So, I did something a little different with this story. Instead of latching onto a general idea with a vague plot and posting chapters as I get them written, this time I've written the whole story ahead of posting. Mostly because this one needed a little more planning and it's so short, only seven chapters. I think I knocked it out in about a week.

This story is set in season 3 of Supernatural, partly because I really loved the storyline about Dean's deal and partly because I only just started season 9 this morning, and features several OCs that I had a lot of fun working with. For now I'm just gonna post the first chapter, and see how y'all like it. If you want the rest of it I'll post the other chapters one day at a time simply because I don't feel like posting the whole thing at once even if it is only seven chapters long. Also there's a possibility I might continue the story with a sequel at some point in time. It just depends on you guys and what my brain decides to do.

Another thing that's different about this story is that it's based on a song called "Preacher's Daughter" by Maggie Rose. I've always loved the story in the song and the images it brought to mind, and as I was listening to it the other day I realized it would be a perfect backstory for Dean and Sam to work with. Hopefully I wove the song and my idea together well enough that you guys will enjoy it and stick around until the end.

It's set in Georgia simply because I don't really know much about other states since I've never really spent a lot of time in other states. However, I do not know if Mimosas are common here. I did a little research, but couldn't find the answer quick enough so I gave up. I wanted to stay true to the lyrics of the song, and I figured that it wasn't extremely crucial for that particular detail to be right. But the drinking age in Georgia was twenty-one back in '39, so I feel better about not being 100% certain on the Mimosa thing.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Let me know if you want the rest of it, and check out "Preacher's Daughter" just because it really is an awesome song. ~SG

Chapter 1

Bristol Ridge, Georgia

July 1939

It was hot, unbearably hot even though the sun had already slipped below the horizon. But that was usually the case with Georgia summers. Hot, sticky, and sweet. The heavy night air was filled with the scent of Mimosa blossoms and the whirring of cicadas, but all Hanna Durant could think about was what was going on inside the cab of Aaron Reeves' Chevy as their lips met once more.

She had just turned twenty last month, not yet old enough to drink, but plenty old enough to sneak out of her father's house to meet up with her boyfriend. Of course, even if she was twenty-one she still wouldn't be allowed to drink. She was the preacher's daughter, and even if she wasn't still living at home she would still have a reputation to uphold. Which is exactly why she had to sneak out of the house after her father had gone to bed to meet Aaron.

There were several reasons why Peter Durant wouldn't approve of what his daughter was currently doing as she slipped the suspenders off Aaron's strong shoulders. It wasn't proper. They weren't married. People would talk. Peter didn't like Aaron.

Unlike Hanna, Aaron had not been born or raised in Bristol Ridge. He wasn't even American. He was English, an orphan from London that had somehow managed to scrape together enough money to get him to New York by working whatever odd jobs he could find. Nothing much had changed once he arrived in New York though. He had still had to take whatever he could find, wherever he could find it, no matter how dirty or deplorable or illegal. He had moved around a lot, jumping from job to job, place to place, sometimes living on the streets with no shelter, no money, and no food, and sometimes running from the law. Hanna knew these things, knew he had been thrown in jail on more than one occasion for more than one reason. She knew he had broken laws and done things a respectable man would never consider doing, but she didn't care. He was a good man, and he only did what he did in order to survive.

Over the years he had worked his way through most of the eastern states, and had somehow ended up finding work at Old Man Jefferson's farm just outside of town, room and board included, which is how Hanna had met him. She had been delivering a pie she had baked and some homemade preserves to Mrs. Jefferson and just happened to run across Aaron while he was taking a short break.

She had politely introduced herself, welcomed him to town, and invited him to church on Sunday. He had told her that he wasn't usually the church-going type, but he appreciated the invitation and it was a pleasure to meet her. She was charmed by his accent and his manners, and he was charmed by her beauty and sweet nature. Despite himself he showed up at the service that Sunday, and they quickly became friends, and lovers soon after.

Peter Durant was forced to admit that Aaron Reeves was a nice enough young man. Hard-working, well-mannered, and every female in town couldn't stop wagging their tongues about him. He was handsome and had an accent and a very interesting story. Hanna was head-over-heels, but Peter was determined to keep them apart. He knew enough about Aaron's background and past to know that he would never be good enough for Hanna. No matter how nice he was. But, of course, Hanna fought him at every turn as young girls do when they're in love, and Peter had no doubt that she was in love.

He knew what love looked like. He'd been there himself. Hanna's mother, Sarah had been his entire world from the moment he had kissed her on a dare when they had been thirteen, and his heart still ached when he thought about her even though she had been gone for seven years now. Maybe that was why he was so protective of Hanna. She was all he had left.

But Hanna, young and in love, didn't care that her father didn't approve of her choice of men or why. All she cared about was that he was being so unfair and not even trying to give Aaron a chance. He had made up his mind and he was standing his ground, but so was Hanna. Nothing could make her give up Aaron. Nothing.

They were parked on the river bank and Hanna's dress was already halfway unbuttoned. Aaron's sweat soaked shirt had been tossed out the window, and she smiled, tilting her head to the side, as he kissed her neck. She didn't care what anyone thought. This was worth whatever rumors the gossipy church ladies came up with and the disapproving looks cast her way at the social. It was worth the constant fights with her father. As far as she was concerned this was Heaven.

Not just the sex, not just being in love, but all of it with Aaron.

Suddenly the bright flash of headlights cut through the night and the sound of the cicadas was joined by the sounds of a car coming to a stop nearby. They'd been caught.

"Aaron, wait." Hanna said breathlessly as she reluctantly pushed him away, her fingers hurriedly fumbling with the buttons of her dress. "Someone's coming."

"I don't care." he said, continuing to kiss her neck.

"We have to stop." she said as footsteps drew nearer. "We have to leave before they see us."

With a groan of protest Aaron complied, moving off of her and sitting up. They scrambled out of the truck and Aaron grabbed his shirt from the ground. As he rushed to pull it on they had just enough time to recognize the face of the man that had discovered them before a single shot split the night, followed immediately by a piercing scream.

%%%

Now

She wore a dress that looked like something out of the thirties and her long, dark brown hair was pinned up in an equally vintage fashion. Strands had pulled loose as if she had been doing something that required a lot of movement. She was young, in her late teens or early twenties, and pretty with her pale skin and light brown eyes. She would have looked sweet had it not been for the angry expression on her face.

Meredith Fairchild wasn't quite sure what to think when she woke up and saw the young woman standing at the foot of her bed. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Why do you deserve to live?" the girl shot back sounding just as angry as she looked. "What gives you the right?"

Meredith sat up, shivering in the too cold air. "Who are you?" she demanded again, staring at the intruder. "What do you want?"

"It was wrong." the girl said. "What he did. He was wrong."

"I'm calling the police." Meredith warned and reached for her cell phone on the nightstand.

But as soon as her fingers touched the phone the girl was gone. Meredith looked around the room, but there was no sign that anyone else was there. Whoever the girl was she had vanished. And the cold had gone with her.

She was a little scared as she got out of bed and searched the house. It was quiet. All electronics were turned off. There was no music coming out of speakers, no canned laughter on late night TV. The lights were all out except for a few small nightlights here and there to protect against stubbed toes. The house was empty except for Meredith, her sister, and her niece. She checked on them, but they were both sound asleep in their beds. She checked the garage, the attic, the yard. Nothing. Everything was exactly as it should be. Hot, humid summer air, the sound of cicadas, the scent of Mimosas and Magnolias. Nothing out of the ordinary. And yet Meredith couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Something had caused her to wake up tonight, and when she had opened her eyes there had been an unfamiliar young woman in her bedroom that seemed to think it wasn't fair that Meredith was alive. And then she had simply disappeared, leaving nothing behind to even hint that she might have been there in the first place except for a memory in Meredith's mind.

As she walked back inside she remembered what her brother had told her just days before he had died.

They said he'd gone crazy. They said he'd been hallucinating. They said he'd committed suicide just like their father. But Meredith had never believed it. Not that she had really believed the story Jason had told her about the girl he had seen either. Until now.

She had never believed that her father and brother had both gone crazy and killed themselves even though there was a rumor that insanity ran in the family, and more often than not led to suicide. But she had had no proof. Now she did, but no one would believe her if she told them. Now she knew someone or something had murdered her father and brother, and it looked like she was next. But if she told anyone what she suspected they would simply tell her that she was going crazy too. Everyone else had. Why should Meredith be any different?

She was afraid to go back to sleep now that she had realized that there was definitely something going on, so she went into the kitchen and began unloading the dishwasher, putting clean dishes back in the cabinets and trying not to panic. It wasn't working very well, but as she was setting a stack of plates back on the proper shelf she remembered something else. Something her father had often told her mother before he had died.

If anything ever happens to me...

"Call John Winchester." she said out loud.

Sharon Fairchild had never done what her husband had asked her to do. Instead she had let her grief turn her into an alcoholic that had killed herself and Meredith's best friend, and nearly Meredith as well, in a car accident five years after Tim Fairchild had supposedly shot himself. Now both of her parents and her brother were dead, and Meredith wasn't about to let herself or the rest of her family be killed as well.

Forgetting the half unloaded dishwasher she ran back up to the attic and dug through boxes until she found her father's old address book. Once she had it she abandoned the attic, not caring about the mess she had made with her life apparently on the line, dashed into her bedroom, and did what her mother never bothered to do all those years ago.

Well? What do you think? Should we continue with Chapter 2? ~SG