So I am so happy because I'm finally past the first episode. You get to see more Ris and Sam interaction, but I was looking through what I've written and realized that there's not a lot of Dean and Ris interaction. It's more because well, there hasn't really been a good place to put a lot of it. The first episode is always the hardest for me, whenever I write for SPN (you won't believe how many times I've written this, deleted it, rewritten it). I hope you all like this chapter.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to experience part of my imagination (:

(I hope that wasn't creepy)

I do not own Supernatural.

C-H-A-P-T-E-R

4

Maryse: 12

Sam: 18

Dean: 22

I kicked my legs back and forth under the table and stuffed another spoonful of Frosted Flakes into my mouth, listening to my dad and brother go at it again on the other side of the room. Dean sat beside me. I felt him staring at me, watching at how I reacted to the situation. Dad and Sam had been fighting more often than not lately, and Dean knew I didn't handle it well. I'd told him a few weeks ago when the fights became more frequent. I'd told him I knew that Sam wanted to go to college but that I was scared of him leaving us, that I was scared Dad would start hating Sam and kick him out. Of course, Dean had told me Dad wouldn't do that; Dad would never hate Sam. But with the way they were acting now, I was almost positively sure that Dad did hate Sam.

I finally put my spoon down, Dean's worried stare becoming too much. I looked up at him. "Dean, I'm fine," I said, already used to using the lie.

He nodded, and I knew he didn't believe me. At that moment, I'd wished I'd never told him about my fears; he didn't need to worry about me.

Suddenly, I heard stomping footsteps pass me, and my gaze lifted from Dean's towards the door where Sam stood. "If you walk out that door," Dad said from behind me, his voice loud and quivering with rage, "don't you ever come back!"

My eyes widened and began to fill with tears as I realized that my nightmare was coming true. Sam sneered at Dad, his decision clear to us as he turned to the door, holding his duffel on his shoulder. He opened it forcefully and exited, slamming the door behind him. I couldn't help the tears that had begun to fall, and I turned to Dean, my heart feeling as if it had shattered. I reached up to clutch my chest, a sob building up in my throat as I watched my father walking out the front door. Was he leaving too? Where was he going?

"Come here, Tiger," Dean said, moving towards me.

I could tell he was upset also, hurt like I was. He pulled me into a hug and I sobbed. My brother left. My big brother left us. He wouldn't want to talk to us ever again. He hated us.

"Were you crying?"

My head whipped to the side to look at Sam. "What?" I asked, my tone a little snappy.

"Were you crying?" Sam asked again, sliding his eyes from the road and towards me.

My face quickly hardened and I narrowed my eyes. "No," I answered, "Keep your eyes on the road and shut up."

I heard Sam chuckle a little, and he turned back to look at the road as he drove. I pulled the visor down and looked at my reflection. My cheeks were puffy and my blue eyes were glossed over with unshed tears. I'd had no idea I'd been crying in the shower, but even if I had, I would've never admitted it, not even to my brothers, especially not to my brothers. Crying was a big no-no for me.

"You've been around Dean too much," Sam said as I quickly threw the visor back up, "You act just like him."

I rolled my eyes at his statement.

"Either that or you're PMSing."

I turned in my seat and glared at him once more. He did not just say that. You don't just . . . tell a teenager girl that she's acting like she's PMSing. "Rude," I said, letting out a deep breath and turning my eyes back to the road as well.

He scoffed. "You know, Ris? I've missed teasing you."

A small smile spread its way across my face at that as we pulled off into the long driveway of Joseph Welch's house. Whether I would admit it or take his teasing any better than I did or not, I'd missed him teasing me too.

The Impala came to a stop a little ways away from Mr. Welch's house, and Sam started to get out when he noticed I hadn't moved. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Uh-uh, I'm gonna get Dean out of that station," I answered, turning to look at him. He grinned back at me, knowing my plan. Fake 911 call. Always a good enough distraction, and this town was small enough for all of the police officers having to leave the station.

The phone started ringing and I looked at Sam as he pulled it out of his pocket, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. It was now dark out, and we were heading to Constance's old house, where she was buried.

"Put it on speaker," I said.

He answered the phone and did as I asked, Dean's voice immediately coming through the speakers. "Fake 911 call. I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal."

I grinned. "You're welcome," Sam and I said at the same time.

"We gotta talk," Dean said.

"Tell me about it," Sam replied, "The husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. She's buried behind the old house, so that would've been Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you just shut up for a second?" Dean said. I snickered. That was twice today Sam had been told to shut up.

But he continued anyway. "I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho," Dean answered. I froze. Dad left Jericho, which meant he was probably chasing something else. Or something was chasing him. I tried to push those thoughts away and focus on the problem at hand: sending Constance to wherever she needed to go.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, how do you know?" I asked.

"I've got his journal."

"What? He doesn't go anywhere without that," I responded, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Well he did this time," Dean said, sounding slightly worried or frustrated. I couldn't tell.

Sam sighed a little. "What's it say?"

"Sam old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

I was the one to sigh this time. "Coordinates."

"Where to?" Sam asked.

"Not sure-" Dean started but was cut off by me.

"Sam!" I shouted, my eyes widening at the sight of Constance in front of us. We were about to hit her, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to find out what would happen if we did.

The phone call forgotten, Sam slammed on brakes and I threw my hands out in front of me to keep myself from slamming my head on the windshield. The braking distance wasn't too far, thankfully, with Dean keeping everything in order for the Impala, including the brakes, but we'd still hit Constance. My wrists ached though, from the impact of my hands slamming against the dash. The Impala rocked back, and I let myself collapse onto the leather seat, letting out a breath.

"You alright?" I asked Sam, but before he could respond, an eerie voice came from the back seat.

"Take me home."

I froze, and the car suddenly grew ice cold. Tell me again why we didn't keep salt up here? Sam was completely still also, looking at Constance through the rearview mirror. I took a glance at the mirror, seeing cold, blue eyes, pale skin, and black hair framing her. She certainly looked ghostly.

"Take. Me. Home," she ordered once more.

I gritted my teeth and spun to glare at her. "One, I'm a girl, and I don't swing that way," I said, "and two, Sam here, pretty sure he's faithful. We're not gonna take you home."

My door suddenly swung open, and I turned around to close it, but a force pushed me out of the car and I rolled off the road, which oh-so-conveniently was next to a steep hill. I felt myself tumbling, falling, leaves and twigs poking and scratching me all the way down. I cried out with each poke and stab, closing my eyes so I wouldn't get sick with each twist and turn of my body. At one point, I felt my foot get caught on something, probably a root, and my body got thrown off its sideways course, tumbling the rest of the way down in somersaults.

When I finally reached the bottom, I laid there for a few seconds, taking deep breaths. I had to calm myself and steady my breathing before I tried to stand up. I took a few seconds, counting to ten and listening to my deafening heartbeats, and then I sat up, groaning a little in pain from the obvious bruising on my arms and sides. I felt my ankle throbbing, and my clothes stuck to me even more now. A cool fall breeze whipped past me, and I was suddenly glad I had grabbed that flannel.

I needed to catch up to Sam; he was in trouble.

Keeping thoughts of protecting my family in my head, I stood up, gritting my teeth harshly at the achy and sharp pains that surged in my body. I had no idea how I was going to get to Constance's old house fast enough, but I had to. I turned my gaze towards the hill that I needed to climb and let out a breath, starting up the steep slope. This was going to hurt.

I kept climbing though, trying to build up speed by grabbing on different roots and plants to pull myself upwards. I could see the top, the open blackness of the night sky so close. I was near the road. As I continued to think of Sam, adrenalin began to pump through my system, and the pain was subsiding. I was so close, so close.

Finally, I reached the top, the open space of the road even more airy than the dense forest behind me. I didn't care though, as long as I was past that hill. I looked to my left, and then to my right, not seeing anyone coming, and then I started at a full sprint in the direction of the old Welch residence. I had to make it. I had to.

The now-familiar feeling of gravel digging into my feet returned as I cursed myself for not putting my Converse on. They had just been soaked, and they smelled horrid. Dean was already going to have a fit that they were in his car. We were gonna have to stop somewhere and grab me another pair of knockoffs, which sucked because that one pair of Converse were the actual thing, not some Walmart brand that just happened to look the same.

I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest and my breathing became ragged as I ran. Sam. He was being hurt. I needed to hurry.

Shaking my head a little, I continued to sprint, pushing myself harder with the thought of my brother being in trouble. Come on, Ris, I told myself, Just a little further.

I let out a relieved breath when the house came in sight, and I ran towards it, my whole body aching. My relief was soon wiped away, though, at the image of the Impala ramming into the front of the house, breaking the walls and creating a lot of damage. Worry and fear ran deep in my bones, and I let out a terrified shriek. "Sam!" Had he been driving? Had Constance controlled the car? Was Sam okay? What was even going on?

My feet were pounding against the dirt driveway and then were suddenly on the splintering wood of the porch. "Sam!" I cried, and I heard Dean do the same as we rushed towards the Impala.

I reached the car and yanked the passenger-side door open, Dean leaning in. I heard Sam mumbled something, but Dean cut him off with, "Can you move?"

Sam said something and then Dean started helping him out, me holding the door open and looking around the room for Constance. She appeared across the room and picked up a picture frame, staring at it. "Guys," I started as Sam clambered out of the car with Dean's help and Dean shut the door.

They both looked up to see Constance. She glared at us, and if looks could kill, we'd all be dead ten times over right now. She threw the picture frame she was holding at the floor, and a dresser flew from across the room towards Sam, Dean, and I, pinning us to the Impala. I cringed at the sharp feeling in my rips induced by the speed of the dresser, and turned to glare at Constance. Was I not hurt enough already? Irritated, I struggled against the dresser, trying to push it off of us, but it wasn't budging.

Suddenly, the lights began to flicker, and water started trickling down the stairs. Two small children appeared at the top of the stairs, and Constance's glaring countenance ceased as she stared at the two. "You've come home to us, Mommy," the two children said, and I grimaced. Of course, the creepy children had to make an appearance.

The children were quickly next to Constance and they hugged her. The next thing I knew, the room was overwhelmed by flashes of blue, black, and a fiery red color, and the sound of Constance screeching in terror and pain. It was quite obvious where she was going. The flashes and screaming ending quickly with the sound of a drain as the water disappeared along with Constance and her children.

I let out a sigh of relief as the pressure on the dresser let up and Sam, Dean, and I released ourselves from its hold.

"Rissy . . ."

"Hey, Tiger, wake up."

I opened my eyes slightly to see both of my brothers turned around from the front seat and looking at me. "Huh?" I mumbled.

"I gotta go," Sam said to me, "I didn't really wanna leave without saying bye."

A sleepy smile stretched across my lips and I lifted my head a little off of the seat. "Bye, Sammer," I said quietly.

He laughed a little. "Bye, Ris."

Smiling a little, I let myself drift back to sleep, knowing I would regret not being completely awake to say goodbye to him when I woke up tomorrow, but being too tired and in pain to care. Nightmares began to invade my dreams, nightmares of demons with bright, sinister yellow eyes and malicious grins. He wanted to kill me; he wanted me out of the way.

I woke up sweating, knowing I hadn't even been asleep for a minute. A bad feeling erupted in the pit of my stomach, and I shrugged it off as being sick from being out earlier while I was soaked. Maybe I had a fever?

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" He looked at me through the rearview mirror.

"Can you turn the AC on? I'm burning up back here," I told him, wiping the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand. It felt like it was getting hotter by the second. Hot. Hotter. Hotter. I felt like I was suffocating.

"It's not that hot, Ris," he said, his eyebrows furrowed.

I shifted where I sat, my face and arms feeling as if I'd stuck a hot poker on them. That feeling returned to the pit of my stomach, and my breathing grew slightly labored. "Dean," I said, my voice cracking a little. I felt the Impala slow, but I couldn't keep my focus on it. All I could think about was heat, burning. A tear rolled down my cheek as a feeling of loss, hopelessness, desperation — either all or one, I couldn't tell — crashed into me. "Dean, Sam. Something's . . ." I clutched my head, letting out a sob. "Not right. Something's wrong. I-"

I felt the car make a quick U-turn as Dean drove faster, probably going dangerously above the speed limit. The feelings amplified to almost unbearable levels as we approached the apartment complex, and the Impala suddenly slammed to a stop. I looked out the window, my breathing now ragged and my hands trembling in a way I'd never experienced.

Sam's apartment was up in flames.