The Huntress Diaries

C.M Bryans

Author's Intro: Whoopee!! I am so very excited to share this with you all. I am also extremely nervous as this is my first fic. So to start off I want to let you know that I will try VERY VERY hard to keep it all in character, but just to let you know it will be an alternate universe!! The season finale of season two has not (and may not) occur(red) as of yet.

WARNING: Some lore may be off and some supernatural facts may be twisted to suit the freakish mind of this author.

Note: The author does not own Supernatural, the CW, or its affiliates. C.M. Bryans does not own Jensen Ackles or Jared Padalecki and is not currently holding either hostage in her closet (shifty eyes).

So without further adieu: CHAPTER ONE!!

Chapter One

April 13th, 2010

Ben,

Happy birthday!! You are a beautiful three year old boy and I am so very proud of you. I know that you haven't met me yet and that you probably never will. While I know that your mommy probably wouldn't mind my coming around every once in a while, I can't. See sweet baby...I am what people call a hunter. No, not the kind that hunt deer, though I do use a shot gun every once in a while. I hunt the bad things.

How do I explain this to a little boy? I can barely explain it to my best friend Karen most of the time. I know that you will be a man by the time you read this (or I hope so any way), but in my heart you will always be a baby. Here it goes...honey there are things in the world that we like to pretend don't exist. It's easier to believe this because who really wants to live in fear? There are times when I honestly wish I could crawl under the covers and wish all of this away. But...I can't and that's why we are not together right now.

To clarify... I and a few others...hunt the supernatural. This word covers evil spirits, vampires, ghouls, demons, and the occasional goblin. I'm sorry to tell you this baby, but it is true. All those stories they told you weren't true, they are. To explain why I hunt these things I'd need to tell you my entire life story, which will come in due time. But first, Ben I have to explain how you came to be. For now honey, I have to sign off. The guys I am riding around with are getting antsy and we'll be leaving the diner pretty soon. For now son, please know that I love you and I hope that you are well.

-later-

You have my light red hair and brown eyes that I assume came from the man who is your father. I don't know who he is honey, sorry. I just know that he gave me you. Where do I start this story. No part of it is pretty. It's life: gritty, hard, and sometimes just plain dirty. I'll just start the day that I met my friends: Sam and Dean Winchester. Please know that some of this I learned later and that I'm not going to hold ANYTHING back. You need to know all and while the language may sometimes be coarse, it comes with the turf.

Sam Winchester was sitting in an extremely uncomfortable chair in a diner in Monroe, Louisiana. He was staring at the newspaper trying very hard to ignore the shameless way the blond waitress threw herself at him. It wasn't that she was not pretty, he usually liked blonds. But, big chests and short skirts were more Dean's thing than his. Besides, as soon as Dean walked in, she'd probably forget all about him. That is, whenever he decided to drag his ass out of bed. He usually was dead to the world till about ten A.M. if liquor and women were involved. Both were, so he'd probably take another 15 minutes at the most.

Sam returned to his paper, after politely taking another cup of what he assumed to be coffee. HE was engrossed in an article about child abductions, when two hand covered his eyes.

“Guess who Poindexter!” Sam groaned and dropped the newspaper he had been holding.

“Dammit Dean, you're hands smell terrible, take 'em off!” Dean's hands smelled like motor oil, which meant that Sam had been wrong in his assumption about Dean's night time activities.

“Quit your whining Sammich!” Dean quickly smelled his hands. “Besides, my hands smell fine.”

“They smell like your car,dude. I'm sorry, but unlike yu I don't want motor oil smeared all over my face.”

“Wuss.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean stopped their banter when he noticed the waitress. She smiled a toothy grin and failed to notice Sam at all, as he'd predicted. Dean flashed one of his smiles and she poured him a cup of coffee. She had just left when Dean leaned over.

“So anything?”

“Nothing about Dad, but there's a story about kidnappings in this morning's paper that could be our thing.”

“Hit me.” Sam rolled his eyes and skimmed through a story that was on the front page of that morning's newspaper.

“There's been about seven children taken in a town called Petitville a few miles south of here. It says that each child had been in their rooms the night before and in one night each child vanished. The police have no leads.” Dean nodded his head.

“Seems worth checking out.” A few minutes later Sam paid the check and they left the diner.

Ben, I have to continue this later. I need some sleep. I promise you that I will pick up my pen again in the morning.