Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1.

Pilot - Part 2.

You were resting your head against the back window, legs spread all over the backseat. You were small enough to perfectly fit into this small space. You and the Winchesters were getting fuel in Baby while Dean got some fuel for himself.

'Hey. You both want breakfast?' he had a bar in his mouth and he showed you the chips packet he was carrying.

'No thanks,' Sam answered.

You shook your head no, before closing your eyes, ready to get out of here. You missed your VTX, but it didn't have the luxury of just leaning back and relaxing. You left it at Bobby's.

'So, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit-card scams?' Sam asked, going through Dean's cassette tape collection. Dean answered, 'Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career. Besides all we do is apply, it's not our fault they send us the cards.'

'Yeah?' Sam asked, settling back in his seat and closing his door when his brother sat in the drive's seat, 'And what names did you write on the application this time?'

You could hear Dean's smirk, 'Burt Aframian and his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.'

'Sounds about right,' Sam smiled. He threw down the tapes in annoyance though, 'I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette-tape collection.'

'Why?' Dean pouted.

'Well, for one, they're cassette tapes,' Sam stated. 'And two . . . Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica?' Dean snatched the Metallica tape from Sam's hand and inserted it in the car.

'The classics can never go wrong! Plus you know the house rules, Sammy,' you said, already knowing Dean's response so you say it for him, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!'

Sam looks back at you, 'You know, "Sammy" is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?'

Dean starts the car, increasing the volume of the music. He already knows your answer, so he returns the favor of saying it, 'Sorry, we can't hear you. The music's too loud!'

Soon enough, you were passing the sign "Jericho 7".

You got off the phone, 'Thank you.'

You addressed the brothers, 'Alright, so there's no one matching John at the hospital or the morgue. So that's something, I guess.'

Dean slowed down near a bridge. A few police cars were gathered around, the authorities scouting the place.

'Check it out,' Dean slowed down to a stop near the side of the road. Dean gave the bridge a thoughtful look before leaning over and getting out a box from the glove compartment in front of Sam. He grabbed a few badges, smirking, 'Let's go.' He gets out of the car.

You already had your own badges on you, so you follow suit with one of them. The brothers flanked you from behind and you don't think you'd ever felt safer with anyone else besides your late Dad and your sister, Namie, or your best friend.

You caught the tail-end of the officers' conversation, '. . . It's spotless, almost too clean.' On hearing that, the one who is leaning in front of you spoke, 'So, this kid Troy was dating your daughter?'

'Yeah,' the first man said. The second one asked, 'So how's Amy doing?'

'Putting up missing posters downtown.'

'You fellas had another one just like this last month, didn't you?' you butted in.

'And who are you?' the second man asked.

Dean flashed his badge, 'Federal Marshals.'

The second man looked over your trio suspiciously, 'You three are a little too young for federal marshals, don't you think?'