I walked over to my first table of the day: it was three men, one short with a bruise on his left eye, a tall one with shoulder-length hair and a patchy beard, and an exasperated looking one in a trench coat.

I put on a fake smile and greeted them. "Hey, my name's Debbie. What can I get started for y'all today?" My real name isn't Debbie, it's Dhara - I changed it last year after I moved here. After my mother… I shook my head, snapping myself out of those memories.

The short one looked at me. "I'll take your double bacon triple cheeseburger - extra bacon, extra cheese, and a cup of coffee. Oh, and some cherry pie for dessert."

"Alrighty then," I said, scratching it onto my notepad. I turned to the one in the trench coat, "And for you?"

"Just water, thank you." His voice was surprisingly gruff.

I turned to the tall one.

"I'll have the chicken salad and some water, please. Thank you," he said.

"Alright, I'll get that in for ya. Anything else?" I asked.

"You know what?" The short one looked at me. "Make it two pies. We are celebrating, after all."

"Oh?" I asked. "What are we celebrating?"

"Our uncle Bobby. It's his birthday today, so here we are. Does that make the pie free?"

"Dean..." The tall one seemed used to this behavior.

Uncle Bobby…Dean... The names nagged at the back of my head. I felt a lump in my throat. It wasn't him. It couldn't be. It never was. Why get my hopes up this time? But these men, they had an energy about them I couldn't ignore. Especially the one in the trench coat. He felt strange, powerful.

I realized I hadn't spoken in over 30 seconds.

"Yes, yes of course. Two free pies on the house," I said, collecting my thoughts. "I'll be back with your food." I smiled and nodded.

The short one, Dean, seemed happy as I walked away.

I quickly put the order into the kitchen and rushed into the bathroom. Finding a stall, I closed the door and locked it. I pulled a photo from my pocket. On it was a middle-aged man in a blue hat hugging a young boy with spiky hair. On the back in worn writing, it said:

Uncle Bobby and D

The rest of it had faded away.

This could be a coincidence. But maybe...maybe it was him. Maybe these men were the answer I've been searching for. I had to do something.

I remembered learning about a blood tracking spell my mother had taught me. I pulled a small pocket knife from my pocket and slit my palm. I grabbed a pack of mints from my apron and squeezed some of the blood into it.

"Track sanguinem meum," I said clearly.

It glowed green and I closed the container. I wiped my hand with toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet.

By the time I returned to the counter, their order was ready. I picked up the tray and brought it over.

"Alright fellas, here you are." I handed them each their orders. "Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thank you," the tall one said.

He seemed very polite. I almost felt guilty for tracking him. Speaking of which, I had to plant my tracker.

Once the tray was empty of food, I dropped it onto the ground. "My bad," I said, pretending to be flustered. As I bent down to pick it up, I slipped the mint container into the tall one's jacket which was draped over his chair.

I quickly stood up and scurried off towards my next table. I kept my eye on their table the rest of my shift, waiting to see when they were leaving.

After an hour there was nothing left on their table other than one slice of pie, which Dean was shoveling in. They all three stood up and Dean slapped a wad of cash onto the table. Together, they left.

I ran towards my manager and told him I was taking my break. The black Impala outside fired up and began to drive away.

I gave them 5 minutes and then hopped onto my motorcycle. I gripped the handlebars and chanted once again: "Track sanguinem meum, Track sanguinem meum"

The handles lit green and the engine started on its own. My bike would take me wherever that mint container went, which would be wherever those men went.

Hopefully to Bobby.

I was on the road for hours until I finally ended up at an old cabin. I stopped the bike about 15 minutes from the place to not be seen. I walked the rest of the way and went around back.

The lights were on, I could hear music and voices. They were still awake.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. So, breaking in won't work. Not yet anyway. I'll have to wait until they're asleep. That was my plan anyway, but then I heard a twig break behind me.

I whirled around and saw the tall one holding a pile of logs in his arms. We held eye contact for about 5 seconds and then I bolted.

Holy shit, I underestimated how fast he was. My black shoes pounded on the wooded ground.

"Shit, shit, shit shit, shi - ah!" I was tackled to the ground and before I knew it there was a gun in my face.

"Who are you?! Why did you follow us here?"

I swallowed and considered using witchcraft on him, or maybe my - no. It's too risky. Besides, I need him on my side.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not here to hurt you." I sounded genuine and scared. Which I was. I stared at him and he stared back.

"Who are you?" he asked, more calmly this time.

"My name's Dhara Enson. I'm looking for a man named Bobby. I think you might know who he is." I reached into my pocket and handed him the photo.

He narrowed his eyes and examined it. I could see it in his eyes, he knew who it was.

"Where did you get this?"

"My mother," I explained. "It's the only photo I have of him."

"How do you even know Bobby?" He seemed like he believed me. Hopefully, he'd continue to do so.

I swallowed. "He's my father."

His face froze. "Your father?"

I nodded. "When you said you were celebrating 'Bobby's' birthday I thought that maybe it would be him. And it seems like I have the right place."

"Okay. But first - " He pulled a small flask with a cross on it from his jacket. I knew exactly what it was: holy water. He tossed a small amount onto my face. Nothing happened, of course.

"Sorry, just had to - nevermind." He held out a hand and helped me up. "I'm Sam."

"Okay, Sam. Thank you for your help."

He guided me towards the door. He still had a gun in his hand in case I "tried anything funny."

The closer I got to the house I could feel strong energy coming from it. There was warding. Strong warding. I walked inside.

Dean and the other one turned and stared.

Sam put a hand on my shoulder. "This is Dhara."

Dean sat up. "You're from the diner. Thought your name was Debbie?"

"It's easier for people to read on a nametag. I just use that name at work." I'm a good liar.

"What is she doing here?" The one in the trench coat set his beer down.

"Cas, it's fine. She - uh - she knows Bobby," Sam explained.

"Bobby?" Dean squinted. "How do you know Bobby?"

"I'm his daughter," I said as calmly as I could.

Dean looked at Sam and then back at me. "His daughter? Bobby has a daughter?"

"Yes. And I need to see him. I need his help." I stepped forward. "I have money if you need it. Or my bike. I just - I need to see him."

Dean looked down at his empty beer. "You're a little late, kid…"

My heart sank. "What do you mean?" I turned to Sam. "What's he talking about?"

Sam looked down. "Bobby. He passed a few years ago."

I felt my eyes sting with tears.

"I'm sorry." Sam tried to be comforting but it wouldn't work.

Tears fell onto my cheeks. I wiped them away. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

I headed towards the door but I couldn't move. It was like an invisible force field was in front of me. What the hell? I tried to step again. But I couldn't.

Sam stared at me, concern growing on his face. His eyes turned upwards.

I followed his gaze. "Shit." I was under a Devils Trap. I looked at Sam.

He already had a blade in his hand. "She's a demon!" he sounded as he walked backward towards Dean and Castiel who were now both wielding weapons as well. Cas held a long silver blade and Dean had one too.

I put my hands in the air. I was screwed - these guys were hunters.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean's tone was intimidating and sent a shiver down my spine.

"I told you - my name is Dhara! I wasn't lying. Bobby is my father. That's the only reason I'm here!" I pleaded.

"Likely story," Sam scoffed, gripping his blade tighter.

"If Bobby's your father, then how are you a friggin' demon?!" Dean asked angrily.

"My mother was a Demon. She left hell and found a vessel. A very powerful witch. Bobby came into our town years later looking for some other demons. My mother asked him for help. She never hurt anyone. She was good, she strayed from hell's path and lived her life in quiet. Hiding from hell's other members. Until they found her. That's when Bobby showed up with a friend...Rufus, I think was his name," I explained.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

I continued: "They helped protect her from the demons, and afterward...my mother was grateful, as was Bobby."

"Gross," Dean muttered.

"She never saw him after that. But he did leave behind this photo." I took it out of my pocket and tossed it on the ground. "She became pregnant with me. She never told Bobby because she wanted to keep him safe. She knew people would be after me if they knew I was a cambion. A half-human - "

" - Half demon," Sam finished.

I nodded. "She didn't want demons coming after him to get to me. As I said, she wasn't evil. So we fled, changed our names."

The three of them stared at each other in silence.

My heart pounded against my chest. "Just let me go and I'll never bother you again. I just came here for Bobby, but he's dead so I have nothing left to look for. Please just let me go. Please," I begged.

I saw Dean pull Sam and Castiel into the corner for a private discussion. They still had their weapons in their hands.

I looked around the room. I had to get out of here. They already knew I was a demon. They didn't know I was a witch...Yet. If I wanted to leave I had to break the devil's trap.

The three of them were still discussing me. It didn't look like it was going in my favor based on Sam's facial expressions.

I closed my eyes and focused my power, my energy. "Resiliunt in captionem, dimittis me," I muttered.

Immediately, the ceiling boards above me snapped and fell onto the ground around me. The trap was broken. I was free.

I saw Dean and the others turn towards me, but I was already out the door.

A bullet whizzed by my head. I just had to make it to my bike. I ran fast, but once again, they were faster. I turned towards them, ready for a fight that I didn't want.

Dean held a blade at me and soon the other two were at his side.

"Just let me go. I don't want to hurt you," I pleaded. I felt power coursing through my veins.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, sweetheart." Dean charged at me.

I didn't have a choice. I raised my palm and felt my eyes turn black.

Dean flew through the air, landing in a mud puddle. I was careful not to kill or injure him severely.

Now Sam was coming for me.

I closed my fist and punched his chest.

He flew backward as well, landing against a fence which broke under his weight.

Oops.

Now it was me and Castiel. I could tell he would be harder to fight. Then it hit me. "You're an angel," I realized.

Castiel said nothing but charged me. His blade slit my upper arm and it burned like hell. I let out a yell and planted my knee into his groin. He stumbled back and I shot my palm out once more. Castiel went flying and landed next to Sam.

I ran again. My arm was bleeding pretty badly. Cuts like that usually healed immediately on me. It must have been a special blade. My breathing was heavy and labored. I could see my bike in the distance, I was close.

"Gah!"

I felt an incredibly sharp pain in my left leg. I toppled over, getting a mouth full of wood chips. I spit them out and turned, looking down. There was a jagged silver blade sticking in my leg. I really should have stayed at work.

Dean was in front of me within seconds. He grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up.

"Give me one reason not to kill you." Dean had a quality that terrified me.

"Dean, wait, hold up a minute - " Sam ran up and put a hand on Dean, which seemed to settle him. Dean lowered his blade but kept his grip on me.

I could feel blood coating my jeans. "Please," I was begging this time, "I just wanna leave. I don't want to hurt you. Please." I was crying. I didn't realize I was until I felt the tears running down my face. I hadn't felt physical pain like this - ever. "I'm telling the truth," I muttered.

I felt Dean loosen his grip slightly.

"Dean - let's just take her back to the bunker," Sam suggested.

The bunker? What the fuck is that?

"Fine," Dean sighed. "Sorry about this." He took the butt of his gun and slammed it against my skull.

My head stung, and then there was nothing but black.