A/N: came back and revamped this chapter 2017-08-18. Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me some feedback if you have a moment to do so. It is always appreciated.

Jenna had seen demons her entire life. Other things too: angels, monsters, things she couldn't even explain. Her whole life she'd been told she was crazy. Eventually she had even believed it. Now these two brothers were telling her demons were real. It was all real. Not only was it all real, but those demons, for some reason, they were hunting her.

It was too much. Jenna shook her head frantically. "No, demons aren't real. You're lying. Why are you lying?" With every word the pitch of her voice was getting higher and higher. Biting her lip, she stared at one brother, then the other, desperate for something they were saying to make sense.

"He's not lying," Sam said quietly. His voice was sincere and his eyes met the pale blue gaze of the disheveled, woman standing before him and begged her to believe him.

Jenna couldn't find the words. In a matter of moments, her whole world had been turned upside down. Everything she believed torn apart. All the work and all the years just trying to be normal, of trying to push out and ignore the things she saw, shredded and left in tatters. All thanks to Sam and Dean Winchester.

Of course, she should be grateful. After all, she was still alive thanks to them. Those men, those black-eyed demons, who had chased her into this alley, lay lifeless on the ground. Fire had torn through their veins, illuminating their skin in an orange glow, before they had finally fizzled out and fallen from the blade those brothers had plunged into their flesh. She was alive they, whatever they really were, were dead.

Oh my God, they were dead. Jenna took a step backwards. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead body. Living on the streets there were a lot of horrible things that she saw. A lot of drug addicts. A lot of people with mental illnesses. She saw overdoses, and suicides, starvation and exposure. She watched as illness and disease ravaged her fellow man until their bodies just deteriorated and wasted away. Never though had she stood there and watched someone be killed, murdered, by another human being.

Panic began to set in. Black-eyed or not, there were three bodies laying at her feet. A wave of nausea swept over her and Jenna swung her head around, looking for anything to lean on. There was a dumpster off to her her left, she stumbled over and let her weight rest on the cool, steel. Where the paint peeled away, the rust that was eating away at it and left yet more stains on her baggy grey t-shirt.

Inside her chest her heart thumped at a frenetic pace and her lungs screamed for air. Yet no matter how desperately she tried to gulp it in, it was never enough. Oxygen deprived, her vision narrowed and the tall buildings surrounding her seemed to close in. They were going to crush her. The weight of it was going to crush her and she was going to have a heart attack, here in this alley if she couldn't just breathe. Beneath her, her legs felt like jello and threatened to send her crumpling to the pavement.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in," Sam said, taking a step towards Jenna. Slowly he reached out to try and steady her.

There was something grounding in the voice of another human being. Not just any voice, but his voice. Calm and soothing. It pulled her back from the brink and she realized only then had she had been hyperventilating. With great effort, she slowed her breathing and the alley came back into focus. Nothing was going to crush her. She wasn't going to suffocate, or have a heart attack, or die.

"It's crazy, that's what it is," Jenna exclaimed taking a step back. The youngest brother was getting too close and she held up a palm to keep him at bay. It was barely by a thread that she was holding on, holding herself even remotely together, and she feared that if she let him near her she may just fall apart completely. Swallowing hard, Jenna turned away from the two brothers so they would not see the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm crazy," she added quietly.

Sam spun the woman around and gripped her firmly by the shoulders. "Look at me," he commanded. "You. Are. Not. Crazy. We'll have time to explain later, but right now… right now we have to go. Those things, those demons, they're still after you."

Jenna looked from Sam to his brother Dean. The older brother's face was set in a hard, serious line that told her he didn't have the time or the patience to argue.

"Okay," she relented. Really, what choice did she have.

The Creston was a cheap motel just off the I-83 near Gem, Kansas. Sam and Dean had stayed in some pretty run-down places, but this one, it might just take the cake. There wasn't a single car, aside from a beat-up old Honda Civic which they deduced belonged to the only staff member on site: a greasy haired young lad, maybe twenty-one if that, dressed in a cheap suit. He sat at the front desk texting on his phone for a good minute before Sam finally cleared his throat to get his attention. Still, the clerk held up a hand, and ignored the three of them for another thirty seconds or so.

When he finally looked up, he wasn't apologetic. If anything, he looked like he would rather be somewhere else, anywhere else, than here serving them. The utter disinterest in his job was appalling. "What?" the clerk asked.

Sam arched an eyebrow. Was this kid serious. "We'd like a room, please."

The clerk, Tim his name tag read, chewed the inside of his mouth as he looked at the two brothers, and then to Jenna. "Yeah, whatever," he said finally. "Got a credit card?"

"Actually, we'll be paying cash," Dean cut in. The hunter's patience was clearly wearing thin.

"Uh huh," Tim responded slowly. "Gonna need a damage deposit."

"That's fine," Sam assured him as he pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

Tim bobbed his head, and stared at Sam, which earned a frustrated sigh out of Dean who was growing more impatient by the second.

"Hundred should do it," Tim informed them.

Sam counted out the bills, which the clerk was quick to reach for. It was the most motivated they'd seen him be since they arrived. Sam pulled the money back for a moment, and gave him a serious glare. "We get this back when we leave," he warned him.

"Yeah, whatever," Tim replied still chewing the inside of his lip.

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he handed over the cash and Tim passed him a key to room 26. "Down the far end, bottom floor," the clerk directed them.

"Thanks," Sam muttered, but the clerk was already buried nose deep in his phone once more. "Can you believe that guy?" he asked as soon as they were outside and out of earshot. Dean just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Room 26 was the farthest room from reception, even though clearly none of the other rooms were occupied. No light shone through any of the windows. They had to cross the cracked at pot-holed parking lot, lit only by two dim and flickering lamps that were leaning precariously. "Get the feeling he doesn't want to be bothered?" Dean muttered as he inserted and turned the key.

"Just great," Sam groaned as they stepped inside their room and were met by a damp, musty smell. There were water stains splotching the ceiling and black mold growing in the corners.

"Quit your complaining, Sammy. We've stayed in worse," Dean said as he slapped his brother jovially on the back.

"You know, I'm actually not sure we have," Sam countered. "At least not that we've had to pay for. He could have given us a different room, it's not like the place is jam packed or anything. As far as I can tell, we're the only ones here."

The older brother shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "For all you know, they're all like this," he said, dropping his bag on the floor next to one of the beds. "Maybe they're worse."

Sam let out a little huff. "Yeah, that'd be hard to believe."

Exhausted from the drive, Dean threw himself onto one of the beds and stretched out his cramped, aching muscles. Lacing his fingers behind his head he leaned back and let himself sink into the lumpy pillows. "Dibs!" he grinned.

Sam gave Dean a stern look tilting his head slightly towards their companion. "Right," Dean muttered. "Guess we're sharing," he said to Sam.

"I'll go see if we can get a cot," Jenna offered, noting that there were only two queen sized beds in the room. "If not, I'll just sleep on the floor. It still beats sleeping under an overpass. You don't need to give up your bed for me."

"Once we get back to the bunker you can have your own room," Sam promised, offering her a sympathetic smile, "but in the meantime we need somewhere to lay low and regroup. These sort of places, well they'll take cash and not ask questions. Hopefully we won't have to stay very long."

"It's fine, I'm fine," Jenna assured him, "Really."

Sam paused and gave her the same look that he always gave Dean. Just like his brother, he knew she was lying. Things weren't fine. "It's okay to not be okay," Sam told her, his eyebrows knit together.

"It's all, just a little much, you know?" Jenna said frowning as she trailed her slender fingers absently along the edge of the TV stand.

"I know," Sam all but whispered.

Did he really? Him and Dean had grown up in this life. Could he really understand how overwhelming it must be for someone who hadn't? Someone who was normal…Except I'm not normal, Jenna reminded herself. A normal person wouldn't have found themselves in a seedy motel room with two complete strangers. A normal person would have turned and ran from them as soon as they'd mentioned the word demon. A normal person would not be ignoring the handgun laid out casually on the bedside table. A normal person would not be standing here watching as if everything going on was perfectly okay.

Demons? Really? And I just willingly went with them? They could do anything they want and no one would even know where I am.

The woman shook her head and tried to focus on something else, on anything else. While Sam had been unpacking his bag, Dean had begun to pour a line of salt in front of the door and window. That was odd. That was something else. Jenna raised a thin eyebrow. "Salt?" She asked.

"Mhmm," Dean grunted, absorbed in his work.

"Okay, but why?" What was all of this about.

"It will keep them out," he explained without looking up.

"The demons? Really?"

"Mhmm," Dean replied. "At least for the time being."

Jenna pressed her lips together firmly and nodded, as if that were the most reasonable thing in the world, but as she thought about it, the absurdity of it hit her and she began to laugh.

I've finally, actually, lost it. What have I gotten myself into?

"Something funny?" Dean asked. The oldest Winchester did not sound amused.

"It's a table condiment," Jenna pointed out between stifled giggles.

Dean grunted and moved on to the next task without further explanation.

"Salt has been used since ancient times to purify and cleanse," Sam offered, filling in the gaps. Then gesturing to the symbols his brother was currently etching onto the walls, he added, "Those symbols are demon warding."

"So this will keep us safe?" Jenna asked. It was crazy, all of it, and she was crazy for going along with it. What she really needed right now though wasn't to make sense of a world that had never made enough sense anyhow. What she needed was some reassurance that despite how messed up the world, or her brain, or whatever was going on was, things were going to be okay.

"For now," Sam told her with a heavy sigh.

There was nothing reassuring in those words. Instead she was filled with a sinking, ominous feeling and the knot in her stomach tightened. Would she ever get to stop running? Stop hiding? Somehow she doubted it. With a resigned sigh, Jenna reached out and lightly ran her fingers along one of the wards that were supposed to keep her safe, for now. To her surprise the lines danced under her fingertips. Letting out a startled gasp she took a step back and looked from one brother to the other. Neither had given it any notice. Perhaps that was how warding worked, or perhaps she was just crazy.

"Why are they after me? The demons?" Jenna asked.

Dean shook his head, still absorbed in his work. "All we know right now is that they are."

"Don't worry," Sam added reassuringly. "We'll figure this out. Together. But if you can think of anything, anything at all, you need to tell us. No matter how strange or trivial it may seem."

Jenna closed her eyes and inhaled a long, shaky breath. "I can see them, the demons..." she admitted. Her voice was quiet. Timid. Those words had never earned her anything but trouble.

Her parents had loved her, and they had tried so hard to get her help. They had taken her to countless psychiatrists and tried every medication known to mankind. She'd been labelled schizophrenic. The demons, they were just delusions, hallucinations, the doctors had assured them. Here these pills will help. Except they never did. As an adult it had been worse. She'd never been able to hold down a job for long and had ended up homeless.

"You can see them?" Sam leaned in his brows drawn as he tilted his head. "What exactly do you mean when you say you can see them?"

"They have this aura," Jenna tried to explain, gesturing with her hands as if it could make sense of what she saw. "Like black smoke. It surrounds them. It's inside of them. And their eyes…"

"Solid black," Sam finished for her.

Dean had stopped what he was doing and looked up.

"Yes," Jenna breathed in amazement. A wave of relief washed over her and all at once the tension in her body seemed to melt away. For once in her life someone believed her.

"Wait, can you see them all the time, or just when they… you know," Dean gestured to his eyes.

"All the time."

"How long has this been going on?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"My whole life," Jenna admitted quietly. "I thought I was crazy. Doctors convinced me I was crazy. But I never stopped seeing them."

Well, this was definitely something. "Do you see anything else?" Dean demanded, his voice unintentionally gruff.

Jenna opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

"No one here is going to think you're crazy," Sam assured her.

Jenna took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. "All sorts of things. Angels, monsters, things I don't even know what they are… I can see something in their eyes, and inside of them. I… don't know how to explain it. It's like I see their energy. Their soul."

Dean set aside his work and sat next to Sam. His green eyes were glued to the red-headed woman as he watched her with the same rapt attention as his brother. What she was saying, it was something new to them - and it wasn't that often that something surprised the two hunters. She was human, they were sure of that. A prophet perhaps. Though her claims didn't really fit with being a prophet.

"I see the energy in your wards too," Jenna added. It was a strange feeling to be able to talk about the things she saw, without everyone looking at her like she'd gone off her rocker. It was liberating in a way, to be able to open up and not be judged or labelled but rather to have someone take her seriously, to believe her.

"Really?" Sam asked his eyes widening slightly. "What does it look like?"

"It...," Jenna tried to explain, but her face twisted into a grimace as she searched for the right words. Nothing could quite describe it. Nothing could quite capture what it was she had seen when she had touched the wards. "It's like I'm seeing two things at once. One is just the symbols you drew. But... when I touch them, I see something else at the same time. There's this iridescent glow that moves under my fingertips."

"Interesting," Dean mused as he rubbed his chin.

"Do you think it's connected to why the demons are after her?" Sam asked.

Dean snorted. "Since when are things like this coincidence?"

Whatever was going on, they had no doubt that it was somehow all connected. The problem was going to be figuring out how and what it all meant. The hunters had never encountered anything quite like this, not in their many years of experience or in any of the lore they had read. The woman, she was a mystery to them. Somehow they were going to have to keep her safe while they tried to piece together the puzzle of what she was and why she was being hunted.