You've probably heard this a million times but I, unfortunately, don't own the Winchesters. Please, PLEASE, rate and review this, it's my first story and I want to know if I should continue. Enjoy. :)

The girl's screams echoed, her tears creating a path down the dried and cracked blood on her face. It took all of her energy to even stay awake at this point. The ropes were cutting into her raw arms and legs. She mustered up everything she had left in her and helplessly screamed out one desperate syllable.



Silently, the creature crept up behind him, making no noise, just a shadow in the quiet morning air. Suddenly, it leapt forward and- "Whoa!" Dean laughed, grabbing the trunk for support as his little sister attacked him with a giant hug. "What's up, kiddo?" Dean watched as the 13 year old took in the sight in front of her, her smile disappearing as her face grew disapprovingly solemn. "You're leaving again." It was more a statement than a question. "Uh, yeah," Dean said awkwardly. "Bobby heard of a couple vampires snackin' on people in Dixon, Missouri."

Dean knew what was coming next; it was practically the kid's catch phrase. "Can I come?" she asked eagerly. Dean sighed. Before he could answer, Sam came out of Bobby's with their duffel bags. "Okay, we got everything…" His voice dropped when he saw Ruth's stare. "You told her?" Ruth stood in front of Sam, her 5 feet barely reaching his neck. She looked up at him with her expert puppy dog eyes. Dean rolled his eyes. This is Sam's freakin' fault, he thought. Who else could teach her to make that perfect pleading look? Dean saw Sam begin to melt under her expression and decided to step in. "NO."

"He's right." Sam agreed, coming back to his senses. "You're not ready." "Not ready?" Her voice cracked. "Not ready? You got to hunt when you were 9! I can handle a shotgun like no one's business, I know every incantation in Daddy's journal, and I can fit in small places. Face it." She smirked. "I rock." "NO." Dean said stubbornly, getting into the Impala. She watched her brothers ride away, tires squealing and Led Zepplin blaring, before turning back towards Bobby's.

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the car. He still remembered when his dad had brought Ruth to the motel that November night. They had started the case in the first place because John had wanted to see someone he had hooked up with on Valentine's Day that year. When she became a victim of the werewolf they were hunting, he felt obligated to bring his weeks-old daughter home. They were lucky, he chuckled. If it was a boy their father was sure to name him Hunter.

But at thirteen Ruth had clearly had enough of staying with Bobby, or Pastor Jim, or someone else while Sam and Dean had "all the fun," as she often said.

Dean cleared his throat. "Done fighting with your inner feelings?" Dean teased, seeing Sam's dazed look out the window. Sam realized they were in front of their motel already. He got out of the car and stood up. Dean grabbed his duffel, but set it back down when he heard his phone ringing. The caller I.D. said Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean answered. "What's up?" Bobby hesitated.

"Ruth's missing."