A Queen

All Freya had known, her entire life was pain, in one shape or another. Physical pain, from all the days spent in the foster care system, emotional pain from the death of her parents and older brother... She carried her scars like badges of honor. She had known right from the start that she wasn't like the other kids. Sometimes, when she got angry, her fingernails got really sharp, or sometimes, if she clenched a glass just a little too tightly, it would shatter. She could hear the conversations of her neighbors four houses down, she could smell the chocolate bar, still in the wrapper, in the pocket of her jacket downstairs, and she could see in the dark, just as well as she could see during the daylight, but she never knew why. Her parents and older brother had been killed when she was five. The only thing she still had from them was her mother's journal. It didn't give her a lot of information on who or what she was, but she did learn all about everything that goes bump in the night. Ghosts? Easy, salt and burn them, baby! Demons? Holy water and exorcisms. But there was one thing in her journal that didn't make sense. The name John Winchester, a phone number, and the simple phrase that says, "Freya, find him." So when she turned 18 and she was turned out of the foster care system, she decided to start looking for him. She wouldn't find him until five years later, completely by accident, when she was trying to catch a few hours of sleep on a small bridge on the way out of a small town called Jericho, California.