Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to The CW and Eric Kripke.

Suggested Songs:

"If Only You Were Lonely" by The Replacements

"Bell Boy" by The Who

"Hello, I Love You" by The Doors

Chapter Two

Sam's eyes flicked to Dean nervously, while Dean turned to Melissa in slight shock. He tried and failed to hide the urgency in his voice.

"You know our dad?" he asked fervently with eyebrows raised.

"Yeah...um…" Melissa started apprehensively, pausing to clear her throat. "He helped me out on some of my first cases...saved my life a couple times actually." Her cheeks burned scarlet, and she looked down at her old brown boots. It wasn't often that she told people her real name, let alone anything about her past. Old memories clouded her mind for a moment before she glanced back up at John Winchester's sons.

Melissa was met with only silence and the boys looking worriedly between each other. A heavy tension hung in the air, leaving Melissa to wonder what she had done to create it.

"Is something wrong?" Melissa blurted out, feeling brave. "Is...John...okay?"

Again, neither one of the Winchesters answered. Dean turned to her, looking conflicted. She snuck a look at Sam and thought she saw his eyes getting misty. Dean was about to speak when Ben, oddly enough, beat him to it.

"Hey, um, guys? I'm sorry to interrupt," he said slowly, avoiding eye contact with all three of them. He walked tentatively away from the hood of the car towards them. "But could we maybe get to the hospital? I'm sorry...I just wanna see my brother."

All three hunters turned to him, causing his face and ears to redden immediately. They put on brave, more welcoming faces in an attempt to calm Ben, and Dean walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Sure thing," Dean said with a warm smile. "Just get in the car and we'll be there in a minute."

Melissa felt a little mad at herself, having momentarily forgotten Ben was even there. But worry began to nag at her. Is John dead? she questioned internally as she watched Dean mutter a few more kind words before the teenager walked back to the Impala. Why won't they just tell me?

"Hey," Dean said as he turned back to Melissa, "why don't you come by our motel a little later for a beer? We can talk more there."

"Um, yeah, sure," she said, nodding. Dean cracked a smile at her while Sam nodded. She smiled back. "Where are y'all staying?"

"Well...we were gonna check into the Motel 6 we saw on the way here. Like, right on the edge of town coming from the East?"

"Oh, that's where I am."

"Really? Seriously, how did we not know you were here?" Dean asked, glad the mood was light again. "Didn't you interview the park rangers or anything?"

"Nah," she said, shaking her head, "I don't really like those interviews. Usually wait till I feel like I have to. I mean I have to at some point on most hunts. The truth is I really just hate business clothes."

Dean chuckled a little, and even Sam, who had seemed somber since Melissa met him, smiled a little at the joke.

"Well," Melissa said, "You go take care of the kid and I'll call the cops for all those bodies in the woods. I guess it's time to put on my hapless civilian face."

Sam and Dean nodded, and Sam starting walking back to the car. Melissa stopped Dean just as he was turning around, grabbing the cuff of his worn brown leather jacket gently.

"And don't worry about the beer," she told him, letting go of his arm. "I got it."

"You already saved my life, we can get it," Dean said, trying to refuse her generosity. Though she seemed sincere, it still made him nervous. Hunters weren't exactly known for their nice demeanor. But the fact that she knew his father made him feel safer.

"No, really, I've already got some in my fridge. Just come by room 28 whenever you're ready," she assured him. Hospitality was something that had never left her even if she wasn't always working cases in the South. "You can have some even if you are anti-Deadhead."

She winked at him and then turned to the woods, grabbing her phone from her pocket. Dean smirked as she began to yell helplessly at the 911 operator, impressed by her acting skills. He still had a bittersweet taste in his mouth, however. The bodies Melissa was shrieking about finding while following her dog through the woods were painfully real.

He slowly ambled back to Baby. Sam looked at him expectantly as he shut the door and put his key in the ignition. He only shrugged and took off, the engine rumbling loudly down the trail as the sun finally set.

. . .

"Okay, so...he's not dead," Melissa repeated Sam's words back into the air.

Dean nodded, scrubbing his face tiredly with his free hand. Sam only sighed. The three of them sat around a small table at the entrance of Melissa's motel room. It was past nine, and they were nursing beers. Melissa felt especially tired, more than the normal post-hunt fatigue. She suspected it was partially from the long night in the woods, and in part due to the massive amount of information that had just been relayed to her.

They'd basically told her everything from the time John left for the hunt from which he didn't return until the current moment. She'd had to look away from Sam and make eye contact with only Dean during the part about Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, being killed by a demon only a couple weeks before.

"So," Sam looked up from his drink to her, "I guess it's your turn. When did you hunt with our dad?"

They both looked to her and she felt flushed under their gaze. She averted her eyes to the small fridge behind Sam, who was sitting right across from her with Dean on her left. She focused on a red Welcome to Colorado magnet and took a deep breath, thinking back to her teen years hazily.

"Um, well...it was back in I think 1996. I'm from a little town in Georgia, I was living there. It was a ghost...it um-it killed my boyfriend. And your dad, he helped me figure it out. And after that I...told him I wasn't finished. I was pretty angry. So he just-he helped me get started I guess?"

She tried to blink the glassiness out of her eyes and was courageous enough to look back at the boys. They looked sympathetic enough, but that didn't make Melissa feel any better.

"So...what? He gave you cases?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and he told me how to find them where weird stuff was happening. He helped me hotwire that truck and gave me a gun. We worked the first two together. Though I was pretty shaky at first, and he had to get me out of a bind a few times during those first weeks. It was a skinwalker and a werewolf. Then he was on his way," she told them, finding it a little easier to gather her words this time.

She focused on the light pattering of rain outside. It had begun drizzling before Melissa was even done with the cops in the woods. She probably should have guessed it, given how humid it had been all day. By the time she got back to the motel, it was almost seven. She had taken in her features in the dusty bathroom mirror, dark crescents underneath her blue eyes and her pale cheeks flushed with the heat and stress of the day. She'd taken a quick shower, and there was a knock at her door just as she finished getting dressed. Never a dull moment, she thought to herself now, taking another sip of her lukewarm beer as she replayed the day in her mind. The fridge in this motel, like they were in all the other ones, was crap.

"Have you heard from him since then?" Dean asked, trying not to feel hopeful. Her answer had left him wanting to hear more, but it was easy to see that she was upset, so he decided not to push her too hard.

"Well, not from him. But I've definitely heard of him," she said. "I mean, hunters are a gossipy bunch. Last I heard, he was somewhere in Montana I think. That's all I know. I swear."

"Alright, well," Dean said, standing up and setting his empty bottle on the wobbly table. Without another word he started towards the door. His actions were soon followed by Sam, then Melissa.

"Thanks," Dean said, turning back to her, "for everything. Y'know, the beer and the whole saving my life thing."

"Yeah," Sam echoed with a sincere look. "Um...thanks. Without my brother, there'd be no one to get me across three states in one day and still not get a speeding ticket."

Melissa smiled warmly at him and shook his hand again in goodbye. "It's not a problem. That's what hunters do, ain't it? Save each other?"

"Yeah. I guess so," Dean said with a wry grin. He also shook her hand. It felt oddly melancholy to Dean, but he shook it off. It just wasn't often he met hunters who actually seemed nice, let alone had good taste in music and a history with his now missing father. He wished it wouldn't almost definitely be the last time he saw her.

"Hey," she said, just as they were walking out the door, "I...hope you find your dad."

"Thanks," Dean said solemnly and Sam nodded at her. Then, she shut her door to the warm night, expecting to never see either of those boys again.

. . .

Despite how much Melissa hated early mornings, she could never stop herself from waking up before eight. The motel was about as unwelcoming as she remembered as she slowly climbed out of sleep that morning and slowly got ready for her long drive to cases yet unknown. It was easy to pack up her stuff, having almost nothing in the room apart from a few flannels and pairs of jeans. But, after so long, it was easy for her to travel light. And, it only took her a couple minutes to rip down the collage of newsprint and little notes to herself that she had created in the back of the closet. The coats she used to hide it were often her biggest nuisance when packing up. They were just too bulky. She grimaced a little as she got ready to brush her teeth, having forgotten to the night before. She could still taste the alcohol. She wasn't a heavy drinker, and didn't even like beer, but sometimes she really needed the buzz. So, she kept a six pack in the motel fridge on most hunts. They'd drunk the whole pack the previous evening.

She put her duffel in the passenger seat of the truck, grimacing at the bright sunlight and the stifling humidity caused by the rain the night before. Then, she went back to the motel room for a last check. It was a ritual she had developed since entering the life. When she felt decently confident that there was nothing of her small arsenal left in the room, she turned the key into a very begrudgingly man at the front desk. He was small and bald and wormy-looking. His head was very shiny under the sickening fluorescent light, amusing Melissa a little as she paid with yet another fraudulent card. This one was under the name of one Janis Joplin.

"Was your stay satisfactory?" the worm man asked with angry eyebrows raised as he handed her card back. She smirked in amusement.

To say the man lacked any enthusiasm was a complete understatement. She only nodded at him and then made her way across the steamy parking lot, taking deep breaths in the mid-morning air. Though there had been no dreams during the night, the news of John Winchester's disappearance had unsettled her to no end. She felt on edge. Jumpy. And she was doing her best to stay calm. She felt as though something was coming for her. Something big. As a hunter, she could almost always feel when she was being watched. She felt a little like that now, but not exactly. For the life of her, she couldn't place it.

In another attempt to quiet her nerves, she popped in a Dead tape once she was in her car. She turned the key in the ignition, but sat then for a moment and just listened. She let the music take over her thoughts, and she could hear nothing else but the dulcet tones of her all-time favorite band. To her, it almost wasn't music. It was something bigger. Something elemental.

A sudden knock on her window made her jump and utter a small gasp. She grabbed the gun in the pocket of her duffel as quickly as she could. She turned back in a fury, ready to kill whatever had startled her. Instead, she saw that she was pointing her revolver towards the bemused face of Dean Winchester, watching her through the driver's side. She sighed heavily as she lowered the weapon and rolled down her window, the music still blaring. He was dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans, having walked out into the parking lot barefoot.

"Sorry," Dean smirked, "Didn't mean to scare ya."

"Dammit, Dean," Melissa scolded, turning down the music only a little, "Shouldn't someone have told you by now that you should never sneak up on a hunter?"

"Yeah, but...it's too much fun," Dean shrugged lightly. "They usually look before they shoot. I guess I shouldn't count on you bein' that way, huh?"

"Are you out here for a reason?" she asked shortly. It only made Dean grin wider.

"Why, yes, actually. I'm not just knocking on random car windows as my daily morning exercise. I wanted to give you this," he told her, handing her a small piece of paper. "It's the number to my actual, real cell."

"If you're trying to hit on me, so help me God-" she began in frustration, only to be cut off by Dean.

"No, no, no, nothing like that. Honest. I just wanted to catch you before you left. I checked in your room and you weren't there so I thought you must be in the car and I...I owe you now. What with you saving my life and all," he rambled, scratching the back of his neck and averting his eyes in embarrassment. It made Melissa smile just a little. "Anyway, if you're ever in a jam, just don't hesitate to call."

"I'll keep that in mind. I promise I'll let you know if I hear about John or something," she said. Dean nodded and looked to the ground. Melissa decided, wisely, to change the subject. "And I guess I should return the favor, you know, in the unlikely event that you need me to save your ass again."

She rummaged around her duffel for a moment and Dean furrowed his brows. She finally found a pen amongst her other crap and grabbed his rough and calloused hand through the open window without warning. Dean let out a small noise of alarm and Melissa only laughed. She wrote her real number quickly, not remembering the last time she had shared it with someone.

She released Dean's hand and he studied it for a moment, before cracking a wry grin. "Thanks."

There was a beat of comfortable silence before Dean raised his head to her sharply, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Hey, before you go, I gotta ask…" he began, glancing to her. She motioned for him to continue, resting her left arm through the window of the truck. "Why the Grateful Dead?"

She laughed a little and looked toward the speakers, which were only slightly less than blasting. They had to speak quite loudly to hear each other over it, but neither were bothered by it at this moment. "Ummm…" she thought dramatically for a moment. Dean smirked.

She turned back to him with her blue eyes dancing. It wasn't often someone asked her about music. She could have gone on about the Grateful Dead for hours and hours. "They're honest."

Dean's face fell a little in contemplation but he continued to smile at the mysterious answer from a mysterious woman. With that, she put down the parking brake and began to roll backwards slowly.

"Don't be a stranger!" she yelled to him over the music just before he was out of her view, driving out of the parking lot.

He waved after her though he knew she probably couldn't see him. He could tell she was turning her music up even higher as she got farther down the country road on her way to a new case. He shook his head and laughed a little as the red truck shrank from his view.

Maybe the Dead ain't so bad after all, he thought in spite of himself. He continued watching her until she eventually disappeared behind the rolling hills.

Author's Note: Voila! There's chapter two for you! I hope you liked it! The next chapter will have more action and character building and such, so please stay tuned. Also, there will be more of Dean's (and even Sam's) perspective, I just wanted to do a more in depth introduction to Melissa first.

PLEASE review and let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for reading and have a great day!

Peace and love.