This idea has been kicking around in my brain for a while, and I've finally decided to bite the bullet and just post the damn thing. The story begins in Season 1, following certain canon events fairly closely and diverging at others.

Reed Savoy sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wild and her body drenched in sweat, a scream caught in her throat. The remnants of the nightmare clung to her like cobwebs - black eyes, the metallic scent of blood, anguished screams and malevolent laughter echoing through her mind - echoes of her family's final moments.

As her racing heart began to slow, Reed took in her surroundings, grounding herself in the familiar clutter of her small room. Her gaze swept over the sagging bookshelves, the battered dresser topped with faded photographs, and the weapons strategically placed within easy reach. The rosary that hung from a nearby nail, beads worn smooth from countless worried touches.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her tangled hair and glanced at the clock - 5:30 AM. A fair enough time to start the day.

As she padded down the stairs, she could already hear Bobby shuffling around in the kitchen. He'd probably been up for hours, knowing him, if he'd bothered to sleep at all. Shaking off the last remnants of her nightmare, she refocused on her plans for the day.

They'd been up to their ears in demonic possessions and other nasty omens for months, and it was all Bobby could focus on.

She preferred to stay away from demons.

"Hey old man," Reed called out as she entered the kitchen. Bobby grunted in response, his nose buried in some dusty book. She rolled her eyes and headed straight for the coffee pot.

"You eat yet?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Bobby's idea of a balanced breakfast was whiskey in his left hand and an ancient book in his right.

"Been busy," he muttered, not looking up.

Reed rolled her eyes, giving him a bland "Mhhmhmm." He was so busy that he'd been forgetting to eat and sleep. She wasn't entirely sure what kept him going, other than coffee and spite.

She started rummaging through the fridge, pulling out eggs and some questionable-looking bacon, giving it a tentative sniff before deciding it was probably okay. "Bacon and eggs fine?" she asked, not even bothering to wait for an answer. She'd tie him to the chair and force feed him if said no, and he knew it.

Bobby finally looked up, a hint of a smile tugging at his gruff features. "Fine, if it'll stop your nagging."

Impishly, she just stuck her tongue at him. That earned her a full on chuckle.

As she cooked, Reed's mind wandered back to her nightmare - the day Bobby had found her. She was just a kid, 6 years old and scared out of her mind. Demons had torn through her family like tissue paper, but for some reason, they'd kept her alive. Bobby had burst in like some kind of grumpy guardian angel, a flurry of holy water and exorcisms.

She could vaguely remember her mother and father - indistinct impressions of warmth and safety and soft smiles. Memories of her brother and sister were even more faint. They'd barely just turned two. She remembered loving them though.

After the attack, he'd tried to find her other family. She remembered clinging to him those first few days, shell-shocked as he made phone call after phone call and scoured the newspapers. She remembered his growing frustration as lead after lead turned up empty. It was like her entire extended family had been wiped off the map.

In the end, it was just Reed and Bobby. A traumatized kid and a reluctant hunter who'd never planned on being a father. But somehow, they made it work. Bobby taught her everything he knew - how to research lore, how to handle weapons, how to survive in a world where monsters were real. And somewhere along the way, he became the closest thing to a dad she'd ever known.

Vaguely, she noticed that Bobby had left the kitchen. She heard his phone ringing from somewhere in the library and his answering "Singer Salvage," before turning all her focus to not burning the bacon and her plans for the day.

There was an estate sale for a retired professor of anthropology and folklore in Vermillion, about an hour's drive south. Reed had stumbled upon the notice in the local paper a few days ago, and her interest was immediately piqued. While most of his collection had already been claimed by the university, the notice mentioned that his personal library would be part of the estate sale. It might be a long shot, but there was definitely a possibility of finding a few texts on Native American folklore to add to their collection.

Bobby's gruff voice broke her from her reverie moments later. "The Winchester boys are stoppin' by. Seems like their daddy's gotten himself into some trouble."

Reed's heart skipped a beat at Bobby's words. The Winchesters.

She tried to mentally count how long it had been since the last time they'd seen them - she'd been around 16, so… a long time.

Dishing them both a plate of slightly burnt bacon, and decently fluffy scrambled eggs, she joined him at the table and sat his plate pointedly on top of his mess of notes and scattered papers. A baleful look was his only response, which she grinned broadly at.

She tucked in immediately, and with a mouthful of eggs, blandly asked, "So what did John Winchester get himself into this time?"

He grabbed his plate and pulled it further away from her, face aghast. "How many times I gotta tell ya not to speak with your mouth full?" She just grinned at him, mouth still full. He rolled his eyes, but she could see the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

He didn't answer for a moment, seeming to mull over how he should answer. He took a bite of scrambled eggs and chewed thoughtfully. When he did finally speak, it was just one word and Reed asked no further questions.

"Demons."

•๑ ๑•

After a very stilted and quiet breakfast, she'd washed the dishes and headed upstairs. Bobby didn't press her, which she appreciated. Neither of them had particularly wanted to reminisce about the Winchesters, given how badly things had gone the last time John and Bobby had been in the same room. She could still hear the echo of Bobby's shotgun, the crunch of rock salt hitting the Impala's trunk as John peeled away.

She also didn't want to talk about demons - John's obsession with them, or the avalanche of demonic activity Bobby was dealing with. So they just ate breakfast in silence and she'd quickly excused herself upstairs.

She was a good hunter.

Decapitating vampires? Child's play. Burning wendigos? A walk in the park.

Demons? No.

So she'd retreated to the attic, throwing on her headphones and trying to drown out her racing thoughts. She tried to distract herself by sorting through Bobby's seemingly endless supply of books. It was a Sisyphean task, because no matter how hard she tried to keep things organized, Bobby always seemed to acquire twice as many tomes as she managed to sort.

And soon her mind started to drift - back to the first time she'd met the Winchesters. She'd been living with Bobby for two years at that point, still raw from the loss of her own family. The rumble of John Winchester's Impala pulling up to Bobby's house had sent her scurrying to hide behind Bobby's legs, peeking out cautiously as the strangers approached.

John Winchester had seemed larger than life to her eight-year-old self and his gruff demeanor and intense gaze had frightened her at first. And Sam… Sam, with his chubby cheeks and wide, curious eyes had reminded her so much of her own little brother. She had to blink back tears just thinking about it.

And Dean... Reed couldn't help but smile a little at the memory of their first encounter. He'd been all of six years old, full of energy and mischief. Their initial interactions had been far from smooth. They'd spent that first visit trading insults and trying to outdo each other in Bobby's salvage yard, and at some point she'd clocked him in the face the way Bobby had been trying to teach her to do. Neither of them spoke about it, to Bobby or John, but their relationship had improved after that. They'd formed somewhat of a bond, born out of shared experiences and the unique understanding that came from growing up in the hunting world.

Those early days seemed so distant now, almost like a different life. How much of those little boys she remembered remained in the men they had become, and how much of herself was still that scared, angry little girl hiding behind Bobby's legs.

Eventually, she heard the rumble of the Impala's engine and mentally steeled herself. As she entered the room, her eyes immediately found Dean, then Sam. Twelve years had changed them both significantly, yet something achingly familiar remained.

She was just in time to see Bobby handing Dean a small silver flask.

"What is this – holy water?" Dean asked, eyeing the flask suspiciously.

Bobby held out another flask. "That one is. This is whiskey." She couldn't help but roll her eyes as Bobby took a swig and passed it to Dean.

"You need to give your liver a break, old man," she said. Dean's eyes jumped to her and for a brief moment, surprise flickered across his face, quickly masked by a practiced nonchalance. She threw him a wink, and Dean's lips quirked into a shadow of his old smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a weariness there that hadn't existed before, a hardness. "Hey Reed. Looking good." His eyes gave her a quick up and down, and she couldn't contain her snort, the sound a mix of amusement and something a bit harder to define. She had missed him. His roving eye caught him a solid smack upside the head from Bobby, and she couldn't help but laugh at the stupid look on his face.

From his spot at the cluttered desk in the corner, Sam looked up from whatever dusty book he'd been buried in. His eyes met Reed's, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face and he offered a small, tentative wave. "Hey Reed. Good to see you."

Bobby cleared his throat gruffly, clearly not interested in the family reunion. "Alright, alright. Now that we're done with the pleasantries, can we get down to business?"

Reed snorted, moving to lean against the wall just inside the study. "Right. Business." She cut a glance back to Sam.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come."

As they spoke, Reed gave both of the boys another quiet once-over, taking in just how much they'd changed since the last time she'd seen them. It has been years, but they both seemed to have become different people. Sam, even slouched over his book, looked like a giant compared to the scrawny kid she remembered him as. Dean… Well, Dean was Dean. She didn't think he'd ever really change.

But they both looked far older, and not just in years. It was like some essential part of them had been worn away, leaving but jaded hunters in their place.

They were discussing demons, and demon traps. Reed tried to tune it out. She looked around the room, at the piles of books and scattered papers, the seemingly endless dust that shimmered through the weak rays of sunshine filtering into the study - she studied the boys who she hadn't seen in years who had once been something like brothers to her. Anything to not focus on the conversation happening in front of her.

But Bobby's gruff voice kept pulling her attention back.

"I'll tell you something else, too. This is some serious crap you boys stepped in."

She could hear the concern in his voice, a tone she'd grown all too familiar with over the years. She closed her eyes, willing herself to walk away, to leave Bobby and the Winchesters to deal with whatever demon problem John Winchester had idiotically bumbled his way into.

But she couldn't.

"Oh, yeah? How's that?" Sam sounded worried. Good.

"Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops." Bobby threw a concerned glance back at Reed, and a chill ran down her spine. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her collar bone, and the anti-possession tattoo that lay just underneath it. The tattoo that she'd gotten the second she turned 16. With Bobby's permission of course.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice this time, a forced casualness that didn't quite hide his unease.

"This year, I heard of 27 so far. You get what I'm saying? More and more demons are walking among us – a lot more."

Like they're taking turns, it's Sam who asks the next question. "Do you know why?" and Reed knows Bobby doesn't. He's been burning the candle at both ends, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on, but the finality in his voice still makes stomach drop.

"No, but I know it's something big. The storm's coming, and you boys, your Daddy – you are smack in the middle of it."

A sudden barking shattered the tense silence and Reed felt her heart rate spike, a familiar dread settling in her stomach.

"Rumsfeld," Bobby muttered, moving towards the window.

As he peered out, the barking stopped abruptly, cut off by a pitiful whine. Reed's fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"What is it?" Bobby's voice was barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the room, it might as well have been a shout.

Reed watched as Bobby's face paled. "Something's wrong," he growled, turning back to the room.

Before anyone could react, the door exploded inward. Reed flinched, her body instinctively recoiling, as a woman - no, not a woman, a demon - sauntered in. The very sight of her sent waves of revulsion through Reed's body. Her mind screamed at her to run, to hide, to do anything but stand there frozen in terror.

"No more crap, okay?" the demon's voice was casual, almost bored.

Reed barely registered Dean's attempt to attack with holy water. One moment he was charging forward, the next he was flying across the room, crashing into a stack of books. The sound of his body hitting the floor snapped Reed out of her paralysis.

She felt a strong hand on her arm, and suddenly she was being pulled backward. Sam positioned himself in front of her, his tall frame blocking her view of the demon. Under different circumstances, Reed might have bristled at being treated like a damsel in distress, but right now, she was pathetically grateful for the barrier between her and the black-eyed monster.

"I want the Colt, Sam – the real Colt – right now." The demon's voice sent shivers down Reed's spine. She pressed herself against Sam's back, trying to make herself as small as possible.

As Sam and Bobby slowly moved across the room, Reed found herself being guided along with them, Sam's hand firm on her arm. She could feel him trembling slightly, or maybe that was her. The demon followed, her eyes never leaving Sam's face.

"We don't have it on us. We buried it," Sam's voice was steady, but Reed could hear the underlying tension.

The demon's response washed over Reed in a haze of fear. She caught snippets - something about John Winchester, a fake gun, chuckleheads. But all she could focus on was the oppressive feeling of evil that radiated from the demon. It reminded her too much of that night years ago, the night she lost everything.

Suddenly, Dean's voice cut through her panic. "Actually, we were counting on it."

Reed peered around Sam's arm, watching as the demon turned to face Dean. There was a moment of confusion, then Dean looked up at the ceiling. Reed followed his gaze, her eyes widening as she saw the large protective symbol etched there.

"Gotcha," Dean smirked.

•๑ ๑•

The cool air hit her like a slap to the face as she burst out of the house. She didn't stop running until she reached her beat-up old truck, fumbling with shaking hands to get the door open. Once inside, she sat there for a moment, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Without thinking, she started the engine and peeled out of the scrapyard, gravel spraying behind her tires.

She had no real destination in mind; she just knew she needed to get away. Away from the demon, away from the memories, away from the crushing fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

As she drove, the familiar scenery of Sioux Falls blurred past her windows. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and she forced herself to take deep breaths, trying to slow her racing heart. The further she got from Bobby's house, the easier it became to breathe.

Eventually, she found herself pulling into the parking lot of a small diner on the outskirts of town. It was a place she'd been to countless times before, usually with Bobby when they needed a break from his cooking - or hers. The neon 'OPEN' sign flickered weakly in the window.

Reed sat in her truck for a long moment, gathering herself. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped out and headed inside. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully as she entered, the smell of coffee and grease enveloping her like a comforting blanket.

Carol, the middle-aged waitress who'd been working there as long as Reed could remember, gave her a friendly wave. "Hey there, Reed. The usual?" She looked expectantly at the doorway, and then asked, "Alone today?"

Reed nodded and tried her best to put on a convincing smile. "Yep. Just me today." She slid into her favorite booth by the window, and as she waited for her coffee and slice of apple pie, she stared out at the parking lot, mind wandering.

She tried not to think about what was happening back at Bobby's. About the demon trapped in the study, about Sam and Dean and Bobby dealing with it all while she ran away like a scared child. Shame burned in her chest, mixing uneasily with the lingering fear.

But she couldn't help it. She just couldn't deal with demons.

Every encounter sent her spiraling back to that horrific night when she was six years old, watching helplessly as black-eyed monsters tore her family apart. No amount of exposure therapy or training with Bobby helped.

The coffee and pie arrived, and Reed focused on them, using the familiar taste and smell to ground herself in the present. She lost track of time as she sat there, nursing her coffee long after it had gone cold, watching as the diner slowly emptied out as night fell.

It was well past midnight when her phone finally rang. Reed jumped, nearly knocking over her empty coffee cup. Bobby's name flashed on the screen, and she answered quickly.

"You okay, girl?" Bobby's gruff voice was tinged with concern, completely skipping the preamble.

"Yeah," she said, not bothering to elaborate.

There was a pause, and Reed could almost see Bobby nodding on the other end of the line. "Well it's over. Demon's gone. The boys too. You can come on back now." He paused for a beat before adding, "And drive safe."

Reed let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Kay," she said. Bobby was good with demons - she'd known it would be fine. But it was still a relief.

"Be home soon," she said, and hung up, not really expecting an answer. Neither of them were particularly chatty at the best of times and now was definitely not the best of times.

Reed stood up, left some money on the table, and headed out to her truck.