The Song Remains The Same

Chatper 1

The storm rolled across the sky, lightning  illuminating the room and thunder shaking the windows with it's almighty roar.

I sat in the study, fanning myself with the morning paper. The inn I ran out of my mother’s house was nearly full, and yet I was the only one up. That is, until they pulled in the driveway.

As I heard the car on the gravel, I got up and peeked out the window to see who could possibly be out in the storm. It was an older car, one that seemed unfamiliar to me and yet pulled at some distant memory in the back of my mind. It looked like it was from the early 70’s, and had it not been for it’s headlights that shone brightly in the dark, I wouldn’t have noticed at all. It was all black, with silver chrome trim. A flash of lightning illuminated the car and I could clearly see that it was an old Chevy.

Two broad shouldered figures approached the door. I silently wished that that I had my handgun. I wasn’t scared of the two men, but it was nearly midnight and everyone else had gone to bed. If the two men wanted to overpower me, they probably could. I’d be defenseless. Hopefully, if anything happened, I’d be able to scream and wake someone up.

“Can I help you?” I asked through the screen door.

“Are you Katherine Sutton?” asked the taller of the two.

My brows wrinkled in confusion. How could they possibly know who I am?

“Yes, that’s me. What business do you have with me?” I demanded. It was a little late to be swinging by for a chat.

“My name is Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean. Our father-” Sam stopped, choosing his words carefully. “Our father told us that you can help us.”

Winchester. The name sounded so familiar yet I couldn’t place it.

“Well, what’s your father’s name?” I asked.

“John Winchester. Your mom and him were really good friends,” Sam replied.

That was enough to spark the memory.

I was 10. Mom and I were sitting on the porch. She had a brush in hand and was french braiding my hair. She was just about finished when the car pulled in, and out came a tall man and two boys my age. My mom stood up immediately, as if she’d forgotten about my braid, and rushed down to the man.

“John Winchester it’s been too long,” she breathed while giving him the biggest bear hug I had ever seen.

John soon broke off the hug and gestured to his sons. “This is Dean,” he said, gesturing to the oldest one, “and Sam,” he said, gesturing to the youngest.

“They’re so big. It seems like just yesterday that Sammy was a baby,” my mom said, her eyes beaming at the two boys. I rushed from the porch down to them and stood beside Mom.

She chuckled. “John, this is my daughter Katherine,” my mom said, introducing me.

“Hello Katherine. I’m John. These are my sons, Dean and Sam. How old are you?”

I looked at John fiercely. I still didn’t like mom’s male friends coming around and it had been four years since my Mom and Dad had separated.  “I’m ten,” I said, staring at him with wild eyes..

“Oh, well you’re in between Dean and Sam then,” John said. “Sammy here is eight and Dean is 12.”

I smiled at Sam. He gave me a small wave. Dean just stood next to his father with his arms crossed over his face, scowling. Most of my memories of Dean when we were little include him scowling.