He's out. He's been released. The first day he was out, there was an assembly at school, discussing updated safety procedures. No one without an ID would be able to get in the front doors. Even students would have to show theirs. There's a security guard standing in the foyer at all times. Everyone enters through the front doors and no one leaves for lunch, which had previously been allowed. Additionally, no one would be allowed to leave and return unless a parent was with them. All windows now have screens on them and can only be opened a few inches. Doors are required to be closed. If we receive word he has left Dallas, they will be required to lock the doors, too.

I no longer go to anyone else's house. In fact, I had Cas go to each of my friends and take their memory of where I live. They remember that it's super cool and I have a secret room, but they have no clue how to get here and don't remember that it's a bunker. If he shows up, I don't want them to be able to give him any information on where I am. The bunker is my safe place. Someone is always at home with me, whether that's one of my brothers, Cas or Crowley, or the recently moved-in Charlie. Gabe even pops in from time to time. Put him and Sam in the same room and chaos ensues. I can't decide if I think they would be a cute couple or if I need to keep them far, far away from each other. Jacks, Dean, and I also have a bet on when they'll end up together. Dean still doesn't know about our "Destiel" bet.

Today, however, is the last straw. It's three weeks after my eighteenth birthday and a letter has arrived addressed to me in his handwriting. I sent it to the police department, but given that none of his fingerprints are on it and he hasn't sent any mail from his mailbox, we can't prove it's from him. The letter vows to finish what was started. It's going into the case file. If more arrive, he'll be watched, but for now, they can't do anything. That's how I find myself standing here, go-bag slung over my shoulder, bus ticket in hand, and warding spells sent from Rowena around my neck. Cas and Gabe won't be able to find me and with my phone turned off, neither will any humans. For this first week, I'm going to hop between busses until I'm certain that Dean and Sam aren't on my trail, then start hunting.

I know my nightmare tonight will be wicked, so I've packed my sleeping pills and throat medication. I called my doctor and told him I was going off the grid and, although it typically goes against the rules, I'm a special case, so they gave me a year-long supply of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. Most prescriptions only last six months. This first bus will take me to Chicago. Then, I'm heading back south to Indianapolis, then Nashville, Atlanta, and finally Houston. After a full day and night in Houston, I'll start hunting, sticking to small towns that I can get to quickly by bus. My brothers don't have all the names on my ID's memorized and, thankfully, they're fairly common names. I've looked up all of them and seen plenty of faces pop up, so simply tracking those names won't help. As long as I avoid using the credit cards, I'll be alright.

The cash I have for now will get me all the way to Houston. I have a new credit card Sam and Dean don't know about, so I'll be able to get a motel room without them knowing. I did leave a note, but if I'm not at least two hours away by the time they find out I'm gone, I'm dead meat. Thankfully, there's a secret exit not on the blueprints for the bunker that I somehow managed to find. Otherwise, I'd have never made it out of there unnoticed.

Time jump: Three days. Location: Houston, Texas

The last bus, from Atlanta to Houston, was utterly exhausting, but a good time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. I popped a pill to ensure I wouldn't dream and slept for a full twelve hours, half of the ride. I was up for eight hours, then slept for four, and woke up a half an hour before we arrived, courtesy of the start of a nightmare. The person next to me noticed I seemed distressed and woke me up before it caused any screaming, thankfully.

I throw my bag onto the bed at the third motel in the phone book. My brothers would expect me to go to the first, as they do when separated. I'm checked in under the name Winnie Jackson, a twenty-two year old from Saint Louis with only two credit cards. This is the name I intend to give to anyone in the hunter community, so it makes sense to start my journey under it.

I hop in the shower, reveling in the warm water and finally getting clean. After thoroughly blow drying my hair, I tie it into my classic two french braids. With a fresh outfit and new make-up, I feel a ton better. Once I brush my teeth, I gather my things and head to the laundromat. First things first: cleaning my small stash of clothes. I have a feeling I'll be spending quite a bit of time in various laundromats given that I can't fit much in my bag.

Once all my clothes are clean, I go back to the room and change into a more low-cut shirt. It's time to pick up a bit more cash. I'm hoping to get three hundred at each bar, something I've done plenty of times before. After glamming my make-up up a bit, I head out. My outfit of skinny jeans and a tank with boots is perfect for going to the bar. I'll wait an hour, pretending to drink a lot, then challenge some dumb college kids to a game of pool, being sure to giggle far too much. Once they win a game and are feeling confident, I'll pretend to be really upset that they won, then bet them three hundred it was just a fluke. This routine works every time and even though I know I could swing it at three to four different bars in one night, hitting too many draws a closer look I'd rather not invite.

With some fresh cash in my pocket, totaling eight hundred dollars in winnings, I wander down to where Ten is living. Just after he got out, Ten moved into an apartment of his own. Again, legal methods did not obtain this information, but I have to make sure he's safe. Ironic, given his stature, but still something I feel obligated to do.

"Hey, kid," I hear his gruff voice just as I pull out the index card with my number on it. "How'd you find where I live?"

"I hacked a few different databases," I respond, not turning around.

"There a reason you're here?"

"Aside from making sure you're safe, you mean?"

"You're the one who I should be checking up on, not the other way around."

"That's not how I work."

"I read your letter. You wanna come up, have something to drink?"

"I-"

"That was a question only to be polite. You're coming up. Not gonna let you run away again without making sure you're safe." He steps to the door and opens it and finally, I turn to face him. "Come on, I'm alone. No one up there to hurt you and you know I won't." Yeah, I do, if only because of the three knives and two guns I'm sporting. It wasn't easy to hide them, but I managed. Just as I remembered, he's immensely tall, hugely muscular, and has eyes that say he protects the innocents but wouldn't hesitate to kill someone who earned it. Eyes like Sam and Dean and every other hunter I've met. Eyes like mine. Shadows in them scream of a man who has seen horrible things, not the least of which includes me.

I step up and take the door from him, letting him through first. Yes, I know he won't hurt me, but I'm still not comfortable with someone at my back. We go up to his two-bedroom apartment and for the first time in eight years, I talk to the man who saved my life.