Kentucky- January 1995...

"But I have to have it!" Twelve-year-old Sam muttered in a demanding way. His chocolate brown hair shifting as he huffed out a breath.

"Get that kid out of here." The man in the meat section yelled. "If I hear the word chicken one more time!"

"I need it!"

Motioning Sam along, Janet set a quick pace as she hurried him down the neatly stocked aisles. They made their way to the curved alcove that served as a checkout. "I'd like to help you, kid. But I can't do anything for you." She popped her gum, not really concerned at all about what a pre-teen needed.

Tossing his other items down, Sam seemed almost panicked. Deep inside Sam's mind, he wondered what his big brother would do. Dean always made everything appear so easily, saying the right thing at the right time.

Upon entering this town, John and Dean had slithered off to a particularly nasty poltergeist hunt and for once Sam wasn't ordered to go along. John informed them all it was too dangerous for Sam and more time with target practice would fix that. It was the not so subtle way John ordered Sam to comply with more weapons training. As soon as the other Winchesters were gone, Sam bee-lined it to the nearest grocery story to set his own plan in motion.

"I need everything on this list."

"Yeah, and I need Friday and Saturday nights off too. Want to talk to my boss. I'm sure he would give a crap about that too." She said harshly.

Even sympathy wasn't enough to get her to give in. To most, Sam's appearance would have bought him some slack, but she only felt more disgusted. A drenched, mop top vagabond, acting like the idea of groceries was life and death, was not even a consideration on her radar. Course, he appeared to be close to death warmed over, soaking wet in a shirt that hung down too big for him, complete with a few holes for the added touch.

"What you need is some new clothes." She suggested.

"I need the stuff on my list." Sam glared at her.

"I told you once. We are out of chicken. The whole batch was recalled. You aren't going to find anything that use to cluck in any store up and down these hills. So…"

"You don't understand. It's for something special."

She grabbed the list out of Sam's hand, inspecting it for some level of importance. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how a grocery list could make a kid this upset. "Seriously, what's the big deal about chicken, eggs, flour, milk, gravy mix, potatoes, Twinkies, comic books, one leather wallet, and butter? Baby boy…"

"I'm not a baby!" Sam defiantly offered, snatching his list back.

"Oh, I think you are." She rang up the items Sam had gathered earlier.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."

She sighed, giving Sam a weary glance. "Probably not. Hmmm… Well, I have all the rest of the stuff, but you may want to get some steaks instead." She tossed the last item in the bag. "22.00" She said as a final get out.

"It has to be chicken! Or else it will be wrong! It's really important."

"Tell you what. There is a guy about ten minutes from here that raises some hens. He might part with some, but we all think he's crazy. Do you think that chicken is worth that risk?" Finally growing tired of Sam's demands, she decided to play with him.

"Where does he live?"

"Just beyond the old mill….in the spooky house. But, you don't want to go there. It's a place of evil. Some say the woman's a witch!"

"Check me out! " Sam demanded, shoving more than enough cash to pay for the items and then running with all his might.

Approaching carefully, Sam decided to "case the place" as Dean always tells him. It seemed to make sense, but the cluck of a chicken made him more than over eager. "Boy, Dean is going to freak on this!" Sam chuckled, spotting a huge rooster planted on a fence post, sleeping he guessed.

So far, the only thing peculiar about the place was the rundown condition. The rusted mail box still had the faint sign of the last name Miller painted on the black box- more like rust color now. Secretly, Sam hoped the lady wasn't a witch, but he knew how to deal with those. And for the first time in his life, he was glad to be a knowledgeable Winchester.

Instantly, a bright light sparked out into the darkening expanse of the farm yard. "Hey! Who's out there?! I'll fill your ass full of buckshot and then kick it so far between your shoulder your ass will have a shirt collar."

Just as the speaker finished his threat, a load of buckshot splattered towards the far side of the mailbox. Viewing the flash of fire, Sam dove so quickly he would have made the speed of light jealous. His bag of groceries went down with him, scattering and spilling out.

"HARDY MILLER! You old FOOL! You hit someone!" A female voice screamed.

"For the love of PETE, woman. I missed him by a county mile."

"You just wait. One day that hair trigger. Call for help. They ain't movin'"

"It's posted no trespassing. I have every right."

"Oh shut up you old coot." She ordered as she made it for Sam, who still lay still on the ground. When she reached him, she pulled on him hard and shook. "Land sakes! You hurt a baby boy! You nincompoop!"