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Chapter One

We wrote our names in blood

I'm a coward and I always knew deep down that I was never strong enough to stand and fight for what I believed in. Sure, I fought; I fought many things that came from the dark and should never have existed. But I never fought like my brother Sam; he fought for what he believed in and accepted the consequences in a stride. My father was constantly fighting if not with evil then with people, though I don't think it was on purpose; he was just a strong character. Even Dean, my oldest brother fought, the same one who was more loyal to Dad then monks were to their God. He was lucky too in his own hellish way, in society he rebelled every chance he got and somehow came to love the consequences that he reaped from his ways.

I simply took things inside myself, it was my way; I accepted them and never even had the courage to allow myself to think of rebelling. Sure, I would have loved to leave like Sam, though school didn't appeal to me, I knew there was something more than hunting and I wanted to taste that. Whenever I had a defiant look in my eyes my Dad would shake his head and blame it on my age, my stupid, stupid age. You're young, he would say and somehow being young meant stupid to him. Though I wasn't young to me, in fact I felt like there was someone watching me with a stopwatch and timing me. Telling me I only had a certain amount of time left and I was going nowhere with my life; that I would never live up to my father's expectations or my family's.

In truth, I never belonged with anyone, just on my own. I used to spend hours in front of the mirror, pulling at my silken, black long hair, wishing it would magically turn a light golden brown or that my dark eyes would turn a light hazel or green; more like my brothers, I would chant. More like them and maybe then my Dad would somehow look at me and see me for his child, not just another hindrance. But instead, I knew whenever he would glance my way he would be bombarded with a string of unwelcome feelings. I was a constant reminder to him of his mistakes, the time he stopped in town and met a woman, let her fall in love and then pick up his bags and leave. I later found out that he had left Sam and Dean in the motel while he was with my mother and somehow I disliked him more for that than when he would snap at me. I knew I was unwelcome, my mother had tried her best but still she wasn't strong enough and had broken down, phoning Dad and telling him what he knew deep down.

I don't really remember much of her, I knew she had jumped from a bridge the night Dad came but where were all the pleasant memories and smiles that should have existed? Instead I remember disappointment and desolation when I realized I didn't belong with her. That she didn't want me. Dad had tried though, the first moment he had stepped into the house and taken one look at me, he told her roughly to leave so he could talk to me. I was five then and I couldn't help but be enamored by his roughness, but still he was gentle. He smelled of leather and what I later knew to be gunpowder, his leather jacket, a new sensation under my child fingers.

He quietly ordered me to sit on the couch and watch my cartoons whilst he had went to find her, I vaguely heard shouting but I was too in love with this new stranger to really worry about a woman that made sure to mean nothing to me, to care. He whisked me away minutes later, slipping me in a beautifully sleek car, telling me not to worry; that he would take me somewhere safe. I wasn't worried, I knew then that he was right, wherever he was, I would be safe. I didn't understand the circumstances of what would ensue, but I knew I felt more alive with him than I had ever felt with her. He had driven in silence, something I had enjoyed and rarely had the opportunity with her to taste.

He had pulled up to a motel, and by the time he had parked, I was rearing to follow closely at his heels. He smirked down at me then and a new sensation flooded me, it was nice and I had to make sure to do something that would get him to look at me like that again. I didn't speak once, I was never the kind of child with the need to fill silences, and I loved them as a child and still do. I revel in them and find I am at my best when there is a calm quiet to the air. He had knocked quietly but firmly on a motel door before opening it, something I thought nothing of, but now know it was his signature to alert the watchdog Dean that it was truly him.

I met them then. With Sam slouched on the couch, staring off into the television show, his eight year-old self too busy with the show to care about his father's arrival. It didn't bother me, up until that point I was never really around other children, let alone ones that were bigger than I was.

It was then that Dean, in his awkward thirteen year-old body had marched over to Dad and quizzed him about his every move and action. Dad had glared down at him and told him they'd discuss things later, it wasn't until I was older that I realized he was trying to cushion me from their reality. But Dad had left me there with them, slamming shut the motel door behind him; Sam had glanced over in my direction then, tearing his attention from the television to investigate the noise.

I was nervous and scared, wringing my young hands around my pink t-shirt. With wide doe eyes I glanced between the brothers, not realizing that they were mine now and I was theirs. I stared at Dean and he stared back, both of us not understanding what we should do about the other one.

Sam was the one that came to my rescue, leaving the blaring television behind, shuffling towards me. He extended his hand and smiled down at me, "I'm Sam."

I bit my lip and let my hair cover my reddening face, "Hi."

"You know if you keep biting your lip like that, one day you're going to bit it off." He dictated.

I glanced up in shock then, letting my bottom lip pop free from my gnawing teeth, "Really?"

"No, he's just being dumb." Dean walked up to us, and studied me, "What's your name?"

"Mirabella Natalie Larose Cole." I huffed, silently pleased with myself that I got my full name correct.

Sam's eyes widened, "That's so long."

"Sam." Dean reproached. "How old are you Mirabella?"

I bit my lip but released it, afraid I would bite it off, "Five."

"So why are you here, Mira?" Sam asked.

I shrugged but before I could respond my stomach let out a huge growl. My cheeks reddened and I looked down at my feet, afraid they were going to yell at me like she would whenever I made too much noise.

Sam laughed; reaching down to my side he grabbed my hand and pulled me along to the motel room's kitchen table, "C'mon, we have leftover pizza."

"Pizza?" I asked, liking the way the new word felt on my tongue.

Dad had come back late into the night; Sam had fallen asleep on the couch beside me, Dean was using the bathroom and I realized I missed Dad. I scooted off the couch and without thinking I went to him, burying my head in his rain soaked jacket when he bent down to pick me up. I never asked if I was going home, I didn't really want to go and I knew he never planned on giving me back when he saw the madness in my mother's eyes.

You're stuck with us now, Kiddo, he had hoarsely whispered to me. He held me, letting the calm comfort roll into me. It was the first time and one of the last that I was allowed to fall asleep in his arms.

Life fell into a normal resemblance after that. Dad leaving us alone most of the time to do his salesman duties; another lie that I later found out to be hunting. I didn't mind though, I was with my two new brothers, Dean with his surly teenage attitude towards everyone and everything but with me and Sam with his constant comfort. I would spend days sitting on Dean's lap, curling myself around him and the nights I would curl up on Sam's lap playing with his hair. They were mine and I would fight before they could be taken away from me.

I look back now at those times and wish we could go back, to simpler ways; when our future wasn't looking so bleak and desperation never even existed. When Dad would decide for us and we were too naïve and young to think anything of it. Sure, we had our flaws, but we were family and we had to stick together. Blood was thicker than water and even though we were young, we knew it. I just wish that we didn't forget it.