Dean Winchester walked through the large, warm house as quietly as possible. His brow furrowed as he tried to work out where the demon he was hunting was hidden. He had tracked down the black-eyed monster to this home, hiding inside the body of a 25 year old lawyer. The house was massive because of their high wages, which was convenient for the demon (providing lots of hiding spaces), but not for Dean.

Dean imagined how proud his Dad would be when he told him all about a demon who capture young girls and tortured them for fun, and how Dean had saved most of the girls. The demon would probably run away after losing a fight with him, but he hoped to exorcise it and make his Dad truly proud. Furthermore, if he was really lucky at least one of the girls would be so grateful, he thought, that he'll get some. But of course, he would leave that part out when recounting the tale to his Dad. But if he did leave that part in, would it really make much difference? His Dad never really listened when Dean told him about his own hunts, which were now so frequent he forgot what it was like to hunt with someone to cover you back.

He crept up the stairs silently, trying to listen for any sign of life… where would a demon keep his playthings? One of the steps groaned in protest under his weight and he stopped. When there came no movement, no noise to indicate that anyone other than himself had heard it, he carried on. He swallowed, trying to think clearly; it wasn't like this was his first encounter with a demon. What was there to be scared of?

A few doors down the long corridor was one unlike the others. The rest were open and bright, each indicating that when the lawyer had owned his body, they had been well lived in. But one door was completely shut, with no light coming from underneath it. Dean slowly walked over, keeping a firm grip on his gun, and took a deep breath. He reached out for the door handle, then twisted it suddenly and burst into the room.

Inside there was no demon ready to kill him, so he lowered his gun. The room was large, but not as vast as others he had seen. In the corners were book shelves filled with complicated and sophisticated looking books, a large, plump armchair next to one of them. In the centre of the back wall was a double bed, draped in deep red covers which were now gathering dust. At the bottom of the bed, tied to one of the black, metal poles, sat a young woman. She had long, brown, wavy hair and light blue eyes, framed with long lashes. Her pale skin was covered in freckles, and she glared up at him.

"You're one of his friends? Well come on then you black eyed coward. But I'm not like the others, I'll put up a god damn fight," she threatened. She stared up at him fiercely. Dean wondered if it was better or worse that there was only one pretty girl for him to save. When he told the story to his Dad, he would be sure to tell him of at least five girls strapped to the end of the bed, begging to be saved.

"Hey, I'm not one of them. I'm a hunter, Dean Winchester. I'm gonna get you out of here," he promised in a quiet voice. "But you have to keep quiet, okay? He could come back any second." She stared at him for a moment, as if weighing up whether to trust him or not. After a second she nodded.

"He won't hear us though, he's too busy with the other one," she said calmly as Dean walked over to her. He placed down his gun and knelt down next to her, untying her hands that hung above her head. He noticed a long, pink scar etched on the back of her hand, but before he could get a good look she pulled away. Dean stood up and offered her a hand, and she took it gladly.

"Did you say another demon?" Dean asked. She rolled her eyes as if it was a ridiculous question.

"You think if there was two of them I'd ever have a moment alone? He's with the other girl," she said, walking towards the door.

Dean nodded. "Do you know where?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right. Come on," she said, walking towards the door.

"Okay. You get out of here and run. Don't call the police, don't tell anyone until you get home. No need to thank me," Dean said, smiling as charmingly as he could. The girl furrowed her brow.

"I'm coming with you, idiot," she said. Dean's smile faltered.

"What?" He grabbed her arm and stopped her as she was about to walk up the next step of wooden stairs.

"I'm coming with you. I'm a hunter too, you know. I'm not just gonna leave some innocent girl trapped here," she said, pulling her arm out of his grip. She folded her arms and puffed up her chest, trying to make herself look tall, when in fact she was at least a head shorter than Dean. He raised an eyebrow. He looked the short girl up and down, taking in her black boots, skinny, muddy jeans, purple tank top and grey leather jacket. She did look like a hunter, but didn't seem like one.

"You're a hunter? Well, no offence, but you're not a very good one."

"Oh, shut up. I got captured. Big deal. It's not like it's the first time and I'm an excellent hunter I'll have you know," she said quickly and quietly. Dean felt a surge of affection for this adorable little hunter.

"Of course you are. Well, stay close to me," Dean said in a hushed voice, and walked past her to start going up the stairs.

"I am," she whispered next to him. "Just because I'm a girl-"

"Oh, it's not because you're a girl. It's because you were tied up only minutes ago, facing certain death."

"No, I wasn't. I'm alive, aren't I? I'm a great hunter, who are you to judge anyway?"

"Shut up," Dean hissed.

"No, who are you to come here and ju-"

"Shut up!" He hissed again, now at the top of the stairs. The blue eyed girl was just about to hiss back when she heard voices from the first door on the right.