1. Don't Fear the Reaper

I straddled the man in front of me, the man tied to the chair. I put my knife against his chest, right above his heart, I put my other hand into his hair gripping him pulling his head back roughly. I licked some of the sweat off his neck with my tongue, he tasted bitter. I smiled at him and kissed his bleeding lips, all the while slowly pushing the knife into his chest. I removed my lips from his and whispered in his ear,

'I'm the last thing you'll ever taste.' I moved his head so he was looking directly into my eyes

'I'm the last thing you'll ever see. The stench of human, the last thing you'll ever smell.' I then dug my knife into his chest, he still fought for his life,

'My knife is the last thing you will ever feel.' Slowly the life started to leave his eyes,

'My voice, the last thing you will ever hear.' When his life force left his body, I was suddenly surrounded by a white light, slowly it began to fade and once it was all gone, the man in which I was straddling lay limp against the chair. The archangel was dead.

I stood outside, leaning against my beautiful blood red 1967 Pontiac GTO, my clothes soaked in blood, cigarette burning between my fingers. I took a deep puff of my smoke, feeling the burn in my throat. Trying to decide what I was going to do next, the archangel had not been willing to give me the information I was looking for, he had been a true solider, even under intense torture giving me no information, and I loved every moment of that torture, ever second of killing him. It would have been more satisfying if I had broken him. You can't win every battle if you plan to win the war, and this was a war I was going to win, even if I went down with it. The current battle, was to find him, that was a battle I was going to win, no matter how much blood had to be spilled to do so.

He stood over the scene in front of him, with a slight sickness in his stomach. His comrade limp in the chair, fear and death in his eyes. His chest cut open and his heart lay on the floor at his feet. He stuck his hand into the man's chest cavity looking for something, but that to was gone. She had tortured this man, ridding him of everything that he was. He hadn't seen anything this gruesome in a long time, hadn't seen torture like this in centuries, despite everything he knew, everything that he had been taught, no matter how much of a solider he was, anyone looking at him would see fear in those tough eyes. Behind his fallen comrade written on the wall in his blood, there was a message, 'I'll find you.' Seeing this message only a single thought ran through his head, causing immense amount of fear, she's back.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon shinning from the broken window. I had him trapped, he wasn't going any where, I held all the power and I was basking in it. The man tied to the chair in front of me, bleeding, and currently gasping for air. He looked at me fear in his eyes,

'That's right sugar, be very afraid.' I pulled out the knife from my boot, and drenched it with holy water. I walked over to the man and placed it on his cheek, which caused him to start to burn, bring immense amounts of pain for the demon. I wasn't worried about the man the demon was riding, he was long dead, and soon so would the demon. I was going to rip him to shreds, slowly, making him feel every single cut, every single burn, every single bullet. He deserved much more than this and then some. I was just in the middle of cutting his chest when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket,

'I'm in the middle of something, this better be important.'

'It's Bobby.'

'Oh hey, kinda busy, can I call you back?'

'I need your help.' This stopped me in my tracks, Bobby Singer was asking me for my help, something was up.

'I'm on my way.' We both hung up the phone, I looked back at the demon, 'Looks like you're in luck, this is going to be quicker than planned.' I then took five minutes reciting an exorcism. Once the demon was gone, I packed up my stuff, slung it over my shoulder, walked out of the run down warehouse, climbed into my beautiful ride and started the drive to Bobby Singer's house.

Two days later, with only two four hour pit stops I pulled into a junkyard, drove a little and then I was parking right in front of Bobby Singer's house, I climbed out of my ride, gun at my hip and knife in my boot, I couldn't imagine what Bobby was going to need my help with, I hadn't talked to him in years. We had a falling out a long while back and we hadn't talked since. Him asking for my help meant what ever he was asking for my help with, was huge, it was going to be bloody, it was going to be fun. I didn't bother knocking I just walked right in, after all this had once been my home. I walked into the study in which I knew where Bobby was going to be, sure enough he was sitting there with a book open and a glass of what I could only assume was whiskey. He looked up when I walked into the room.

'Hey Bobby.'

'Callie.' I smiled at Bobby, he hadn't changed much from the time that I had known him.

'So what did you need my help with Bobby?'

'I need you to help out two hunters that I know, they are a little in over their head in their current case.'

'Okay what's the case?'

'Demon.'

'Enough said.'

'It's a little complicated.'

Dean was thrown against the wall by the demon,. The demon then turned towards Sam, he smiled and tossed him across the room, with no contact. In that moment both brothers knew that they were in over their heads, they hadn't known that this demon was going to be that strong. They had come in blind against Bobby's wishes. Dean was determined, not for his own life but for Sam's so he got to his feet. The demon smiled at Dean, this worried Dean a little but he wasn't really using his brain at the moment, it was pure instinct. The demon had absolutely nothing to fear and he knew it, he grabbed Dean by the throat, he hand ready to snap his neck, Dean was gasping for air, he couldn't breath and he knew Sam wasn't coming to his rescue cause he was unconscious on the floor across the room. Just when Dean thought he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, he heard the demon scream and release him, Dean falling to the floor taking in as much air as humanly possible. When he looked back up, he noticed a woman standing, facing the demon, who had a knife in his back. She had literally stabbed him in the back, the thought made Dean laugh for a second. Then he got up and walked over to Sam, trying to wake him up. When he wasn't able to he looked back at the mystery woman who had come to his rescue. She was fighting the demon that had nearly killed both himself and his brother, and she was doing it better than they could have. He flinched for a second when the demon got the upper hand and sent her across the room with a hit to the jaw. Quicker then he thought possible she was back on her feet, she ran at the demon, then last second jumped into the air, wrapped her ankles around his throat and brought him to the ground. While on the ground, she got on top of him, straddling him, whispered something in his ear and then plunged a knife into his chest. The demon twitched insanely and then became still. Very clearly dead. Dean felt bad for a second that he hadn't come to her aid in the fight, but she was clearly very capable handling it herself. Dean didn't know who or what she was but she was beautiful. Finally able to get a good look at her, she stood about 5'10, had pale, but clear skin, she had long black hair that was currently in a braid. She wore a cobalt blue tank top with a leather jacket over top, she had on a pair of jeans, that had seen many days but still fit her like a glove. She wasn't model skinny, she had muscle on her bones, but in all the right places, her clothes hugged her showing that off. He noticed that she had a bulge at her waist, which he noticed when she turned towards him was a gun, she then put the knife in her boot, which were practical, yet stylish black knee highs. When she had fully turned towards him, he noticed that she had the most intense violet eyes he had ever seen, she had full lips, the only imperfection that he noticed was an inch long scar across her nose, running down the left side of her face. The mystery woman walked over to him and smiled.

'Hey Dean.'

When I addressed Dean by his name he just looked at me strange. I laughed to myself, yeah this was Dean Winchester alright. Bobby had told me a little about him, and warned me that he wouldn't trust me, good thing was that I didn't need his trust, I did Bobby a favour, helped out his boys, and now I was outta here. | looked around the warehouse again, and then thinking that it was time I bailed I looked back at Dean.

'Tell Bobby, I said I'll catch him later.' Then with that I walked out of the warehouse climbed into my 1967 Deep red Pontiac GTO, lit up a cigarette and speed out of there. I drove for a couple miles when I realized I had left my journal behind, I mentally smacked myself and turned the car around. I couldn't believe that I had been so stupid. I had pulled it out at Bobby's to double check some stuff and had been idiotic enough to leave it on his kitchen table. I speed down the highway and break neck speeds and managed to get back to Bobby's in half the time. When I got there I slammed the door of my car and ran up the steps, opened the front door and walked right into the kitchen, my journal wasn't there. When I turned around Bobby was standing there, with the Winchester Brothers beside him, he held up my journal,

'Looking for this?'

'Yeah silly me, I forgot it.' I went to grab it from Bobby but he moved it out of my reach.

'Why don't you stay for a beer?'

'We both know that is not a good idea, just hand over the journal, and I'll be outta here.'

'One beer.' I looked at Bobby, something was going on, and he knew holding my journal hostage would keep me here.

'Tell you what, give me my journal and I will stay for one beer.' Bobby looked at me knowingly. 'I promise.' Bobby very reluctantly handed me my journal, I tucked it under my arm and started heading towards the door.

'You said you'd stay.'

'You know better than that Bobby.' When I reached the door, Bobby grabbed my arm and I instinctively back handed him with that same hand. Bobby looked shocked as he placed his hand against his cheek. I softened just the slightest, I never in all my life had hit Bobby, not once. However he knew better than to grab me.

'Sorry, instinct.'

'I knew better.' Bobby and I just looked at each other. Finally he wore me down,

'Fine, one beer.' having caved, Bobby smiled. Then headed for the kitchen, where we all sat at the kitchen table. He handed me a beer, I cracked it and took a long swig.

'So what is it that you want Bobby?'

'What are you talking about?'

'It's no secret that you and I don't exactly see eye to eye, so keeping me here means you want something, what?'

'I would like your help.'

'With what?'

'Stopping the apocalypse.' I laughed,

'Are you shitting me?' At this Sam spoke up,

'What is so funny?' and Dean followed with,

'We don't need her help.' I glared at Dean

'That's not what it looked like earlier pretty boy, you'd be dead if it wasn't for me.'

'Dean.' spoke Bobby in a warning tone.

'No, I have no idea who, or what she is, and I already have enough peoples lives on my head, don't need hers too.' I looked at Bobby.

'You weren't kidding.' Bobby just shock his head. 'Well lucky for you Dean Winchester, I have no desire in joining your little pity party.' I stood up, finished my beer, grabbed my journal and headed towards the front door. Bobby followed me, when we had reached the front door he spoke.

'Please.' I had never seen him so desperate, I shock my head,

'No.' and with that I walked to my car and climbed in, I placed my journal on the passenger side seat and started the car, a classic ACDC song started blarring through the speakers. I took one last glance at Bobby's house, he still stood at the front door. A long time ago he had been family, the only family I knew, and he was the only family I had left alive. He stood at his front door looking worn down, desperate, and I knew he was if he was asking me for my help, it meant he was wiling to try anything. He never liked the way I did things, he didn't like how risky I was with my own life, I still remember that day I left home.

'Don't you dare walk out that door!' Bobby yelled, it had only been a week since she had been sent here.

'I'm not going to stay here, with you breathing down my neck.'

'I will not watch you self destruct.'

'THEN DON'T!' She then walked out the front door, and opened the drivers side door of her car, a car that her and Bobby had rebuilt together.

'If you do this, if you go down that path, I won't be able to help you.'

'I NEVER ASKED FOR IT!'

'YOU DO THIS AND YOU WILL NEVER BE WELCOME IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN.'

'TO HELL WITH YOU!' And then she had driven off.

That was seven years ago, seven years since I left the house of Bobby Singers, with those words between us, I'd been back a couple times but he never changed his view on what I did, he never saw that this was what I needed to do. So we didn't talk, and yet here he was asking for my help, letting go of the past seven years just like that. I slammed my hands down on my stirring wheel, after I got that anger out, I then rested my head on my hands. I had no choice, I couldn't just leave Bobby to his own defences. Even though sometimes he didn't believe it, I still had a heart and soul. So I climbed out of the car, journal in hand, went around back to my trunk, grabbed my bag, threw the journal in, slung it over my shoulder, slammed the trunk shut. I walked up to the front door of Bobby's, where he still stood, and he smiled at me,

'Don't say a fucking word.' I then continued walking right inside. Both Dean and Sam were standing in the main room. Both looked up when I walked in, with Bobby hot on my tail. I tossed my bag across the room, went to Bobby's bookcase, removed a book and pulled out the good whiskey that he stashed there, then I cracked it and took a swig straight from the bottle. Capped it, and then slumped onto the couch.

'Alright, fill me in.'