"I never meant to be so bad to you

One thing I said that I would never do"

One of Maya's favorite songs broke her softly from the blissful veil of sleep. She groaned and refused to open her eyes.

"A look from you and I would fall from grace

And that would wipe the smile right from my face"

As she tried to fall asleep once more, her brain broke through the haze of her sleep, reminding her she had work.

"Do you remember when we used to dance?

And incidents arose from circumstance"

She grabbed a fistful of the satin pillowcase under her head and pulled, yanking the pillow out from under her head and letting her head fall harshly to the mattress underneath her.

"One thing led to another, we were young

And we would scream together songs unsung"

Maya braced herself for the loud part of the song, putting the pillow over her head, but what she wasn't braced for was her volume dial to turn clockwise as far as it would go.

"It was the heat of the moment"

Maya bolted upright, green eyes alert, turning her head to see the man sitting in her desk chair.

"Telling me what your heart meant"

Seeing her brother lounging in her padded chair, she resisted the urge to cuss him out. It was still early after all. Too early for his bullshit, in fact.

"The heat of the moment shone in your eyes"

"Time to get up, princess." Ricky left her room without much of a fuss after that, pausing only to tug the covers from her bed, nearly yanking her off the bed. Maya grumbled some curses before reaching over and practically smashing her clenched fist against the plastic of her radio, successfully shutting it off. She never wanted to hear that song again.

A figure appeared in her doorway as she pulled her body into a sitting position, mattress bending under her weight.

"Baby, what happened?" Maya's head swiveled towards the doorway and concern stabbed her in the stomach.

"Mom!" As she took in the pale woman in the doorway, her heart sunk. The elder woman was leaning against the doorframe, leading Maya to believe that the pain today was worse than normal.

"It's six in the morning, you shouldn't be up," Maya said quietly as she walked over to her mom, locking eyes with her and helping her back across the hallway to the room she shared with Maya's dad. Maya eased her down on the bed, her mother's brown hair reaching out like tendrils around her like a halo.

"I heard something." The simple statement was spoken haltingly in clipped, quiet words. She wasn't talking a lot because of the pain, Maya realized.

"Mom, have you taken your pills?" Maya very nearly rolled her eyes as her mom shook her head. She reached over to her mom's nightstand, grabbing the orange pill bottle and twisting the white cap off. "Mom, you know these will help with the pain," she gently shook her hand to get one of the pills to fall out of the container.

"Maya, you know I don't like taking pills. Especially ibuprofen as strong as this, it-"

"Messes with your ulcer? Yeah, Mom, I remember," Finally, one of the pills fell into her waiting palm and she offered it to the older woman. "That's why you're supposed to have them with food."

Her mom chuckled fondly. "Smart-ass," she muttered under her breath.

Maya shook her head. "Nope," she stated. "Great ass." She turned around to demonstrate, smiling as her mom let out a very ladylike snort. "I'll go get you your smoothie. Which one do you want? The chocolate or the kale?" She started walking out the door.

"Chocolate, please, baby."

"Got it." She flashed a thumbs up and a smile." Be right back!" she yelled over her shoulder as she walked down the stairs and walked towards the kitchen. Regretting not wearing socks as her feet met the cold tile floor, Maya tried to hurry her smoothie-making up. Blending together chocolate chunks, chocolate powder, bananas, milk (fat-free, of course, don't worry, mom), and a bit of peanut butter, Maya poured the thick smoothie into a tall glass. Grabbing a straw and walking up the stairs, she thanked any deities above for preventing her from tripping on the rug in the hallway.

"Here you go, mama," Maya said, handing the glass to her mother, who accepted it with shaky hands. She helped her mom drink about half the smoothie before allowing her to swallow the white ibuprofen pill. Maya absently noticed that the other side of the bed was empty and there was light coming from underneath the closed bathroom door.

She left her mom to finish getting ready for work, hoping and praying that the pills would help with her mother's knee pain.

Damn that freaking surgery.

As she walked towards the bathroom, she pulled her long, dirty blonde hair into what she hoped looked something like a ponytail. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and fixed her hair since it looked like she had roadkill on her head. She winced as she dragged a comb and a brush through her hair, finally succeeding in taming her blonde locks. She sighed. She looked nothing like her family, with her light hair and green eyes. She stood out. She was the black sheep. She always stood out in school because of her high grades, of the way she held herself, of the way she talked, which was much more sophisticated than her peers. She eventually developed a mask, one to wear at school. She would talk shit there about other people, she would act tougher than she was, though if it came down to it, she was not afraid to throw a couple punches. She would cuss there, but not at home, never at home. Her mom hated it when people cussed, so she tried to keep the profanity down to a minimum... unless the situation actually called for it. She stood out at school, but when she was a kid she always knew she fit in perfectly with her family. But now that she was older, she knew that she didn't fit in as well as she hoped.

She didn't always look like this. She used to have darker hair and her eyes were almost hazel. She fit in with all of the other Mexican kids at her school, just another blip in the sea of brown heads and chocolate eyes. As she got older, though, her appearance seemed to change. Drastically. The doctors thought it was odd but normal. Spending all the time that she was in the sun was bleaching her hair. Add in the chlorine from the pool and the salt from the sea, it was perfectly normal for her hair to change color. Her eyes were another story. She hadn't undergone any surgery or any laser treatment like many people at her school had accused her of. She never used contacts because she didn't need them. After explaining this to the doctors, they explained to her that as babies, it's perfectly normal for the eyes of the infant to change color. After (with barely restrained irritation) she explained that she was not, in fact, an infant in need of coddling, they calmly explained to her that the melanin in her iris was probably just breaking down and had she looked into a bright light like the sun recently? No, she had incessantly replied, she wasn't a retard. And they still hadn't provided a valid explanation as to why her hazel eyes had suddenly lightened to green, stayed for a few years, and then gradually lightened to include the flecks of golden bronze and blue.

Sigh.

That was a long day.

After a whole lot of arguments with the quacks that ran the damn hospital and almost beating up this jackass optometrist who acted like he knew the freaking cure to cancer, almost 20-year-old Maya and her mother had walked out of the hospital, both of them fuming.

Maya sighed as she got dressed in her work uniform. She worked at a diner so she had to dress like a 50's style diner waitress. The uniform was baby blue while the collar was white, as well as the ends of the sleeves and the apron that went tied around her narrow waist. On the apron, there were pockets that she could put pens in, or tips, or the notepad she would receive upon her arrival to the diner. Then, she sat down at her vanity.

First, some light coverage foundation, the mascara, then a bit of bronzer. She dabbed on some lipstick, then covered it with some lip gloss. She ran a small brush over her recently-threaded eyebrows.

As Maya pulled on her white Vans, she contemplated how she was supposed to wear these stupid looking loafers that made her look like she was supposed to be in the 1950's. Which, working at a 50's diner, made sense. Still, she preferred to be a bit more modern. Also, working at the best diner in town, she ran the risk of running into someone that she used to know during high school or during primary school. And she really didn't want to get in touch with anyone she used to know, except for a few people who's numbers were still saved on her phone. She never had the heart to delete them.

Satisfied that she looked okay for public viewing, she walked down the stairs, grabbing her purse and the keys to her Dad's old BMW 750LI. He never used it anymore, anyway. She was saving up to get her own car, either a Corvette Stingray or a Pontiac GTO. Either way, she would be happy.

Maya yelled out her farewells as she walked out the front door, closing and locking the heavy wooden door behind her. She sighed in relief when she saw that her brother already left and that his golden Impala wasn't blocking the driveway anymore. He had a really bad habit of leaving his car there and then she had to deal with waking him up to either move it or to help look for his keys so she could move it. It was a really vicious cycle that just kept going on and on and on. Still, she was slightly stung that he hadn't bothered to say goodbye, much less apologize for this morning's incident.

She slid into the driver's seat of the luxury car, the black leather not nearly as hot as it would be when she got out of work since the sun hadn't had the chance to heat it up yet. Maya started the engine and cranked up the air conditioner, putting it on blast. Suddenly, a beeping broke the silence in the car. She was almost out of gas. She groaned. She didn't have any time to get gas before work. She checked the temperature on the thermometer on the dash. It wasn't too hot outside, at least for a Southern Californian morning. She would have to get some gas immediately after work, though. As long as she didn't use the extra things, such as (unfortunately) the air conditioner, she should be okay to go to work and make it to the gas station.

In an already semi-frustrated mood, Maya tried to keep the hi-i-just-swallowed-some-lemons look from her face as she reluctantly turned off the air and rolled down the windows. Getting her sunglasses out of the central compartment, she backed out of the driveway and drove about 15 feet. As she reached the stop sign at the corner of the street her house was on she turned on the radio and tuned it to the classic rock station that she always listened to, Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive blared back at her. As she entered the freeway, she turned it up even louder, singing along to some parts under her breath.

"And I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back"

Her head bopped to the beat of its own accord and a smile found its way to her face, pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back"

She sang along to the song as best as she could, which was pretty good if she wanted to toot her own horn (heh, get it?).

"I've been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall"

She belted out the words into the wind, not caring who heard her or who looked at her weird.

"I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all"

And after belting out the last few syllables of the song, three songs later and a near car crash with some douchebag in a red Porche who started yelling at her in what sounded like Brazilian (she yelled a few choice words back, she wasn't afraid to say), she exited the freeway. When she reached the populated streets, she turned down the radio to normal volume. She winked at a few cute guys at a couple red lights, who got viciously honked at a few seconds later as she sped off when the light turned green, the only remnant of the pretty green-eyed girl in the nice car being her tinkling, melodious laugh as she drove past them.

Finally, she turned a few corners and she was at her job. It was kind of a far drive for work, especially at a diner, but the owners had helped her out of more than a few tight spots. She figured she owed them. As she pulled into the parking lot, she found herself enamored with a really gorgeous car sitting in one of the parking spots. It was a Chevrolet Impala, a 1967 model, by the looks of it. It was painted a glossy black and the rims were standard "old school" rims. Maya was sure that her dad would know the exact serial number of the rims but, alas, she didn't. She wasn't as into those things like her dad, who worked for multiple car magazines over the years, though she had picked up some tricks of the trade over the years.

The plates on the Impala were Kansas plates, KAZ 2Y5. Maya knit her eyebrows together in the perfect picture of thought. She had seen those plates, she had seen this car before. The question was where. She would surely remember the owner of a beautiful car such as this. She shook her head and rolled up the windows, stepping out of the BMW with her purse perched on her shoulder. She probably saw it drive down the road at some point or another. It wasn't a big deal. She closed the door and locked the car over her shoulder, walking swiftly to the diner where she worked.

If Maya had remembered where she had seen that car, she would've called in sick. Actually, no, she wouldn't have. Common sense would've pointed her to, but the stubborn curiosity that she was born with would win out, and she would walk in the diner anyway. Either way, she walked in the diner.

"I don't know, Sam. This seems like kind of a stretch, even for us." A 26-year-old Dean Winchester looked over the information on his brother's laptop for what had to be the fifth time. They were searching for any demonic omens that might put them on the trail for The Demon they were hunting. One they'd been hunting for the bulk of his life. They still didn't know his name, or why he killed Mary or Jess. That's what they were trying to find out.

"Come on, Dean. This could be the break we've been waiting for!" A disgruntled Sam Winchester, 22 years old, argued against abandoning what could be the clue they've been searching for all his life. Dean stared at his brother inquisitively.

"Local Man a Sith?" The disbelief in Dean's voice was paramount as he read the headline in the local blogger's website, which was responding to the disappearance of a family man who lived here in California and his violent response to his wife's pestering. Dean snorted, his green eyes bright.

"And here I thought you were a Star Trek fan." Dean finished with a smirk as Sam glared at him. He always made jokes when things should be serious.

"I am but I'm a Star Wars fan, too," Sam said, rolling his eyes. Dean looked at his younger brother, a deeply offended and affronted look on his face.

"Who are you?" He whispered, leaning away from Sam as far as he could without making too much of a scene. Sam rolled his eyes again, the hazel orbs laced with annoyance. They had both watched the movies when they were younger, though Sam liked them a little more than Dean.

"Come on, dude." When Dean still didn't shift, Sam tried to reason with him. "Okay, what are the main characteristics of a Sith?" Dean pushed down the urge to say yellow eyes because that would only add more fuel to the fire.

"I wouldn't know. I'm a Star Trek fan, remember?" Dean snippy response only pushed Sam over the edge. He leveled a look at his older brother and somewhat role model that said dude-if-you-don't-listen-i'll-look-into-this-myself and that convinced Dean to not try to antagonize his brother more, knowing that he would follow through with it. The 26-year-old leaned forward in the blue vinyl bench seat, trying to look interested.

"Okay then, Obi-Wan, what do we got?" Dean regretted asking the question as soon as the words left his mouth. Sam's eyes lit up as he quickly began explaining the beginning's of their case.

"Okay, so this guy, a local by the name of Isaiah Hardeen, gets into an argument with his wife and pushes her up against the wall-" Sam's explanation was interrupted by Dean.

"Kinky bastard." Sam leveled his brother with a dry glare. Dean cleared his throat and nodded, an indication for Sam to continue. Sam took a deep breath before complying.

"He pushes her up against the wall and starts choking her." Dean snorted and even Sam crackled a slight smile before he cleared his throat and schooled his features into a well-practiced poker face.

"Dude, are you sure the eyewitness just didn't want to explain to the cops that he saw the Hardeen's doing the nasty?" Dean question was met with a look from Sam that clearly said stop-interrupting-me-and-you'll-find-out. Sam cleared his throat.

"Apparently, Hardeen's wife, named Sofia, was cheating on him with..." Sam paused, skimming through the article. Dean took the opportunity to glance out the window and check on his beloved Impala. "Wow," he said simply. Dean shifted his gaze from his Baby to his baby brother.

"What? What 'wow?" Sam looked up at Dean's inquiry, eyes still skimming the webpage.

"Um, well, apparently, his wife was cheating with practically any available guy who would take her. It says here that eyewitnesses place her in a bar with the gardener, in an alley with the neighbor, and even in the backyard with the plumber." Dean whistled, shaking his head.

"Poor bastard. Are we sure that this isn't just some suped-up domestic dispute? I mean, guy finds out his wife is cheating, gets a little hot-headed, one thing leads to another, bada-bing, bada-boom, he accidentally ganks his wife." Dean still seemed convinced that the case wasn't a case, after all. Sam shook his head, still looking excited.

"That's not all," The light in Sam's eyes was really starting to bother Dean. "He pushed her up against the wall, started choking her, and snapped her neck." Dean looked at his brother in disbelief and made the so-what gesture with his hands.

"And? This sounds about as demonic as Hello Kitty." Dean grumbled the last sentence as quiet as he could. Sam finally got fed up. He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw before looking at Dean with the most potent bitchface Dean had ever seen, clearly conveying the message of interrupt-me-one-more-time-and-you-won't-have-to-worry-about-the-demons-anymore. Dean chuckled nervously, maybe slightly worried about the mental stability of his baby brother and his own health.

"Alright, grumpy, I'll behave." Dean rolled his wrist in the universal go-on sign. Sam sighed and counted to ten in his head. He turned the silver laptop toward his older brother, leaning back so his spine rested against the vinyl behind him. There were some articles about the murder in the background but front and center was a picture of the body.

"Meet Sofia Hardeen." Dean narrowed his eyes and his eyebrows creased, looking closer at the sort of grainy picture. It looked like the only injury she had attained was a cut on her temple that had barely shed any blood. Well, there was that and the unnatural angle at which her neck was bent.

"There was only that?" Dean asked, green eyes flashing up to look at his brother for confirmation. Sam only nodded and Dean turned his attention back to the picture. There were cracks in the wall, all originating from one point. Dean's eyebrows jumped up to his hairline, again glancing at his brother. Sam was staring outside, a pensive look on his face. The younger sibling's eyes seemed to be focused on some point outside but Dean didn't notice. He was too busy trying to figure out how this could've happened.

"So how do you think this could've happened?" No response. "I mean it does look like a demon but I'm still not convinced that it's the demon, ya know?" Dean glanced up at his little brother, then back at the computer, but then back to his brother once he saw that the younger Winchester wasn't listening to a word he was saying. Sam was leaning up against the window, close to flattening his cheek against the clean glass. He seemed to be looking for something... or someone. Dean, as quick as humanly possible, twisted around in his seat like a 5-year-old, his knees now kneeling on the vinyl seats.

There wasn't anyone outside.

Dean sent his brother a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. Sam shook his head, looking baffled and preoccupied, lost in thought.

"It's nothing. I thought-" Sam stopped himself from finishing his sentence when the bell over the door jingled. Both brothers turned towards the noise... and Dean's jaw dropped.

There, standing in the doorway, was a carbon copy of their mother, Mary, looking no older than 22 years old.

Dean felt like he couldn't breathe.

Was he transported back in time somehow? Was this a demon's work? Or a djinn? Dean had read about those in his Dad's journal and wasn't really looking forward to meeting one if the rumors and the stories were right. Dean was skeptical about that particular entry in the journal, to begin with...

But he didn't know.

And that's what scared him.

He barely heard Sam's questioning inquiries, his inquisitive questions. He only had eyes for the mysterious girl standing in the doorway, in a waitress' uniform that went down to the middle of her thigh, the blue matching the hue of the vinyl seats. Dean could've sworn that she was humming a song he knew, he just couldn't put his finger on it. His eyes followed her as she walked to the back of the diner, where the cooks and staff went to do their things. She had a purse resting on her hip, the strap on the opposite shoulder. The purse itself was black leather and was small, only big enough to fit a journal or maybe a book. Sam kicked him under the table. Dean started a little, tearing his eyes from the girl, who had noticed his gaze and was now staring at them like they were creeps, and mouthed to his brother 'what the fuck'. Sam only gave him an exasperated look.

"Dude quit staring, it's creepy." Sam's hissed response to his wandering eyes grated on Dean's nerves. He wasn't looking at her like that. Dean sent yet another incredulous look to his brother, this time mixed with disgust and shock.

"NO!" Dean's outburst had reached the ears of the limited patrons that were at the diner at this time. The cook shot him a weird look from the pass that was visible from the dining area. The look soon disappeared, however, when he saw the girl, who had yet to enter the back room. She was probably interrupted from tearing Dean a new one when the portly cook by the stove called her name.

"Maya!" The mysterious girl turned around, her mood switching from slightly peeved to happy in a second.

"Hi, Pauli!" She said, her wide smile flashing white teeth. She quickly walked through the door leading to the back room. "How are you?" Dean heard the cook say, able to see them through the large gap in the wall, where the cook was... well, cooking. Maya gave the cook a quick hug and exchanged pleasantries. Then another waitress appeared from off to the side, this one about the same age as the cook, with dark hair streaked with gray.

"Sharon!" Maya's pleased voice reached Dean's ears as he quickly tried to listen in on the rest of the conversation. Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean shushed him. He tuned into the girl's conversation, keeping his eyes on the table, trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible.

"How are ya, honey?" The other waitress, Sharon, was asking Maya. Maya shrugged.

"Eh, can't complain." She moved behind the wall. "Got a roof over my head, a car, and a job. What more could a girl ask for?" Maya moved into view again, this time with a notepad in the front pocket of her apron and pen behind her hair. She looked at the other two workers, probably the owners considering the diner was called Pauli's Diner. She swiftly moved through the swinging door separating the staff area and the dining area, whipping out her notepad and pen. She immediately moved towards one of the other patrons, an older man who had a goatee and wore glasses, wearing a knit sweater. He smiled at her.

"Mornin', Abel. How are you?" Maya asked cheerfully. Abel shrugged.

"Ehh, Elaine still has me on that diet so..." Abel trailed off, inhaling through his teeth and shaking his head at the table in mock disappointment. Maya laughed, a clear, breathy laugh that made Dean want to join in.

"So not amazing, then?" Maya asked rhetorically. Abel laughed. Maya looked at him again gesturing with her notepad. "The usual?" Abel nodded thoughtfully.

"Sure." That was his only response, though he still sounded indecisive. Maya scribbled something in her notebook.

"Okay, oatmeal with a side of fruit." She smiled again, nodding and gesturing with her notebook once. She turned to leave but Abel stopped her.

"Wait. You know what? Make it waffles. Wi-with a side of bacon." Maya pursed her lips as she scribbled out Abel's previous order to write down his new, revised one. She gave the older man a look that he practically folded under. "Don't tell my wife." She smiled at his response to her disapproving look.

"Whatever you say, Abel." She said, glancing up at him and smiling in the middle of her writing. She started walking away but stopped herself and turned back to him. "Oh, and if you want some more coffee, just shout." With that, Maya walked away towards the pass, ripping off the page in her notebook and pinning it so something that looked like a clothes-wire and slid it down to where the cook was.

"Next service: waffles with bacon on the side!"

As Maya walked around taking the other patrons' orders, Dean's eyes (because they totally had a mind of their own) couldn't help but follow around the girl who seemed so familiar and yet Dean was sure that he had never seen her before in his life. Despite her striking resemblance to his and Sam's mother, there were some blatant differences. Mary had never liked classic rock music. She had merely tolerated it because John, their father, had liked it so much. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to love it. Dean now recognized the song she was humming when she walked through the diner's door. She was humming Highway to Hell by AC/DC, one of Dean's personal favorites. He was broken from his girl-watching when Sam kicked him under the table... again. In the same exact spot, dammit. Dean turned to his little brother, his expression a mix of pain, shock, and irritation.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean didn't bother to try to keep his outburst silent. His voice carried throughout the diner, bringing him the attention of both Maya and the patrons that she was currently giving a check to. She looked over and gave him a scathing look that would discourage a reaper. He hunched his shoulders, trying to hide from the ferocious female.

As the patrons accepted the check, Maya walked over to the boys, never once taking her icy, intimidating green eyes off the shorter one. When he had seen her making her approach, the taller one's eyes had widened and he had quickly alerted the shorter one to her presence, none too subtly. He had kicked him under the table, in fact. Maya nearly snorted as the shorter one nearly doubled over in pain. That had to be the third time Mr. Brown Leather Jacket had taken a steel-toed boot to the shin. She knew what that felt like. Too many years of playing competitive (very competitive) soccer had taught her that lesson. She almost winced.

Almost.

When she reached the table, the taller and shaggier of the two smiled sheepishly at her. She returned it, albeit a bit reluctantly. This guy looked like he could cute his way out of anything, even if there was a dead, blood-stained body on the floor and he was holding the knife dripping with blood. His puppy dog eyes were some of the strongest she'd seen, so she resolved to try and avoid eye contact. His counterpart, on the other hand, looked like he'd already spent a few years in jail, with his shifty green eyes and hair closely cropped to his head. Not too close, like Army or Marine status, but close enough. Maya tried to recall where she had last seen that particular shade of green before. They looked so familiar. He was trying to avoid eye contact.

Heh. Keyword being trying.

Her voice came out sharp as knives and clear as glass as she asked the question she'd been absolutely dying to ask as soon as she got in the door.

"Alright, Hasselhoff, what's your deal?"