The beginning of a story is often seen as the most important. The beginning of the tale that changed someone's life, or some event someone thought was exciting enough to write down. It's the beginning. The start of everything. But that's not how this story starts. It starts at the end. The end of her life. The end of Krissy's life.
She did not die a normal death. Oh no. How could she? This girl of barely nineteen. The things she had seen and done. The people she met, and the people she didn't meet, but who knew her name. A normal death dare not take her, for she was not a normal girl. Krissy Chambers. The girl who took down an armada of Wendigos in one night. The girl who caused werewolves to turn and run. The girl who stared Death in the face, and smiled.
No. Krissy was not ordinary. She had never been ordinary. She had always been this. Special. Destined for greatness. Destined for this moment. Destined to meet them again.
Destined to meet the two who had changed her life. Who made her become the hunter she was. The only ones she looked up to.
Sam and Dean Winchester.