AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this way, way before the latest episode came out. Hell, I haven't even watched it yet since I have to wait for a link to go up online (yay college for interrupting my television viewing opportunities). Also, read the rest.

Anyway! This idea came about because they use gods all the time but tend to show them as more malicious with the necessity of human sacrifice. I have a particular love of Greek Mythology, and though human sacrifice was there, it wasn't common and rarely used for major deities. More often than not it was animal sacrifices. Then I watched "Time After Time" and, well, the idea of a god just sort of settling down and having kids happened. Hence, this character who has been sitting around forever for a novel that I never ended up writing.

Ahead of time, yes she does have abilities different than a normal human, but that doesn't make her any better or any more competent than anyone else. If anything, it makes her weaker. Sorry for the ramble, I just feel better knowing I got it out of the way. I seriously hate overpowered characters.

First chapter (prologue) is pre-series with just her and Dean. After it's basically going to be a pick and choose of the episodes from different seasons in order.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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Prologue

The first time Dean sees her, she's running barefoot down the dusty New Jersey street, dry dirt rising from the ground, turning the end of her white dress a light brown. Her hair whips around her face, the orange color bright from the sunlight. There's blood trailing down her leg from some point hidden by her skirt. He's sitting on the wooden guardrail, waiting for Dad to come back. The girl comes out of nowhere, all flurrying white and splattered with blood and a type of speed that only comes from adrenaline. For a moment, he doesn't know how to react.

Then the man comes around the blind turn, the sun reflecting pure black instead of eyes, and Dean's gun in out, finger pulling the trigger before he even has a chance to think.

Of course, the bullet doesn't kill it, but it distracts it. The sound of the gunshot catches the attention of the girl, who turns her head. The demon growls, switching its focus onto him. He shoots it in the knee and takes off, knowing that he isn't really being much of a help here.

"There's an abandoned church!" he shouts, seeing that it's slowed down. "Head there!"

He twists again, shooting it in the head. Dad's going to kill him; if they manage to exorcise this bastard, he's dead. Dean doesn't have much of a head start, but it's enough.

Or, that is, until it isn't. The demon gets a grip on the back of the jacket he really shouldn't be wearing in his weather and yanks him backwards. He turns again, shooting the demon in the chin, but by this point it's got him good. The force of the bullet causes it to stumble back as he pulls himself in the opposite direction. The momentum makes him lose his balance and the demon recovers first, lashing out, and -

The girl tackles it to the ground, the force built up from the run enough to knock over a body twice her size. He grabs the flask of holy water from his pocket but it explodes in his hand, splashing all over the two bodies on the ground. Suddenly she's saying something in a language he doesn't understand because it's not Latin and it's not English and it wails, shoving her off. Dean catches her and the demon smokes out, disappearing into the air. Silence hits, the body stills, and he can feel the redhead struggling to breathe against his chest. Somewhere off the distance a dog barks. The holy water turns the ground around the corpse to mud.

As the gravity of what just happened starts to set in, he says, "What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Exorcism in Ancient Greek." The words come out in a gasp. "Thanks for giving me -"

Before she can finish, the sound of a rumbling engine comes from behind the blind turn. She looks up at him, pupils blown so wide that he can't tell the color of her eyes. His "son of a bitch" overlaps her "fuck." They spare a short glance at each other, turn around, and scramble somewhat frantically over the wooden guardrail and into the apple orchard, ignoring the private property sign. The car comes around the corner just as they get out of sight, followed by the sound of a door opening and a grown man screaming. Dean hates killing actual people.

They're far enough away that they can't be seen or heard from the street and the girl bends over, hands on her knees and whole body shaking. His holy water may have somehow exploded, but he still has a normal bottle and he hands it over. "Here," he says, holding it out to her. She accepts it, getting out a thanks. He's impatient, but knows he has to wait for her to recover at least a little before he can get answers.

This happens surprisingly quickly. "Thanks for the water," she says, straightening herself. Sweat glues her hair and dress to her skin and there's blood down her side that was earlier facing away from him. The mark is growing; she uses her hand to pressure it. She adds, "And for giving me time for an exor - oh god." Her leg stops supporting her and she falls back against a tree, other hand pressing down on that injury too. "Okay, adrenaline's wearing off now."

Experience has taught him to be suspicious, but he's so baffled by this whole situation that he's having trouble remembering that. "Is there a hospital around here?" he asks, taking out his phone, debating whether or not to call Dad.

"It's rural New Jersey," she says like that's supposed to be an answer. "Not for another four or - wow, right, definitely need stitches."

Dean can stitch up pretty well but he has no supplies on him and this is just some random chick. A random chick who happens to know an exorcism in Ancient Greek and tackled a demon. He'd call her a hunter, but doubts she is one considering that the way she's dressed leaves her completely defenseless. "Where's your house?" he says, knowing that whoever she is, he can't in all good conscience just drop her here.

She makes a face that means they need to get her out of here. Soon. "Motel's across the road and about five miles west." Sirens sound off in the distance. "Fucking hell, seriously?"

He grabs her by the elbow and starts leading her in the direction of the one he and Dad are staying at. "Mine's this way," he says and she's definitely not moving as fast as before, stumbling along. He glances down and sees the trail of blood she's leaving, not all which seem to come from her leg and side. There are bloody footprints too. Awesome. He tells her, "Fastest way to do this is to carry you."

"Don't care," she answers and he bends down, slipping one arm behind her knees and the other around her shoulders. She's not as light as she looks, though that isn't saying much. From the feel of it, this is all muscle weight. If she's a hunter, she's not a very smart one. "Christ, what's wrong with my feet?"

Moving is easier now and the way the girl is holding herself stops the blood from leaking to the ground. His shirt isn't as lucky. "You ran down a road and through an apple orchard without shoes," he says dryly. "Brilliant decision there, sweetheart."

The girl scowls. "Dick," she says. "You think I meant for this to happen? Running on damaged feet is faster than running in flip-flops. Trust me."

Now he can't hear the sirens, though he doesn't know if that's because he's too far away or if they're off. Their trail's going to be pretty obvious for the first few feet, which means he and Dad are going to have to relocate fast. Not that it matters much - if everything goes as planned, that ghost is going to be burned by tonight.

"Flip-flops," he repeats in disbelief. She winches as he adjusts her in his arms, but doesn't complain. "You obviously know about this shit, and you were wearing flip-flops."

"I didn't know there was a demon that'd be coming after me," she says defensively. "There's a ghost, sure, but that's the other side of town and another hunter is already taking care of it. An older guy. Your partner?"

The apple orchard is ending, which means the hotel is only a few streets away. Technically he's supposed to be waiting on that patch of road back there for Dad before he comes back but now that there's a dead body and cop cars there, he doesn't have much of a choice. He hates, hates, disobeying orders but he's not seeing a way around it this time and it just wouldn't sit right, leaving this girl alone in this state even if she is an idiot. "My dad," he says. "Is there anyone I can call?"

"M'on my own," she answers, words slightly slurred together now. She's overheating, which means she should probably shower too, or at least to clean her injures. How does he always end up in these situations? Dad never seems to and Sam -

"Mind me stitching you up or do you want to go to the hospital?" he asks, words coming out quicker than he intended, though the girl seems too whacked out to notice.

She blinks up at him as if trying to get her barrings. "No hospital," she says like all hunters. "You aren't some pervert, right?"

Little late to be asking that, he thinks. "No," he says, "but I'm not afraid of women either."

"Since you didn't react to an exorcism, I'm going under the assumption that you aren't a demon," she says, individual syllables starting to disappear. "God, this hurts."

A little boy bicycles by and openly stares. Dean smiles, which seems to throw a kid off and he continues. Hopefully he'll just think she's his girlfriend or something. "You didn't react to holy water, so same here," he says, the motel coming into sight. "Okay, almost there."

She makes a small noise of affirmative against his shirt. Her hair tickles his neck. Thankfully this is one of those motels where the doors lead directly out to a street so he won't have to walk past check-in. The pool's around back, too. He really lucked out. "This is going to hurt," he says, "but put you hands around my neck and hold yourself up. I need to get the key."

Without complaining she follows directions, though he doesn't miss the shutter. Unlocking the door takes all of two seconds and inside is cool from the actually working air conditioning. He heads straight for the bathroom. "Have anything for me to wear?" she asks, still looking a little dazed. Her blood loss isn't severe enough that taking a shower will be a risk. He puts her down and she stands, leaning against the sink. His shirt is ruined, but he's had worse.

"I'll get you one of my shirts," he answers. She's roughly a whole foot shorter than him, so that should cover her enough. At least he was telling the truth when he said he isn't afraid of women; she'll have to show some skin if she wants to be stitched up. "Take a quick shower. I'll bring it in when I hear the water running."

She smiles gratefully and gets out a thank you before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. As he goes about finding a long enough shirt, he calls his dad. Odds are he's still hunting because it goes straight to voicemail. He leaves a quick message explaining the situation, apologizing for not staying put and making sure to emphasis the dead body and the fact that the girl isn't a demon but a hunter. He knows Dad will be pissed but there's not much he can do about it. Naturally the first time in two months that he's hunting with his dad and not doing anything is the one time he's stuck with some girl practically bleeding to death. He puts a long shirt in the bathroom as promised before leaving, stripping and changing himself. The first aid kit is already on the bed.

In another situation, she might've been the type of girl he'd sleep with, he thinks when she emerges, his shirt sliding off one shoulder and short hair mussed up from what's probably fingertips. Now that she's clean he can see through the baggy clothes make her seem completely shapeless. Her pupils have gone down enough that her eyes are a blue-green color like Victoria, the first girl he ever dated for a whole three months. He holds out painkillers and water and she sits down next to him.

"Thanks," she says again and knocks back the pills. After, she adds, "You sure you're good with this?"

"I've done this like a thousand times," he says. "Pull up the shirt."

She does as ordered, slipping it up far enough for him to have access to the cut. It's still bleeding, but not at the rate it was before. It's definitely a knife mark too. "I'm Noel," she says as he makes the first stitch, the name followed by an intake. Despite the whole flip-flop thing that labels her as probably a rookie, she has a pretty high pain tolerance.

"Dean," he answers, trying to get this done quick. It isn't really all that big, but it's situated in a place that she couldn't have reached on her own. "So what were you doing anyway?"

"Date," she says, a little breathless. "I've been going nonstop, found out someone here already had the job and met this guy. Probably thinks I stood him up."

Oh, great. At least she doesn't seem all torn up about it because that's the last thing he's willing to deal with. "You went on a date with no weapons of any kind?" he says and she scowls.

"It was by the lake," she says, "so I would've been fine." He pauses, looking at her oddly. "Long story. You done?"

He wants to ask, but let's it drop for now. Those painkillers will kick in soon and she'll get loopy. Easier to get information out of her then. "Done with that side," he tells her. "Let me see you leg. We'll figure out the feet - oh." Instead of a cut, the area by her knee is badly scrapped up. Not deep enough for stitches, but enough to hurt. "How the hell you'd manage that one?"

As he hands her gauze and medical tape to finish up with the stitched are herself, she says, "There's a reason I switched from flip-flops. I skidded. Isn't bad, obviously, but asphalt is hot when it's ninety degrees outside."

At Uncle Bobby's, he'd fallen off a bike once and did the same thing. That was during the spring, though, and he can imagine that it's worse in this weather. Even on normal days, the humidity and heat of a New Jersey summer is bad enough. He puts gauze down first, then wraps it. "Your feet are all torn up, so we'll have to take care of that too."

"I got the rocks and stuff out, washed it out with soap." Her feet are small, it turns out, like a little kid's and they aren't as messed up as he thought, already done bleeding. He bandages them up anyway and she drops the shirt so it's covering her again. The air condition rattles loudly. Noel says, "I'll buy you another kit. It's the least I can do."

He quirks a brow, looking up at her. Her pupils are wide again, which means the drugs have kicked in. "You have money?" he says, glancing at her dress on the nightstand. It doesn't look like it has pockets.

She just smiles awkwardly and reaches into the shirt. "I'm a girl," she answers, holding out two twenties. "Here. That should cover it."

Even though forty is a little much, he accepts it all anyway. No way is he turning down free money. Impalas aren't exactly light with gas. "So how'd you get in the business?" he asks, not caring that it's a personal question.

"A hunter killed my dad."

He pauses. "What?"

She doesn't seem as okay right now, so touchy subject. "Yeah," she says. "It was a few years ago. Started out as a revenge thing, but I picked stuff up as I went along, started killing ghosts and ghouls and all that good stuff and decided that if I run into the guy, I run into him. Now that I know how to fight this, I can't exactly ignore it. I'm not the type to ignore people dying."

That's a new one, getting into the business to kill another hunter. Usually it has to do with - that could be a problem. "Uh," he says, "you are human, right?"

Her cheeks flush, which is surprising. He hadn't know she had enough blood for that. Her hair's already drying, frizzing from the humidity. "I'm, um -" She pauses and he knows that if it weren't for the drugs and damaged feet, she'd be out of here by now. "Promise not kill me?"

His hand goes to his gun, the one with the silver bullets. "Depends," he answers, now on high alert.

"I'm kind of - well, I guess you could say," she starts before stopping again, focusing on her hands. His shirt slides further down one shoulder. "You know who Poseidon is, right?" He's up so fast he barely registers moving, gun trained to her forehead. "Hey, it's not like that!"

"Then what is it like?"

She takes a deep breath and looks up at him, eyes still too whacked out for her to be thinking straight. It's not right, drugging a girl for answers but he had stitched her up, so she owned him that. And now he finds out she isn't even fully human? Real good decision there, he thinks. "My dad never killed anyone," she says. "No human sacrifices or anything. He and my mom were actually married and everything. I'm a demigod, sort of. He was bitter about the whole losing power thing but it wasn't - well. I'm a good kid. He was the best dad ever. Besides, I'm basically human. I can just control water. And breathe underwater and all that. I'm not as strong as I would've been if I'd been born back then. I'm hunter like you, but with pretty much an endless amount of holy water."

Well, that explains why his exploded. She seems to be telling the truth, but he doesn't lower the gun. "Then why'd the hunter kill your dad?" he asks, having a hard time believing that some god would just settle down with a human wife and have a kid. "Must've done something."

Her hands ball up at fists at her side. "Because most hunters see everything in black and white," she snaps, "and for the most part that's true. But my dad wasn't some monster. Hell, he had a job at the shipping yard and made me pancakes most Sunday mornings. Made sure I did my homework. Not that anything like that matters. I mean, hey, I'll admit it - I'm pretty quick to pull the trigger now too but I'd never do that to anything in front of their kid."

He lowers the gun. Just a bit. He's always had good instincts and maybe he's too fast to trust her but he knows from personal experience that not all of the old gods are bad. They weren't like monsters or demons. Most were just so bitter they took it out on humanity but Dionysus saved their asses once and maybe she has a point. "How long ago?" he says because she seems awfully calm about this.

"A little over four years ago," she says. "I was fifteen. Do you still want to kill me?"

Jesus Christ, she's nineteen. That's younger than Sammy. His gun goes to his side, but he doesn't put it down. Everything about her screams human in a way that he hasn't even seen with shapeshifters before. Besides, demigods are still half human and can die like any human can from just about anything. And she obviously isn't all powerful, either, considering how much she fucked herself over and didn't pay attention to her damn feet. "You didn't answer my question," he says tensely. "How'd the hunter find out?"

She looks down again, away, and that's enough of an answer right there. "We got into an argument," she answers. "Between the two of us, we ruptured a water tank and basically exploded the ocean. No one got hurt but two things at once like that doesn't happen without a reason, you know? So the guy came looking. I haven't seem him since, but I've met other hunters. Hunted with other hunters. Not everyone's a dick."

"I know a lot of hunters," he says. "Who else?"

"You know Bobby Singer and Rufus?" she says, and surprise rockets up his spine. "I got into some trouble in South Dakota with, um, a Celtic goddess actually. She wanted to kill me for being, you know, me, and they saved my ass. I've hunted with them a few times after Bobby realized convincing me to stop was useless. Or, at least until their falling out. And - what is it? You know them?"

His mind's whirring on overdrive. "Bobby Singer?" he says. "Hell, yeah, I -"

Her eyes go wide. "You're Dean Winchester, aren't you?" she says, smile suddenly jumping back onto her face despite the gun. "Oh my god, seriously?"

"What?"

"He mentioned you!" she answers. "I mean, it was just once, but he said I wasn't the only idiot kid he's worked with but at least I had more patience than Sam and Dean Winchester."

Bobby. Bobby Singer. He puts his gun down and sits on the bed across from her. If Bobby hadn't killed her, then he could trust her. Even though he and Dad had that falling out and they hadn't talked in years, he still remembers all those weeks spent at the man's house, playing catch and learning how to track. "Are there any other demons after you?" he asks and Noel shakes her head. Noel. Noel the Greek demigod. What the hell? "Okay, then. We should get you back to your place. Skip town immediately, feel free to keep the shirt."

She doesn't question him. Smart kid. "I can't exactly walk," she says.

"C'mon, I'll bring you," he says, standing and holding out his hand to her, pulling her up. "We'll hot wire a car."

Thankfully she seems unfazed by that too. "Thanks," she says again, obviously relieved. "I seriously thought you were going to kill me."

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Me too."

The car ride to other end of town is silent and Dad doesn't call. When they reach her motel (and, now that he thinks about it, it's kind of weird that a place this small actually has two), she takes his cell phone without permission and adds her number. "I know I seem like an idiot," she says, "but all things considered, I'm actually good. If you ever end up needing help, here's my information."

It's a Jersey area code. Her full name is Noel Charming, which sounds stupid. As she leaves, he agrees and thinks that he won't. It's bad enough letting her go.

That smile gets burned into his memory anyway.

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Sorry for all the exposition, but there's going to be a year and a half gap between this and Dean would've learned everything by then anyway. Also this story's been sitting around since before season eight came out. I seriously hope this doesn't conflict too badly with the new episode that I only know bits and pieces of because of Tumblr.

At the moment I have no ideas for pairings with her or two canon characters. If you want any in specific, just vote.

Also, please, please, please review. They're excellent motivation. I have the first few chapters written (they're in chronological order of the actual series, though not every episode will be used) but originally didn't have the drive to post it. If no one reads this, I'll just feel silly.