12 HOURS EARLIER

Something woke me up in the early hours of the morning. A series of noises coming from outside the motel room. Shit! My brothers were passed out, both softly snoring in their own beds. I slowly slithered out of bed, whilst gripping onto the handgun under my pillow. Which heartless bastard had decided to wake me up from my beauty sleep?

Crouched down, I crept behind the moth eaten couch. I waited, as the tension increased in the silent atmosphere, poised like a cat ready to attack. My body shivered with the cold, due to only wearing a small pair of pyjama shorts and a gray tank top. My dark hair, which was tumbling out of a messy braided ponytail, began to tickle my neck.

Suddenly, a dark figure burst into the room, holding a hand to its side. I popped up from behind the couch, pointing the loaded weapon at the shadow. The figure flicked the light on, to reveal itself. It was Dad.

"Whoa! Hey! Hey!" hissed Dad. "It's me. It's Dad."

I lowered the gun slightly. No, really? For a moment there, I thought is was SpongeBob.

"You know the drill then" I answered, my voice a hushed whisper in order to avoid waking my brothers, even though Sam was beginning to stir.

Dad produced the hip flask I gave him last Christmas, and to a large swig of the holy water that was contained inside it. The handgun remained in my grip. Dad was clean of demonic possession, after proving so. The moonlight glimmer against my silver amulet.

I then placed the gun on the arm of the couch, before rushing into my Dad's strong arms. It's been so long since I last saw him. He winced loudly, due to the pain in his side.

"Careful, sweetheart," he cringed. "Daddy's a little sore."

I really wish Dad would stop treating me like a naïve little girl. I mean, I'm fourteen years old, for God sake. Fourteen, and full of it, as Dean usually states. I gazed at my Dad's wound. It was sticky and oozy with blood, but it wasn't too severe, but it still looked nasty enough to warrant stitches.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, with a concerned expression. "Did a Wendigo or Werewolf do that to you?"

Dad shook his head. Thank God. Wendigos are the biggest pains in the asses to get rid off, due to the fact that they are so quick, and are super sneaky and stealthy. Plus, tackling a Werewolf can easily result in a fatal and life changing accident. Basically, one foot wrong in the presence of a Werewolf and you'll be howling at the moon in no time.

"Vampires," replied Dad, as he slumped towards the kitchenette table. He placed his machete onto the table. "I got jumped by one of them. The nest must total of around nine vamps. We have to track them down before they find us. They would've caught my scent."

Sam continued to stir from his sleep.

"What were you doing at a Vamp nest for, Dad?" I questioned, curiously, as I pulled out the first aid kit. "You always told me, that you can't take down a Vamp nest alone, as it's the quickest way to get yourself killed or turned."

As I began to dab at my Dad's wound with disinfectant, Sam finally woke up. His brow furrowed with confusion, as he thought I was talking to myself again. Sam's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline when he noticed me kneeling in front of Dad. He saw the blood.

"Dad?" he quizzed, as he quickly came over. "What are you doing here? What's happened? Are you alright?"

The noise Sam had started to make, had now woken Dean, who was equally as worried.

"I'm fine, boys, just a little clip from some Vamp," replied Dad. "We need to fine the damn things, and gut that nest, before they track us down to this motel. That's not the only thing. The head of the nest stole something from me."

Dean frowned, whilst rubbing the back of his neck slightly, with sleep still in his eyes.

"I've found something that can get the demon, a weapon. Back in 1835, when Hailey's Comet was overhead, same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel made a gun. A special gun," began Dad. "He made it for a hunter. A hunter like us, only on horseback. Story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, then gun along with him."

All eyes were on Dad, my siblings and I deeply fascinated by the legend of this fabled gun.

"Another hunter, a friend of mine, Daniel Elkins, managed to get his hands on this Colt Revolver, but a Vamp nest killed him and nabbed the gun," continued Dad. "I managed to sneak away with it when I discovered the nest, but it was stolen from me when I got jumped. They say…they say this gun can kill anything. Not just exorcise it, or send it back to Hell. Actually kill it."

Sam's eyes were almost bulging out of his sockets with awe. To say the least, Dean was now fully awake, as this news was like getting a bucket of cold water dumped on your head.

"You serious? How did Elkins get hold of this gun?" questioned Sam, as he gazed down at Dad.

I continued to clean Dad's wound, before preparing the needle for the stitches. I was only just learning the basics of first aid, and I was very skilled at it just yet, like most things, but I believe I'm a fast learner. I still think I'm better at taking on a vampire, compared to combat with a werewolf. Reason being, I have a better aim with a crossbow, or bow and arrow, rather than a gun. Still, my weapons training is increasing in pressure, since I'm getting older.

Dad shrugged his shoulders. He winced in pain, as I began to carefully stitch up the wound. I didn't like having the knowledge that I was hurting him.

"I don't know, son, but all I know is, we need to get that gun back. We need to kill the nest. We need to kill that yellow eyed sonofabitch. This needs to be settled," said Dad, who then gazed down at me and stroked my hair. "Slow down, baby, you're hands are shaking. It's alright. Just calm down, and don't worry. I'm tougher than you think. I was in the Marines during Vietnam y'know."

Several more minutes passed, until I finally finished the stitches. Sam was reading over Dad's journal, whilst Dean heading to the bathroom. As I packed the first aid kit away, Dean wandered by. I sniffed the air, and mocked Dean by pretending to gag.

"Man, you stink like a dive bar toilet stall," I smirked, whilst pinching my nose in exaggeration. "Get in that damn shower, ya vagrant."

Knowing that I was simply teasing him, Dean exchanged a knowing glance with Sam, before he smacked me upside the head. That took the smirk off my face. On seeing my startled expression, Dean cackled loudly. He quickly zipped into the bathroom and locked the door, as I launched myself at him.

"Nice try, squirt," said Dean, from behind the locked door. "Women find my musk irresistible. Beats smelling like gross chewing gum. Lay off that Juicy Fruit stuff, or no boy will come near you."

I gasped loudly, and started thumping on the bathroom door. Sam sniggered whilst reading, and Dad rolled his eyes, as he made coffee.

"I hope you slip on a bar of soap and break your ass," I retorted. "I'm sure women would love meeting a guy with a giant plaster cast on his ass, looking like he's always sitting on the toilet."

I could hear Dean howling with laughter. That damn smart ass!

"All the more reasons to get a sponge bath" he replied, and my guessing had that damn smug expression on his face.

I simply threw my arms into the air, like a mad scarecrow. I caught Sam sniggering.

"I don't know what you're laughing at, it will be you to give him a sponge bath" I said.