Colorado Outback:

February 1997

Darcy looked down at the small form before her. She couldn't believe that her puppy had died. She hated her mother, absolutely loathed her. She knelt down into the ground and buried her face into the soft ginger fur. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked back and forth, the bundle of former joy in her arms. A shadow flickered over her and she looked up, anger in her eyes as she saw her mother watching her. She managed to choke out the words.

"Piss off!"

Her mother had murdered her puppy. She had shot it when it went to go get some water out of the nearby dam. Her mother had calmly stated that her dog was deceased and walked off. She failed to mention the bullet in its chest. Her mother walked off, her nose in the air, ignoring the scream of rage that came after.

"She was the only thing I loved, murderer!"

"Valover, you ok?"

Darcy bolted upright. She had dozed off in the Impala, wedged against the door and Sam. She could feel hot tears sting her eyes and she brushed them away as she focused on the hunt. She shot an irritable look in John's direction as they remained outside the shops, waiting for Dean to get his pretty butt back to the car.

"For the last time, it's Darcy. Dar-cy."

She could feel Sam squeezing her hand and she gave him a small smile of thanks, nearly whooping in joy as Dean came back laden with goodies. He sat down in the front seat and began to pass out the sustenance.

"Right. Black-two sugars for Dar, as well as a large packet of sherbert. Half-caf latte for Nancy over here' Dean paused as Sam glared at him. 'And a short black for dad. Oh yeah, I got the both of you a packet of M&M's each."

The car was silent apart from the various sounds of packets opening and the almost inaudible slurps of coffee. Minutes flew past as they continued to eat before Sam piped up from the back.

"Uh, I'd hate to spoil the moment we're having here, but shouldn't we watch that house?"

Sam's visions had led them to take a parking spot outside a rather ornate looking mansion. Apparently the spirit had gotten sloppy and failed to kill the male part of the couple, drawing interest in the hunters. John had refused to supply a name and just told them to wait outside the house till further instructions. Dean, being the wonderful little soldier had immediately complied, although with mutters under his breath, causing John to finally give up and come with them. Dean grunted and started the engine, smiling as it roared to life. He manoeuvred it out of the car park and made his way to the house.

It was an old mansion, iron gates, green ivy clambering up the walls. Darcy had rolled her eyes when she had seen it, typically the rich people were hunted by spirits. She sighed and looked out, noticing a rather familiar car in the drive. What the blazes? She opened the car door, ignoring the loud protests from John as she made her way to the gates. She noted the bright gold buzzer at the door and pushed it hard, answering coldly when the man on the other side asked for her name.

"Darcy…' she sighed, again. 'Darcy Valover."

There was an audible pause before the gates swung open and she looked back to the car, shrugging in amusement at the look of pure confusion imprinted on the men's faces. It would be a long story. She shifted from foot to foot, a glare plastered over her face as the three continued to dawdle. Dean rolled his eyes and shut the door loudly behind him, motioning for the others to follow. Good ol' Dean. He stopped next to her, glancing up at the high placed windows and then glanced over to Darcy's other side, his eyes meeting his brothers.

Sam couldn't believe how huge the house was. Sure, he had seen plenty of large mansions, but this one looked like it could have fitted sixteen families of seven with their own rooms. He felt Darcy's small hand slip into his own, their fingers entwining as they continued to look awestruck at the building. He heard Darcy release a small 'psh' and then felt himself tugged forward as she made her way up the driveway. He shot a worried look in Dean's direction as his brother and father trailed behind. Whoever let Darcy in obviously knew her, and the other 'Alpha's' in the group sure weren't going to let themselves be caught out.

The wrenching sensation in his arm stopped when Darcy reached the front… entrance. The door itself took up nearly an entire wall as its own, gold streaks running through the dark wood. Darcy knocked loudly and began counting under her breath, watching the door for signs of opening. As soon as she reached ten it swung open to reveal the marble floors and rich staircases of any rich multibillionaire. Dean whistled from the left of Sam's ear, echoing his thoughts. A small brush of uneasiness ran through his mind and he squeezed Darcy's hand, knowing that her feelings often ran through their 'link'.

A portly man addressed them, a black tux and bleached white shirt screaming out proper. Darcy gave the man a once over before she stepped forward and held out her hand. The man eyeballed it, a sneer of disgust running over his face. He let her hand hang in the air, forcing her to adopt her 'I-really-hate-you tone'.

"I'm sorry, Madame' the butler practically sneered the word out, drawing looks of pure anger from Sam (and a look of disgust from Dean). 'What business do you have here? I was in the process of cleaning the house and I don't need more filth inside."

Darcy gave a sickly sweet smile and answered him brightly. She scuffed a dirty boot on the floor, a dark smudge appearing.

"Oops, my mistake. I'm here to see the owner of this place. The security obviously remembered me. So, hurry up and bring him out here."

As soon as the butler had scuttled off it took all of Darcy's training not to swear loudly after him for being a pompous ass. Dean muttered quietly, in case the butler was still in earshot.

"This is why I hate rich people. So uptight, like they have a permanent stick wedged up their a-"

"Dean!" Darcy hissed when the man strode back in, his nose in the air and followed by a younger man. He looked to be at least 2 years younger than Sam, perhaps the same age as Darcy. He had piercing blue eyes and long brownish hair that flopped casually into his eyes. A smirk playfully tugged at his lips as he noticed the four strangers in his house and he waved off his butler with a casual wave of his hand. He was wearing a striped blue flannelette shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Tight fitting jeans wrapped snugly around his legs and a pair of sneakers hid beneath the slight flares. He folded his arms across his chest and appraised the troupe before him.

"Well. This was the last thing I was expecting. Darcy and nay, not one but three men. Honestly Dar, I thought you wouldn't move on that quickly."

Darcy folded her arms across her chest, a pout and glare on her face as she continued to watch the man. Behind her Dean and Sam had exchanged glances and Sam was busy trying to discern how much of a threat this man was. Dean rolled his eyes and stood back next to his father.

"They're not all mine, only the tall one is. That's Sam, Dean and John." She waved a hand to indicate the three. The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"They hunters too?"

Darcy shuffled uncomfortably as she felt three identical glares of anger and disbelief bore their way through her back. She offered the man a small smile and then stuck her hands in her pockets, her mind whirling with escape sentences and routes.

"Uhh, errr… that is to say… erm."

John brushed his way past his sons and stood in front of the man, his hand held out for a shake. The younger man took it warily and instantly released as soon as it ended. John stuck his hands into his coat jacket and then sighed.

"Yes, we're hunters. We heard that someone was murdered in this house, is that true Mr…?"

"Ray, just call me Ray. Yeah, it was my girlfriend."

"Ugh, and you said I moved on quickly.' Darcy gave him a sad smile of sympathy and then waited patiently. 'We should sit down and talk about this."

Ray nodded and motioned for them all to take a seat in the adjacent living room. Darcy took a cautious perch on the white velvet couch and then glared the others down. Once they had all taken a seat on the various chairs, Darcy nodded her head to John.

"So, Ray. Can you tell us what you saw?"

Ray's eyes dulled and glazed over in pain as he recalled the night, Darcy could feel it seeping into her. Blurred images rushed through her mind and she forced herself to block them out. He voice sounded shaky as he spoke.

"We had just woken up, and she was lying next to me' various dirty thoughts emanated from Dean and she forced them out. 'She was talking to me and then all this cold air rushed in. That's when I noticed that shadowy thing. It… stabbed her and then…"

Dean piped up, his voice scathing of the man.

"Then you ran like a girl who's just seen a sale. Typical."

Darcy shot him a murderous glare but he waved the comment off.

"Yes, I ran. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing."

Darcy bit her lip and then gently pressed her question.

"Ray, can we see the room?"

Ray looked at her, his eyes devoid of expression as he glanced over to Dean and then back at her.

"Sure. Just, don't move anything… or steal."

Dean rolled his eyes and leapt out of the chair, stopping at the foot of the staircase. Darcy called over to him before Ray could speak. Sam and John followed Dean slowly, Sam unwilling to leave his girlfriend alone with her ex.

"Upstairs, second on the left."

She turned back to her ex and smiled.

"Don't worry; we'll blow its shadowy brains out."

Then she turned and followed the other hunters up, stopping when she felt Ray's hand on her elbow.

"Be careful Darcy. And, I'm glad you found someone."

She frowned and continued up the stairs.

She stopped beside the others, hesitant to open the door and see what was inside. Dean pulled out his EMF and Darcy rolled her eyes. He frowned at her.

"What? Everyone seems to have a problem with my EMF meter."

She opened the door and ignored Dean's comment. A breath hitched in her throat as she looked in the room. Blood was everywhere. The walls, floor, bed… even the ceiling. Then the smell hit them, the metallic, decaying stench. Darcy paled and lent against Sam, bile rising in her throat. Dean and John looked slightly repulsed but moved in, scanning the room and listening to the whirring of the EMF.

"Yep, it's defiantly supernatural.' He paused as the whirring intensified around the window and he walked back. 'Whatever it was, it came from the window. We sure it's spirits?"

Everyone watched John as he nodded slowly. He pulled out an article and shoved it into Dean's chest, walking into the closet and back out again.

"That's where the spirits are buried. Salt and burn. Now."

A/N: Done. The beginning of the chapter was in commemoration of my seventh month old puppies death on Friday. (Minus the whole mummy shooting it thing, that was just Darcy's mummy being mean.) Thanks to Sarah for the shout-out and the plenty of reviews!