Keeping up with the Joneses

Part One

Sara Jones lived a relatively unassuming life after her father, Gary Jones passed away in a hunting accident. She had been raised into the life, but her father's dying wish was for her to get out. Both Sara and her father did their best to protect her little brother, Joey, from anything regarding the life. He had been six at the time of their father's death, and Sara was left at seventeen to raise him.

She traveled between houses, friends of her fathers, fellow hunters that respected Gary. This is where she met Sam and Dean Winchester, at the young age of seven. She was just a tiny bit younger than Sam, Dean seeming to tower over them in his 'older brother' energy. Many times, John would pick up Sara and Joey and drive the four kids to Bobby's. There, they shared countless happy memories of watching the stars, causing trouble for the older man, playing among the cars.

The night her father died, she called John frantically, him being the first one she thought of.

"Sara?" His voice sent a wave of relief over her, feeling that he would save her and her father.

"John," she wheezed, having run upstairs to hide Joey and fetch weapons from under her bed. "There's something here. I think it's a skinwalker. But it's really, really strong, John."

"Okay, okay, slow down," John said urgently. "Where's your dad?" Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a way to tell him that she left his best friend alone with the skinwalker for a brief moment.

"I just went upstairs to hide Joey, and grab my gun." She expected to hear exasperation on the other end of the phone, but she was sure she heard relief.

"Good. Stay upstairs. Protect Joey, we're not far."

"No, John. I'm going back down to help. You don't understand how strong that thing was, my dad can't handle it on his own."

"I don't care, Sara. That's why I'm coming. You stay upstairs where it's--"

"I'm sorry, John," she said, looking regretfully down at her phone before she hung it up.

John pounded the steering wheel with a soft, 'damn it,' and floored the gas. Sam and Dean looked between each other with concerned eyes, knowing that it was something to do with their best friend but unsure what exactly it was.

Back at her house, Sara walked quietly down the carpeted stairs with her bare feet, having cocked her gun before she left her bedroom.

She had to hold back a scream at what she beheld when she cleared the opening of the stairway. Her father was lying on the ground, the skinwalker backing away with a smile on its face. Sara crept ever so slowly to the thing, reassuring herself quietly that her father would wake up and be just fine. Ignoring the blood that poured from a bite wound on his neck. How his eyes stayed open, glazed over.

Ever so slowly, she lifted the gun to point at the skinwalker's chest. To her dismay, one of her father's rounds was on the floor and she kicked it, having kept her eyes trained on the monster. The thing turned, bearing its teeth and lunging forward. Its long claws tore gashes running from her face, down her neck and onto her chest. She gasped, falling to the floor. She didn't know how she managed it, but she still had a hold of her gun and fired three shots straight into the thing's heart. It flopped over, and she barely had enough time to shove her feet into it and push it to the side.

She barely noticed the blood dripping down her face and neck as she crawled to her father. For whatever reason, tears didn't come to her. However, there was a terrible ache in her heart as she thought of Joey, who already knew no mother but would have to grow up without a father as well. She whispered to her dad, planting a hand on his shoulder as if this would wake him. There was no pulse, no breathing.