I don't own Supernatural or any of the songs that I use. The only characters I've made up are Rhiannon and her family!

Please enjoy! & Tell me what I need to work on or how I'm doing so far. Is anything not clear?:) Love you all!

The storm is coming but I don't mind

People are dying, I close my blinds

All that I know is I'm breathing now

All we can do is keep breathing now

- Ingrid Michaelson

Dean fell through Rhiannon's bedroom with poise, or at least, that's what he liked to call it. The thump his body made as he landed on the floor was barely audible. He army crawled over to her bed and pulled up the bed skirt in search of her suitcase. His tongue poked through his lips as he focused on finding the hard leather bag. Once his fingers found something large and square, he pulled it out forcefully and plopped it on top of her bed.

He started wandering around Rhiannon's room. It was a delicate shade of blue, with white trimming and lace curtains. He could see another room across the hall with floral wall paper and the same lace curtains. He figured it was her parent's bedroom.

He tip toed quietly across the carpeted floor, cringing whenever he thought his weight would ensure a deadly creak. No such squeaking occurred. He let out a short breath and walked over to her dresser triumphantly. His fingers grabbed one of the drawer knobs and pulled it open. "Score!" He grinned childishly when he saw it was her underwear. He didn't know how long Rhiannon would be staying with them, so he just dumped everything into her suitcase. He emptied the drawers one by one, shirts, pants, bras, socks, pajamas, everything. When he saw how many classic rock tee-shirts she had in her possession he grinned, at least he would have somebody to talk to about music while they were on the road. Sam's pansy music was starting to get on his nerves.

As he started zipping up the suitcase, he noticed that her closet door was open. He grabbed his gun instinctively and walked over to it cautiously, reaching his hand out to tear it open. But there was nothing but a few dresses, an old dollhouse, and a case filled with Rhiannon's old grade school things inside. He grabbed a piece of paper that had a few figures drawn on it. Over the colorful figures were names that said Mom, Dad, Jason, and Rhiannon. Dean smiled sadly, running his fingers across the old crayon. Everything was perfect in the picture, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and everyone was smiling. He sighed and placed it back where it belonged. He closed the closet doors, staring at the animated family until he couldn't see them anymore.

When he turned around he took a good look around the room. It was decorated with things that one would have collected over their lifetime. Pictures, drawings, and notebooks were scattered all over the place. Posters of Led Zeppelin, Fleetwood Mac, and various movies cluttered the walls. Her acceptance letter from Berklee hung on the highly decorated cork board above her bed. Next to it was a picture of Rhiannon with her mother and father, a copy of the same one that had been shattered at his feet when he had rescued her that afternoon at the mechanic.

If Rhiannon was anything like his brother, Dean felt sorry for her. He knew how bad Sam felt all of the time, knowing things before they happened, like Jessica's death. Sure, some good things came out of it like saving that family who lived in their old home, but that didn't take away the pain, the constant fear of something bigger than you going on without you even knowing what it was. They had seen what it did to Max. If Sam was going to end up like that… Dean shook his head, remembering what his father had told him the day that he died. He had taken a part of the puzzle piece with him to his grave. It was so vague and depressing, what he had told Dean. He didn't want to think about it, couldn't. But something had been gnawing at him since they found at Rhiannon was psychic, would he have to do the same thing to her?

Dean huffed and started tearing the blue thumb tacks out of the picture. He tossed it into her suitcase and started looking around her room for anything else she would miss. This wasn't just a regular case. There was a definite chance she wouldn't be home any time soon. He grabbed a few of the notebooks that were sitting on her nightstand, her laptop, charger, phone, iPod, wallet, and flash drive that were all inside of her nightstand, and a photo album that was nestled between two really worn out books in her bookshelf (which he managed to stuff inside of her bag, too).

There was one thing he was forgetting, though. He glanced around, trying to remember. "Ah!" He whispered, noticing her guitar case leaning up against the wall. He walked over to it and grabbed it quickly, being careful not to give himself away to anyone who could be in the house.

Just as he was about to climb back out of the window, he heard a soft sob coming from the hallway. He placed her guitar and suitcase onto the roof and stepped out in a hurry, ducking so nobody would see.

The sobbing grew closer, and he peeked over the window frame to get a better look. It was Rhiannon's father. He looked pretty bad. A black eye was forming around his left eye. He had a bad cut on his lip, and bruises all over his jaw. Dean closed his eyes tightly at the thought of him and his brother doing that to the poor man.

As Mr. Alexander walked into his daughter's room wearily, Dean ducked again, his heart rate sky rocketing. He started to creep down the roof, but then her dad started talking.

"I wish you were here, Claire," Mr. Alexander sobbed. "You always had the answers…" he sniffled. Dean listened. "She's gone, our baby. I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I can't remember…I'm not… She didn't even…" A heart wrenching sob tore through his throat. Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. As far as Mr. Alexander was aware, Rhiannon was dead, and if they were going to figure anything out, it had to stay that way.

When Mr. Alexander started sobbing uncontrollably, Dean took his chance to climb off of the roof. He tossed the suitcase onto the ground, gritting his teeth, praying it wouldn't make a sound. He kept the guitar in his hand and jumped. Once he was back on solid ground he picked up her suitcase and ran towards the Impala.

"So, you think your Dad sold his soul to the Yellow Eyed demon in exchange for Dean's life?" Rhiannon asked in awe. The story of The Winchester's was incredible, the amount of dedication they had to one another left her speechless.

Sam nodded sadly, "and he got the Colt, too."

Rhiannon shook her head. "Seems like a very dedicated father if you ask me, though the Colt being gone sucks."

Sam chuckled. "He was," he smiled to himself, "I just wish he knew how much he meant to me."

"I'm sure he does, Sam," Rhiannon grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "You were his kid, kids fight with their parents, doesn't mean we don't love them any less."

Sam looked at Rhiannon and gave her an appreciative smile. She gave him one in return and pulled her hand away.

"Dean's really torn up about it," he continued. "He doesn't show it, but I know how badly it's affecting him."

Rhiannon nodded understandingly. "So… when the Yellow Eyed demon took control of your father's body, he told you that he had a plan for us?"

"'You and all of the other children like you'," he quoted in deep thought.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "I wish I knew what the hell that meant." She stood up and started pacing the room.

"Me too. You have no idea," he grinded his teeth together angrily. "I want to get rid of this bastard."

Rhiannon tapped her finger on her chin as she walked around the room. "Well, you said that you've made the connection to you and Max. Max, right?" Sam nodded. "Well, maybe there are more people out there like us with the same thing. It's been consistent so far."

"Minus you," he pointed out. Rhiannon stood over by the window and looked outside. Silence flooded the room.

"We're being hunted, aren't we?" She asked calmly. Sam looked over at her. Before he had the chance to say anything, Dean barged in with her suitcase and guitar in tow.

"Here you go, Princess," he said as he placed her things on the floor beside the second motel bed. She walked over towards them slowly, running her hand across her guitar case. She knelt down on the ground and opened up her suitcase. When she saw everything he had put inside, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Wow...Dean, thank you!" was all she could say. Sam looked into her bag and then gave Dean a look. He made a face at him and shrugged.

"I didn't know what was important or not. Anyway," he waved her thanks away, "who knows how long you'll be stuck with us, right? Might as well make the best of it." He collapsed onto the motel bed Sam was sitting on and crossed his legs, putting his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes. She picked up the photo album and turned it over in her hands. Dean opened one eye to see what she was doing. A small smile spread across her face as she saw that he had also managed to somehow include two of her favorite books: 1984 by George Orwell and On the Road by Jack Kerouac. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes again, trying to get comfortable.

She started dumping everything onto the bed and folding everything, Dean had just sort of thrown everything in at once. About ten minutes passed. "Hey," she spoke into the silence. The boys each looked at her. She turned to look at Dean. "Did you see my Dad?"

Dean opened his mouth but then closed it again, thinking about what to say. He nodded, "Yeah. I did."

"Did he look okay?" She asked him, holding the picture of her and her parents to her chest. Dean noted this and chose his next words carefully.

"Yeah," he smiled, "he looked fine." He watched her as she looked back down at the picture in her hands. He frowned, remembering the state her father had been in when he hopped off of their rooftop.

Rhiannon studied her parents faces. She didn't know when she would ever see her dad again and the daunting thought haunted her to no end, even worse than her nightmares, her visions.

This is it, she thought. This is the big change that I've been waiting for. "You know," she started, "All of my life I've been waiting for a change..." sam and Dean hung onto her every word, "i never thought it would be this monumental."

"Join the club, sweetheart." Dean closed his eyes again. Rhiannon sighed, placing the picture back into her suitcase. Sam waited for it...

"I told you not to call me that," Rhiannon shot back at Dean, throwing a balled up shirt at Dean's face. His eyes shot open as the material hit his face. Sam laughed. Dean couldn't fight back his smile either.

"So what's your plan of action?" She asked them as she dug through her suitcase for a pair of sweatpants.

Dean shrugged, throwing the shirt at Sam, who caught it. "We'll probably leave tomorrow morning, so, rest up now. We've got a long trip ahead of us."

Rhiannon stood up and held her hands out for her shirt. Sam threw it over to her. She disappeared behind the bathroom door. She dropped her cloths onto the ground and turned on the water full blast. After making sure there was a towel in the room, she stripped of her clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water run over her soar body. Dirt and blood dripped from her skin. The knots in her hair untangled with every drop of water... She fought back the tears.

From the way Sam had put it while they were talking earlier, she would not be able to talk to her dad at all. She would have to change her cell phone number or get a new one. She would have to leave the world she knew, behind. No friends. No family. Maybe she'd even turn into an outlaw. But she had to find out what was going on with her, with Sam. They were a part of something, something bigger than anything she'd ever known. Rhiannon always had a feeling that she was meant for something more, but she never imagined this. Monsters belonged in horror movies, not her life. Demons were a child's worst nightmare, and nightmares stayed in your head. You didn't just leave your home with two strangers who weren't really strangers because you had visions of them for the past year. You had headaches because of a sinus infection, not psychic abilities.

Rhiannon was never one to half ass something. There was no way Sam and Dean were lying. She knew that they were telling the truth. She had seen them in her dreams, seen her mother die, seen the Yellow eyed demon speaking to her. A storm was coming, she could feel it in her bones, and she would do anything to find out what the hell was going on.

But Rhiannon couldn't stop the tears from cascading down her face. It was like somebody broke a dam and now the water wouldn't stop coming in. And even if she was apart of something larger than life, she still thought she deserved a few minutes to herself.

Sam sat down on the edge of Rhiannon's bed. He decided he would sleep on the floor tonight. Out of curiosity, he picked up her photo album and started leafing through the pages. He smiled at the various pictures of her with her brother and her friends. There were a few candid shots, and a very professional looking one of her on a stage playing the piano.

"You hear her, don't you?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Give her a break, Dean. She's had a rough day."

Dean sat up and looked at Sam. "Is she going to be your little pet project? You find another psychic kid like you and now you're all gung ho on gettin' the neighborhood gang together?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam shot back.

Dean stood up and stood in front of his brother. "'I think it would be good to have someone around who knows what we're going through?'"

Sam rolled his eyes and closed the photo album. "You know I didn't mean it like that, Dean."

"Oh yeah? Then how did you mean it? Because it sounded pretty clear to me that you think I have no idea how you're feeling right now," Dean said aggressively.

"All I meant was that... you're not psychic like me, Dean, okay? Rhiannon has this ability like me, and yes, it would nice to have somebody around who understands how it feels to have these nightmares and foreshadowing of the deaths of others and whatever psychic horse crap is gonna come along with whatever the yellow eyed demon has in store for us."

Dean scoffed. "Well, way to make me sound like an ass," Dean retorted, sitting back down on the bed. Sam clenched his jaw and gazed at the bathroom door.

He didn't care if Dean was angry. He knew that having Rhiannon around would be a good thing. She wasn't damaged like Max had been. There was still hope for them. "We could use an extra hand anyway, Dean," he told his older brother.

"Does she even know how to work a gun?" He exclaimed. "She seemed pretty freaked when she saw mine!"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but we can teach her."

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa," he waved his hands, "I didn't sign on to be a damn nanny, okay? It was fine when she was just some damsel in distress we'd never meet again, but this is taking it too far."

"Your ego is just bruised because she turned you down multiple times, you'll get over it," Sam smiled.

"Whatever," Dean huffed. "You're lucky she's cute."