I don't remember much about the fire, just the heat, and the pain in my right side. The rest is just stories, told to me by my brother, Dean, when I was old enough. He always answered my questions, even though my father didn't. Dean had told me that a monster had gone after Sammy, my other brother, and that it killed my mom, starting a fire...
"Get your brother outside as fast as you can! Now Dean, go!"
Dean turned, but yelled, "What bout Henley?"
John shoved Dean gently towards the door, ordering, "Take care of Sammy, I've got her!"
Dean turned and ran out of the house. John ran back towards the flames, which were beginning to get through to my room. I was still in there, my two-year-old blue eyes reflecting the flames as I cried and screamed.
John ran into the room and saw the flames, licking at my right side. He grabbed me, beating out the flames, but I still screamed as he ran out of the house, carrying me.
Outside, John grabbed Dean and Sam with his other arm, and hauled the three of us away just as the flames caught a gas line, causing an explosion. He set Sam and Dean by his car, and ran me to the paramedics. They treated my burns, but they said it would scar. After answering all the questions the police had, my father placed the three of us in his car, and left, never looking back…
Thus began my life as a hunter. Constantly moving town to town, school to school, it was no shock when I dropped out.
I spent my life hunting evil, until I left, moving to Ohio for a real life. My reasons were valid, and I left not long after Sammy did, the difference being he was going to college, a dream I could never make a reality. I was happy in Ohio, had a job as a waitress, a few friends, but I felt off; never quite able to put that old life away, sleeping with a gun under my mattress, salting my doors and windows as a precaution. I tried to fit in. Tried forgetting as much of my old life as possible.
I thought, maybe, I was out, for good. That is, until fate knocked on my door that October night…