Upon arrival 2 days later at Bobby's familiar junkyard, there was a strange black car in the spot where I usually parked. I pulled up behind the mystery car, turned mine off, and got out.

I went to the trunk and used the keys to pop it open. I pulled out my military grade Glock and stuffed it in the back of my jeans. With a mix of a random car and the job that we're in, a person can never be too careful.

I shut the trunk and quietly stalked toward the back door to the old house, inspecting a slightly terrifying piece of machinery as I hurried past it. I opened the door slowly and tiptoed inside to the kitchen. Clinking glasses and murmurs filled the air.

"Hello?" I called out to no one in particular.

"Who's that?" I heard an unfamiliar voice demand as I entered Bobby's study through the kitchen. I immediately raised my gun right before I came face to face with 2 guys who were not Bobby, one extremely tall, and the other about 6 feet tall, which was still a good 6 inches on me. The tall one had long wavy brown hair, was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and boots.

The shorter one had short brown hair, was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with boots as well.

Typical hunter garb.

The shorter one's eyes grew in shock, it seemed, when he saw me. The taller one did the same.

I lowered my gun and stuffed it in the back of my pants.

"Calm down, everyone." Bobby chimed in as he emerged from what seemed like thin air. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, princess." He rolled his eyes and the shorter one furrowed his brows and returned the favor.

"Sam" Bobby pointed to the taller one, "and Dean," the shorter one, "this is Lauren. Lauren, Sam and Dean." They waved cautiously.

Something about them seemed familiar.

Sam reached his hand out to shake mine, and I obliged. His hand was rough and completely enveloped mine. He had a good, strong handshake that mimicked the rest of his physical features.

Dean, then did the same. As soon as our hands touched, I felt something. I could tell he felt it too, because his intense green eyes bore into mine not in hatred, but something else. They were sad, almost desperate. I could clearly read the emotions on his face, his thin lips turned slightly downward at the ends, trying to keep a straight face. He was built differently than Sam. He was obviously shorter, but only by a few inches. His shoulders were broad and tough. His jaw was cut flawlessly, he was gorgeous. He let our hands drop and quickly turned his back toward me.

I cocked my head in confusion.

"Why are you two being so weird?" I asked, without thinking.

"Tough case." Sam answered, glancing over at Dean who still had his back turned toward me. Sam nodded at Dean, who both turned and left the room.

Bobby wasted no time gathering me into a tight hug, his arms closed around me and everything was okay again. I returned the favor, his familiar grease and whiskey smell immediately calmed me down as he released me from his death grip. He turned swiftly on his heels to return to his study, where Sam and Dean had also retreated.

"You were gone for too long this time." He stated matter of factly.

"I had a long string of cases, I chased a vampire clan halfway across the country." He took another drink of whiskey and sat down at his book-covered desk.

"What are you researching this time?" I inquired, following him. The books looked ancient. Their bindings were practically dust, which had obviously collected all over the covers.

"Angels." His nose was already deep inside a book with yellowed pages and gold leafing that lined them.

"Really?" I chuckled. "They're not real."

Bobby looked up at me coldly. "Dean and I met one."

I met his gaze. "You're fucking with me." I glanced up at Dean, who was sitting on the couch across from the tv next to Sam, their eyes glued to the screen. I heard some guy reporting a phenomenon of earthquakes that were littered across the globe.

When I turned my head back, Bobby hadn't flinched.

"How?" I inquired.

"Well, the angel that raised me from Hell." A gruff voice chimed in from behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and Dean was now staring at us, a slight smile on his lips, the same look of sadness and desperation in his eyes.

I cringed at the mention, although I wasn't sure why.

Bobby continued, "Wasn't a demon, it was an angel whose name happens to be Castiel and is in the meat suit of a 32 year old accountant." He sounded almost sarcastic.

I had a hard time believing it. Angels? Getting into affairs with humans? No way.

I nodded respectfully, whatever the old man thought was an angel obviously was not. It couldn't be.

"I've been dreaming lately." I whispered to Bobby. The desk was the perfect place to lean at that moment.

Bobby chuckled. "Oh really. Don't you think that's a good thing?"

"I don't know, I guess. It's just weird." A few months ago, I don't remember having any.

"Anyway, there were these two guys and two girls, a mom and daughter I think, and we were all at this bar in the middle of nowhere and I think I was dating one of the guys." I diverted my gaze to the old hardwood floors that were underneath the furniture and large rugs, like the kind that you find at a flea market some woman is selling for $40.00, claiming that they're from her homeland of Siberia.

When I finally looked back up, he was still nose deep in his book, absentmindedly twirling his glass with his hand. I hated when he didn't acknowledge that he heard me.

"Bobby, did you hear me?"

He sighed and looked up, and I noticed how old he looked. The wrinkles seemed to have taken over his face, his grey moustache seemed unkempt.

This angel business had to be something big.

"Sounds like a normal dream, Lauren." He returned to his book.

I looked over my shoulder at Dean and Sam, who were now standing.

"Sammy and I are going to get dinner. Requests?"

I looked back over at Bobby. "Doesn't matter." He took another drink of whiskey.

"You pick." I returned my gaze to Dean.

"Alright, Chinese it is." He turned around and I heard footsteps fade until the back door opened then closed, and the only background noise was the reporter.

"I'm gonna go get washed up." I mumbled to Bobby, as if he was paying attention.

I walked out through the kitchen and the back door to my car and got out my duffel. I clutched it with my right hand and carried it back inside, past the study and on the right was an extra bedroom, where I usually stayed.

I lurched awkwardly past Bobby, who was eagerly researching a new book, but this one was written in a language I had never seen before, I could tell from one glance.

I finally reached the bedroom, thankfully, no one had claimed it already. It was small, with white walls, an oak dresser with a matching nightstand and short, thick headboard on the bed, made from the same oak. A black wood desk sat in the corner with a small stand up mirror on the right side. The closet was hardly adequate for a normal person's wardrobe, but for me it was perfect. The bathroom was a couple doors down to the left of the bedroom.

I was in desperate need of a shower, seeing as how I hadn't had one since I left the Motel outside of Denver.

I quickly kicked off my boots and peeled off my same outfit from when I left the motel, found a clean towel in the closet and wrapped it around myself.

The hallway to the bathroom was littered with framed photographs of his late wife, and others who I didn't recognize. The last one was a framed picture of him with Sam, Dean, and a guy who looked like a 50 year old version of the latter brother. Their Dad? Something told me that my hunch was correct.

They all had their arms around each other in front of Bobby's sign that hung outside his house that read "Singer Auto Salvage" in varying pieces of metal. They were all smiling, but there was also a sort of tension, easily seen in the photograph. I couldn't quite put a finger on it, though.

Straight out of the 1970's, the bathroom was tiled from the floor to the ceiling in a mustard yellow color. The outdated fixtures were original to the house, I was sure.

I pulled the door shut behind me and dropped the towel onto the ground. I started the shower with the ancient knobs and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My tanned skin was covered in scars and bruises, all in various stages of healing. An anti possession tattoo in the form of a pentagram surrounded by flames in thick black ink was etched into the skin on my shoulder. I couldn't remember exactly when I got it, all I knew is that I've had it for as long as I could remember.

The shower screamed as though it was a teapot, and steam started to raise over the clear shower curtain. My skin burned as the water fell from the shower head to my body, just how I liked it.

By the time I was done my skin was bright pink, and the steam was so thick that I could barely breath. I retrieved the towel from the floor and wrapped it around myself and opened the door to let some of the heat out.

It immediately got cooler, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

My feet padded back to my room where I rummaged through my bag to find something that wasn't dirty or covered in blood.

At the bottom, I found a pair of black leggings with leather on the waist, and a black tanktop. After drying off, I slid into the clean clothes, and immediately was in a better mood.

"We're back!" I heard Dean's distinct voice echo through the house.

My stomach growled viciously. I clutched at my abdomen and hurried out to the kitchen. Dean and Sam were pulling out take out boxes with chicken fried rice, white rice, and various entrees. I chose sweet and sour chicken with the fried rice and chowed down. I finished my food quickly, I was much hungrier than I thought.

The boys weren't even halfway done by the time I cleared my plate and took my seat between Sam and Bobby. Dean sat opposite of me at the round kitchen table.

I found I had a strange feeling about him. I couldn't quite place it, but it was like I knew him, and Sam, already.

We were connected in some bizarre way.

"So Lauren," Sam asked between shoveling large amounts of rice into his mouth. "Did you just finish a case?"

Ah, hunter small talk.

"Yeah, I was investigating some vampire-like activity in New Orleans a few weeks back, and I followed their trail all the way to Phoenix."

"Wow." Sam tried to sound enthused.

"I don't know if it's just me, but I've never seen a group move that fast. Something had to have spooked them, and followed them, even before I did."

"Well we have gin showing up stateside, something must be bringing them in." Dean chimed in, never looking up from his plate.

"I don't know, but something really weird is going on." The three guys exchanged annoyed glances and didn't reply.

Was there some kind of huge secret that they were keeping? Why was Bobby researching about Angels? Why did Dean go to hell? Why do the Winchesters seem like good people?! This is my first time meeting them, I can't trust them already!

These were all questions that burned in my mind.

I slammed my hand down on the table to get all of their eyes on me. As soon as I had their attention, I stood up. The chair screeched across the floor as I pushed it back.

"You three better damn well tell me what's going on here. You're all acting like real assholes, I'm not stupid, I know there's a big picture type situation going on here." I found myself raising my voice toward the end.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby sighed collectively and set their utensils down, making scattered clanging noises as they did so.

Sam turned toward me and gestured with his hands while he was talking.

"A few months ago, I..." He looked over at Dean. "..we started the apocalypse."

My mouth hung open, no doubt. I was speechless.

"That's why there have been earthquakes on a monumental scale, monsters are taking shelter, demons are running rampant. Lauren, a lot of things are about to go down. And a lot of people might die if we don't stop it fast enough."

"I've seen the future, Lauren. And it ain't pretty." Dean took a drink of his beer and continued eating.

"Let me help." I blurted out. Why did I just say that?

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, a conversation passed through facial expressions in a matter of seconds.

"No." Dean answered, his fist was clenched in front of him. "We don't need anyone getting hurt who doesn't have to."

"Bullshit, Dean. If this gets out of hand, because you three are only three goddamn people, can't handle it, then I'm going to die anyway, Sam just said so himself!"

After a few seconds of silence, Bobby offered his insight.

"She's right." He looked at both Sam and Dean while he talked. "We could use all the help we could get. We've already got Jo and Ellen in our corner, ready to tag in. Why not have another? Plus, she's a damn good hunter."

Dean immediately shot up, grabbed his beer, and before he left the room he sternly ended the conversation.

"No, Lauren." and left the room. The sound of his steps faded away as he reached the couch in the living room and laid down.

Sam looked at me, then back at Bobby.

"This is bullshit." I turned on my heel, fuming. I stormed past Dean in the living room and slammed the door behind me when I walked into my room. I was acting like a child, but I didn't care.

I didn't bother to turn on the lights and flopped onto the bed. Weariness soon overtook my sore muscles and I drifted off to sleep without changing or climbing beneath the covers.

That night I dreamt in black, but when I woke up, I was on fire.