You woke up with a thundering head, aching body, and far too many questions. You'd gotten off of work, made it to your car, slipped into the driver's seat and then… nothing. You continued to feign unconsciousness, listening hard for signs of someone else being in the room. You were laying on something hard and cold, your wrists cuffed at ninety degree angles from your body.

You cracked open your eyes… it looked like you were in some sort of old surgery suite. Thinking of everything that could go wrong, you broke into a cold sweat. You had no idea why you were in this situation; you were a single person who had never lived in one place long enough to draw attention.

Think. You've seen 'Criminal Minds' before. Think through this. Okay. You were in a room without windows, so you couldn't judge location based on sound or light from outside. If this was an old surgical theater, the place would have to be hooked to the municipal water and electric, so you couldn't be in the middle of nowhere.

Under the flickering camp lantern, breathing in the scent of dust and air long gone stale, you laid on the cold steel table and waited for something to happen.

"What the hell is going on, man?" Dean thumped the heel of his hand into the curve of the steering wheel. "There is demon activity all over the area, more omens than we've seen since the apocalypse, and all of a sudden we get sent on a goddamn scavenger hunt."

Sam flipped through the file folder in his lap. "I don't know Dean. But you're right, it has to have something to do with all the demon activity in the area." The engine of the Impala purred as Sam flipped through the pages.

"What did the note say again?" Dean asked, eyes trained on the winding lane ahead of them.

"'Go to the beginning to fine me. I have the next clue. If I am not found by sundown, well… you know what that means.' There's a picture of a trussed up girl attached to it."

"The beginning of what?" Dean made a frustrated sound and pressed his foot more heavily on the accelerator. The car roared.

"You said the last one, the one we found in that graveyard in Mississippi- that was the third case you worked by yourself?"

"Yeah, there was a vengeful spirit running around and I burned the bones. It was a couple weeks before I found you at Stanford."

"Okay, and the clue before that… it was in a cursed locket. Does that mean anything to you?"

Dean thought, brows furrowed, eyes on the road. "I worked two cases with haunted objects while you were at school. And yeah, one of them was right before that ghost case in Mississippi. It was a locket with a knotted hair in it."

"So this is the beginning of you solo hunting! What was that case?" Sam turned to his older brother, pleased to be making some sort of headway at last.

"I told you, it was that voodoo thing down in New Orleans. Who knows this much about us, Sam?" Dean spun the wheel, and the Impala skidded into a tight U-turn; shifting through the gears like a seasoned roadster Dean sped back towards the interstate.

"I don't know. Chuck, the angels maybe."

"But what's the game? We know it isn't the angels, there's too much demonic activity. Chuck has written some fucked up shit, but he isn't manipulative like this."

"I don't know man, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, but you need to drive faster. It's going to take most of the day to get to New Orleans." Like a monster from old, the Impala roared and flew off into the distance.

Hours later, Dean merged off the interstate and began following street signs for Algiers. "It was hard for me to find then," he told Sam, unprompted. "There was someone casting real hoodoo on people, so of course I headed into the French Quarter to look around- there was this one bar, oh man, and the bar girl there"- he caught sight of Sam's face. "Right. Well this was a dark priest, right, and they figured they would get noticed by other practitioners if they were too close. They were hiding across the river in the Algiers area the whole time."

The deep, honey colored light of evening in the Deep South gleamed off the chrome of the car as Dean parked baby in front of an abandoned strip mall. "This used to be the voodoo shop" he said, gesturing towards a boarded up clinic.

"Time's up, little lady," came a voice from the dark doorway. "Sorry 'bout this." A man with dark hair, deep set eyes, and a salt and pepper beard pulled an IV bag from the pocket of his coat.

"No, no, please, no," you begged, tugging against your bindings until the tendons in your arms stood out in stark relief. "Why are you doing this?"

"Oh, it's much bigger than you. Don't worry about it anymore." Slapping the inside of your elbow, he slid the needle home. He hung the bag where the camp lantern had been. "I was hoping the boys would find you, but looks like they've gotten soft. You might have been able to help them with all this." Taking the light with him, ignoring your frantic screams, the door closed behind him, sealing you in darkness.

You began to grow woozy from whatever was in the IV drip, your voice weak from shouting. Faintly, you could hear shuffling outside the door. "In here!" you yelled as loudly as you could. To your ears, your words sounded slightly slurred. The door opened and the dense yellow beam of a flashlight ran over you.

"Dean!" a male voice yelled. As your eyelids fluttered, you felt pressure being held on the crook of your arm. The man must have pulled out the IV.

You felt someone pick you up, and he was so warm after the cold of the metal table. You scrunched your eyes tight against the glare of the dying light as you were laid in the backseat of a great boat of a car.

Just barely opening your eyes, you saw a very tall man with shoulder-length hair reading the label of the IV bag. "I think this is the same thing they use at dentist offices and for minor surgeries- of course, a dose this big would have been lethal."

The other man with shorter, darker hair flipped a knife open and stabbed the pouch, letting the fluids pour all over the weed-riddled asphalt. "Solves that problem. I'm going to go back inside, see if we missed the clue."

Your body finally decided that you weren't in immediate danger and sleep pulled you under.

You woke up cognizant of an aching head, a dry mouth, and what sounded like the thrum of an engine. Slowly sitting up, you saw the same two men sitting in front of you. The long haired one passed you a water bottle, which you gratefully cracked. "I'm Sam, and this is Dean," he said, gesturing to the man driving the old car.

"Thanks for saving me," you said quietly, sincerely.

"I'm just glad we got there in time," Dean said, glancing at you in the rearview.

"So… am I being kidnapped now?" you ask, not really sure why these guys weren't taking you to the police.

"We need to know what you remember," Sam asked, ignoring your kidnapping question. "We'll take you home as soon as we get this sorted out."

Dean pulled the car into an empty rest stop and pulled around back. He turned sideways so he could see you and Sam. "Here's the thing. We were clearly led here to you; we had to work through a series of clues, and here you are at the end of it. Did he say anything to you? Look strange somehow?"

You thought. "No, he looked like a normal guy. Dark hair, greying beard." You tried to remember what he said while you had been screaming your head off. "All he said was that 'the boys had gotten soft' and he thought I could help them. I'm guessing that means you."

The boys sat quietly. "Now what?" asked Dean sarcastically. "She's the whole clue? Do we just follow her around and see what happens?"

"No, I think we need to follow the omens," Sam said to his brother.

"Omens? What omens?" You were getting more and more uncomfortable.

"Demonic omens, sweetheart. We were led her by a series of clues and a string of demonic signs," Dean said bluntly.

Sam looked at him disapprovingly. "That's not very nice, Dean." He turned to you. "Demons and ghosts and werewolves and angels… it's all real. All of it. And we go around the country cleaning up those problems," he said diplomatically."

You blinked once, then twice, then jerked open the door of the car and went sprinting off along the treeline back towards the highway. You were still slightly lightheaded from whatever drug was pumping through your system, but the sound of boots pursuing you only fueled your adrenaline. You did not want to be in that car with those lunatics, no matter how attractive those lunatics happened to be. Legs pumping, you ran on.

Well, you ran until you were tackled by about 210lbs of muscular and psychotic man. You had the breath knocked out of you, that terrifying, eye-burning sensation of not being able to draw any air into your shriveled lungs.

Dean stood looking down at you. "I think you squashed her, Sammy." Sam rolled to his feet and tugged you up to stand beside him. You bent over, hands on your knees, desperately sucking in air.

"It's a lot to take in," said Sam sympathetically.

"I think we need to show her," said Dean. Sam looked at him skeptically. "What, you would just believe two strangers who told you all the weird paranormal shit you see in the movies is real? And then technically kidnap you?"

Sam wrapped his giant hand around your upper arm to keep you from going anywhere and then continued to talk as though you weren't there. "What do you suggest we do, Dean?" he asked, full of sass.

"I don't know- find a crossroads demon, gank it real quick, and then head somewhere to do research?"

"You want to kill someone in front of me?" You yank against Sam's firm grip. "You guys are nuts! Just let me go and I won't say anything, please!"

"What about Cas? He can do all sorts of things. Why don't you give him a ring?" Sam suggested.

Dean rolled his eyes, took a few steps back, and looked at the sky. "Castiel, who art in heaven- probably, I mean I don't know- could you please come down to visit to prevent us from killing a demon to prove a point."

There was a sound like the flapping of huge, feathery wings and a disheveled man in a baggy tan trenchcoat appeared beside Dean.

"What is going on? I did not understand your message," he said in a flat, deep voice.

Dean pointed to you. "We've been getting weird clues corresponding to demon activity, the latest one led us to her. Whoever- or whatever- took her said she would be able to help us, but he didn't say how. We need her to come with us to check out the omens, but she doesn't exactly believe us about demons being real- you know, the whole supernatural thing." He gestured with his hand.

You finally got your voice back. "Where did he come from?" you ask, pointing to the scruffy man with shockingly blue eyes.

He turned to you. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."

"Right. An angel. Tell me, does Marley show up next?"

Castiel looked confused. "I know of no Marley."

Sam jumped in, "Look, Cas- if you could just do some kind of miracle for us to prove that we are telling the truth, it would help us out. She might stop trying to escape us."

The angel turned back to you, an earnest expression on his face. "You should not try to flee these men. They are some of the best men that I know. If they need your assistance, you should give it to them."

"Right. Uh-huh. Look boys, I don't know where you found this guy, but he is just as crazy as you are. Can I go home now?" As one, the three men turned and gave you a look. In retaliation, you began screaming at the top of your lungs. You were tired, you'd been kidnapped, and you had a goddamn headache- at this point, why not scream?

The angel's eyes widened infinitesimally. "Why is she doing that. Please stop doing that." He stretched the first two fingers of his right hand towards your forehead, and you smacked him away, taking in more air so you could continue caterwauling.

"Show her your wings!" Dean yelled over your howling. Castiel stepped back a few paces, tightened his brow, and began to glow. The man was glowing a perfect iridescent blue, his eyes almost colorless in the light. Slowly huge black wings, at least nine feet in either directing, began to take hazy shape over his shoulders. It was similar to attempting to focus on the heat waves that sinuously rose from the pavement on a hot day- you knew they were there, you could perceive how they distorted other images, but you could never get a clear look at them.

Your jaw dropped, and you began trying to escape from Sam for a different reason. Castiel stopped glowing, his wings disappeared, and he stepped towards you again, this time successfully touching your forehead. The aches and pains from a day of lying bound on a table and then being drugged melted away from your poor body.

Everyone regarded you tensely for a moment. "Okay. Okay, I give in, dammit. This guy really must be an angel. And if angels exist, I can't exactly deny the possibility of demons and other monsters. You win. Fuckers." Sam let you go, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

Castiel turned to Sam and Dean. "We have not been able to find the source of demon activity. It does not appear to be a new group of demons; more like one or two moving about quickly."

"That sounds like some sort of scouting mission," said Sam. "But why? We haven't started any apocalypses recently." He made a face.

I don't know. We can watch some news tonight and check up on omens tomorrow.

You found yourself back in the giant black Chevy sitting next to the angel. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He glanced down. "Have I inappropriately dressed my vessel again? This is what I normally clothe myself in." He plucked at his backwards tie.

"No it's just… you're an angel. You must have seen so much. Have you seen God?"

"I have seen the history of your world, yes. I have not seen God. Only four of our number have seen our Father."

He turned to stare out the window before. Eventually you pulled into a cheap motel somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana. You shifted uncomfortably in the car while Sam went in to het keys- being the only female in a car of strange virile men could do that to a girl.

Sam came back, tossing Castiel a room key. "I know you don't sleep, but we need you to make sure that she doesn't change her mind and run off overnight," he said, jerking his thumb towards you.

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I will watch her."

You entered the dingy motel room, Castiel following close at your heels. You didn't know what you were supposed to do- you had no bags, no possessions, not even a toothbrush. After wandering aimlessly around the room, trying to ignore the unblinking gaze of the angel, you put toothpaste on your finger, ran it over your teeth, unbuttoned the top of your jeans, and crawled into one of the small sagging beds. You didn't think you would be able to sleep, not knowing that there was someone just watching you lay there. But soon you felt yourself drifting off, exhausted by the events of the day.

The sun was barely over the horizon when one of the brothers thumped on your door. "Rise and shine, we roll out in ten!" Dean yelled.

After finger-combing your hair back into a braid, you shuffled out the door wishing for at least a clean shirt. Or some deodorant. When you and Castiel slid into the backseat of the Impala, Sam turned and handed you a thin cardboard cup of the motel's coffee. The only things that could be say about it was that it was hot and contained caffeine.

"So, day two of my captivity, what's on the agenda?" you asked, your outlook moderately improved by coffee and sleep.

Sam laughed dryly. "Well, I watched a few news channels last night and looked for omens on the web- mysterious disappearances, crops failing, exploding livestock, that kind of thing. There hasn't been any in this area, but seems to be steadily working up the Mississippi. Late last night all of the water, and I mean all of it, in a church was turned to blood. This was just outside St. Louis- the priest seems to think it was a group of satanic worshipers or kids playing a prank.

Dean scoffed. "Where would any kid or Satanist get that much disposable blood? Yeah, I don't think so." Pulling onto the interstate, the little group headed north, Led Zeppelin blaring through the speakers.

After a few hours, Castiel turned to the men in the front. "I am being summoned," he said abruptly, and disappeared in a flap of wings.

"Does he do that a lot?" you ask, gesturing to the empty seat beside you.

"Yea, things are pretty busy in heaven right now."

You just sat there, thinking over everything you had learned in the last twenty-four hours.

Almost a full day later the Impala rolled into St. Louis, cruising along congested streets before arriving at the church in question. "Mean anything to you?" Dean asked as the three of you stiffly exited the car.

"No, I don't think I ever came here."

"You lived in St. Louis?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I was fostered here for a while. But I was fostered all over the midwest, it wasn't anything interesting." Sam gazed at you levelly, thinking.

"Okay. Well, let's go check this out."

The Winchesters quickly duped the priest into believing you were new to the area and looking for a church to attend. Dean pulled you snug to his side, apparently to lend the impression that you were together while Sam snooped around.

"Sir, are occurences like the recent, er, incident common here?" you asked, doing your best to look innocent and concerned. Honestly, you doubted you could pull off 'innocent' at any point during your life.

He looked horrified, his hand going to the collar aorund his neck. "Oh, no, miss. This was highly unusual, it is a very quiet parish."

Sam appeared behind the priest's shoulder, jerking his head towards the door.

"Thank you for your time," you say sweetly. Dean nods, and escorts you to the door, his arm still snugly around your waist. Once outside you shimmy away and take your place in the backseat.

"There was a bunch of sulfer behind the stature of St. Jude, this was definitely demons. Or one powerful demon." Sam informed them.

"St. Jude. You think that was a coincidence?" Dean asked.

"St. Jude was the patron saint of lost causes," you contribute. "What?" you ask when Sam looked at you questioningly. "One of my foster homes used to give out these little cards of the saints to us so that we would have someone to pray to. I was partial to Jude."

"Mom used to sing that to us at night," Dean comments, pulling into the parking lot of the local library. "Hey Jude was her favorite song by the Beatles."

The car doors slam and you all troop inside. Sam found an empty table in the back corner of the reference area and the three of you take seats. "I think we are on the right track," he said, opening up his laptop. "She was fostered here and knew about St. Jude. Mom used to love singing it to us… whoever is doing this, they clearly want us together."

"Was this the first place you were forstered?" Dean asked, leaning over Sam's shoulder to read the computer screen. "No. I was fostered in the Dakotas for a few years first, then bumped down to Iowa, then Illinois. I was all over," you shrugged.

"How many places did they stick you?" asked Dean, looking a little horrified.

"Apparently seventeen places, but I don't remember them all. Can we move on from this, now, please?"

"Yeah, I don't think so," said Sam. "This morning, at 4:03 am exactly, every comatose patient in Shiloh General Hospital died."

"Shiloh General?" Dean swallowed. "Wasn't that where dad…" he trailed off.

"Yeah." Sam nodded seriously.

You sighed. "That's where they took me after somone found me in a box outside. My first records were made at that hospital."

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, his scruff rasping against his calloused palm. "Looks like we are going back to Sioux Falls," he said roughly.

It was a tense ride in the Impala, the growl of the engine only paused to get gas or for Sam and Dean to switch places. Almost a full day later they arrived at the old hospital. Tension radiated from Sam and Dean's shoulders. This was where their father had sold his soul for Dean's. Just down the road was Bobby's old scrap-yard. It seemed cruel that in all of their journeying, they should lose both father figures in the same small town. A place that had previously represented safety and a sense of belonging had been turned into a reminder of all that the boys had lost.

They stood outside, looking up at the plain cement walls of the building, light shining out of the sliding doors. "Now what?" you ask. After all, you had no memory of this place.

"We need to get in somehow and look around," said Sam. He led the way around the building until you reached the ambulance bay. You didn't have long to wait; about 20 minutes later an ambulance flew in, sirens blaring and lights strobing blindingly. In the hustle of EMTs unloading the patient and orderlies meeting them at the bay, you and Sam and Dean slip into the hospital.

Sam darted into a supply closet and the three of you waited in the dark until the disorder outside had died down. A girl could have it worse you thought to yourself. After all, the Winchester brothers are both very attractive, nice smelling, available men.

Dean stuck his head out and looked around. He took off down the hall, you and Sam following after. He passed the elevator and took the stairs up to the third floor. A few doors down he stopped, the cheap fluorescent light overhead flickering. "I was in here. This is where Dad died." He pulled something that could once have been a beat-up Walkman out of his pocket. It crackled a few times, then went quiet. "No EMF."

"Where else should we look?" asked Sam, keeping his voice pitched down. "The nursery area?" He gestures to you.

"They always have more security down there, let's look there last," you reply.

"Dad had to have made the deal somewhere private, somewhere he could perform a summoning ceremony." Dean headed back for the stairs, this time taking them all the way past the "Personnel Only" sign to the basement. Adeptly picking the lock, he eased open the rusted metal door.

Exposed pipes filled the room, an electric panel hung on one of the walls. The three of you filed in, slowly looking around at the shadows cast by the single exposed bulb. You heard shuffling from the far corner, heavy soles scraping along the cement floor. You found yourself shoved behind a solid wall of Winchester, who had smoothly pulled guns from god-knows where.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," scolded a low voice from the dark. "You were supposed to watch out for Sam. And Sam… well boy, want to tell me why you made a trip to hell and didn't even stop in to say hello?"

The figure stepped into the weak circle of light, and the boys took a step back.

"Dad?" asked Sam, voice cracking.

The figure grinned, yellow eyes glowing eerily. "Hello, kids."