A/N: Yeah, school sucks, sorry for being so late! Alright, so one little thing, I switched tense halfway through this chapter because I now realize how bad past tense sounds and how incorrect it is in this context...sooooo...yeah the rest of the fic will be written in the proper present tense. Sorry for slipping up! :) enjoy

Chapter 5: Meet the Winchesters

I stood there for a second, looking at the two hunters standing in front of me. Sam, the taller one, towered over me and his brother, though his general appearance wasn't extremely intimidating. He wore a striped, button-up shirt under a light jacket, worn jeans, and brown shoes. He also had medium-length brown hair and green eyes, which showed a kindness to me that evaporated any intimidation I felt. His brother, Dean, who was about half a foot shorter than him, looked very different from him, though their clothes were very similar. Dean wore a plain gray T-shirt under a light, blue-gray jacket with jeans and short, black boots. Similarly to his brother, Dean had short, brown hair and the most beautiful, green eyes I had ever seen.

"You're Lara Wright?" Dean asked, his voice considerably deeper than his brothers.

"Yes, I am," I said, extending my hand out.

As Dean took it he looked down at one of the rings on my finger.

"Silver, nice one," he commented. "We're not shifters, you know, or werewolves."

"Never can be too careful," I said, inviting them inside.

I saw Sam look around my hotel room at all the notes and books I had sprawled everywhere.

"So what exactly is killing people here?" he asked.

"That's a little harder to explain, considering I just got a whole new theory of it," I said.

I could hardly believe I now had to depend on other hunters to help with my jobs, all because I was too unnerved by demons. Demons, something that hunters had to deal with from time to time, it was my job to be able to deal with them and I couldn't. I had set the radio in the hotel room to the local classic rock station in attempt to calm myself from my nightmare, it was still playing the comforting music as I decided what to tell the brothers.

"Man, you have good taste in music," Dean commented, leaning back in one of the motel desk chairs.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile, already liking this man.

The two were considerably more likable than other hunters I had worked with in the past. I walked over to where I had put my notebook on the bed, it now had new entries for the information I collected earlier. If I were to tell these two one of my theories it would ruin my other theories, luckily there were two of them.

"Do you two know anything about this case, the history of it?" I inquired.

"Not really," Sam replied.

"That's usually Sam's department," Dean commented.

"I'm sorry, we really didn't have time, we got a call and came down here right away," Sam started to explain.

"No, actually, this time it's a good thing you didn't. Like I said I just got new theories, I haven't actually had too much time to process them," I said flipping through my notes as I spoke. "But I think I have just enough to go on for now."

The brothers looked at each other and then back at me, I decided I would have to stretch the truth a little bit to validate my theory. I cast my eyes around the room, looking like I was searching for something.

"Crap, I left something in my car. Sam, do you mind?" I asked, motioning to the door.

"No, not at all," Sam said following me out of the room.

"You two kids have fun," I heard Dean say as we walked out.

"Don't mind my brother, he's kind of a jerk sometimes," Sam laughed.

I smiled, "I've had worse."

I opened my trunk, removing the false bottom and looking around for things to use against demons. In a few seconds I located a water bottle filled to the top and pulled it out.

"Holy water?" Sam suggested.

I nodded, also taking the page of theories from my notebook which I had carried out with me. I handed the paper to Sam.

"Here's some back story, now you can't tell Dean, but from what I discovered it seems more like the murdering janitor to me, he was probably the same demon, don't you think?" I suggested.

Sam quickly read over the paper at a speed that made me think he had a far better education than most hunters, including me.

"Seems like it to me," he commented, his eyes still on the paper. "Why can't I tell Dean?"

We walked back inside, I was still toting the holy water and Sam had placed the theory sheet into his pocket. Dean was still sitting reclined in the desk chair, his feet now propped up on the simple, wood desk beside the ancient TV. He watched us as we walked in, his eyes displaying a hint of curiosity probably due to the amount of time we had been gone.

"Dude, please tell me the reason it took you so long was because you got me a beer from the car," Dean remarked.

"No way, go get it yourself, jerk," Sam demanded in a half-offended tone.

"...Bitch," I heard Dean mumble as he got up from the chair and walked out of the room.

At this point I couldn't tell if they were just screwing with each other or they really were angry. Either way I decided to stay out of it, going over to sit on my bed, sifting through the scattered notes. A minute later I heard a car door shut, seconds later Dean walked back in with three beers. He tossed one to Sam and one to me, keeping the third for himself as he situated himself back in the chair. I deemed it important to share at least a little bit of information with them so they at least knew what they were getting into, which was likely much less than they were used to.

"So, in short, there's this old, abandoned school, one day a lot of kids and some adults died tragically, but no one can seem to agree on the cause. I don't think it's important to learn those different theories, they only hinder what I am trying to do. Mr. O'Donnell had a mother and grandmother who worked at this school, both died, but only one of them was haunting the school, his mother Lillian . Now I talked to Mr. O'Donnell's father James and he informed me that Lillian, his wife, and Rosanne, his mother, were in very strained relations, his mother disapproved of his wife and was very spiteful. He said right after they found out his wife was pregnant he saw his mother with a 'stranger' near the house. After this meeting his mother became even more aggressive towards his wife, and then the accident happened. Now it sounds to me like we have a demon deal on our hands, combined with the force I felt in that school I definitely think it was a demon. It still doesn't answer my question, why would a spirit and demon be working together?"

"Beats me. Sam?" Dean says.

"I haven't heard anything like it, maybe they were just haunting the same place," Sam suggests.

"Maybe, but we've walked into some decades-long demon crap and I don't like it," Dean adds, his legs still propped up next to the TV. "Sammy, go get us a room."

Though I had no doubt the Winchesters would stay, hearing Dean's words lighten my outlook on the whole case. Between the three of us we should be able to figure out what is happening, and, of course, put an end to this demon.

After mild bickering with his brother, Sam finally ends up going to the lobby of the motel to book them a room for at least the night. Already these two give me nostalgia of the relationship my brother and I shared for so long, a relationship I sorely miss. When Sam leaves Dean and I in the room alone suddenly I feel more shy than I ever have in my life, in fact I have never really been shy before.

"Lara Wright you said," Dean says, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, why?" I reply in confusion.

"I think I recognize your last name, do you know a Daniel Wright?"

"He was my father," I say looking down at the floor, my expression slipping into a frown.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to- I think he worked with our dad on a job once, my dad wrote down all his encounters with other hunters in his journal, you know, in case we ever needed contacts. God, I never thought we would be able to do it without him."

In his voice I can hint the same pain I too share, except, his is more noticeable, like something has just happened and then I realize what he means.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I had no idea, I do remember my dad talking about a Winchester before," I say sympathetically, but being completely truthful. "Last time I heard, your dad was off kicking paranormal ass, if you don't mind my asking, what happened?"

Immediately I can tell I hit a nerve, Dean changes from his devil-may-care attitude to looking absolutely downtrodden.

"You know what, never mind, that was uncalled for, I don't know why I said that," I apologize quickly.

"It's fine, I don't do all that sappy Hallmark card crap, it was this damn demon, I know it was, I just..."

"A demon?" I say, taken aback by our sudden, yet horrible, similarities.

"Yeah, why do you think I came so fast? I mean Sam would anyway, but I can't get my hands on the demon that killed our dad. I can kill every last black-eyed bastard I come across."

"I know how you feel," I say dropping my eyes to the floor, memorizing the patterns in the carpet to keep my mind off my emotions. "A demon killed my dad too..."

The statement leaves my mouth so suddenly, it surprises me when I hear myself say it aloud. I haven't told anyone that before, not even the few close friends I do have. Why would I tell Dean, someone I have only known for a few minutes, someone who I don't know much about to start with. I fold my hands in my lap, squeezing them together to relieve the tension coursing through my body. After a few seconds of silence I am able to look up, expecting to get the typical look of pity from Dean, the one I get from every hunter or person who learns my story. Instead I only see sympathy, not pity, in his eyes. I see someone who has lived through the same hell as me and become stronger for it, as I have.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean says.

I incline my head as an odd form of thanks.

I don't know what made me trust him so much to tell him a secret I almost never share with anyone. I am just lucky that he has gone through the same thing, that he isn't treating me like every other hunter.

"You seem to be doing fine by yourself," Dean says.

When I look at him with a confused expression he continues.

"It was you that took out three monsters in one town, right?"

I wonder how he heard about that, then I remember hunters cannot keep their mouths shut to save their lives.

"Yeah," I reply with a smile, remembering the hunt.

"Wasn't it like a ghost, a werewolf-?"

"A ghost, a werewolf, and a shifter," we finish at the same time.

"That's pretty freakin' impressive," he comments, picking his beer back up.

I can't stop the heat rising to my cheeks, blushing at the compliment. I feel like an idiot, hoping he doesn't notice my blushing. What is it about him that makes me act so different from usual?

"It was luck, really," I say, trying to pass off the compliment.

I shift my position on the bed, sitting more comfortably before I dive into my story.

"I go into town, some no-name place in Minnesota, to take care of some angry, mother-son ghost thing, and I do. Next thing I know my car is breaking down on the way out of town and I have to stay three more days. People were already getting suspicious of me, to the point where I was expecting them to call the real feds, so that was great," I sarcastically. "A day into my extended stay some guy gets killed with all the signs pointing to a werewolf kill, and I had to deal with that. The shifter just showed up as I was killing the werewolf, afterwards I was so ready to get the hell out of there."

"I bet the people were glad to see you leave too, huh?"

I laugh, "Yeah, they were probably more excited than me."

"I know the feeling, if only they knew, they wouldn't be so ungrateful."

I smile, knowing exactly what he means. As hunters, we go around saving whole towns from getting slaughtered by monsters, but rarely hear so much as a word of thanks in return. Of course we live with it, we don't really need to be thanked, it's part of the job, however it is nice to be appreciated for risking our lives for strangers.

It has gotten late and Sam has yet to return from checking into the lobby, which isn't very far from the room.

"Where's Sam?" I ask.

Dean sits up straight in shock, taking out his phone and dialing a few numbers.

"Come on, Sam," he mutters as the phone rings.

I too wait for his brother to pick up, worried that something has happened.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean exclaims, snapping the flip phone shut.

We both rise from where we are sitting at the same time. I grab my small messenger bag from the bedpost, just in case.

"A purse?" Dean asks as I turn to pull the door shut behind us.

I throw the cloth satchel in his direction, he catches it and opens the flap.

"A lot less bulky than a duffel," I comment. "And far more discreet."

In that bag are the bare essentials to hunting; a small container of salt, a small bottle of holy water, iron, and silver. Dean nods in approval, handing the bag back to me on our way to the lobby. I haven't the slightest clue what could have happened to Sam, but I am worried. Dean looks far more worried than I would have expected, then again, this is his brother he's concerned about. It's pitch black outside, the only light coming from the distant street lamps because the moon has been darkened by the passing storm clouds. Although the sun is far gone the humidity makes the air heavy and hot.

"What do you think happened?" I ask.

"I don't know," Dean's curt reply is tinged with apprehension, he is very worried about his brother.

We make it to the lobby in a few minutes, Dean pushing open the glass doors of the illuminated building.

"Sam!" he calls.

I look around the small room while Dean looks behind the large wooden desk for clues. A woman suddenly appears from a back hallway.

"Oh," she says when she sees us. "You must be looking for Sam."

"What was your first clue?" I ask sarcastically.

Dean looks at me, raising an eyebrow at my remark.

"He's in the back room, he was checking in when he just collapsed, so I helped him into a bed to lie down," the woman says.

I am immediately concerned for Sam, expecting Dean to react in the same way, but his expression remains level, like this has happened before.

"Where is he?" Dean asks.

"Here, I think he was just waking up anyway," the woman says, leading us down the back hallway.

She leads us into another room where Sam is sitting up on a bed in the corner.

"You scared the hell out of us, Sammy," Dean says, walking over to his brother.

"Sorry, I just- I don't know what came over me, I felt like I was going to pass out," Sam says. "I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?" I ask, still a little concerned.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Dean replies, helping his brother up.

Now it really seems as if this happened before, but I don't act suspicious and I don't ask, it isn't my business. Sam thanks the woman, gets their room key and we walk back to our now-adjacent rooms. I lie awake in the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Tomorrow, or rather in a few hours, I will wake up and find out what I have gotten myself into.

A/N: Well hope you enjoyed! I know there wasn't that much action in this chapter, but there will be plenty in the next one! Whenever I can finish it...