CHAPTER ONE

"…I don't want to talk about it Munchkin." Harry Potter mentally said to Beatrice. She retorted back mentally, "Yeah, and that's doing you a whole lot of goods". That shut Harry up and she continued on sending, "You know how much I hate these deep and meaningful talks, so talk now before I regress back to my macho self." Harry remained silent for several minutes.

She felt his growing turbulent emotions through their link during the silence before he sent, "Sister, you never talk whenever I ask you what you're hiding from me for the past two to three years."

Beatrice dejectedly sighed and remained silent. Harry heard her sigh and sent back, "Look, I'll talk when I'm ready. But don't you go all ice-man on me when I do."

Beatrice chuckled openly. "I'll be waiting cookie." Before she tuned away from the telepathic link she shared with her brother Harry, a "don't call me cookie Beatrice" was screamed into her ear.Giggling lightly, she ignored Harry's cries and began her nightly read. Like every other night, she would spend nearly an hour before bedtime reading one of the many thick tombs she would find in her vast library. And like any other day, her brain, like a sponge; would absorb all the newly discovered information about magic. Today's reading however, wasn't as hardcore as most of the other days books. Only a light text about the dark arts, Beatrice found herself worrying about her twin brother who was living half way across the world in the UK. She knew without asking that Cedric Diggory's death affected Harry badly. After all, seeing a mate of yours die in cold blood in front of your eyes is not an easy thing to get over. Even with the continuous soothing sensations she mentally sends across the telepathic connection they share, he wasn't getting any better. I just want him to stop being in pain all the time…and the Dursleys' ain't helping at all…damn Dumbledore orders. He should just stay with the Weasleys, or take residence up in Grimmauld Place. Trying to shake herself to stop dwelling over the 'dark' thoughts, instead, she was shook out of her reverie by the loud blasting of her cell. AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' noisily shattered the silence that had previously permeated her room, but before it could finish the phrase "I'm on the highway to hell…" Beatrice flipped the lid of her Nokia and answered, "Hello."

"Hey Beatrice. It's John Winchester here."

Her honey-combed voice sweetly replied, "Hey Mr. Winchester. Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, but why are you ringing?"

John Winchester quietly muttered, "Sam left for California."

Beatrice could hear the weariness in John's voice that was bleeding from each and every syllable he enunciated. She also knew without asking that he had been drinking and crying, if the roughness of his voice was anything to go by. You Winchesters, never do anything the simple way eh? Using her soft-soothing-mothering tone, she said, "Mr. Winchester? You want me to do something?"

"No…Yes, I want to ask you for a favor…" Beatrice instantly replied, "Shoot"…damn; it must've been bad to have Mr. Winchester asking for help…

"I know right now, Sam would rather talk to you than Dean and I, so can you for the next couple of months, just keep an eye out for him?" John broke off softly, still emotional from Sam's recent departure.

Without needing to think, Beatrice replied "Sure thing". Taking a breath, she prepared herself for John's sure defiance for her next question, "Can I ask, what the hell happened between you and Sam?" Dammit Sammy, I told you to talk to your father, not screaming until near asphyxiation, and I bet Dean gave that advice too…

Like her prediction, John's defiant voice came through the line, "Let's just say that we had a huge disagreement, and we'll leave it at that. And Miss Evans, call me John. Cut the Mister crap."

"Yes sir…" Bea brightly replied to John. John only sighed in frustration. How many years have I told her to call me John, but does she listen? No, not once.

Why can't Sam and his father just stop arguing, no, not arguing, stop the word sparring and stabbing at each other for once. It won't hurt…they both hate the yelling, why do they make simple things so hard…. Not long after making some small talk, Beatrice hung up.

She debated internally before grabbing her cell and speed dialing Sam Winchester. Come on Sam…pick up…please… While waiting for her old friend to pick up, she recollected the memory of her first meeting with the Winchester men.

Around 3 Year Ago…

A twelve-year-old Beatrice padded softly down the stairs of the local library, her school bag slung lazily on one shoulder. 2 minutes into her trip home, she had a prickly sensation on the back of her neck, the feeling of being followed. Stopping abruptly, she slipped her hand into her right jeans pocket, fingering her wand; ready for strike. She made one mistake though; stopping right next to a dark alley, she never saw 2 figures pounce on her when her head swiveled around to look for her stalker. With a light oomph, she was pinned to the wall next to her with her assailant's arm across her collarbone. A blink of an eye later, 2 more men surrounded her, a younger one and an older one. Father and sons? Who knows…I just know I have to get away. Sensing upcoming trouble, she disregarded the number one rule for wizards of "no magic in front of muggles" and fired. Swiftly moving her free hand to her pocket, she grabbed her wand and gave a quick wave. A second later, all three men were a foot away from her. All stumbling to regain their footing, Beatrice took the time to survey the three men. Is that Sam? Sam Winchester the geek who wouldn't hurt a fly? And is that his brother Dean? The mechanic with delicious lips that all my female classmates are swooning over? What do they want…hell, all ganging up on me with their father in tow…

Beatrice took deep breaths to stop her rapid heat beats. She slipped her wand back into her pocket and softly, albeit angrily ask, "To what pleasure do I own you three?" no need of politeness…hostage situation doesn't mean chit chat…

Dean yelled back, "Oh, don't act so innocent, you friggin psychotic witch."

Getting a tad offended at the insult, she acerbically asked, "May I ask? What did this friggin psychotic witch do?"

John, with the pepper hair and scruffy beard took the initiative and angrily answered her; "You had cursed every man who didn't reciprocate your feelings, by stripping them off their masculinity and had them near castration."

God, are they that thick. I would've expected more from the young Winchester brother, and why in nine hells are they tracking down witches? Re-enacting 1600 Salem? Beatrice spread her legs apart slightly, as if preparing for a fight, and bluntly said, "I did not do it. Use your brain for one moment you dick. I'm twelve. Twelve year olds don't hook up. Hell, half the kids in my class don't even know what sex is. Are you that ignorant or what?"

In a timid voice, Sam quietly said from Dean's left, "Ummm…I think we got the wrong girl here. I just remembered, Beatrice Evans, 7th grade in secondary school. Everybody loves her." In turn, Beatrice sent him a reassuring smile and a gentle "Thank you".

Averting her eyes back to the three in general, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and slouched slightly before saying, "Now, can I trust you not to attack me the moment I move, or is that just an assumption?"

John nodded. However, Beatrice saw the look he gave Dean and Sam. Not trusting the small group at all, she took out her wand and proudly summoned all weapons from the three men. Three guns and two knives came flying towards her. Sequentially, she expertly seized them during their 'flight'.

Sam glared at her with betrayed brown puppy eyes and growled out, "You are a witch. I thought…"

"Aww Sam, don't be so prejudiced. Not all witches are bad. You don't see me cursing your dick off." Beatrice cut him off defensively.

Sam and Dean remained silent, slightly afraid what she'll do if they angered her. Both shared a look and shared one thought…I don't want to see her pissed off…she's a scary twelve year old… John though, wasn't frightened. He wasn't a happy man tonight. It seemed Beatrice was going to be the end of his anger. Unfortunately, or fortunately in Beatrice's case, he never got to voicing his feelings. Beatrice the quick mouth got the first in this quarrel contest. She tried to reason, "Look, the only reason I took your weapons is because you were literally holding me hostage. Don't deny it, you were…well, your son was. Now, I can bind you and leave with your lovely toys, or we can come to a truce and be all happy people by tonight no blood, no injuries. What do you say?"

If anything, John got more furious at this. Beatrice just gave him a fake smile, waiting for his decision. A minute has passed and Beatrice was getting impatient. Not only was he wasting her time, undoubtedly he was wasting his and his sons time. She prompted, "You know, I can wait all night if you want."

At that, John gave a low growl and unhappily relented. "Fine. You return our weapons. We leave you alone." God, I have never come across such a pain in the ass like this girl here, and she's only twelve. Dammit, I'm in a power struggle against a twelve year old, a girl no less…

Beatrice's face immediately transformed. Gone was the pissed off pre-teenager and in place, was a charming young girl who was smiling brightly. She hastily moved away and slipped her wand back into her pocket. Offhandedly, she said, "By the way, the hag you were looking for, she won't be doing any spells anytime soon. Stole her texts when I gave her a visit last night." At her statement, both sons gave her a look. One should never base a book by its cover. Dressed in faded baggy jeans, loose tee and checkered short sleeve shirt, nobody would have suspected her being a witch. Most would presume her being a normal nerdy student. Added to the list of being twelve years old, one would never presume her to be cheeky and mature.

Sam, being unable to stay angry at his thought so bad-ass of the week for too long, tilted his head at her and asked, "Why aren't you like all the other witches?" his father and brother stopped their doings to pay attention to her answer.

"You mean the normal humans with hex bags?"

Sam gave a timid nod.

Bea chuckled before replying, "I'm a real witch. It's in the blood. The hags that we come across every day, they're just amateurs, messing with real dark arts, and inadvertently selling their souls for bad-ass demons."

Dean made a disgusted face and said, "So you're telling me that there's a whole lotta people like you who wave wands and are magical naturally."

Bea nodded, "Yep, to put it bluntly." They obviously learnt something new tonight…

John then asked, obvious interest in his voice, "Then how come we've never come across people like you?"

"Wizards and witches like me, we're like a whole different world. We have our worlds, and you have yours. No interference or association. Normal people like you aren't supposed to know about us. We like to keep to ourselves." Beatrice gave the best explanation she could come up with. I think that made sense…well…

Sam retorted, "But you just exposed yourself…"

"It was a dire situation, where no other method would save me. And if I followed the magical laws, I should be currently wiping your memory clean of the last hour."

Dean growled out, "So are you?"

What is with Winchesters and growling…it's not attractive… "No, because I can't be bothered." Beatrice replied.

By this time, she and the three Winchester had walked over to the Impala. She licked her lips unconsciously at the beautiful car. Only Sam's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "You want to catch a ride back to your place? We did scare the crap outta you just then, and it's dark now. Not fit for a young girl like you."

Bea shook her head. She felt imposing. However, John backed up Sam's feelings and said, "Jus hop in. The front seat will ya? I need directions."

Bea sighed then climbed into the back, despite John's request. She simply said while climbing into the backseat joining Sam, "I live on the block across you. The two-story with the cream colored gate."

The minute John slot his keys into the ignition, Beatrice lent forward slightly and asked, "Mr. Winchester, may I ask? What is it that you do? Going after demon whores? Isn't it a bit Salem 1692?"

Giving her a glance through the rear-view mirror, John trained his eyes back on the road and said, "We're hunters, people that hunt the supernatural."

Beatrice gave a shudder and said, "Should I be worried? After all, I am the epitome of supernatural."

Chuckling deeply, John grinned and assured her, "Naa…we won't smite you. Just don't start attacking innocents and we'll be nice."

Beatrice and the Winchesters exchanged emails and phone numbers that night. It was a very atypical way to start a friendship.

Present

The sound of Sam's voicemail broke her out of her reverie. Giving a sigh, she dropped her cell next to her calf on the soft quilt and waited for him to call back. Not a minute later, her cell went off and the words "Winchester Sam" flashed repeatedly.

"Sam." Beatrice answered, leaning back against the headboard of her bed, knowing this will be a very long and intense conversation.

"You called me?" The rumbling of the Greyhound going over bumpy ground could be heard across the phone line.

Beatrice's heart broke a little at Sam's crushed timbre. She gently replied, "Yep. Heard about your leave"

"Oh."

Sam's ragged breathing could be heard clearly from the other line, an obvious factor to his upsetting feelings over his 'leave'.

"What the hell had happened Sam?" I don't care if I'm blunt...

"Beatrice…"

"Sam. I wouldn't be asking if you were feeling all right."

"I told dad. He didn't take it well. Said that I was betraying the family. I got mad after that. Tried to explain and reason, but you know dad. He only listens to his own reasons and nobody else's. Anyway, after reasoning didn't work, I flat out told him that I'm going no matter what. It's what I want. He got more pissed and said that if you go, stay gone. So I left."

Beatrice gasped when she heard Sam's last phrase. My god Mr. Winchester…I know you go a bit obsessive and narrow-minded on occasions, but still…you can't say that to Sam. He mustn't have meant it. I'm 99% sure. I literally heard the grief bleeding from him when I was on the phone… She didn't know if Sam heard her intake of breath or not. Ignoring that, she said soothingly, "Hey. He mustn't have meant that. It was only the anger talking."

"Yeah…must have been the anger."

Hearing the clear disbelief and gradual growth of gloominess in Sam's tone, she left the "John" topic alone and asked, "What about Dean?"

"Dean didn't say anything. Offered me a ride, but I declined."

Idiot… "and why did you decline his offer?"

"Wanted some alone time after the fight. I need to clear my head."

Ahhh…I guess… "You better call him when you get to Palo Alto."

"I will."

"You gonna call your dad?"

"Na. He wants me to stay gone. I'll stay gone."

"Sam…"

"Look. I didn't voluntarily decide to cut ties off with him, but he kicked me out of the family. So I'm doing what's best."

"And what's best is forgetting him and pretending they don't exist?"

"No. I'm just not talking to dad. Dean, I'm not losing Dean over this."

"Oh thank god. Sam still has his brain intact after all." Why are Winchester men so arghhhh!!!! Beatrice jibbed. Sam only gave a non-committal noise.

Sam went on rambling on about nothingness (clearly to get his mind off reality) to Beatrice for an extra hour before hanging up.

And I say again…Winchester men are so convoluted. Wait, is that the right word to use, or should I just simply say complicated? Man…Sam and his…

Her woolgathering session was interrupted when her dad stumbled heavily into her room; the scent of whisky was emanating strongly from him.

Oh no…dad…not the Jack again. You and Jack means trouble… Bea wheezed out 'dad', the word managing a myriad of emotions before mentally escaping reality. Lush green grass…clear blue sky…an array of shrubs neatly grown on the front lawn of a cute one-story house…