Ah Chicago, the Windy City. Full of nightlife and skyscrapers that light up the dark sky. What delights could a 5"1 fourteen year old see? I tell you what, the back alleyways after slinking outta the motel room. If my memory served me right I could recall the name of the bar my big brothers were hanging out in.

Cockily confident, I strode past dumpsters and trash cans, warm steam belching atmospherically outta air vents. I plunged my hand deep into my pockets of my hooded sweater, my scuffed rubber soles of my high tops smacked on the ground with each step, causing various puddles to ripple.

"Hey kid," croaked a homeless man from a dark corner. I paused and glanced over. "You shouldn't be wanderin' the streets at night. Especially in this city. Lotta danger here."

I raised an eyebrow and with a smirk, I continued my venture until I came across a familiar object. My eldest brother's beloved car was parked on the roadside, scanning about I noticed the bar on the opposite side of the road. As I entered the bar, I was determined not to get busted again. I squeezed and ducked my way around the bustling bar, carefully staying out of the radar of the employees. The Sasquatch was then detected by my binocular like vision. He was sitting alone, hunched over Dad's journal. Slyly I crept up behind him before simply tapping on his shoulder. Startled, Sam snapped his head around and on coming into contact with my mischievous grin, he rolled his eyes.

"Explain your method of escape this time" he added with a sigh.

"Out the window," I rejoined. "Though technically I climbed down the drainpipe. I reckon I'm getting pretty good at Parkour."

Sam sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sniggering, perched myself on a high bar stool beside him.

"Did you find anything on that symbol we found at Meredith's house?" Sam asked.

A young woman, named Meredith, was found in her apartment, mauled to death by something violent. One thing caused us to gain interest on the matter was that her heart was missing. Then Dean founded a strange symbol at the crime scene. So far neither of us had found any idea on what the symbol meant or did.

"Jesus, Sammy, you expect me to be reading books on a Friday night?" I remarked with a smirk before shaking my head. "But in answer to your question, no, I found squat."

My brother then produced a clipping from the headliner of the Illinois State Chronicle. Man hunt continues for Stealth Killer, it read, with a sub heading stating, second murder in two months.

"Lemme guess," came the sarcastic tone of Dean as he appeared at our table. I grinned sheepishly at him. "Out the window and down the drainpipe? Little girl, I'm gonna go gray before I reach thirty the way you behave."

"But you are goin' gray," I added in a serious tone, indicating the area at the temple. "Right there."

I laughed as my brother scowled at me, jostling my stool in the process, in an attempt to knock me off it. He then returned to Sam's attention.

"I talked to the bartender" he said.

"You get anything?" asked Sam.

"Besides her number" I quipped, twiddling with my amulet.

"Guys," retorted Dean, acting all hurt. "I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would even think that."

Sam and I exchanged a glance, with an identical expression on our faces. Our big brother then showed us the napkin with the bartender's number on it. In unison we both nodded knowingly before rolling our eyes.

"You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" said Sam.

"If he had one" I snorted.

Luckily I was spared a punch on the arm for my witty statement.

"There's nothing," replied Dean. "Meredith worked here. She waited tables. Everybody here is her friend. They say she's normal. She didn't do anything do or say anything weird before she died. So…What about that symbol? Anything?"

We shook our heads.

"Nothing," returned Sam. "It wasn't in Dad's journal or any of the usual books. So I'll just have to dig a little deeper, I guess."

I wriggled my nose in contemplation before asking, out of curiosity "There was a victim before Meredith?"

Sam rifled through various newspaper articles before finding the right one.

"Yeah," he answered, holding the article in his hand. "His name was Ben Swardstrom."

My eyes danced over the article clipping as I quickly read it. It was entitled, Chicago man murdered inside home. Two things suck about that guy. One, being murdered in your own home by some unknown creature. Two, was having the surname Swardstrom. Sam continued:

"Last month he was founded mutilated in his townhouse. Same deal, the door was locked, the alarm was on."

Dean took the clipping from me and studied it himself.

"Is there any connection between them?" queried Dean.

"Nothing," replied Sam with a sigh. "I mean, not yet. Ben was a banker. Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common. From completely different worlds."

I twirled my amulet, eyes tracing the detailed design on the cool silver.

"So to recap," said the Goose. "The only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number."

I tilted my head slightly to the right, my own private sign language that stated, yes. Sam's focus suddenly travelled across the bar.

"What?" I probed questioningly, following his gaze.

He then got up and began wandering across, with a sense of wonder and surprise. A young girl with short blonde hair smiled up at him as she turned around from were she was sitting. It appeared as if they knew each other. They hugged, which only intrigued Dean and I further, to the point in which we wandered over ourselves. We approached them in the middle of their conversation.

"I thought you were going to California?" Sam said to the chick.

"I did. I came, I saw, I conquered," she smiled. "Oh, and I met that what's-his-name, something Michael Murray, at a bar."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," said the girl. "Anyway, the whole scene got old. So I'm living here for a while."

Dean cleared his throat but went unnoticed.

"You're from Chicago?" asked Sam.

"No, Massachusetts. Andover," corrected the pixie haired girl. "Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know," remarked Sam. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong" beamed the female.

Dean cleared his throat once again. The girl glanced at Dean, acknowledging him for the first time.

"Dude," she said. "Cover your mouth."

I tried vainly to hold back some of my stifled laughter as my brother's face fell. It wasn't the reaction he was wanting. He would have preferred a more head over heels, dumbstruck and lustful expression of hello. Nevertheless to see him getting instantly rejected seemed funny to me. Sam then remembered his manners and introduced us to his lady friend, called Meg. Her friendliness melted away and became a bit more sour as she confronted the Goose again.

"I've heard of you," she began. "Nice, the way you treat your brother and sister like luggage."

Yikes! Her tongue was almost as sharp as mine. Still her attitude appeared kind at first, but now I was beginning to think otherwise.

"Sorry?" said Dean, taken aback by Meg's statement.

"Let them do what they want to do," said Meg crossly. "Stop dragging them over God's green earth."

Sam interrupted Meg before she could offend the Goose further:

"Meg. It's alright."

I raised my eyebrows and swayed on my heels, glancing at my so called elders. I whistled, breaking the tension.

"Okay," I murmured. "Awkward."

Suddenly a meaty hand planted itself on my shoulder, peering over I was greeted by a heavily built bartender with a tattooed arm.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breathe.

"Your not twenty-one," he growled. "Out!"

Dean spun around, confronting the huge gorilla that was harassing the small monkey.

"Word to the wise lard ass, she's with me" he retorted, with a threatening glint in his eyes.

The barman glanced at me. Taking my small, skinny developing frame into account.

"You some kinda sicko?," the barman grimaced in disgust. "The kid isn't even legal."

"I'm his little sister, you dumb prick!," I spat back, glowering dangerously at the sweaty bald man. Wrenching his hand off my shoulder and declared loudly and dramatically. "To hell with this crap shack, I'm outta here!"

Marching off angrily I was soon joined back my brothers. On travelling to the car, the guys started bickering about what Meg said. Thankfully it didn't blow up like an atomic bomb. Still, meeting Meg again seemed to arouse Sam's suspicions. Probably not the only thing that was aroused. Ew! No! Mind outta that department Winchester!

Anyway, he said he thought it was strange. I rubbed the back of my neck and wrinkled my nose.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"I met Meg weeks ago," answered my 6"4 brother. "Literally on the side of the road. Now I run into her in some random Chicago bar? The same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural. Think that's weird?"

A valid point but I'm not so sure. Though I have to say there was a slight energy about her, dunno what it was though but it was dark and murky nonetheless.

"Coincidence. It happens" I commented with a shrug.

"Well, yeah, it happens. But not to us," remarked Sam. "I could be wrong, but there's something about her that I cant quiet put my finger on."

The innuendo was too good to ignore.

"I bet you'd like to," added Dean. "Maybe she's not a suspect. Maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?"

"Course he does," I quipped, arms folded. "Maybe he's thinking too much with his upstairs brain."

"Do me a favour?," Sam asked Dean, ignoring my remark. "Check if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. See if you can dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor."

How fun. An extra load on a mysterious case in which we were clearly struggling with.

"What are you gonna do?" I questioned Sam, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm gonna watch Meg" he replied.

That was the cue for Dean and I to cackle. Slightly miffed that we were laughing at him, Sam tried to explain his reason to us:

"I wanna see what's what. Better safe."

"Alright, you little pervert" smirked Dean.

"Guys"

"Alright, we're goin', we're goin'"

Later

Study break. It was getting darker as the night progressed, perfect time to practice solo sparring. The alleyway connecting the motel to several apartment buildings, seemed the right place to practice my budding skills. I needed stimulation, I had to be alert. Becoming drowsy wasn't my target. In my mind, I was up against a pug ugly malevolent spirit. Quick as lighting, I darted back and forth, delivering fierce uppercuts. Ducking from attack, I swept my leg under it's clubbed feet, causing it to buckle. As my imaginary creature rose and came at me once again, I got more creative. I bounded up the brick wall, before flipping over the enemy and landing on the ground safely on touching down. The dumb thing had knocked itself out cold on colliding with the wall. I had won the fight. If I wasn't destined to be a hunter, I would wanna be a Parkour martial arts ninja. A girl can dream. Dammit! My adrenaline was now fading, feared losing it and succumbing to exhaustion. For the time being I returned to our room at the motel.

More probing was needed involving the case. Turns out that the symbol was Zoroastrian, which was a sigil for a Daeva. Basically a Daeva was a shadow demon dating back two thousand years before Christ, a pretty savage sucker as I was told. These Daevas had to be summoned, therefore stating that somebody was controlling the thing.

I entered the room, just as Dean finished talking to Sam on his cell phone. Most likely he had filled him in on the information we had found. Normally I hate coffee, the smell usually makes me wanna hurl. Still I needed the caffeine and there is only so much Red Bull a person can take. Coffee appeared to be more discrete.

"Hey old man? Wanna cup of java?" I asked my eldest brother, pouring my own.

"Nah, I'm good kiddo," he answered back. He paused then faced me, raising an eyebrow at seeing me slurping the liquid I had hated for years. "Since when do you drink coffee? You hate the stuff."

"Well, I like it now" I replied, draining the mug.

The Goose continued to watch me as I flopped onto the couch with a heavy book in my lap. I began tracing every detail on every page as I flicked through, brain buzzing and regenerated due to the caffeine rush. Several minutes later my silent reading was disrupted.

"Chris you look beat," I heard my brother say. "I think you should hit the hay and grab a few hours."

I glanced across at him, taking my focus from the book.

"I ain't tired," I retorted, giving him a small smile. "I can survive a couple more hours."

Pfft! If that was the case, it meant that I would be needing an hourly fix of coffee. No. This was stupid, I couldn't keep this act up surely, but how else was I gonna combat my nightmares. The instant I closed my eyes, the visions were guaranteed to be there to greet me. Suddenly Sam charged into the room.

According to Sam, this Meg character was conjuring up the Daeva, even using a black altar to control it. He also said that she talked into a bowl, kinda like how witches use to scry into crystal balls, communicating with someone. There was speculation on who she was talking to. Who ever it was, they were giving Meg orders to a certain degree. The warehouse in which Sam followed her to, was the meeting place. The victims of the Daeva were discovered to have one thing in common, they were both born in the same place. Lawrence, Kansas. Was she tied with the demon that killed my Mom fourteen years ago? What was the significance with Lawrence?

Later

Caffeine continued to charge through my active brain cells. Still, if I was gonna avoid sleep, I had to at least pretend to avoid being caught and yelled at. I was curled up like a kitten on the couch, purring softly. From my fake sleeping technique I could hear my brothers talking, mixed with the sounds of guns locking. Dad had been notified but as always it had went to voice mail.

"Big night" I heard the old man say.

"Yeah," returned the Sasquatch. "Nervous?"

"No. No. Are you?"

"No. No way."

Liars. By the tone of their voices, there was a hint of anxiety. Sam then said:

"Could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves"

"I know im just saying what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school. Just be a person again."

Wait? What? He still wanted to go back? Would he really leave us again? He couldn't do that to me. He couldn't.

"You wanna go back to school?"

"Yeah, once we're done hunting it."

"Huh"

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"No. No. It's great, good for you."

"I mean, what are you gonna do when its over?"

The Goose then spouted about how it's never over and how there will always be something to hunt. Sam seemed surprised:

"There must be something you want for yourself "

I've always wondered about myself. Would I ever attend college or even graduate from High School if I decided to return to mainstream schooling again? Would I ever get the chance to see the world outside America? Marriage? Children and grandchildren? These were the rewards in life that seemed to be forever barred. Like a closed window, locked with a lost key. Dean was getting annoyed again:

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam"

"Dude, what's your problem?"

I shifted slightly as Dean let out a small chuckle:

"Why do you think I drag you about everywhere? Huh? Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford?"

"Because Dad was in trouble," replied Sam. "Because you wanted to find what killed Mom."

I was eager to hear the outcome of this.

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man. You, me, Chris and Dad. I mean, I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again."

Alert the media! Alert the Congress! Alert the President! My eldest brother's personal feeling have been discovered after going missing for some time.

"Dean, we are family."

A pretty dysfunctional one if you ask me. We have never been the Walton's or the Brady Bunch. Sam continued his Younger Sibling Monologue Moment:

"I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."

"Could be."

"I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."

Not if he clips your wings before you can fly away, Big Bird. Minutes later, I felt a nudge on my thigh. Acting all blearing eyed, I craned my neck around. It was time for action.

The Warehouse

As we climbed up an old, unused elevator shaft, chanting could be heard. Being the smallest , I crept past Meg first, a .45 in my grip. One of few weapons I was fully trained to use. Cautiously, whilst keeping our focus on Meg, we hid behind come crates that were stacked up like a tower. My brothers made sure I was completely hidden from sight. The chanting stopped.

"Guys," sighed Meg, not bothering to turn around. "Hiding's a little bit childish don't you think?"

Ah fuck! So much for not getting caught within the first two minutes.

"Well, that didn't work out like I'd planned" mumbled the old man.

Meg turned around, grinning menacingly. The energy I had felt was back again. Frowning I realised something, I had felt that energy before. It was evil that's for sure. The hunch about Meg wasn't moving.

"Why don't you come out."

Still huddled beside the crates, I felt a shiver. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I watched as my brothers exchanged sour pleasantries with Meg, the sense of danger was growing stronger.

"So who is it, Meg?," asked Sam. "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

"You"

I knew she was gonna say that. So damned clichéd! An eerie snarl sounded in my ear before I was clawed violently on the shoulder blade. My screams of pain caused my brothers to charge towards me. The Daeva then sent me flying across the room like a boomerang, ploughing into the wall, cracking my head against the brick work. Darkness.

Minutes Later

Jesus! My face was burning and I could sense hands holding my face, brushing my bangs outta my eyes as my head lolled. Groggily I creaked my eyes open. Was that blood I could feel running down my hairline? Where my hands tied behind my back? My head was killing me! Ouch!

I squeezed my eyes shut again as I winced with pain.

"Chris, honey, look at me," came Dean's voice. "Open your eyes again for me."

Slowly, I obeyed, and was met by the bloody faces for my big brothers. The Daeva had tossed and scratched them good too I guess.

"What happened? Where's that bitch Meg?" I asked with a mumble, trying to regain focus.

"Dead. The Daeva sorted her out," returned my eldest brother, examining my open head wound. I grimaced "Sorry. Looks like your gonna need a stitch or two."

I couldn't care really about the physical pain. It was merely a tiny flesh wound.

"Ugh! I can't believe I got my ass kicked by Peter Pan's rogue shadow," I groaned, twitching my facial features with a sense of discomfort. "I could've stayed home, but noooo, I insisted on tagging along."

I was realised from my binding against a beam, and we limped back to the motel. I doubt Meg was dead. Finally I realised what she was. The bitch was a demon!

I needed sleep. No! Idiot! No! Sleep isn't worth the pain of visions. Some stitching and a mouthful of coffee and I'll be fine. However, on returning to our room, my brothers and I were taken by surprise by a figure standing at the window. The figure turned around on Dean's reaction. My heart swelled, a broad smile spread across my blood streaked face. I found myself travelling across the room and almost tackling the figure to the ground. Tears sprang into my eyes as I utter one word:

"Dad"

I had this chapter written out about a week ago but a sudden trip to the hospital caused me to delay this update. But after a few days of recovery, I'm now fighting fit once more.

What do you think of this chapter, honesty is the best policy. Should there be more drama? More sibling fluff? More action?

PM me with your thoughts and opinions.

(Also I'm gonna be writing up the Hell House episode next, and if anybody has any great prank ideas they would like to share then I would be happy to hear from you)

Thanks again folks.

Please review.