A/N - This chapter is edited. Not to my liking, but just so it's not as cringe-worthy. Be warned: later chapters haven't been edited.

If you wish to edit this story please message me.

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I look at the car, 67' Chevy Implala with wonder as I sip my red strawberry flavour slush puppie. I may be seventeen, but I'm not dumb. This car's a classic. Most of all, it's in the best condition I've ever seen one. I sigh. I wish I had enough money to buy one of them, but I also know that I have to put up with my small, little, mini. It has everything I need in it. Knives, salt, guns, etc.

I stand up from where I was sitting outside the coffee shop, and walk across the road to the shop on the other side, where the beauty of a car is parked outside. It's a bar, but it does breakfast at six in the morning (at least it's better than the others in terms of efficiency). I walk in, looking around. I see the wooden bar in which a drunk man sat, and a little girl next to her mother at the best possible distance from him. There's another man, just sitting there. Seems like a majority of people were depressed in here. I look to my left, double seats that face each other with a table in the middle. My eyes lay on two men sitting together eating, one on one side, the other opposite him. I walk towards them, deciding to take my seat behind the one with short hair. He looks older between the two. I pick up a menu, biting the inside of my cheek as I scanned threw the content. I eavesdrop at the same time. I've found - it's best entertainment I have while I'm on the road, while I have no one to talk to but an angel that drops by irregularly.

"--We need to find out what this thing is." I hear the younger one say with a fair amount of determination.

"Yeah. I know. These kids won't stand a chance with it. I mean, come on. First clowns, now ice cream trucks. What's next?" The older one says, sitting back. "Where do you suppose we look, Sam? Under a bush? 'Cause the way thing's are turning out right now, we're--"

"Please." Sam interrupts. "I don't need sarcasm at this time in the morning. We need to concentrate." He sighs, ❝Just eat. I'll do some research on this thing when we get back. I'll call Bobby too. We need all the help we can get; I won't let these children die.❞ He says, taking a bite of his food.

I sit there, stock still. 'Did I just hear that right?' I think, 'Are they hunters?' I can't help but wonder. It sure sounded like it. I've encountered hunters before, but none of them sounded as though they cared as much as these two. With a slight hesitation, I get up, walking around to stand at their table. They look up simultaneously, surprise plastered on their faces.

"Sorry, who are you?" Sam questions; his voice... sweet.

"I'm Louise." I greet, desperately trying to think of something to say. For some reason, the reason behind me standing up and going up to them seemed to get lost in my mind. Like I acted on impulse, rather than my own thoughts. I pause, and then smile, "Hey, do you now who owns that car outside?" I ask, pointing to the 67' Chevy through the window. It seemed like a good conversation starter. These two needed transportation if they were hunters, after all.

"It's mine. Why?" The older one speaks up, glaring slightly.

'This is so ironic...' I think, then shake my head. "It's a great car."

"O..kay..." He replies, looking towards Sam, exchanging a look that clearly shows what they think of me; that I'm weird. Strange. I kind of agree with them. He looks back towards me. "So what do you want?"

I try to think of something that would hint that I'm a hunter, and something that can prove that they are too.  "You believe in vampires?" I ask, looking at them. Hopefully, I asked that with a tone that suggested that I love 'Twilight', or something?

They both give me a strange look. "Know how to kill one?" The older one asks, mockingly. I smile. I was very lucky that he asked that question...

"Yeah. Of course. Chop off their heads. It's the only way. Hell, I think you'd get slaughtered if you tried to stake them or do any of the other vampire bullshit you read about in books." I chuckle. I note their reactions, they're both one of surprise. I bite my lip. "So, do you believe in the supernatural?"

Sam had been taking a drink when I had said that. In slight shock, it slips out of his hand, covering the older one of the two, who stood up next to me. "--Sam! You know how hard this is to dry-clean?" He snaps.

"Sorry, Dean." Sam couldn't help the small smile on his face. So this was the name of the older brother. Sam looks at me, while Dean sits back down, giving Sam a dirty look as he dries off his pants. He then looks up towards me, then past me at a woman who he clearly likes, raising his eyebrows. "--What did you just say?" My eyes snap back to Sam, who looks at me expectantly for a second, before glancing me up and down.

"I said: Do you believe in the supernatural?" I repeat, then lower my voice. "Or should I just come out and say it? Are you two hunters?"

"Depends who you are." Dean says, throwing the napkin on the table and turning to look at me. "If you're a demon trying to kill us, or a hunter yourself, then of course we are, come and join us at the table, why don't you?--" He points at me, "But if you're just some fan of those books--"

"What books?" I ask, then rose an eyebrow, "I'm a hunter. I guess you two are as well."

"We're not just hunters." Sam says. It seemed as though he had other information he didn't want to tell me... Dean gives him a look, then turns to look at me.

"Look. Not to be rude or anything, but it's none of your god-damn business. Clear off."

I nearly reply, but Sam beats me to it. "Dean, look at her. She's just a kid. A hunter, too? At least let's buy her breakfast."

Dean rose an eyebrow, "What? Just because she's a kid means she has to--"

"Dean." Something in Sam's voice then. Sternness, perhaps. Dean looks at him for a moment, then sighs, and looks towards me.

"Grab a menu, kid."