As soon as you got back to your room, you sewed yourself up. You were used to it, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. Oh well, the life of a hunter wasn't pretty. You went to the bathroom to get your blood off you and the blood of the werewolf you just noticed off your hands. Dean, Dean, Dean... Still not a clue who you were. It was kind of sad really. Your story is sad, too. But, I guess you don't know that yet. Here it goes.

_-Flashback-_

Abandoned, left, and unwanted. The Sioux Falls Orphanage wasn't exactly the best place for a young one to live. Hell, it was probably the worst for anyone to live. You had only one friend; Grace. You never knew her last name, but you eventually figured it out. You were both the same age and had to struggle through meals of muck, mystery meat, and globs you didn't dare touch, three times a day, every day. It was more than a bad place to live, it was repulsive.

You started noticing how bad things were at the age of two. You already hated it there. The older kids would steal your lunch if you didn't eat fast enough, the nuns were strict, and the "teachers" didn't know anything. You were beat for anything and everything possible. One day, at the age of nine, you and Grace formulated a plan. You were going to steal your files, learn what the nuns were keeping from you, then break out of the prison.

Your plan worked. You had knocked over several ceramic figures by yourself (the nuns' prized possessions) on the second floor. Then you raced to the cellar to meet Grace. Grace and you searched like jets, trying to find your files before the nuns came back. "[Y/N]!" Grace called out from the other side of the room, "This one has your picture on it!" You ran to the other side of the room and snatched out of her hand as Grace rushed to find her file. You stuffed yours into your jacket, there'd be time to read it later.

"FOUND IT!" Grace screamed after about 30 more seconds of feverish searching. You and her dashed out of the cellar, bust out of the front door, and were rushing down the streets of Sioux Falls. The nuns wouldn't care if they lost some troublemakers anyway. You ran to a large stretch of land covered in broken down cars in every model imaginable. Grace and you settled down in the shadow of a nice looking 67' Chevy Impala. It was a gorgeous, inky black with leather seats and grip on the steering wheel.

You both leaned against the cool metal and opened your files. "Singer.." you heard Grace mumble. "What?" you asked, turning to her. She looked up at you. "Oh, sorry, just- It turns out my last name's Singer."

"Oh."

"What's yours? I've always wanted to know."

"Really? It's.. Um.." you glanced down at your file. In the dim light you could barely make out the fading letters that formed: [Y/N] WINCHESTER :TROUBLE. You smiled to yourself. It was nice to know you gave the nuns hell when you could. "Winchester." you said to Grace, "My last name's Winchester." You smiled. Grace stood up suddenly. "Well," she said, "I'll see you around." She began to walk away. "What?!" you half whispered, half shouted. She spun around. "Well, we can't attract too much attention to ourselves, can we? The nuns probably sent police looking for us anyway." You looked at your feet. She was right.

You looked back up at Grace's smiling face partially covered by her dirty blonde hair with blue-dyed tips. (She made her own dye formula out of cooking materials.) "Hey," she said, "This isn't the last you've heard from me. Goodbye [Y/N]."

"Bye Grace." She spun back around and started down the dusty roads of Sioux Falls. You sighed and decided to make camp right where you were. You'd sleep next to the Impala, then start out in the morning. You drifted into an uneasy sleep, clinging onto your file. When you woke up, you were in a cozy cabin on a couch that was covered in beaten up, patched fabric. It appeared homey, and welcoming. In fact, it felt like you had lived there your whole life.

You lifted your head to see a burly man with a scruffy beard and a trucker's cap on. He had brownish hair that was mostly grey. "Who are you?" you asked. "My name's Bobby, nice to meet you [Y/N]." You looked alarmed. He held up your file and handed it back to you. "Thanks Bobby."

"Don't mention it. You don't look too great, kid."

"Well, I did just-" you stopped yourself. He didn't need to know that. He looked at you curiously as though you were a rare trinket in a pawn shop. "Maybe you'd like to stay a while?" he offered. You shrugged and smiled gratefully. Well, that 'a while' turned out to be 12 years. You were his little princess- but whenever John came over with the boys, you had to hide. You never asked why, you just accepted it. He was basically your dad.

You learned to hunt, and you learned to hunt damn well. Whenever they came over you would stay in the panic room. Every once in a while, when you were young, you'd hear sounds of two boys' laughter as they played. Once, you peeked out. You knew they were your brothers and at least wanted to see what they looked like. You saw Sammy and Dean for the first time.

Dean was a young blonde boy with freckles and Sammy was merely an eleven year old with his hair still short. You grinned and drew back into the shadows of the room. So that was your family.

_-Flashback Ended-_

You sighed and leaned back. He never knew you were his sister... You should've said something. Maybe another time. I mean, your paths were bound to cross again, right? You could only hope. You didn't need sleep to be perfectly honest, but it was nice to feel refreshed. You leaned back on the backboard of the bed. Your family was obviously crazy, and obviously different, but you liked it. Sure it wasn't the most efficient, but it worked.

It just worked.