Hi Readers!

New to writing fanfiction.

Hope you enjoy this little story.

AU and non-canon Just for fun.

Her tiny body trembled as she crouched in the corner, trying to make herself as small as humanly possible. Warm, sticky blood ran down her forehead. She wiped at it, smearing it across her cheek. She looked in stunned horror when she realized the bright red blood covering her palm was her own. Her heart rate picked up in her chest, hammering in rhythm with her pounding head. Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the blood as she listened to the frightening sounds surrounding her.

"Get the kid outta here," shouted a deep, gravelly voice.

She froze in terror. He'd seen her.

"Kid?" echoed a different male voice, not nearly as deep as the first.

"Behind the chair," the deeper voice answered.

The room filled with the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh. Swallowing back hiccupping sobs, she pulled her knees up to her chin and cupped her hands over her ears, shutting her eyes tight and wishing she was anywhere but where she was. She'd never felt so terrified and that said something considering the life she lived.

Her eyes flew open when she felt something brush against her knee. A tall, lanky man with long light brown hair crouched in front of her. His kind green eyes considered her carefully. "Hey there, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

She felt her head nodding before she could stop it. She opened her mouth to say something but then clamped it shut when a horrific bellow rang out across the room. Her eyes widened like saucers and she couldn't stop the whimper that escaped from her lips.

"Shhh," the man said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Stay very quiet. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" With those words, he disappeared from her line of sight.

She licked her dry lips as she heard the crashing of furniture and more flesh hitting flesh, glass shattering, voices cursing and groaning. She nearly jumped out of her skin when something flew past her face, slicing her cheek. Pain overwhelmed her senses but all she managed was a strangled whimper before the man appeared again. His face was bloodied but he managed a kind smile when he looked down at her. He lifted her into his arms, gently covering her face with his jacket.

"You're safe sweetheart, I promise," he murmured as he supported her weight, placing a comforting hand on the back of her head.

She tried to squirm out of his grip but he held her tightly against him. It was useless. She felt smothered as she trembled in his arms.

"Sam, get her out of here. NOW!" ordered the deep voice laced with authority and concern.

Movement again as the large man cradled her in his arms. Sam carried her for a long way until she felt him sit her on something cold and damp. Sam's warm smile greeted her when he uncovered her head, his dimples deepening as he observed her. She looked around realizing he had sat her on the trunk of a large, black car.

"You're okay." He assured her, stroking her trembling cold hand with his large warm one. "Some glass cut your cheek." She put her hand to her cheek and winced. His hand quickly caught hers and pulled it away. "Don't touch it, honey. Stay still."

The tall man disappeared into his car for a moment and returned carrying a large white case with a red cross on it. Her vision blurred a little and she felt woozy. She felt herself sway a little but Sam caught her. He lifted her into his arms once again and she found herself sitting in the backseat of the black car.

"Is she alright?" The deep voice again, concern mixed with anger.

"I think so. Her hair is pretty matted at the back so I'm not sure how deep the cut is. She may need stitches. We should take her to the hospital…"

"No can do, Sammy. That creature escaped and we have no idea what we're dealing with here."

"Escaped? How?"

"I dunno. One minute we were exchanging blows, the next it took off. "

"What was it?"

Her eyes grew heavy as she listened to the men talk. She couldn't make heads or tails of the conversation any longer. Tears filled her eyes, ran down her face and dripped off her chin. Sam prodded at her face, pulling the shards of glass from her cheek. She should have screamed at the amount of pain she felt but didn't move out of sheer exhaustion.

"Damn, look at her face," the deep voice said as it grew closer. "It messed her up good."

She tried to focus her eyes on the new face in front of her, another man with shorter, darker brown hair a head shorter than the tall, lankier man. His hazel-green eyes were intense but not unkind. Her lids fluttered a few times as she struggled to stay awake but she soon lost the battle. In the distance, she heard the two men talking as everything began fading away.

"Any sign of Mac?"

Her dad was Mac. She wondered where he was. Why hadn't he come for her?

Darkness enveloped her.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

She rolled her head back and forth, inwardly groaning from the throbbing pain beating in rhythm with her heart. The deep rumble of voices pounded in her head. She wanted to tell them to shut up but the pain was so prolific that she didn't dare add anymore sound to the room.

"Creature…spirit…lore…" The words jumbled together and made no sense. Her eyes popped open and she surveyed her surroundings. Where was she? Her arms felt like lead weights as she attempted to push herself up from the bed. Her head pounded in unison with her pulse.

"Looks like someone's awake, Sam."

The man with the deeper voice regarded her from his spot on a chair across the room. He was holding a bottle of something to his lips but set it down on the nearby table when he noticed her awake.

Her eyes fought to focus on the other man when he leaned close to her face.

"Hey there, kiddo. How's the head?"

She cowered from him.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Sam reassured her, taking a step back to give her some space. "I'm not going to hurt you. Can you tell us your name?"

Her name. Her mind swam with the possibilities. What should she say? Her father had drilled this into her head so many times; it should have flowed naturally but suddenly it didn't. Should she tell the truth? She wanted to tell the truth. Where was her dad? He had to be alive. Her dad was the best hunter that lived. Nothing could kill him.

The darker-haired man suddenly appeared beside Sam looking at her expectantly. She blinked back a new onslaught of tears and stubbornly wiped them away. A hunter didn't cry. Hunters were strong, and she was a hunter. Or at least she wanted to be a hunter.

"Is Mac Spencer your father?" the deep voice asked. His green eyes pinned her brown ones looking impatient for her answer.

The familiar sound of her father's name caused a shiver to ripple up her small frame. How did they know her father? Were they hunters too? Hunters took care of their own or so she'd been told her whole life. It was an unwritten rule, but a rule honoured by every hunter she'd ever met. If Sam and the other guy were hunters, they'd know what to do. Her hands searched for her pockets and her eyes widened in terror. Where were her clothes? She looked down to see she was dressed in a large white t-shirt that fit her like a nightgown.

"Your clothes were covered in blood," Sam said in explanation when he saw the raw panic flood her face. "We'll get them washed for you."

Her lower lip trembled. She had no way to know if they were safe now.

"We're hunters, kid," said the deeper-voiced man, his eyes narrowing at her. It seemed like he could read her thoughts loud and clear. It was kind of creeping her out. Was she that transparent?

"Dude!" Sam scolded, turning to the other man. "We don't know if she…"

"Look at her face, Sammy. She knows. She has the same look we did at her age…that wise before your years wistful look? Can't you see it?"

The man named Sam sat on the bed beside her, searching her eyes with his. He did not look as convinced as his companion. "Tell us your name, sweetie."

She softly cleared her throat and shook her head. She wasn't going to tell them anything until she was satisfied. If they were hunters, she'd tell the truth. If they were something else, she'd deal with that too.

"Prove you're hunters." There. Her first words were bold and firm. Her father would be proud. "How do you know Mac?"

The shorter man towered over her, crossing his arms in what felt like an attempt to intimidate her. It wouldn't work. She'd seen worse. Faced scarier. Hunters could be the worst kind of men, but they were known to be honourable to their own kind. Well, mostly.

"I'm Dean Winchester and this here is my brother, Sam. Mac Spencer is the son of Marjorie Connor, a long-time friend of our dad's. We knew him as kids. Mac's a damn good hunter. We heard he was onto something big out here so we came to help."

Heard from whom, she thought, feeling alarmed and unsteady. Her father wouldn't have asked for help. It wasn't his M.O. She and her dad travelled alone, and they fought alone. Her mother died a long time ago, so long that she didn't remember the woman anymore and it didn't bother her. She had her dad and that was all she needed. It had been her and her dad for as long as she could remember. Marjorie Connor was her namesake but that was all she knew about it. Her father never spoke about the woman. And she never asked.

"Dean, we need to talk." The giant soft-spoken man rose to his feet, pulling his brother by the arm towards the bathroom.

"What?" grouched the other brother, still keeping his eyes glued on her.

Sam whispered something she could not hear and Dean relented. He poked a finger in her direction. "Don't move, kid."

The two of them disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind them. The blond-haired little girl was on her feet in a heartbeat and froze when she stood. The white t-shirt she wore fell to her bruised knees and she stared at her dirty feet. Where were her socks and shoes? What did they do with her clothes? Her hand went to her throat. And where was her necklace? Better yet, where was her pocket knife? She began to rummage around the room, searching for her belongings. She didn't care if her clothes were dirty or bloody. She couldn't exactly take off in an oversized man's t-shirt. She'd stick out like a sore thumb. After a few minutes, tears welled in her eyes as panic threatened to take over. It was no use. Her belongings were not anywhere to be found or at least not anywhere obvious to her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she blinked back tears. The low rumbling of voices from the bathroom caught her attention and she moved to press her ear against the door.

"Dude, you need to back off. You're scaring her."

"We need to find out what she knows. She's the only witness to what happened to Mac."

"We don't know that. Look at her, Dean! She's a little girl. She can't be older than 10 years old if that. She's been beaten and battered, her head is cut open…she could just be a civilian…"

"No way, Sammy. You saw her face when I mentioned Mac's name. She knows more than she's saying."

"You don't know that!"

Silence. Then she heard a loud sigh.

"Fine. I'm going to get some grub and you talk to her, but if she doesn't spill her guts to you, I'm going to handle it."

Her heart hammered in her chest as she pulled away from the door. That didn't sound good. The shorter, meaner guy was dangerous and she needed to keep her distance from him. She didn't like him, not even a little, and she was pretty sure her father wouldn't like him either. Hunter or not, he was bad news.

Just then the door burst open, nearly smacking her in the face. She stumbled backward, tripping over the duffel bag on the floor and landing on her backside with a thump. She looked up startled to see the gruff man standing over her.

His face darkened. "Were you listening in on our conversation?"

She swallowed with wide eyes. Damn, this guy was scary. She kept expecting his eyes to flip black. If only she had her necklace; she'd be able to rule out the uncertainties in seconds.

"Dude, chill," Sam said, coming up behind his brother and giving him a death glare. "Just go."

The man ignored Sam and reached down, pulling her to her feet. "Answer the question, kid. Were you listening in?"

A frown crouched behind her brows and she brusquely returned his dark glare. She could play the same game. "Where is my necklace?"

Dean gave her a firm shake but then released it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a chain. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of it. Her dad had given it to her. On the chain were two pendants, one was an anti-possession amulet and the other a small vial containing holy water.

Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise and turned a questioning eye on her. "Where did you get the amulet?" Sam punched Dean in the arm. "Dude, why didn't you tell me she had that?"

The girl reached out to snatch the necklace from his grasp but Dean held it just out of her reach. Sam reached out and grabbed it, elbowing his brother out of the way. He turned and glared at the other man for a moment before turning to look at the small blonde-haired girl. He regarded her for a few moments before looping it around her neck.

"As I said, Sammy, she knows more than she's telling." Dean walked to the side table, grabbing his keys and shrugging into his leather jacket. "I'll get us something to eat."

Sam looked at her for a few moments after Dean left. She fingered her necklace feeling more at ease now that she had it back. Now all she needed was her pocket knife and maybe her shoes.

"Where're my shoes?"

He smiled at her, deep dimples dancing in his cheeks as he walked across the room and fished her shoes out of a bag on the top shelf in the closet to the room. "We're going to wash them with your clothes."

"My knife?"

He pulled it off the top shelf in the closet as well, holding it up so she could see it. "You can have it back when we know more about each other, okay?"

She nodded. Knowing where it was half the battle.

Sam pulled out the closest chair and straddled it. "Are you gonna tell me your name yet?"

She shrugged. She wasn't sure yet. "What's up with your brother?"

"Dean?" He scoffed. "He's a little rough around the edges when we're investigating…" Her frown deepened. Investigating? He must think she was stupid. He stopped talking and considered her a long moment before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "I'm thinking my brother is a lot more perceptive than I gave him credit for. And I'm also thinking you know more than you're letting on. That amulet tells me a lot too…where did you get it?"

She sat on the bed. She needed a clever way to get closer to Sam. She wasn't going to tell him anything until she knew for sure who or what he was or wasn't. She needed to rule out a thing or two first.

"My dad gave it to me when my mom died."

"I see. Was it your mom's?"

"Nope."

Silence filled the room as Sam stared at her. She could see his mind at work, trying to figure out what he was going to say and do with her. For some reason, Sam didn't scare her. Dean, on the other hand, scared her to death. Suddenly Sam stood to his feet. Damn, she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen anyone so tall in all her life. His head seemed to touch the ceiling.

As if reading her mind, he offered her a goofy grin and touched his hand to the ceiling. "Seven-foot ceilings aren't the norm but this place was cheap." Sam crouched down in front of her. "I patched your head up last night but we really need to wash your hair so I can take a better look at that cut." He pointed at her forehead. "I used Steri-Strips to bandage that cut but I'd like to get a closer look at it if it's okay with you."

Her hand went to her head feeling the bandage on her forehead. Her head still ached but not as much as before. Taking a moment to consider his question, she realized now was her chance. Sam was very close to her. She fingered her necklace under the large shirt. He wouldn't be able to tell what she was doing while he looked at her. Quickly, almost like a reflex, she unscrewed the vial and tossed the contents in his face.

Sam's eyes widened as the liquid hit his face. He looked shocked at first and then he rocked back on his haunches and used his large hand to wipe away the water.

"Holy water?"

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek, tears just on the verge of falling again. Fear gripped her heart. The big man could easily hurt her if she wasn't vigilant.

"Let me guess, your knife has a silver blade?" He smiled at her again. "You can relax. My brother and I aren't demons, and it looks like I owe Dean an apology. You do know more than I thought." He raised himself to his full height and stared down at her. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Sam walked into the bathroom and began running water into the tub. She followed behind him trying to think of her next move. There was no way she was going to take a bath with him watching her. He turned and slipped his hands in his pockets, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I need to wash your hair but that makes things a little tricky, doesn't it?" He ran a hand through his own hair in contemplation. "Okay, how about you just keep that shirt on. I'll give you another to change into when we're through. I'll call Dean and get him to pick you up some clothes. You look to be about what? Size 8 or 10?"

She shrugged. She never paid much attention to clothing size. Her dad bought her clothes and she wore them. She didn't care much about fashion. She usually just wore jeans, t-shirts and a jacket like her dad's. Hunters had to dress practically and comfortably. She only had about 5 outfits to her name.

He handed her a bar of motel soap and helped her step into the tub of warm water. Oh, did it felt nice on her aching muscles. She sat down, the large t-shirt ballooning out around her. She wrapped her arms around it making it wet so it would cling to her. She was thankful that he was sensitive to her modesty. She liked Sam.

Sam stooped down and began to unwind the bandage from around her head. She winced when he poked around in her hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said but he kept prodding and pulling strands of hair away from the cut at the base of her head. He reached for a plastic cup on the counter and filled it with warm water running from the tub faucet and pouring it over her hair. Looking down, she saw the water begin to turn pink.

"Is it bad?" She couldn't help asking. She still wasn't sure if Sam was a hunter or a civilian yet but given what he knew about holy water and silver knives, she was leaning in the direction of hunter. She still wanted to do one more test but it would need to wait.

Sam smiled at her. "Actually, I thought it was much worse given all the blood but it looks like it's clotted really well. It's not bleeding as much but I'm going to wash your hair to be sure. It's probably going to hurt a bit."

She puffed out her cheeks and grimaced. Normally she didn't even like her hair brushed. Her dad chided her all the time about being so difficult about her hair. She'd begged him to cut it but he refused. He liked her hair long. She didn't. As soon as she was old enough, she planned to cut it short.

Sam poured warm water over her head, using his large hand to block any from falling into her eyes. His touch was tender. It was hard to believe that someone with such large hands could be so gentle but she was grateful.

"So," he said as he scrubbed her head gently avoiding the cut, "ready to tell me your name yet?"

She heaved a sigh as she scrubbed at her dirty feet. What the heck, she might as well tell him. What would it hurt? " Jorie."

"Jorie? Like as in Marjorie?"

She turned and glared at him. "No, as in Jorie."

His dimples danced in his cheeks as he smiled at her. "Jorie what?"

She felt him tenderly rub over her wound and she pulled away. "Ow...Jorie Spencer."

He looked at her with sympathy in his warm green eyes. "Sorry. Your hair is matted around the wound. I need to clean it so I can get a better look at the cut."

Jorie felt tears burn the back of her eyes but she straightened her head once again. She glanced down at the water seeing it grow pinker as he worked to untangle her bloodied hair from her head. She grimaced and tried to concentrate on cleaning her feet and her bruised, cut-up knees. She really was a mess.

"So Mac is your dad?"

She nodded blinking back tears.

"So, Jorie Spencer, can you tell me anything about that creature your dad was hunting?"

Jorie sucked on her bottom lip as Sam dislodged the gummed-up hairs on her head. It seemed that Sam had put all the pieces together without any help from her. She felt her head begin to ache once again and she couldn't help wincing as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It hurt so much. Finally, she couldn't take the pain anymore and she reached her hand up to stop him. Sam caught her hand in his and gently squeezed it in a comforting gesture. "I'm nearly finished, honey. It's best to not touch it. I may need to cut a little hair away so I can Steri-strip it. You okay with that?"

She nodded, tears mixed with water running down her cheeks.

Sam stroked her cheek gently and winked at her. "I know it hurts but you're being very brave. Almost finished washing up?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Sam scrubbed a little harder around her head, wrapping an arm around her to keep her still. This time she whimpered but he didn't relent in his mission. She fought him a little but he seemed to expect it and held her tightly. "I'm nearly done."

And then he was.

She heaved a thankful sigh and he smiled at her again. "My dad didn't know what it was. Not a demon or a ghost as far as we could tell but he was strong. Demon strong."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we noticed. It tossed my brother across the room like a rag doll." Sam stood up and held out a large yellow threadbare towel. He reached out and pulled her to her feet, wrapping the towel around her. Jorie felt kind of unsteady on her feet as her head seemed to pound in unison with her heartbeat once again.

"Hope you like pink hair."

"Pink?"

Sam smirked as he used another towel to dry her hair. He spun her sideways, cracked the split mirror and pointed at it. Jorie looked up to catch a glimpse of the back of her head. She smirked as well. Her hair held a very noticeable pink hue to it from the top of her head to the base of her skull then it faded out slowly to blonde at the bottom. She shivered as her body temperature began to cool down and the cold wet t-shirt clung to her skin.

"I'll get you a dry shirt to put on and call Dean. Then I will help you brush your hair and see about Steri-striping it."

Sam disappeared out the door, tossing a dry shirt at her and then disappearing again. Within a few seconds, she heard his deep voice rumbling into his phone. Jorie pulled the wet shirt off, tossing it in the tub. She could see the back of it was light pink as well from the blood in her hair. She used the towel to dry herself off and she pulled the dry navy blue shirt on over her head. Again it dwarfed her, fitting her like a large tent-like dress. She looked around the room and found a tie used for pulling back the shower curtain. She used it as a belt to tie around her waist. At least then the shirt didn't just hang on her.

Sam returned and knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said looking up at him as he walked in. He grinned at her when he saw her make-shift dress.

"Cute." He held up a comb so she could see it. Seeing her wince, he said, "I promise to be gentle."

Jorie sighed. This was not going to be even a little bit fun. She hated her hair being brushed. She imagined a comb would be much worse. Sam stepped aside so she could walk out into the open area of the motel room. The sun shone through the windows now showing off how hideous the room was complete with green tacky wallpaper with matching comforters, 1950 style décor including the plush green carpet all tattered and stained from years of use. The bed probably had bugs too. Jorie shuddered at the thought.

Sam pulled out a tacky orange chair and Jorie sat in it. "Your dad called my brother asking for help. Do you know why?"

Jorie's stomach rumbled and she pushed her fist into it to quiet it down a little. She didn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything. She felt Sam separate her hair into sections, probably trying to get a better look at the cut on her head. She shrugged at his question. She didn't know. Her dad never told her much about his hunts. Jorie didn't ask many questions either.

"We showed up at that house looking for another hunter…I guess that was you." Jorie shrugged. "Turned out that the creature was there first."

Sam hummed in answer and fell silent as he worked, combing through her hair and finally Steri-striping the cut.

Jorie felt so content and safe in Sam's gentle hands that she startled when Dean came barging into the room carrying the delicious smell of food with him. Jorie wrapped an arm around her waist trying to calm her stomach as it rumbled loudly in anticipation.

"Anyone up for burgers?" His face held a big dumb grin on it. In one hand he held several bags of fast food, while in the other he carried a Wal-Mart bag with what looked like clothes. He set the bag on the table. "Grabbed some clothes for you, kid. Should do until we can hit a laundry mat. Sammy, we should hit up Wal-Mart more often for supplies, chicks there are smoking hot compared to Target chicks." Dean whistled to show his approval. Jorie frowned at the weird look on Dean's face. She couldn't quite understand what he was getting at.

Sam rolled his eyes and grimaced at his brother's lack of tact.

Jorie stood and wandered to the table to look inside the bag. She grimaced and looked at him not being able to keep the look of disgust from her face. "Pink Disney Princess? Are you kidding me?" Jorie pulled out a pink t-shirt with the five Disney princesses smiling back at her. Then she pulled out the matching skirt and tights. "I'm not five, you know."

Dean smirked, not looking the least bit chastened by her scowl. "Sales chick said they are popular with kids your age." He shrugged and grabbed a burger out of the bag before heading towards one of the twin beds and jumping onto it with a satisfied grunt.

Sam came up behind her and peered into the bag with a smirk on his face. "I take it you're not a Disney princess kinda girl?" Sam pulled out the running shoes in the bag as well. "Think a 4 will fit you?"

Jorie took the shoes and handed off the clothes to Sam with a disgruntled look still lingering on her face. "At least the shoes are cool. Sorta." The shoes were rainbow and glittery and Jorie immediately liked them. She'd never had anything cutesy before and she'd secretly always longed for shoes that glittered.

Sam shrugged. "We'll get your clothes laundered tomorrow first thing. How does that sound?"

Jorie sighed and took the bag into the bathroom to change. The clothes were better than an oversized men's t-shirt. She could deal. By the time she'd finished dressing, she entered the room to see Sam had set out some food for her at the small table in the room. Dean was watching some mindless television and stuffing his face full of pie.

Sam looked up and smiled. "You look nice all cleaned up."

Jorie smiled despite herself. Maybe she could secretly admit she liked the outfit too. It was all really cutesy and she didn't often get the luxury. She never wore skirts and this jean shirt with a pink frilly bottom was kinda cute. It made her feel pretty. Jorie sat down and felt her stomach flip in anticipation of the hamburger. She reached out and grabbed it, stuffing it into her mouth as far as possible before taking a bite. It was way more than she could possibly work around in her mouth and much of it fell back onto her plate as she worked on chewing it, but she didn't care. It tasted so good!

Sam chuckled as he watched her. "Maybe don't take such big bites, kiddo. There's plenty where that came from. Take your time."

Jorie worked to chew the bite in her mouth, eventually conceding that she'd taken too big of a bite and spitting some back onto the paper wrapper. She finished chewing feeling her face redden a little. Her dad and she had been on the road for days before they'd arrived at their destination. Other than a few donuts and bags of chips from a gas station, it had been a few days since she'd eaten anything of substance. Her dad was like that when he was on a hunt. He lost sight of pretty much everything and Jorie had learned to stay in the background lest she distract him. Her dad saved lives and that was much more important than her eating three meals a day. She got by. She took a more modest bite this time and savoured the juicy burger in her mouth. She didn't even care that it had onions and tomatoes on it, both of which she hated. She didn't care it had mustard on it either. She despised mustard too. It just tasted so good. By the time she finished the entire burger, her hunger was finally satiated. She was stuffed and couldn't eat another bite.

Just then Dean rose to his feet and shut off the television. He flipped a chair around at the table and straddled it hitting Jorie with a determined look. "How about you and I have a little chat?"

Jorie felt her temper flare as Dean barked questions at her over the next hour or so. Sam remained silent, obviously used to the unforgiving tone and the way his older brother did things. With a full stomach, and some sleep, Jorie had gained her wits about her once again; her spunk and grit were back. It didn't take much for her to give Dean back what he tossed at her. She was a hunter's daughter. Not much frightened her and Dean Winchester was about to discover he'd met his match in the plucky 10-year-old girl.

"So, you want us to believe that you don't know anything about the creature Mac was hunting?" Dean reiterated for the third time over the hour they'd been talking.

"Dean," cautioned Sam, finally speaking up. "How much did we know about dad's hunts when he left? Sometimes Bobby couldn't believe how much in the dark we were half the time."

"How much in the dark you were, Sammy, not me. I made a point of knowing where dad went and what he was hunting."

Sam scoffed. "Yah and how many times did you get your ass handed to you for poking your nose in where dad didn't want it?"

Dean waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever." He poked a finger in Jorie's direction. "I don't buy it, kid. You're holding out on us."

Jorie's hand slipped under the table, finding her knife that she'd rescued from the closet when Sam had his back turned. Jorie wasn't anything if she wasn't resourceful. For all the times her dad left her alone to fend for herself, she'd learned a thing or two about self-defence. She'd grown weary of Dean Winchester. She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to gouge his eyes out but only because she liked Sam. Sam had been kind to her, patched her up and was a gentle soul. How the guy had ended up with Dean as a brother was beyond her. Sometimes fate dealt some nasty cards.

"I don't care what you buy. It's the truth. Mac doesn't share his hunts with me."

Dean scoffed and banged his fist on the table making Jorie jump. She narrowed her eyes at him in return. She'd met more than her share of hunters like Dean. She hadn't liked them either. She fisted her hand around the knife handle deliberating how she would cut him before she made her escape. She was fast. They would underestimate her, just like most adults did.

"Why were you with him?"

"I followed him."

"You're saying he didn't know you were there?"

"I never said that."

Dean growled under his breath. "Sammy."

Sam pushed the milk carton towards her and rose to his feet. "Finish your milk, Jorie. Dean and I need to talk a minute."

"Sam," protested Dean, looking ready to peel layers of skin off his younger brother.

"Dean, just shut up and come outside with me."

Dean rapped his knuckles on the table and stood to his feet, tossing a glare in her direction. "Don't move, kid. I'm not finished with you."

Jorie resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him. She needed to escape these two and find her dad. She watched as Sam and Dean left the room, closing the door so she couldn't hear their conversation. As soon as they were gone, Jorie was on her feet heading towards the bathroom. She groaned when she realized the window was small and out of her reach. It wasn't going to be easy to get out but nothing was impossible when she put her mind to it. She just wished Dean had bought her jeans and not a damned skirt. The skirt was going to hamper her escape time. Jorie stepped onto the toilet and placed her knee on the towel bar, testing to see if it would hold her weight. It seemed sturdy enough so she hiked her skirt up to her waist, grateful for the leggings she wore underneath. Placing her knife between her teeth, she pulled herself up into the bathroom windowsill. The sill was locked but it was easy enough to jimmy open. She pushed on the screen and it easily fell to the ground. Swinging her body around, she put her feet out first and jumped to the ground with a satisfied grunt only to stand up to see Dean staring down at her.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Jorie swallowed hard despite herself. Damn. She hadn't expected to get caught that quickly. "H-how did you—"

Dean grabbed her none too gently by her forearm. "I wasn't born last night, kid."

Jorie cursed under her breath and in a sudden blast of courage, grabbed her knife, slicing deeply at her captor's arm.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, dropping his hand from her arm to grasp his bicep to contain the spurting blood.

Jorie took that moment to run only to smack into the muscle wall that was Sam. He wrestled the knife from her hand and easily lifted her off her feet and tucked her under one arm. He looked at his brother in sympathy, "You okay?"

"No, Sam. I'm not okay. The little brat took a slice out of me." Dean lifted his hand to inspect the damage. "Damn it. It's gonna need to be stitched. Son of bitch."

"Lemme go," Jorie yelled, kicking her feet to get free of Sam's tight grip on her.

Dean stalked over to Sam and glared at Jorie. "Kid, you and me are gonna have some words."

"I'll slice you again." Jorie snapped back, despite her awkward position under Sam's arm.

Dean's jaw tightened and he stalked off towards the hotel room once more.

Sam watched as his brother disappeared into the room before setting Jorie to her feet and crouching to her level, holding fast to her forearm, her knife still in his other hand. "Hey, why'd you do that? I was handling it, Jorie. "

"He's a dickwad…"

Sam frowned. "Stop it. That kind of talk doesn't sound good coming from a pretty little girl like you, and I'm sure your dad wouldn't like it."

"You don't know anything about my daddy," Jorie said, tears streaming down her cheeks. Damn it. Why did Sam get under her skin so? His being so nice was throwing her off her game. He was too easy to trust and that kind of person was dangerous because Jorie felt vulnerable and alone.

Sam wiped the knife off on his jeans and tucked it into his back pocket, cupping Jorie's cheek with his hand. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. Dean isn't as bad as you think he is. Just give him a chance to show you his nice side and let me handle him, okay? Can you trust me?"

Jorie nodded. It felt easy to trust Sam.

Sam patted her cheek and stood up, taking her hand in his. "We're gonna help you find your dad, Jorie. I promise you that and I'm a man of my word.

More to come...please let me know what you think.