Alright guys, here you go. The next two or three chapters should be spaced over season 1 (I may go back and upload a Bad Boys flashbacks chapter and then notify y'all), and then we get to season 2, ect. I'll start doing more in-depth stuff in season 4-ish. If you want to read ahead a bit, and see some of her more AU fringe-canon adventures, head over to my roleplay blog jaggedwings on tumblr

This chapter has mentions of abuse, so skip to 2005 onwards if you don't want to read that.

Thanks to anna3311234 for your review!

Edit: I totally forgot to add one of the most important characters in here!

August,2001

The door slammed, and dust settled around it. I blinked. Sam couldn't be gone, could he? No, not like that, not forever. There had been an argument with John, Sam had announced he got into Stanford with a full ride, and he had reacted badly saying things like 'Are you really going to choose school over your family?'. It was classic John. The John I grew up being terrified of. The John who had raised Dean and me as soldiers. The John who had changed so much since he took me in. He wasn't even the same John I knew the day after my thirteenth birthday all those years ago, who was angry, but not this bitter. He had changed so much in the span of nine years, that if he didn't already know I was a Nephilim and that I had my powers under control, I would have feared for my life.

"Stay there. Both of you." He barked. Dean froze on his way to the door, probably wanting to try to talk to Sam.

"Yes sir." We chorused.

"Line up." He ordered.

We scrambled to stand next to each other, looking straight ahead and not daring to move a muscle. We knew what was coming, and I could already hear the clinking of whiskey bottles.

A few hours later...

"Are you okay?" Dean whispered. We were crouched in our room in the house we were squatting at, and the warm August air was seeping through the broken window.

"I-I-I'll be f-fine." I choked. I mentally cursed myself for stuttering. It was a form of weakness I had no control over. I'd had a bad stutter until school speech therapists finally helped me break it when I was ten, and I slipped back into it whenever I was scared or upset. I didn't cry, not since I was five, but I stuttered, and that was just as bad to the Winchesters.

"Hm." He grunted. After a bad run-in with John we would always assess each other's injuries, but this time, we didn't need to. John had forced us to take turns and watch the other being beaten, so we knew exactly what had happened to the other. I would be fine after a few minutes, and then I would heal Dean, but I don't think it really mattered either way. We still remembered, and we still took everything so that Sammy wouldn't have to. When I was around fifteen or so, John was the angriest I had ever seen him, and that year was the year we had the most 'run-ins'. That year I used my healing so often, that it wouldn't work sometimes, and one of us would be stuck with a huge bruise that we would have to explain to teachers and such.

November 5th 2005

We attended Jessica's funeral that day. It was long, and there were a lot of people crying, Sam included. I don't think I'd ever seen Sam as upset as he was after Jess burned. It was heartbreaking. And even though I didn't know the girl very well (we'd met a few times for coffee so I could keep tabs on my baby brother, which had surprised Sam when he found out), I said a few words. Mostly how I knew that she meant the world to my brother, and that I was hoping they would end up married, maybe have a few rugrats of their own, because they deserved to be a happy, normal family. Jess' mom burst out in another fit of tears when I broke the news that Sam had been getting up the nerve to propose, something he had told me during the hunt. He'd actually come to me for advice, and I'd laughed at him for a while, until I realized he was serious. I guess he didn't realize I was the last person in the universe to go to for romantic advice.

"I'm really sorry Kelly, I know how hard it is to loose family," I told Jess' very teary little sister. She was fourteen, and from what I could tell, loved her sister to death. "Can I tell you something? I lost my parents when I was really little, and I didn't even get to know them."

"Isn't that easier though?" She asked through her sobs.

"Not really, I think it might even be harder. See, I never got to learn what their favourite Ice cream flavour was, or if they really loved each other or anything," I said. "You got that chance, and you have a lot of great memories of your sister that you can think about. Maybe even one day that's all you'll remember, is the good things." I gave her a weak smile, and a pat on the head before heading back to the Impala where Dean and Sam were waiting.

"She really took a shine to you, huh?" Dean nodded his head towards Kelly.

"What can I say, I can relate to the whole dead family member thing," I deadpanned. "Let's go."

"Yeah, I don't want to be here anymore." Sam agreed. We got into the car where my daughter Reese was already waiting. She was eight years old, and looked like a perfect balance between her father and me.

"You alright Reese?" I asked softly. She'd liked Jess a lot, and even though she knew death came with the job, she kept working.

"I'm fine mom." She mumbled.

December 17th, 2005

Mary was creepy as Hell. Sam was standing in front of the mirror, he claimed that she would come after him, but I didn't see why. He said it had to do with Jess' death, and my mind was reeling, trying to figure out what that meant. Best to stay in the present though. Especially since Sam's eyes were starting to bleed.

"Duck!" Dean yelled. He threw his crowbar and the mirror smashed, and Sam collapsed to the floor. We both helped him to his feet and were about to leave when I heard a woman's voice talking to Dean.

"You killed all those people-" She was saying. Dean didn't let her continue, instead holding up a mirror, where her reflection kindly informed her that she killed a lot of people herself, and then Dean smashed it and she disappeared. Hopefully forever.

"That's gotta be, what, seven hundred years bad luck?" Dean joked. I punched him lightly on the arm, and Sam just scoffed and shook his head, though he was smiling.

The next day, we were driving out of town and I could have sworn I saw Jessica in a white dress as we drove by a street corner, and from how Sam was staring out his window, he had too.

January 15th, 2006

It was just over a week until Dean and my birthday. Dean was researching jobs, Sam was drawing something on the motel room notepad, and I was throwing knives at a corkboard I'd hung up where a picture was supposed to be.

"Wait a second, I know this!" Sam exclaimed. He jumped from the bed and dug through one of the bags until he pulled out a picture. It was of John, Mary, Dean, and baby Sam. Just a few days before the fire. It was the only place I ever saw John looking truly happy, or Dean for that matter. "Guys, I know where we have to go next."

"Where?" Dean asked.

"Back home, back to Kansas." Sam replied, like it was completely obvious.

"Okay, random. Where'd that come from?" I chuckled, throwing a knife and getting my fourth bulls-eye in a row. Bulls-eye might've meant right on the forehead of a drawing of God I'd done a few weeks back. It was pretty good if I did say so myself. Plus it looked like a drawing of some random, vaguely homeless dude with a lot of scruff and wearing a bathrobe. I have no clue where I got the impression God was a guy in his late twenties without a job, but I did.

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger."

"Why would you think that?" I made a face at Dean like 'can you believe this?'.

"Uh…it's just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?" He mumbled.

"Why would we trust you on this exactly?" Dean asked.

"Don't call me crazy or anything okay? But I've been having these nightmares." Sam admitted.

"And?"

"And sometimes... They come true." I kind of just stared at Sam for a few moments. Had he been having them too? He couldn't be having the same ones as me though, since he wasn't a Nephilim, and mine were more about a few years or months into the future, and all about my family. Never anything else, and especially not about people we didn't know.

"Excuse me?" Dean blinked.

"Look, before Jess died, I had nightmares about it." Sam explained.

"Yeah, people have nightmares about the people they love dying." Dean shrugged.

"But it was exactly how it happened, the fire and everything." Sam insisted.

January 24th, 2006

One day before our birthday, and Sam had been ghost possessed and almost shot Dean. Not the best birthday present ever. I had been locked in a grimy room for almost two hours by the time they finally got me out. God damn Doc Ellicot.

"Happy birthday guys." Sam grinned as he held up two brown paper packages.

"Thanks Sammy." I smiled softly. I was still tired from last night and my voice was scratchy from screaming myself hoarse.

"Yeah, thanks man." Dean chorused. We ripped the paper open at the same time.

"Awesome!" I said. My gift was a new machete, just in time too as my old one was falling off the handle, and a leather journal.

"Sweet!" Dean chuckled. He pulled out a bottle of car oil and a cassette of Led Zeppelin's 'In Through The Out Door' which our copy of had pretty much fallen apart from use.

It was an awesome day, and I completely forgot about finding who my dad was. Apparently so did everyone else. Even Bobby when we went to visit him and Reese, who lived with him all school year so she could go to one school, rather than bouncing around like my brothers and I.

March 28th, 2006

"Hey guys." John smiled sadly.

"Dad." Dean choked out.

"John." I nodded. I was in full soldier mode already. The last time we'd spoken hadn't ended up well, and I was expecting to be chewed out for it.

"Listen, we can't stay together, alright? That thing was after me, and I'd just be putting you in danger if you were with me." John said.

"No, no dad you can't just leave us!" Dean protested.

"He's right Dean, we'd just be in danger. They knew how to lure dad in." Sam admitted reluctantly.

I gaped at my baby brother. He had been downright obsessive about finding John, for months, and yet he was letting him go, just like that.

June 4th, 2006

We had the colt, John was posessed, Meg was dead, or at least the meatsuit was, Dean and I were badly injured, and Sam wouldn't shoot.

"Come on Sam! It's not really him!" I coughed. There was an awful amount of blood pooling out onto the floor, and I didn't want to think about it, but my head kept lolling forwards.

"But if I kill the demon, I kill him too." Sam mumbled. After a moment, he shot John in the leg and black smoke poured out of his mouth.

Driving. We were driving now. Dean and I were in the back, still bleeding. Were we going to the hospital? I couldn't think straight. I needed water. Sam and John were arguing in the front seat. I couldn't make out anything.

"No sir, not before family." Sam said. A truck crashed into us and I was out cold.