"So crayons are more your thing? That's cool. Chicks dig artists"

Lucas watched a waitress swan past him in her short shorts, wiggling her ass at anyone who'd take notice. She smiled at him as she passed. Usually, he would gladly have smiled back, but today he couldn't concentrate on that. His leather jacket was zipped up to his neck, concealing the blood-stained school shirt below. He'd wiped the blood and tears from his face, but he still looked a bit of a state. He hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, the bags under his eyes making that evident, and several hours of sitting on a crappy bus had sure taken its toll. He ran a hand through his now greasy hair, and looked around, wondering where his food had got to.

"Here you go, honey. Is that everything?"

The pretty waitress leaned over as she placed his plate in front of him. Lucas did not even try to look down her top, despite his post-pubescent-boy instincts screaming at him to do so. She was the kind of girl Lucas imagined Dean would score. Not him, though. He wasn't going to deny it, chicks were into him. He had a leather jacket, a quick sense of humour and a fair size of muscles - of course they liked him. But the chicks he attracted were mainly Suzie Quatro types, with a lot of hair and leather and cigarettes permanently glued to their fingers. Not like this girl - she was slim, blonde, attractive, and generally hot in every way. Yet Lucas, for what was possibly the first time since he'd hit thirteen, wasn't interested in chicks right then.

"Uh… that's great," he said to the waitress, who flashed him a dazzling smile and sashayed away.

Lucas stared at his plate. For the first time, possibly in his life, he had lost his appetite. The events of the past day were only just starting to sink in properly, and he could feel his mother's blood on his shirt against his skin. The contents of his stomach – despite the fact that he he'd already thrown up everything he'd eaten over the past two days – were threatening to come back up, and even the smell of the sausages in front of him were making his head spin.

His mom was dead. Dead. God, since his granddad had died, it had just been him and her. She'd looked after him through everything he'd been through. When his dad had been taken, and he'd been too scared to talk, she'd been the only one – apart from Dean, of course – who'd understood him. And now she was gone. Killed by some son of a bitch demon. Anger bubbled in Lucas's chest, overpowering his sadness and fear. That SOB was going to pay. He would make sure of it.

Right now, though, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do. He had no idea how to track this bastard down. He couldn't go home, or the police would have him taken into care. And then there would be questions – questions he couldn't answer. But what was he going to do? He was just a kid. He could drive, but only just, and he didn't have a car. He only had about sixty dollars which he'd grabbed from the house before he left. That wasn't going to last him long.

Perhaps he should just go back and endure the questions. The police wouldn't blame him – he was traumatised, he was scared. What had he expected to happen? He would just take a random bus to a random place and find Dean and his brother? Or he would just happen to bump into the demon who'd killed his mom, and somehow manage to kill it without any idea how to?

Scared and confused, Lucas felt hot tears sting the back of his eyes. Angrily, he forced them back.

"Are you okay, honey?"

The waitress was back. Lucas looked at at her through teary eyes. She was standing over him, arms folded across her chest, a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah, I'm… I'm fine," Lucas insisted, looking away and hoping that she would just leave. He hated people seeing him cry, especially girls. Especially pretty girls.

But the waitress didn't take the hint, instead sliding into the booth opposite him.

"A young guy like yourself in a crappy place like this alone at four AM, in tears," she said, "I wouldn't call that fine. What's up?"

"I'm old enough to be in a diner by myself!" Lucas snapped, suddenly defensive. The waitress gave a small snort and pushed a curtain of bonde hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah, right. How old are you, kid? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"I'm eighteen," Lucas lied automatically. He didn't want this do-gooder calling the cops or something.

"Honey, I've been lying about my age since I was twelve," the girl sighed, "Don't try to fool me. You're not any older than sixteen, are you? What are you doing in a dump like this alone?"

Lucas sighed. "I don't remember asking for your help," he snapped. The girl did not seem at all swayed, but simply raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow. She reached calmly across the table and unzipped his jacket, exposing his bloodstained shirt.

"Kid your age turns up at a crappy diner at four AM , in tears and covered in blood," she said, he expression almost too calm, "I'm going to ask you again. What's up?"

Lucas swallowed hard. He was in for it now. How had she known? And, more importantly, how was he going to talk his way out of this one?

"I… uh… I was…"

"What's that on your shirt?"the girl interrupted. Lucas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"It's blood," he said, in a duh tone of voice. The girl rolled her pretty eyes.

"Not that, smartass," she sighed, surprisingly unaffected by the bloodstained teen in front of her, "That."

She pointed, and Lucas looked down at his shirt. By now, the blood had spred so much that there was very little white left. At the sight of the blood, Lucas had to swallow hard several times to stop himself from hurling all over his food. Amongst all the blood, though, was a few specks of some kind of black powder. He ran a finger along it and examined it closer. Sulphur. A demonic omen. Great, that was all he needed. Covered in the calling card of the bastard who killed his mom.

He looked up at the waitress, his casual scowl masking his fear.

"It's just a bit of dust," he said coolly. The waitress rolled her eyes.

"That's sulphur, kid. Just how stupid do you think I am? You're a hunter, right?"

Lucas's eyebrows shot up, genuinely confused. Hunter? Like… deer? Did shotguns give off some kind of sulphur-y discharge? Immediately, he saw a way out of this.

"Uh… yeah. I was… I was out hunting deer with my dad, and…"

The girl sighed again, and ran a hand through her perfect hair exhasperatedly.

"Ok, either you think I'm an idiot, or you're not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box yourself. I've worked with hunters all my life, kid, and I know a demon attack when I see one. So?"

Lucas just stared at her blankly. Demon… how had she known?

"So what?" he asked thickly.

"So did you get it?" the girl asked, rolling here eyes, "Come on, honey, I've seen that post-hunt look on every hunter I've ever met. There's so much adrenaline pumping through you that your pupils are starting to dilate. You could run a marathon without even breaking sweat at the moment. So, come on, tell me how a kid your age got into hunting."

"Hunting… hunting demons?"

Hunters. Dean and his brother. That was what they must be. They hunted everything supernatural and bad. That's what they did for a living – killed as many evil sons of bitches as they could. Well, if Dean could do that, then so could he. His dad was killed by a spirit, his mom by a demon. It was fate, it had to be. Who could have more motive than that to become a demon hunter? And who else had learned enough about the supernatural to know how to kill them? Even if he didn't find the SOB that killed his mom, he could kill a hundred others like it. It was clear, even then, that his life was screwed to hell. Maybe he could stop some others from ending up like him.

The girl looked worried. "You're not a hunter?"

"I…" Lucas could think of nothing to say. The girl frowned, a tiny crease appearing between her eyes, and pulled a cell phone from her pocket. She dialled and held it to her ear.

"Mom?" she said when whoever she was calling picked up, "It's me, Jo. I… look, mom, I'm sorry I didn't call, but… I told you I… but… mom! Would you calm down a minute? I've got a problem. There's this kid who's just shown up at work… a diner, mom, I told you… look, the kid's covered in blood and sulphur. Yeah, sulphur, no shit. No, he's not a hunter, but… what? Uh… sixteen or so. Does it matter? He faced the thing, and then wandered into a random diner, ordered a fry-up and just sat there, calm as you like. Whether or not he knows it yet, this kid's a… yeah, mom. Yeah, I'll be there in four hours. Yeah, I know it's… mom, I'll drive fast, ok? Bye."

The girl – Jo, she had called herself – snapped her phone shut and looked at Lucas, a curious eyebrow raised.

"So, kid, where are you off to?" she asked, calm as a breeze. Lucas saw no reason to lie. She had rumbled him anyway.

"I'm going to kill the son of a bitch that killed my mom," he growled, and he could have sworn he saw a tiny smile on Jo's face.

"You're sixteen," she said simply, "You're not going to get far without help and resources and know-how. I know people who can help you there."

Lucas frowned. He was reluctant to go anywhere with this girl, pretty as she was. He couldn't really see a slutty waitress being much help. Pasting a confident, Dean-esque smirk on his face, he drawled:

"Sorry, sweetheart, but I travel alone."

Jo rolled her eyes once more. "Kid, I was brought up in a bar. I've been taking care of pub brawls since I was eleven. I'm pretty sure I could take you. Now, are you going to come with me, or am I going to have to drag you?"

Lucas scowled.

Ten minutes later, Lucas was sitting in silence in the passenger seat of Jo's mini cooper. Stupid chick car. Still, it was better than getting beat up by a chick.

So there you have it! Chapter two. Uh… Lucas'll start going on hunts and stuff soon, promise! Just need to get him into the swing of things first! Let me know if there's any Supernatural characters you want to see appearing, and I'll try and get them in! until then, please R&R!

C-M