"I want to take the pain of Sam and Dean Winchester." Your hands were shaking. "All of it."
Red eyes found yours. "Do you now?"
That was a rather large request.
"Yes," you said, but there was fear in your voice.
"And why's that?" the crossroad demon asked. "You wish to live a life of endless pain, and then once it's all over, repeat it in Hell?"
"Yes." You were young, likely in your twenties. You shuddered against the harsh, bitter winds because you forgot a jacket in your haste to make a deal. Your teeth chattered and your lips were blue.
The demon saw a naive, stupid girl. "Oh, darling, already in so much pain. Are you sure you can handle it?" The demon purred.
"It doesn't matter whether I can handle it or not," you breathed. "I want this."
"No, you don't," the demon said confidently. "Have you ever met the Winchesters? Do you know them? Personally?"
You were getting impatient. "It's not your place to ask questions. You just confirm the deal."
"I ask questions to make sure this benefits Hell. Now, do you know them personally?"
You bit your lip. "No."
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" A jubilant voice shouts above the whispers of his dreams.
The younger man sits up in bed, sending his older brother a look. "What's got you so happy?" Dean wasn't usually so… joyful.
"I made waffles!" The grin on the older brother's face was not one he could say no to.
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of bed. He threw a flannel over his sleepshirt, trudging to the bathroom to wash up. He threw on some jeans and pushed his hair back, looking at himself in the mirror. He lifted his shirt, frowning at the yellowish bruise underneath.
"Sammy!" Dean barked at his brother.
Sam rolled his eyes again and exited his room.
"And you're absolutely sure you want this?" The demon asked for the fifth time. She examined her nails, which are long and sharp. The polish was blood red.
"Stop questioning it and make the deal!"
"Sam and Dean Winchesters are tough cards to play, girl. I have to make sure your soul is worth it. Do this, and they're unstoppable. Do you know what you're in for?"
"Yes. Now make the deal!"
"Are you ready for the pain? Because it comes fast. Those boys are always getting into trouble." The demon was drawing this out. She was stretching her questions, rephrasing the same thing again and again to make you impatient.
"I am."
"You're very determined to die, aren't you?" The demon leaned in. "Oh, but you can't die. That's the catch. Eventually, you'll outlast them anyway… right?"
You were silent.
"Okay." The demon rolled out a contract from thin air. "Sign it and it's done."
"This is the bacon of my dreams."
"I'm sure it is," Sam replied as he flipped through that day's newspaper for the third time.
Dean sent him a thoughtful glance. "What'd you find?"
"Thirteen disappearances. They were patients at Stormont Vail Hospital. All women in their twenties. And… they were all Jane Does."
"Great. No families," Dean grunted sarcastically. He took another bite of bacon.
When you were long gone and the winds had picked up, the crossroad demon stayed there. She was smiling, happy with your deal. "Naive little girl, if only you weren't so impatient: you would have read the fine print."
In the thick of the night, you walked along a sidewalk. You had no jacket draped around your shoulders, where it should have been. The absence there was painful. You stumbled into a storefront and you began to cry. Softly, hardly noticeable. You had been hurt in so many ways, and alone in so many more. You just missed the warmth around your shoulders.
You knew that this was the only way you could fix everything. you were returning the favor.
You got a glimpse at what they did. Who they were. You had seen the people they saved daily. You wanted to be a part of it.
And you saw… him. You saw him in them, and that was your motivator. The closest thing you could cling to. All you wanted was relief for your aching heart. Yet you still put yourself in the warzone, and you still put yourself in danger.
It was the least you could do. With a life as meaningless as your own, you might as well lend it to a good cause. You would not let them know of you or your scheme. Instead, you would tread carefully. You would keep you distance.
Of course, that's when you collided into someone.
Two someones.
With no families to speak with, the Winchesters settled on questioning hospital staff. Which, apparently, was a big waste of time.
"So nobody saw anything?" Dean growled after the fifth clueless staff person. "Not like, anything suspicious?"
"To be fair, Dean, they see a lot of weird stuff everyday."
"Sure, but after they had thirteen people disappear under their noses, at some point, you'd think that they would be a bit more careful."
Sam shrugged. "It is what it is. They probably thought that the Jane Does were running from something. Wanted to get out of the hospital."
"Thirteen of them?"
"I don't know, Dean! I'm just trying to find a reason. We'll just have to stick with the books."
Dean sighed, "Great."
They made their way down a dark sidewalk, where Dean had parked just up the road. This part of town lacked streetlights. The moonlight was scarce and the shadows were long. They didn't see you coming. You rammed into them with no warning, catching both sides off guard.
The Winchesters, being much steadier than yourself, watched as you toppled back, hitting your head on the pavement with a thud. Your shirt rose up, revealing a large yellowish bruise that was just barely visible in the light.
"Woah, hey, are you okay?" Dean asked as Sam stood by and eyed your bruised stomach.
You nodded, brushing yourself off and nodding. you skittered away without a word.
"Hey, wait!" Sam shouted after you. He ran after you, blind in the dark alley.
He could see your outline. Having hit your head on the pavement wasn't doing you any favors; you weren't running straight.
Though, neither was he. In fact, he became so dizzy he had to brace himself against a parked car. And once he had looked up, you had already disappeared into the night. "Dean?" Sam called out.
"Here," he called back.
Both men sighed. Both needed some Ibuprofen.
Sam dusted himself off and made his way to Dean and the Impala. "That wasn't weird to you at all?"
"Course it was weird," Dean said. "I don't know if I want to go chasing after her though. A girl in a dark alley scared of two unknown, possibly strange men lurking about? You probably made everything worse when you chased after her, stupid."
"Dude, did you even see you face? She was in her—" Sam paused. "She were in her twenties…" he trailed off.
Dean huffed, "Close enough."
"Twenties…" he said again. "You don't think..?"
"Maybe," Dean acknowledged. "Look, she's probably long gone right now. Let's just figure this out at the bunker okay? It's freezing out here."
"She couldn't have gone too far," Sam wasn't paying any attention.
"Sam," Dean urged.
"What?"
Dean gestured to the Impala.
"Fine."