I've decided to try my hand at a Supernatural story. It will be a Dean/OC story but won't be nearly as cliché as most and will focus a lot on the hunting and the whole 'good/evil' debacle. This part is just a minor introduction to show you how Charlotte became a hunter and just supplies a bit of a background.

Also note that this part is sadly suck-ish. It's just the background and I didn't feel like revising it.

My father was a hunter; not a very good one albeit, but a hunter none-the-less. He married my mother and eleven months later I was born. Three years after I was born my mom split. She said she was going grocery shopping, took the car, and left. My dad began to train me after that-his idea of father/daughter bonding I suppose. He taught me about demons, wendigos, witches, ghosts, vampires, angels, ragura, ghouls, voodoo priests, werewolves, changelings, shape shifters, poltergeist, reapers, tricksters, hellhounds, banshees, sirens, etc. You name it, I can kill it. I was better at hunting than my father; I was more skillful. I learned to use common sense and to keep an open mind when on a job.

When I was seven my father met a woman named Lisa. He married her a year later and when I was nine my sister, Lauren, was born. Nearly three years subsequent Lisa left my father. Having his heart broken yet again sent him into a downward spiral. He went binge drinking and became nothing more than a drunken recluse. On my sixteenth birthday I emancipated myself, dropped out of high school, and got a job. On my eighteenth, I adopted my sister and together, we packed up and moved from our Idaho home to a small farmhouse in Georgia.

Most people resent their younger siblings. Your parents are better to them because they learned their mistakes with you…they get more attention because they're young and new…people make a fuss…but with me and Lauren it was never like that. She was my baby sister, but more importantly she was my world. I took care of her and she gave me a purpose in return. Granite, it wasn't all peaches and cream. Half the time the little shit gave me more problems than she was worse. She occasionally threw the typical, "I hate you. You're ruining my life. You're not my mother." fits and in return, I'd start swinging. Where I was more practical, she would be wild; where I would be more violent, she was more shy; where I was more logical, she was more emotional. All in all, we balanced each other out well.

Since Laure was only ten when I officially adopted her, I decided to stay off the hunting path. I laid low and only worked here and there when something got close to home. Rarely I would be called off by old friends to help if something got too out of hand, but the rest of the time I worked at a local diner owned by a dear friend of mine, Lucas. I did part time jobs some of the time when money got tight. Small things like baby sitting gigs, book store keeper, mechanic, or whatever was available at the time. My jobs kept decent money and I managed to give Lauren a normal upbringing. Though we weren't living the fabulous life by any means, Laure never did without.

About three weeks after Lauren's fourteenth birthday, a shape shifter I had believe to be dead, came looking for me. He found Lauren, shifted into my form, and started screwing with her mind. He didn't get a chance to hurt her but she was shaken up by the incident. That was when I decided it was time for her to know a little bit about the things that go bump in the night. I told her most of what I knew, down playing a lot of it so as not to scare her too much. I taught her the basic defenses: salt, holy water, devil's traps-the typical "stay alive" tools. I taught her how to handle guns and knives; how to load them, which bullets or shells to use with which guns, what sawed-off shotguns were, how to make the sawed-off shotguns, and once after about a year or so, she managed to make her own and successfully used it again a ghost haunting a hotel two towns over. I taught her how to bless holy water. I taught her how to do an exorcism. I taught her how to look for demons or any other supernatural bastard. But most of all, I taught her how to survive in a world where evil lives next door.

Lauren rarely went on hunts with me; only seldom would she tag along for practice. After her first hunt [a siren who was attacking men at the local bar], Laure locked herself in her room for almost a week. When she finally emerged she thanked me for keeping her sheltered for so long but then thanked me for finally telling me. I was confused as hell and responded with, "Uh…sure thing…thanks for…staying in school?"

I never understood how people could do the hunting gig for a living. I'd meet several hunters who never stayed in one place and were always on hunts. Always hunting, all the time. It was an idea foreign to me because of Lauren. At least it was until I met the Winchester boys. My name is Charlie Drake, I'm a hunter, and this…this my take on the greatest war ever fought between good and evil.