Before You Ketch Me

Prologue: July 17th 1981

When you're born half a Winchester, you have a pretty decent life. Unless you're Adam. Then you get hunted down, killed, resurrected, and forced to be used as an angel's puppet for a war you know nothing about. And then you end up in Hell in a cage with Lucifer for almost all of eternity.

But, when you're born half a Campbell...your life is pretty shitty from the start.

My mother, Mary Winchester, a simple yet beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, abandoned me pretty much as soon as she could after my birth. I couldn't tell you how she shed the leftover pregnancy weight so quickly, or how she could stay away from her two-year-old son and loving husband for almost a year. I never got those answers because she died two years after I was born. House fire caused by a demon she'd pissed off years before. My dad, not the man she'd married, had to read about it in the newspaper obituaries.

And after that. It didn't take long for rumors to get out about me. And once they did, not even Chuck himself could've made my life normal. My dad went from having a normal life to being a single father, to having to learn how to hunt the supernatural in three years. I was honestly lucky to make it to my fourth birthday. But, by that point, I was already used to moving around. It wasn't until I was nine that my dad finally told me why. It was easy for a nine-year-old to accept monsters were real, but seeing a vampire try to rip a throat out...no kid should see that, not even a hunter's kid.

I was ten when we found the boys and their father. John Winchester, a tall, broad-chested, dark-haired, ex-military man, hated me initially. He refused to believe his perfect little Mary had gone off and made me. But Dad had proof and begged him to take me so my dad could 'get out of the life'. Lotta good that did him in the end.

Dean was two years older than me, twelve by then, and was more like John than he'd ever admit to now. Followed every rule to a tee and hated my guts. I was proof his mom had been unfaithful. Imperfect. Sam, on the other hand, was eight and more understanding of my position. He hadn't known Mary either. She'd died when he was only a couple of months old.

Dean would never admit it now, but back then he was kind of an ass about it. He never let Sam forget that he was the reason Dean wasn't allowed on hunts for years. But when I came around, I was the new babysitter. Sam and I spent a lot of time watching cartoons and eating pizza in shitty motel rooms. It wasn't until I was almost fifteen that John finally started teaching me to hunt.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves...