen down a set of stairs in pursuit of a spirit. My ankle was throbbing and I had a nasty gash on my arm from where I fell on lord knows what. On the plus side though, I did set the spirit to rest. His name was Billy Smith and at fifteen years old he had drowned in an outdoor swimming pool. I'd spent two days trying to find out about him but no one seemed to remember him, poor kid. Only his parents could fill me in although for them, it was a traumatic experience. He was bullied, it was the bullies who drowned him, apparently playing a game of dunking each other but they got carried away. I felt sorry for the kid, despite him being a vengeful spirit but that was behind me now. All I had to worry about now was finding something to eat and somewhere to stay for the night before moving onto the next job.

I was a hunter, an interesting career choice. My parents and younger brother died last year, we were on a camping holiday, and a spirit got them. Their throats slit and spinal cords slashed. The only reason I escaped the horror was thanks to my college. I had to go home a day early to hand in a paper. Maybe it's wrong to say this, I should be grateful to be alive but I can't help but wish to be in the ground with them. I shouldn't think like that though, I have a job to do. It may not pay high; in fact it doesn't really pay anything except knowing that I've saved someone's life.

This was of resentful thinking towards being alive always made things so much harder for me. It would be best if I stopped thinking about and started thinking about the plate of lasagne sat in front of me. I missed home cooked meals; my mom could cook the greatest roast dinner, okay bad topic to think about. Instead of letting my mind entertain itself I pulled my laptop out and began searching news headlines for several newspapers hoping a job would stand out. After finishing my not so great lasagne I got a coffee and continued my search.

For a while nothing jumped out until I came across a family who had been found dead at the dinner table, their ears and eyes filled with dried blood. It sounded horrific, families shouldn't die like that; there was no doubt in my mind that it was a spirit. Instead of staying another night in Port Allegany, I got in my beat up red pickup and headed for Sheffield, Alabama.

By nightfall the following evening I was sat in some dingy motel on the outskirts of the town. My room had seen better days but I didn't have the money to splash out on places to stay. Having not slept for near as dammit forty eight hours I immediately collapsed onto my bed to grab a few hours sleep.

The following morning I managed to sneak into the house, it wasn't a crime scene as such, the police had checked it out at first but the coroner had decided their deaths were caused naturally. How come no one found it suspicious that they all died at the same time? I checked the magnetic frequency and sure enough a spirit had been here. It meant one thing, I have research to do.

This was my favourite part of the job, trawling threw the local library trying to find books or newspaper articles or a really old local to talk to about the history of the place. Some of the history was fascinating; I could just spend all day looking at books.

After a quick bite to eat I returned to the library, "excuse me, I'm looking for a book but can't seem to find it any where," I addressed the librarian. It was bugging me; I must have spent at least twenty minutes looking for this one book.

"Yes dear, what's it called?" she answered looking up from her computer. She was an old woman, her glasses on a chain around her neck, you know, the traditional librarian stereotype.

"Errm, Secrets of Sheffield," I replied, yeah real original title, I doubted it would do much good but it was worth a shot.

"Oh I'm sorry dear, I've just given to those young men over there to look at," she gestured to two mean sat over near the newspaper section. As I looked over I met one of the boys eyes, he had an eyebrow raised at me. He paused for a second, I guessed he'd been talking to his friend, his friend elbowed him and then after seeing me grinned, said something to him and the elbowed him again. I frowned at them, stupid book takers, I could go over and ask them to borrow the book for a short while but that mean giving them the satisfaction, even though I had never met them before.

"Do you have the same college report to write?" hmmm, the librarian was still talking and I had tuned out.

"Yeah something like that, thanks for your help," Oh great, college boys, I'd had my fair share of them. Reluctantly I went back to my motel and flicked through the web page for the book and found the author's address. If I couldn't read his book, I'd sure as hell ask him about it.

And that was exactly what I was doing now. Sat in a dusty old living room, all four walls lined with books with an ancient man sat across from me, "I have to say you are the first person to show such an interest in my book, that's outside of my family and friends, I was starting to give up"

I felt sorry for the old man; his name was Arthur Shelborne, his wife died a few years back so he devoted his time to the history of Sheffield to ease the pain of his loss. Arthur, bless him, gave me a copy of his book and we spent over an hour discussing superstitions in the area. 'Secrets of Sheffield had an entire chapter devoted to superstitions; well it certainly made my job a lot easier. I headed back to my motel and sat on the beat up bed, scanning through the superstitions chapter to find what Arthur had told me about earlier.

'Robert Jones, born 1774, is believed to be behind the mysterious murders of five families over the last two hundred years- that makes six families now –he murdered his own family in 1798 through poison which destroyed their brains and causing severe haemorrhaging…' That explained the blood filled ears and eyes, if this has happened before there was no doubt it was a case, whole families shouldn't die, I felt a personal need to solve this case, after all I had experienced a similar loss.

When I awoke the following morning the book was resting across my chest and my neck was stiff from leaning against the headboard of the bed. I hadn't intended to stay up till four in the morning reading the 'Secrets of Sheffield' book, it had just sort of happened. Feeling grouchy and in need of caffeine hit I went back to the house to check for EMP to get to the bottom of why the spirit of Robert Jones would be targeting families in the town. I parked my car across the street from the house and walked over; I cautiously picked the lock on the back door and stepped inside the kitchen. It was here that it happened; there were still blood stains on the table and on the floor. It made me feel sick, why did he slaughter a whole family, did he do it just for kicks?

The family had a name, they were the Mason's. Two loving doting parents, a son, a daughter and the family dog which currently resides with the next door neighbours. I peared over the fence and could see the dog cowering under their picnic bench, the dog was unwanted there, I could see that. Making a mental note to ask the neighbours about the Mason's later I continue my search through the house. Nothing seemed strange or different. The Mason's seemed as much a normal family as mine had been. Had being the key word.

I found photos from family holidays, birthdays and days out. Everyone's life had been cut short and I was still no nearer to finding out why. There were traces of EMP, a spirit had been here. And I was 99% sure it was that of Robert Jones but why had he chosen this family in this average normal suburban neighbourhood?

I left through the back door again, I locked the door with a key I found and posted it through the letter box, it was only fair right? I went back to my car and grabbed a bite to eat from a bakery, it was only a dry bread roll but it would have to do.

An hour alter I returned to the neighbourhood and parked up again, a black Chevrolet Impala was parked where I had before hand. I climbed out of my truck, the door slamming with a satisfying thud. Glancing at the house movement in one of the upstairs windows caught my eye. Someone else was in there; my theory was the police maybe someone had seen me break in earlier.

Deciding to wait until the visitors had left the house I knocked on the neighbours door the one who now had the dog, well according to the local paper anyway. "Hello, can I help you?" a young woman carrying a baby answered the door.

"Errm yeah, I'm the niece of the woman who lived next door, my name's Alice," yeah okay it's a lie but maybe if she believed that I was related to them she'd be more willing to talk to me.

"Have you come to collect the dog?" she asked impatiently, okay, what? That's definitely not what I came here fore.

"No, I just wanted to know if you knew anymore about what happened." I asked, still stood on the doorstep. I got the feeling that this woman didn't really care.

"Oh, no I don't they just seemed like a perfectly normal family and then one day they all just dropped dead ."

After speaking with the neighbout I headed for the library after making a stop for coffee. Arriving at the library I sat down at the computer with all the old newspaper clippings on it. I have to say 1774 was not an exciting year for news headlines. Robert Jones was the biggest story I could find. Everything else was the opening of public buildings or crop failures.

Back to the Robert Jones story, Jones was 46 years of age, had two children and a dog. Okay so everything matched the Mason's so far. I read on in the news article, Jones had brutally murdered his family through poison following the bankruptcy of his bank firm. Unable to admit failure it was easier to destroy their lives. After murdering his family Jones then slit his throat with the knife used to carve that evenings beef joint.

"Excuse me Miss?" A soft voice interrupted my reading. It took a moment to register. I was so caught up in reading the old newspapers articles from 1774 that I hadn't noticed anyone else around me. That was until I looked up to the voice and realised it was the two boys from earlier, the college boys. I frowned slightly. "We were just wandering how long you were going to be?" The owner of the voice was the tall guy.

"I'm pretty much finished," I replied shutting my notepad quickly. If they saw what I had written about spirits they would think I was crazy. I stood up and let the boys use the computer; standing behind them I shoved my notebook and pen into my messenger bag.

"Huh, would you look at that, we don't even have to put any effort into our research," I looked up as I heard this; the taller of the pair had turned to face me. Staring open mouthed, I didn't hear the shorter one continue to speak. These two must be hunters also; I had no other explanation for it. Inside I was kicking myself, I should have noticed sooner.

The taller of the two had an eyebrow raised at me; again my mouth was still hanging wide open. I shut it and swallowed. The taller of the two had messy brown hair, pale blue eyes and his features were soft. The shorter one had short hair, the same coloured eyes and a smirk across his face as he muttered to himself about the newspaper article.

"Hey Sammy, you even listening," he nudged the taller one and then saw me.

"You know about Jones?" the taller one asked his voice like velvet.

"Errm yeah," I managed to stutter out, I didn't want to give too much away. This was the second time I had met a hunter, the first time was the night of my family's death.

"What do you know about him?" the shorter one asked, his voice had rough edge.

I shrugged, "he killed his family," I meant to state it in a matter of fact way but it came out slightly bitter. I slung my bag over my shoulder and was planning on walking off and leaving the pair, however, the shorter one stuck his arm out and the taller one pulled up a chair and shoved it between their two chairs.

"Sit," it was more of a demand than a request from the shorter one. Like hell I was going to do that, I was out to do this for myself.

"Please," the taller one said with a slight smile, I felt my self cave in at his voice. Mentally I was kicking myself, where on earth was my strength, I scolded my mind as I sat down. "I'm Sam and that's Dean," he introduced.

"Alice," I replied, yeah it was fair to say I wasn't overly impressed with the situation. "You two are hunters," I stated more than questioned.

"Yeah, could we say the same for you?" both Sam and Dean looked at me expectantly.

"Yeah," I mumbled as I reached into my bag and pulled out my notebook so I could get straight down to business and leave as soon as possible. "Jones murdered his family after his bank went bankrupt, took his family with him and now his spirit is doing exactly the same thing. The Mason's, Mr Mason had his own firm, it was in financial difficulties. The same thing has happened to five other families throughout history."

"Dammit Sam, she's as nerdy as you," Dean said, I frowned, I wasn't a nerd, I just had a small liking for facts and books. Facts don't betray you; they are straight to the point, true. A person could rely on facts.

"So that's all I know, it seems pretty straight forward, I've just got to salt and burn the bones," I shoved the note book in my bag.

"Do you happen to know where he's buried?" Sam asked. I looked up from fumbling with the broken zip on my bag and met Sam's eyes. The result, I was brain-dead. "Errm, err, n-no," I managed to stutter out, okay this was stupid, surely it hadn't been that long since I had a decent conversation, social skills don't just vanish. Taking a deep breath I continued my answer, "no, not yet, I would carry on looking but I have to see to my dog."

"Oh well, how about we find out and you could meet us later?" Dean asked. I heard Sam scoff from behind me.

"Yeah sure," I replied, hah, that was a lie, I didn't need their help, I could do this all on my own, I had to do it all on my own.

"Awesome, there's a bar over the road, we'll meet there at 8 o'clock," Dean clapped his hands together.

"Okay, I'll see you later," I stood up and with one last smile from Sam I left the library. I had no intention of meeting them later; I would just come back later and find out where Jones was buried. As I walked into the sunny parking lot I kept trying to convince myself that what I'm doing, hunting, is good for me, it the right thing for me. Sadly, I knew it was a losing battle yet I was still going to go through with it all.