Gaining trust with the Hunters wasn't easy. It took over a month to convince them to let me even stay in a room alone.

"I can do the dishes while you vacuum the bedrooms." I told Sam.

"Please don't break a plate."

And then a couple more to convince them to let me join them for grocery shopping.

"Broccoli?" The men looked in horror at the sight of the green item in my basket.

I shrugged. "It's healthy. And tastes good if you bake it right."

The only reason I'd even been allowed to get my GED was because Dean was taking the exam with me in the same room.

"You really spent the whole time provided in the classroom." Dean groaned. "You were done before most of the others were, so why did you stay the whole time?"

"There's a reason why that much time is given, and damn right I'm gonna use all of it."

Another few months later, I'd been allowed to go shopping alone without Bobby's eyes plastered to the floor while I scoured the undergarments section.

"How many pairs of underwear does a woman even need?"

I kept dumping my new underwear and pads onto the couch I'd pretty much claimed as my own. "Keep enjoying your book Bobby." I didn't need to look at him to know he had turned around in his chair with bright red ears.

In October as my birthday approached, ten eventful months after my landing here, I was allowed to have a job.

"There's a new bar down the road." John said one night. "They said they're hiring waitresses." He slid the fake ID he'd made for me to get my GED in my direction. "That should get you in."

I gripped the thin piece of plastic and lifted it up to the light. It looked real. I could finally be my own person in this world. I smiled. "Thanks."

But the thing that really showed their trust in me was when I was given my very own bedroom. That too for December. It was a Christmas gift.

"Is that a new bedsheet?" I looked up at John as he gingerly handed me an overly floral pink and purple bedsheet set, still in its packaging. "I don't think I can use that on the couch though."

"Come on up, kid." Bobby gestured up the stairs. I couldn't believe it. But I tried not to get my hopes up too high. There was no way they were willing to give me a bedroom. And yet, here it was, complete with a bunk bed and a closet, two empty shelves and a table along with a chair.

The men had tried. They really had. The paint job itself was phenomenal. The color choices were questionable though, with a bright pink ceiling and baby blue walls, but it was better than the yellowed worn out couch. But it was the thought that counted. And it meant that they considered me family. I felt like crying.

"The… the colours good?" Bobby asked hesitantly. "If they're bad enough to make you cry we can change them–"

"No, they're lovely." I swiped at my face. Damn tears. "I love it." Bobby must have picked the colours.

"The walls took too long to paint." Dean grinned from the doorway.

"I did the ceiling." Sam added. He was a couple inches shy of Dean now. Dean refused to admit that Sam was going to keep growing, but Sam was obviously going to shoot past him in a few more months. "Dad picked out the bedsheets and stuff."

"Mary liked that stuff." John smiled wistfully at the floral print.

"So, welcome to the family." Dean, ever the extrovert, held out his arms.

Then in January. Exactly a year after I'd landed in this place, I was taken hunting for the first time.

"Dad said it's a simple salt and burn." Dean said from the passenger seat. It was one of Bobby's barely functioning cars.

"I still don't get why you get shotgun." Sam mumbled.

"Because. Someone needs to read the map that she can't. Question is. Why's a woman driving?"

"Because I've been driving much longer than you have."

"Right…"

"I commuted 10 miles each way to and from college everyday for two years I'll have you know. I have more miles than you can even dream of."

"Ever been on a long drive?" Dean challenged.

"Every three months." I smirked. "I drove six hours straight once. Stopped only for gas and bathroom breaks." I looked at Sam dosing off through the rearview mirror. "You can take a nap Sammy. It's six more hours away." Sam hummed before sliding completely flat in the backseat, his legs bunched up as he moved into a somewhat sleeping position. I glanced at Dean glaring at the map. "You can sleep too, you know."

"And leave you to crash the car? No thanks." He folded the map. "Why can't we just buy a GPS." He grumbled.

"Dunno. Driving without a GPS ain't so bad." I stepped on the accelerator a little harder. "By the way…" I glanced at the road we just crossed. The name of it seemed familiar. "When do we take that right again?"

"You just passed it… Damn it! I'm never letting a chick drive again."

Then came the fateful day of Sam picking out which colleges to apply for. Sam, Dean, and I were huddled over a computer in the library, opening up website after website.

"Here are the brochures you wanted." a librarian handed Dean a stack. "Let me know if you need anything else." She winked at Dean before walking away with her hips swaying way too much to be just a style of walking.

Dean nodded in appreciation before leaning back against the chair Sam was sitting on. He caught me watching and winked. "Ain't leaving you for her, sweetheart."

Yeah, somewhere down the road, Dean had managed to wiggle into my heart. It had started with light brushes against my arm, and then full on hands on waist at a bar. Strangely enough, our relationship was progressing not in an omigosh-he's-so-hot way but an actual i-see-a-future-with-him way. Though I doubted it would last long. He had already slept with Lisa four years back while on a hunt. As far as I was aware, he still had her number. And until he figured out that part of his life, I refused to let our relationship progress.

"Don't try to get in a woman's pants while we're applying for colleges." Sam muttered. "And don't flirt with each other in front of me." His fingers banged away at the keyboard, hitting ctrlP every time he opened up an application page.

"What are your top choices?" I asked.

"I kind of liked Stanford." Sam grinned. "They have a good pre-law program." Stanford… I chewed the inside of my mouth. That wasn't going to go too well.

"Law? You wanna study law?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "You wanna go to school for 8 more years? Nerd."

"Don't make fun of him Dean." I jammed my foot into his shin. It barely even made him flinch. It almost bothered me how my hits had no effect on the boys anymore. Back then I could have held my own against them. But now… they'd gotten larger and beefier, and I could barely even scratch a hair against their head without having an arm and leg broken off.

"Yeah, I'm 18 years old. I think I know what I want to do with my life." Sam shook his head and went back to looking up applications.

"We should look into some other colleges too." I quickly shuffled through the stack of papers on the table. "What about Harvard?"

"It felt more like a business school when I read about it. I'll still apply, but… I don't think I actually want to go there."

"That's… fair." What other school could I convince him to get into? "Have you thought about UCLA? California is a great place to live."

"Sharon." Sam laughed. "I already have a list– I appreciate you willing to help me apply, but–" he finally turned around. There must have been fear in my eyes, because he quickly realised. "You don't want me to go to Stanford."

"It's not that exactly–" I looked at Dean for help. But of course, he had nothing better to say than me. "You should go wherever you want, but– Stanford isn't the best option for you. Believe me."

"Can you… tell me why…?" Sam asked softly.

"You–" No. I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't. I shook my head. Jessica. Sam would love Jessica. They were obviously meant for each other. Maybe Sam would never find a woman he loved so much that he would pop the question in two years. But the heartbreak, the pain– I couldn't put Sam through that. Not the sweet little boy who followed me everywhere.

Dean's hand found my shoulder and he rubbed it in a soothing motion. "It's okay," he reminded me. "We're all okay."

I nodded. "Yeah." there was a lump in my throat.

"If it's that bad, then I won't apply." Sam said gently. "I won't go to Stanford."

"I don't want to ruin your dreams Sam." I forced myself to look into his light brown eyes. "I meant it when I said you should do what you want."

"But if I go there, then something bad will happen." Sam gave me a bitter smile. "And if it's gotten you of all people so riled up, then– I guess I won't."

He looked sad. So sad. I looked at Dean for help. He just raised his hands in defeat.

"So should I start filling out the forms? They should have printed by now." His chair scraped the floor as Sam stood up, his large frame walking over to the printers.

"Dean." I whispered. "I think I ruined his excitement."

"You must have said that for a good reason. And I'm sure he knows." he patted my hand.

"But–" I looked back at Sam's hunched shoulders. "Look at him. It's like I drained the life out of the kid."

"Hey, it's for the best." He looked up as Sam approached us again.

"So." he dropped the stack of applications onto the table in front of us. "Mind helping me with filling these out?"

"I can do the checkboxes." I offered.

"I can forge Dad's signature."

"I'm an adult, Dean, I don't need that."

"I can… forge your signature?"

"I can sign my own papers thank you."

"Then I can… um… I don't know. Provide moral support? Or I can grab us a beer."

"Why don't you fill out the routine stuff like name, birthday, or whatever." I handed him a pen.

Dean playfully glared at me but got to work anyway.

A few hours later, we were still filling out forms.

"You sure you wanna stay and finish this?" I looked at the applications Sam was still filling out. "One of us can stay and help you finish, you know."

"No, no. It's fine." Sam made a 'shoo' motion with his free hand. "You guys have fun with lunch. And don't make me an uncle." This kid–

"We'll make sure you're the uncle to at least three kids." Dean cackled as he led me away.

"You two idiots." I slapped his arm.

And despite my insistence on Sam not going to Stanford, three months later, there it was. A letter from Stanford. I punched Sam's number into my cell phone and held it close to my ear.

"Sammy what the hell?"

"What?" he sounded confused.

"Why's there a letter from Stanford? With a full ride?"

"I–I didn't apply. But wait– I got in?" He sounded overjoyed. "Sharon, this must be destiny or something! It means I have to go right? And the thing that you're scared about– what if it never happens– Sharon this is big news!"

Then who did? There was only one person who could break into the library and forge Sam's handwriting better than John. And I knew John wouldn't apply to colleges for Sam. "Ask Dean to come to the phone."

I heard rustling and the yelling of Dean's name. A second later, it was the older Winchester brother on the phone. "Why did you apply to Stanford for him?"

"Did you see the kid that day?"

"I know. But why?" I felt light headed. It was 2001. Sam would meet Jessica in two years. And then everything would go up in flames, literally in another two years. "This isn't good."

"We'll- we'll keep in touch with Sam. Make sure nothing happens."

Yeah, but the fight with John was likely to happen. And then Sam would cut everyone out. And then we would be screwed. It was like Fate was forcing this to happen. But I couldn't make myself say any of that out loud. "Then keep in touch with him. Don't. No matter what. Don't let anything happen to him. Please."

"Of course sweetheart. Of course. Nothing will happen. Alright?"

"Yeah." Sure. Hopefully, nothing would happen.

"We'll come over as soon as this case is over. And uh… keep an eye out for a scholarship too–"

"You applied for a scholarship too?!" I gripped the edge of the table to stay upright. This was a mess. Who let Dean be in control.

"Yeah, I mean. My brother is going to college. Might as well make it free. Dad'll probably be less mad about it." Dean sounded excited too. They had no idea. They had no idea of what was coming. And I couldn't say anything. But hopefully. Just hopefully, he wouldn't meet Jessica, right?

After Sam left with Bobby to go to the airport for Stanford, I was with John and Dean at the bar I was working at after closing. They'd celebrated the whole time it was open. John hadn't been too pleased about Sam's decision, especially after hearing how I was against it, but no one could say no to his puppy dog eyes.

"Close up shop when you guys are done." the manager grinned and tossed me the keys. I jumped out of the way out of instinct and they clattered noisily to the floor.

"I found a few leads." John said once the manager had left. "The demon that killed Mary… I think I finally have enough on him to pursue him."

"That's great news!" Dean sat up straighter immediately.

"I don't want you kids coming after it." John said slowly.

"Dad." Dean laughed incredulously. "I'm 22. So is Sharon. I think we're old enough to join you on this hunt." he looked at me for confirmation.

I had nothing to say.

"There's a reason I'm bringing this up now. Now that Sam isn't here." John cleared his throat. "You two will follow what I have to say." John was in commander mode.

"Yes sir." Dean and I chimed.

"Do not. Pursue. This demon."

"But dad–"

"Listen to me son. You don't know what this demon is capable of. Alright? You stay out of my way. Its way. It's smart. And dangerous. I don't want you kids getting hurt." He finished his glass and handed it to me. I started rinsing it. "I'm going to kill this thing. I promise. Even if it's the last thing I do." And damn right he would.

"Yes sir." Dean replied. I kept my head down and continued wiping the last glass.

"I'll be gone for a while." John fixed his jacket and stepped outside. "Also Dean?" he threw a pair of keys to Dean who caught them swiftly. "The Impala's yours."

Dean stared at the keys in his hands and looked back at the door John had just walked out. "Seriously?" He looked towards me. "I'm not dreaming right?"

I shook my head. "Baby's yours." I couldn't help but smile at Dean's overjoyed grin.

"Oh sweet!" Dean practically bounded out the door to Baby. "Join me for a ride, sweetheart!" he waved the keys in the air.

"Coming!" I grabbed my bags, slammed the shutters shut, checked everything one last time, and locked the door behind me.

"Here." Dean was already standing next to the passenger side with the door open.

"Oh, I'm driving?" I teasingly walked towards the driver's side.

"Hey, hey, hey." Dean was immediately reaching out to pull me back. "Nuh-uh, sweetheart. As much as I like you, I'm not letting you drive." He held my bag as I slid into the Impala's black leather seats. She was sweet. Comfortable. The seats were slightly sinking from age, but still firm.

Dean came around to the driver's side and tossed my bag into the backseat.

"Hey!" I turned around to make sure it didn't land on the floor. I turned to glare at the man next to me. "As much as I like you, I'm not letting you throw my things around."

My breath hitched when I settled back down. His green eyes stared right back at me. "You said you liked me?"

"Maybe." Yeah. I did like him. Seeing his womanising tendencies in real life put me off the first few times, but then I'd learned to look past it. He was strong, gentle, and kinder than anyone I'd ever met in my whole life.

"No need to be embarrassed about it." His hand reached out to hover by my waist, as if asking for permission. I sidled closer. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. But. could I trust this man with his record of one night-stands. "You know I haven't been with a woman in the past year."

"I know. Sam told me."

"He talks to you a lot?"

"Everyday."

"You don't talk to me everyday." his hand finally landed on my waist. With the other, he braced himself against the seat of the impala.

"W-we can change that." I could feel his breath on my face. A little more and our lips would touch.

"Then… May I?" His eyes flitted to my lips.

I brought my hand to his collar and pulled slightly.

His lips finally met mine. They were soft. I should have used a chapstick before this. Was I supposed to close my eyes now? How did you breathe in a kiss? What was I supposed to do with my hands?

Dean pulled away a little. "This your first kiss?" He looked at me with furrowed brows.

Was it that bad? "Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be." he pulled me closer again, this time with a little more force, our chests pressed against each other, one hand on my waist, and the other in my hair.

"Through your nose sweetheart." he whispered against my lips. "Close your eyes." I followed his instructions. His hand in my hair tilted my head slightly to the side. I draped my hands over his shoulders. It seemed like the right place for them to go.

He was gentle and slow. When his tongue hit my lips, I knew what he wanted. I'd read enough romances to know that I should open my mouth. What no one had ever written was that it was less of a fight for dominance with tongues but more of a heated exploration with tongues. It felt like he was gaining access to every inch of me. And it scared me.

"Mm." I slammed my fist against his chest. He quickly stopped, pulling away.

"Sorry. That was uh…"

"Good." I could feel the heat in my cheeks and my neck. "I don't mind. It was just– new." Did this mean we were dating now? "Is this going to be a regular thing?" The car roared to life.

"If you want it to be." He put the car in reverse.

"I don't plan on dating without marriage in mind."

"With you, I think I can settle." He flashed me that dazzling smile of his. "That is, if you're fine with this kind of life."

I could have turned into a blushing gooey mess right there. "Too late for that." I rolled down the window of the Impala. I closed my eyes as the wind blew my hair. Things were going to go to Hell in a few more years, but I might as well enjoy the few good ones we had left.