Author's Note:

Just to be clear on the timeline and scenario of this story, as far as the writing fairies have told me, Ruby does exist, but her appearance will be minimal, if any. Sam has gone through his demon blood phase already and he and Dean are trying to get back on the road.

CHAPTER ONE

It had been a year since Dean returned from Hell. Although he and Sam had picked up where they left off, there were still complications in their relationship. Sam seemed darker; his hatred for the demons and monsters that they hunted seemed extreme. And as much as Dean liked Sam's new no tolerance for the baddies, he still caught himself flinching every time Sam ganked one of the sons of bitches.

They were on their way back to the motel after a particularly nasty hunt involving an overly enthusiastic poltergeist that enjoyed plastering the walls of a home with the resident's entrails. Luckily, he and Sam had exorcised it before it got to the new family, but the kids were definitely going to need therapy.

"Dude I can't wait to get this gunk off me," Dean said as he turned down the radio. Sam had switched it over to some god awful country station, filling the Impala with the sounds of either an ostrich playing a banjo or the screeching of a dying cat.

"You'd think we'd remember raincoats each time we do this," Sam replied, staring down at his favourite shirt which now had half dried ectoplasm staining it.

"At least it didn't burn like last time," Dean stated. He pulled some AC/DC out of the cassette box and put it in the player, filling his head with what few good childhood memories he had.

Since he had gotten back from Hell, he found that most nights, he had to hum Hey Jude to get to sleep; Sam didn't seem to mind, but Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could go without a good night's sleep.

They pulled into the motel at just around 3 in the morning, their eyes heavy with sleep. Dean had almost fallen asleep while driving, but finally decided to pull over and let Sam finish the drive home. Dean entered the motel room first, but instead of the lights being turned off like he and Sam had left it, all the lights were turned on, making the room almost blinding.

When he and Sam's eyes adjusted to the light, they noticed that their beds were neatly made, their clothes had been folded and placed at the edge of each bed.

Raising their guns, they turned their attention to the bathroom, where the shower faucet was being turned off. For a second, Dean thought he heard someone humming. Sam looked over at Dean, his eyes unsure of what to do. They didn't have to wait long however, as a young woman stepped out from the bathroom. She screamed and kicked the guns out of their hands before promptly kicking Sam into a wall. Dean reached to grab her, but she flipped him and threw him to the ground, her legs and hands pinning him.

"Jesus Christ you guys scared the hell out of me!" she yelled at Dean as he struggled against her grip. What the hell?! he thought as he tried to pry her fingers from his wrists, to no avail. This girl was tiny, all of 130 pounds maybe, and here he was, unable to move an inch.

"Before you freak out or I don't know, over react or anything, just relax. I'm not a demon," she explained, her hazel eyes pleading.

"And how exactly do you plan on proving that?!" Dean grunted, continually trying to get her off of him, as much as he liked that kind of position on a woman, he didn't like the fact that this kid had him stuck.

"I don't know, maybe-" She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Sam pulled her off of Dean and splashed her in the face with holy water. She stared at them disapprovingly before spitting out the water that had found its way into her mouth and nose.

"Okay, so I'm not a demon. Happy now?" she asked, holding the towel to her body.

"Not yet princess," Dean said as he stood in front of her, his arms crossed. Sam pulled a silver blade out from his back pocket, the girl immediately stiffened.

"Look, I don't want any trouble."

"Good, then put out your arm," Sam said as he went to grab her wrist. She quickly pulled back.

"No." Sam grabbed for her arm again.

"Back off! I have an allergy to silver dumbass! I break out in itchy disgusting hives okay?"

"How are we supposed to know if you're a werewolf or a wendigo?" Sam asked.

"Looks like you're just gonna have to trust me Rambo." Dean stared at the girl, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our motel room?"

"The name is Grace. Don't wear it out," she said as she went back into the bathroom, Sam and Dean took a few steps towards her. "Woah woah woah, no boys allowed," she continued as she quickly shut the door and locked it.

Dean looked over at Sam, who looked back over at his brother. Sharing quizzical and confused looks, the two brothers wandered around the room, unsure of what to do. Sam checked the bed side tables while Dean looked under the beds for hexbags. It was under the bed that Dean found it, Grace's bag. He opened the zipper and dumped the contents of it onto the bed. Asides from an obscene amount of fake credit cards and maps, a journal was shoved into the bottom. Dean held it up, grinning at his find. Sam gave him a glare before speaking,

"Dean we are not going to go through her diary!"

"How else are we going to know who or what she is?!"

"You could start by asking me," Grace said as she exited the bathroom fully clothed. Her taste in clothes was far from the traditional hunter style, if her bright purple X-Men t-shirt was any indication. She tousled her hair, filling the room with the scent of the woods. "Hope you don't mind Sam, I used some of your shampoo. I thought they were lying when they said you had fabulous hair, but I guess not! It's like a lion's mane or something!" she laughed as she sat on the bed and began putting some rainbow socks on.

Sam stared at her while Dean held in the urge to laugh. After receiving a glare from his brother, Dean quickly coughed to hide his smile and gave Grace his best poker face.

"Alright. Enough of this whole rainbow-sparkle-princess-not-a-demon-shit, who are you?"

"I already told you Dean," she stated simply before leaning back on the bed.

"Tell us again," Sam said as he sat against the opposite wall. Grace sighed as she crossed her legs.

"My name is Grace, I'm 19 years old and I'm a hunter."

"How do you know our names?"

"I'll admit I was unsure if I would be able to tell you two apart, your names are kind of stuck together in the hunting world. But someone described you, Sam, as a moose so when I saw you, I knew I had the right room. Not to mention all the plaid. You know you're in a hunter's room when there's plaid everywhere."

Sam charged towards her, his face filled with impatience. Grace skirted up the bed, pulling her knees to her chest.

"Answer the question," Sam breathed, his voice low, a tone he usually reserved for demons. Dean moved a little closer, wanting to hold back his brother. It was clear by the expression on her face, that Grace was scared. "How do you know our names?"

"An angel told me."

Dean perked up. It had been a while since he had heard from Castiel, he prayed that this was the angel she was talking about.

"Who?"

"Castiel," Grace replied as she slid to the other side of the bed and away from Sam. She went around to Dean's bed where she began to put her bag back in order. "Jeez, did you have to dump everything? It's not like it's my private life or anything."

"How do you know Castiel? Are you an angel?"

The girl laughed.

"Hardly! You see Mr. Winchester, you and I have something in common," Grace stated, grinning, the excitement in her eyes shining.

"Oh really?"

Grace pulled up her sleeve to reveal a handprint burned into her flesh.

"Castiel saved me too."

Author's Note:

I assure that this does get better. I'm terrible at writing first chapters, so please don't let this chapter decide whether or not you like this yet.