Summary: Becca never believed in monsters… until she became a target during one of Sam and Dean's hunts. With her perception of the world forever changed, Becca gradually enters the hunter lifestyle. Every now and then, she again crosses paths with the brothers. But this is the story of her life.

Author Notes: This story will follow the tv show and will not mess with the existing storyline. Read it as an extra, untold story that was cut out from the show, with events occurring between episodes. However, I may bend time slightly… for example, if originally only a month passed between two episodes, I might extend it into two months so there will be enough time for my story's events to play out.

Everything begins somewhere after Season Two's third episode "Bloodlust" (so John has made his deal with Azazael and the Impala finally gets fixed up after the crash) but before Season Two's fifth episode "Simon Said" (when things start to get a bit crazy with Sam's abilities).

Happy reading!

CHAPTER ONE

Dean opened his eyes and sighed, not yet ready to wake up and face another drudgingly awful day. The digital clock sitting on the tv stand across the hotel room said 2:37am, but sunlight peeked through the half-drawn curtains, forming random shadowy patterns on the ceiling.

'Damn this crappy hotel!' he thought. Refusing to leave the shabby bed with its worn sheets and squished pillows, Dean flailed his arm out at the nightstand and felt around for his phone. His fingers finally tightened around it and with a click of a button, it showed 7:22am.

Sam was probably off at some diner in town, meticulously picking his way through news articles in search of a case. The world had been strangely quiet the past few weeks, with little to no activity worthy of piquing a hunter's interest. Like the calm before a storm. A heavy, stuffy, drives-one's-mind-slowly-insane kind of calm. But there was no doubt a storm was brewing… That hellish yellow-eyed demon was out there somewhere, planning his next move, and all Sam and Dean could do was wait for his next appearance.

'Damn it all!' Dean climbed out of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Without Sam there, he didn't have to worry about putting on a fake show of perseverance and a we're-gonna-tough-this-out-together attitude. He splashed his face at the sink and stared at himself somberly in the mirror. Dad was dead. He'd probably made a deal with that son-of-a-bitch demon to save Dean's life, cursing Dean to live with the heavy burden forever. He didn't know how much longer he could handle it.

The sound of the room's door opening and closing snapped Dean out of his brooding thoughts and he straightened his shoulders before leaving the bathroom to meet his brother.

"Here, I brought breakfast." Sam plopped a plastic bag of cheap convenience store foods onto the wobbly hotel room table, pulled out his laptop, and sat down. "I got you one of those fruit pie snacks – cherry flavor – and picked out as many of the doughnuts I could find that looked edible."

"Aw, no apple?!"

"No. They didn't have any. Just cherry."

"Dude, we have got to get outta this town!" Dean said as he picked through all the food. "Crappy hotels, no real pie, and no bars! I'm not spending another day here. Please tell me you got somethin."

"Actually, yes." Sam turned his laptop around to face Dean. "Three women have disappeared in the same town in the past three months. It seems all of them disappeared while they were jogging along a stretch of bike trail that connects the parks and natural areas in the city. No bodies, no sign of them whatsoever. They're all just gone."

"Sounds like nothing special. Why should we be interested?"

"They each disappeared on nights of the full moon."

"You thinkin' werewolf?"

"I dunno, maybe."

"With the lack of gore? If it were a werewolf, there'd be a trail of bodies, not missing persons."

"Still worth looking into… especially cause it'll get us out of this place."

Dean threw his hands up in the air. "Nuff said! Let's get outta this hell hole!"

HiiiIIIIIssssSSSSSssssspppPPp!

Boiling water splashed over the sides of the pot on the stove, quickly steaming up the small apartment's kitchen like a sauna.

"Shit!" Becca yelled aloud to herself as she hopped, only half dressed, into the kitchen and turned the stove's heat off. She grabbed the boiling pot of water while balancing on one foot… She had a stack of books tucked under her arm and she was trying unsuccessfully to pull her running shorts up her legs. "Today, of all days, was supposed to be easy! Get off work early, make a simple lunch, read a little, go out for a jog. Oh simple my ass! Why can't one day go right? One. Single. Day!"

Once dressed, she dumped her batch of overcooked spaghetti into a pasta strainer, grabbed a set of keys, forced her feet into a pair of shoes she refused to take the time to untie, then headed for her front door. What she needed more than anything right now was a long afternoon run, during which all she had to worry about was putting one foot in front of the other. No angry customers at work, no unmanageable car payments, and no broken plumbing systems to worry about… just simple running.

A jog through the nearby Riverbend Ponds Natural Area always made her feel better. In fact, she had moved into her current apartment because its front door opened right up onto the bike trail that led through it. The small section of woods, a grassy field blooming with wildflowers, and a tiny creek full of skittish minnows and crayfish made the place a quiet paradise nestled in the middle of town. It was the perfect spot for Becca to escape the crazy hectic atmosphere of a bustling city. Plus, she really needed to get some sunlight; she'd been cooped up inside for far too long.

As she opened her front door, Becca grabbed her hair and began bunching it up into a pony tail, but the hairband broke and snapped painfully against her hand and ricocheted across the room.

"Ow! Gosh flippin' stupid piece of crap!" She stepped over the threshold and walked straight into the man standing on her doorstep, his arm outstretched as if he had been about to knock on her door. "What the fu – Oh! I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were standing there!" She eyed the guy suspiciously, and peered around at a second, very tall man standing behind the first. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in whatever it is you're trying to sell. Ha, I don't have any money anyway, so you're wasting your time! Oh, unless you're here for a religious or political spiel, in which case I kindly decline to listen to your speech. Ah, sorry, that's impolite of me… Erm, just having a bad day. I'm about to leave, so, er–"

"Ma'am!" The really tall dude stuck his hand out to stop Becca's blabbering. "Wait, we're not here to sell you anything. We apologize for the confusion and for intruding, but we were hoping to ask you a few questions. We're from the FBI." Both men pulled out badges and ID's for her to look at.

"Oh, I guess … Is there some kind of trouble? Are you sure we can't do this some other time?" Becca asked hopefully.

"We'd really like to talk with you now. It's procedure."

Becca slumped her shoulders in defeat, stepped aside, and swept her arm in towards the living room to indicate they should go inside. This was turning into one hell of a day.

Dean glanced around the small living room. It was tidy, uncluttered ... and this chick was definitely awesome for having such a huge tv. He leaned back into the couch and twiddled his fingers impatiently. Sam was sitting next to him, hands in his lap, while they waited for the gal to return with… whatever it was she was getting.

"Just one more sec!" she shouted from the kitchen. He heard dishes clanking together and a fridge door being slammed shut.

Dean sighed and dropped his head back against the couch cushions. They'd already interviewed four people today and had found no leads. The last two hours had been particularly awful. They'd spent an hour talking with an old woman surrounded by cats and another hour with a guy worried about the FBI finding his marijuana.

He glanced to his right at the small terrarium sitting on the end table beside the couch. There was some sort of flowering plant in there and he started lifting the terrarium's lid so he could smell one of the pink blooms. Cause why the hell not?

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the woman said as she walked into the room carrying an armful of cups and drinks. Dean jumped as if caught doing something he should be guilty for and the terrarium lid clinked shut. "There's a black widow spider in there."

Dean looked at Sam and silently mouthed "WTF?!" He slid across the couch and moved closer to Sam, away from the creepy spider cage.

"Not that she'd hurt you. Black widows are actually gentle creatures that are more afraid of you than you are of them. They almost never bite… they'd rather run away and hide." The woman began setting cups down on the coffee table in front of them.

"You know, there are actually scientific studies in which people spent their time trying to get one to bite, and the researchers basically came to the conclusion that you'd have to sit down and practically pull off the spiders' legs before it'd turn around and bite you. Or you'd have to threaten her egg sac full of babies, if she has one."

The crazy spider lady placed a carton of orange juice, two bottles of yellow Gatorade, and a six-pack of beer alongside the cups. Then she plopped down on the comfy-looking recliner chair across from them. "I named her Old Lady Mac," she said, smiling inwardly to herself as if there was a joke. "Anyway, sorry about the lack of drink choices I have for you. I don't even know when I last went to the grocery store. Can you even have beer while you're on duty? I've got water if you want that instead."

Dean just stared and gaped, but Sam jumped right in. "No thanks, this Gatorade will be fine for me. Old Lady Mac, eh? As in L. mactans, the scientific name for black widows?"

The woman beamed. "Yup! You're the first person who's ever gotten that."

Dean turned and stared at Sam with a look that said, Really dude? Really? Sam shrugged his shoulders. He'd learned a bit about spiders a few months ago while researching a case in which they hunted an Unktomi, or a Native American spider creature known for its evil trickery.

"So, what's all this about?" she asked.

"Well ma'am, er –" Sam faltered. They still hadn't gotten her name.

"Oh! Becca. I'm Becca! Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. We're here to ask you a few questions about the recent missing persons cases that have developed over the last few months. All three women disappeared right in this area and we just want to know if you've seen or experienced anything strange lately."

"No, nothing weird. It's a super depressing situation though. Their families must feel so awful," Becca said with genuine empathy and sorrow. She looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Have you heard any strange noises at night? Felt any cold spots or …."

Sam's voice droned on with questions and Dean began to tune some of it out. Not that he wasn't paying attention! But he could tell already the young woman didn't have any interesting leads for them. Yup. Definitely no interesting leads, though sheherself was definitely interesting.

This Becca gal was actually quite attractive. She had a cute face with naturally long eyelashes, green eyes, and wavy shoulder-length brown hair that framed her face. She was small (about 5'4") but seemed strong and had very nice, relatively-long, athletic legs.

Dean reached for his drink glass and took a sip of orange juice. His mind wandered and he imagined himself easily picking her small body up in his arms and tossing her into a bed, those legs wrapping around him… He lost concentration on what he was doing and began choking on his drink, coughing and spluttering.

"Ech! Um, sorry!" Cough, cough. "I, uh..." Ahem, clearing his throat. "It just went down the wrong pipe." Dean fought to gain control of his voice as his coughing cleared the last bit of orange juice from his throat. Both Sam and Becca stared at him, a concerned look on each of their faces.

"Are you okay?" Becca asked. Dean waved his hand in an I'm-okay gesture.

"Just as well," Sam said. "I think we're done. Thank you very much for your time Becca. Here's our card in case you think of anything else. Or if you notice something out of the ordinary, don't hesitate to contact us. Oh, and stay indoors tonight. Full moons make people go crazy." Everyone stood up to leave and Dean spared one last nervous glance at the spider terrarium as they left the living room.

"Thanks." Becca led them to the front door.

As Dean followed Sam through the doorway and onto the patio, he turned around and blurted, "Okay, so you say they're nice… But still, why keep a potentially dangerous spider? What's the point?" He surprised himself by asking the question. Why should he care? And yet… he was still curious.

Becca smiled sheepishly. "Well, you only have to feed them once a month. Easiest pet ever! But I guess I like that they're so laid-back… until something seriously threatens them or their family. Then they hulk out on whatever is dumb enough to bother them."

Dean nodded. Now that was something he could relate to.