Author's Note: Okay, chapter two. Just to make sure you guys understand. This story will not be one of those fluffy pieces completely surrounding the romance. There is a bigger plot element at work here, I promise. This story also has a bit more angst than I'm used to writing, but I feel like Marishka's story—although she is a fictional character in a fan fiction— is important. Her personal background strongly resembles a good friend of mine's and I think the story deserves to be told in some way. I have changed it quite a bit, simply because this is a Supernatural fic and not a retelling of my friend's life. However, these first couple chapters will strongly explore Marishka's past and hopefully explain how she is. On another note, feedback would be much appreciated. Even if you hate the story, please tell me. Thank you and enjoy!

Chapter Two: The Father

Marishka had decided that she rather liked riding in a car. Her father had a distinct grudge against all types of technology. They didn't even own a television, let alone a car.

She ran her hands along the leather seats, enjoying the feel of it beneath her cold hands. She glanced up in time to see Dean staring at her suspiciously in the rear view mirror.

"Enjoying the ride?" Dean asked, taking a swig out of his travel coffee cup.

Marishka nodded thoughtfully. "I've never been driven in an automobile before this."

Dean choked on his coffee, sharing a startled look with his brother. "Excuse me?"

"My father," Marishka said, "is a bit… eccentric. He is mistrustful of modern technology."

Dean coughed. "I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the car isn't exactly a modern technological breakthrough. It's been around for quite some time."

"I'm aware." Marishka turned her head away, staring out the window. "Drive six more miles down this road and turn left onto the hill."

"Internal GPS?" Sam laughed, turning to Marishka with a small smile.

She stared at him with a blank expression. "GPS?"

Sam's smile was replaced with a confused look and he abruptly turned around, sharing a look with his brother.

These men are definitely strange, Marishka realized as they drove further down the road. Her father had warned her that his one-time colleague John Winchester was an odd man himself, and that his sons would be no different.

For a brief moment, Marishka felt a pang for her brothers. Any one of them would have been much better at talking to the Winchesters. They could've approached them as another hunter would have, been able to gain their trust more easily.

Marishka was just a girl. To the other hunters that often passed through their town, she was just something pretty to look at.

Her father had always made it clear that while Marishka was his darling—only, really—daughter, she was no son, and therefore, she was useless. The absolute only reason she was allowed to learn how to hunt the undead was because she was the only child left.

Mikhail, her youngest brother at twenty five, was out running around through the United States, looking for something to kill. Her eldest brother Caleb was in Romania the last she had heard from him, staying at their family's house and dealing with the ever constant coven that plagued Transylvania. And Sasha…

Marishka stopped her train of thought there, deciding that now was not the best time to think of her family's middle son. Dean had already pulled to a stop in front of the house anyways.

"We have arrived at our destination," Marishka announced.

"Dude, she even talks like a GPS," Dean snorted, elbowing his brother in the rib cage.

Marishka sighed, thoroughly confused, and slid out of the Impala.

Sam ignored Dean's last jibe, instead focusing on Marishka's house.

Holy shit, he let out a low whistle. He'd only ever seen houses like this on rare, rare occasions. It looked ancient, hundreds of years old probably. It wasn't huge, per se, but it gave the appearance of elegance with its towering columns.

As they approached it, Sam realized with disappointment that the paint was chipped off almost completely on some of the wooden panels. The yard was overgrown and the roof shingles were coming off. It would have been beautiful had it not been in such a state of disrepair. Sam still thought that it was interesting, however broken and beat up it was.

Rough around the edges, he assessed.

He barely avoided tripping over a loose board on the steps. Dean turned to him and raised his eyebrows as Marishka approached the front door. She furtively glanced around before reaching for lifting up one of the sideboards of the house and taking out a key.

"Father," she called, pushing the creaking door open. "I have brought the Winchesters."

Sam and Dean followed Marishka into her house. Sam stepped carefully on the old wooden floor, feeling like the boards were about to break at any second. Of course, the Victorian furniture and gothic wall art had nothing to do with the ominous feeling in the room.

"Ce?" was her father's response. Sam shared a confused look with Dean as Marishka walked over to a closet door and threw jacket into the small room.

"Am adus Winchester," she called back.

"Eu sunt în bucătărie draga," a booming voice called from a few rooms over.

"Are they speaking Russian?" Dean whispered to Sam.

"No I think—"

"Romanian actually," Marishka responded. "My father said that he is in the kitchen. Please follow me and try to pay attention."

Dean fixed Sam with a sarcastic look and motioned for him to keep his hand on his gun. Sam followed Marishka through the house until they stopped at the kitchen.

A large man—Sam guessed he was at least 6 foot 7—was seated at a long mahogany dining table, surrounded by a multitude of paperwork. Marishka had said her father was eccentric, and well, he looked eccentric. His skin was ghostly pale, so pale it was as if he hadn't seen the light of day for at least ten years. He had long white hair and a beard to match it along with very large horn rimmed glasses.

Marishka leaned down to kiss her father on the cheek, accidentally knocking over a stack of his papers in the process.

"My apologies, father," she said, bending over to pick up the stack. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught Dean not-so-covertly checking out her ass.

"Dean Vinchester," her father snapped, abruptly turning on him. Dean couldn't help the smirk that rose to his face. He had to physically stop himself from laughing at his ridiculous accent. "You vill respect my daughter while you are in our home. Vatch vere you are putting your eyes."

Marishka abruptly stood up, her face coloring a deep red and set the papers down onto the table. Dean smiled crookedly at her and awkwardly coughed after catching a look from Sam.

Can't even case a girl these days without getting your head bitten off, he thought somewhat bitterly.

"Please have a seat," Marishka gestured to the other dining chairs. "I'll make some beverages." Dean and Sam took two of the adjoining sits next to Mr. Alenikov.

"Bring out the bottle of red vine, Marishka," her father ordered, "and then heat up some borsch if you please."

Dean watched her go as she exited the kitchen, heading to the cellar. He could feel the old man's eyes on him, however, and turned back towards him.

"Forgive me for not making the appropriate introductions," he coughed loudly. "I am Yuri Alenikov and I vas friends vith your father."

"Dean and Sam," Sam said. "But you obviously know that."

"Da," Yuri answered with a sigh. "You're father helped me eradicate the coven that has plagued this town for centuries. On that note, vere is he and vhy is her not vith you?"

"Ve are trying to figure that out," Dean offered, imitating his accent. Yuri fixed him with a flat look and Dean looked away. "He disappeared on me not too far back, so I went and grabbed Sammy over here to help track him down."

"Ah, I see." The old man absentmindedly stroked his beard, giving Dean the strong urge to pantomime his actions simply to see what his reaction would be. Midway through raising his hand, however, he decided against it. "I vish I could say that I had heard from your father, but I have not. I have not spoken to him for near six months."

There was a strangeness to the old man's tone that Dean didn't like. Not one bit. He shared a guarded look with his brother, seeing that he had the same expression on his face.

"Look Yuri, you seem like a nice man and all—" Sam started.

"But you vant proof that I am not going to betray you?" Yuri raised his eyebrows. He nodded, continuing to stroke his beard. "That is understandable."

At that moment, Marishka reappeared into the kitchen, holding an uncorked bottle of wine in her arms. She set the bottle down on the counter and grabbed a few glasses, starting to pour the sweet red liquid down.

"Dam straight," Dean muttered. Crazy old man must think we're stupid or something.

Yuri's eye twitched as glared at Dean Winchester. "Boy, this is my house. I've invited you into my home, allowed you see my daughter—"

"Father," Marishka interrupted politely. "Would you like some bread with your wine?"

"Yes Marishka, that would be lovely," he said flatly. Seeing that he was about to continue his verbal tirade against Dean, Marishka stepped in once more.

"Father perhaps you should explain the extent of your relationship with John Winchester? It would be the most prudent thing to do."

Dean raised his eyebrows, smirking at Marishka. Maybe she wasn't as clueless as she appeared to be.

"Mind your tongue Marishka," Yuri warned. She set the glasses of wine and a plate of bread down in between them and walked back to the kitchen counter, beginning the process of chopping up some vegetables. "Your father visited our town about seven years ago, after hearing rumors of our vampire problem. He offered his help, and I accepted. My boys vere young then and inexperienced in the vays of the hunt. Marishka was but a young girl. You're father helped me kill all of the vampires and he left."

"That's it?" Sam asked.

"Vell yes," Yuri shrugged. "After that, ve merely stayed in contact for a long vhile. He has visited on numerous occasions, although most of them vere slightly more than social calls. He has become vithdrawn in the past six months, I have noticed."

"We've been a little busy," Dean answered gruffly. "But more to the point. We are here for a reason obviously. The attacks have started up again. If the coven was eradicated then why have there been more recent attacks?" Dean asked.

"Ve—your father and I—were not as thorough as ve thought ve vere." Yuri shook his head. "As soon as Marishka informed me of your arrival in town, I knew that God's grace had sent you to me."

Dean watched as Marishka's shoulders dropped at this statement and she glared at her father from her station at the kitchen counter. He didn't seem to sense her anger. Talk about dysfunctional.

"Naturally," Dean rolled his eyes, watching as Marishka approached with a large bowl of steaming hot—borsch was it?—and laid it on the table, setting the utensils down before taking a seat across from Sam.

Yuri sighed, spooning some of the borsch into his mouth. "I am too old to hunt. My vision is failing me as well as my hearing. For me to hunt alone would be suicide. My sons have gone off into the vorld and Marishka is unable to hunt in her current condition."

Dean snapped his head up. Condition? She seemed perfectly healthy from the looks of things.

"Condition?" Sam asked the question for him.

"Papa!" she snapped. "I am perfectly able to hunt. You taught me yourself! If anyone is unfit to hunt it is they! They don't even know how—"

"Marishka, I vill not ask you again," Yuri growled. "Mind your tongue vhen ve have guests!"

Marishka hung her head shamefully, desperately trying to cover up the reddening of her face. "Apologies papa."

"As I vas saying," Yuri continued, ignoring the crestfallen look on his daughters face. Dean tried to catch her eye, feeling somewhat guilty for the look on her face—

Whoa whoa, he stopped those kind thoughts right in their tracks. For what reason should I feel shitty about her feeling shitty? She's a bitch!

But even that didn't stop the thought that pegged Yuri as an over protective and controlling father. He obviously thought of Marishka as a fragile, young girl. Which is what she is, Dean reminded himself.

Still, Dean thought, this is not a normal family.

"—is a voman and she really can't do much else but make a suitable Christmas dinner," Yuri sighed as Dean tuned back into the conversation. "Unfortunately, I need all the help I can get and that includes my daughter."

"How did she know it was us?" Sam asked.

"The point is," Yuri interjected, before Marishka could open her mouth again, "you two haven't an inkling as to how to kill a vampire—"

"Wooden stake through the heart?" Dean guessed.

"Do not speak out of turn, Dean," Yuri warned, causing Dean to blanch. Who the hell does this guy think he is? "I vill teach you. Ve vill vait until the full moon passes—"

"Why?" Dean demanded. "Let's kill these sons of bitches now."

"The full moon grants them more strength," Marishka whispered.

Yuri continued on as if neither of them had spoken. "—then together, ve vill destroy this coven once and for all."