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Chapter 1: Hellhounds

The guy with long brown hair raised his armed hand in the sky and thrusted it towards you. Maybe he was trying to end your misery, you thought. But then, something strange happened. The Hellhound wailed and shortly thereafter, he stopped shredding you to bits.

Another male joined the one standing over you. They ignored you as if you were not even there. "I think that's all of them," the one with short and textured hair said.

The big one, the one with deep brown hair, scooped you into his arms and briskly walked while the sandy blond haired one followed closely behind.

"You're going to be okay," the one carrying you said. "Dean, do you have the key to the bunker?" The sense of urgency in his voice was more than evident. It was glaringly obvious.

"Yeah, we're almost there."

You sensed the last part of his sentence was meant for you rather than the one carrying you. From the sound of it, he should have already known where this so called bunker was at.

"I don't feel so great," you uttered weakly.

"You're gonna be fine," Dean, as you had just learned, responded. His tone oddly contradicting. His words were gruff with a hint of compassion in them.

The only thing your drifting mind could focus on was the pain. Searing, fiery bursts pulsated around each and every slice the Hellhound had created. Despite the reassurances that the boys kept uttering to you during the mad rush to the place they called the bunker, you knew there was no hope. It was like all of the movies you've watched. The dying person almost always gets reassured by the healthy one. Better to go in peace than in fear, you supposed.

In what seemed like an eternity, though it was truthfully only a few minutes, that Dean guy was unlocking a large metal door and the giant was bounding down the stairs, not seeming to care that he was jarring your injured body anymore.

"Sam, get her in my room. I'm going to find Cas."

So the giant's name is Sam, you noted as the lids of your eyes fell heavy and it became too much of a hassle to keep them open anymore.

"Hey," Sam yelled. When you didn't respond, he said it several more times, getting louder as he went. His large hand lightly slapped your cheek.

With a groan, you opened your eyes grudgingly. "Happy?" you asked with little patience.

Sure, these guys claimed that they were helping you, but for all you knew, they could be plotting your death. As a hunter, you knew your chances of life had always been slim. That is the precise reason you rarely trusted people. Trust couldn't be so easily won by you.

"What's your name?" Sam asked in an attempt to keep you conscious.

Still unsure if these boys could be trusted, you blurted out one of your aliases. "Alice Cunningham."

"Okay, Alice," he responded, "try to keep your eyes open. I need to know your still conscious."

You nodded, but your eyes slid shut anyhow, the weight being too much for you to handle. Your life has been good so far, at least in regards to the fact that you've been born and raised as a hunter. There are a lot of people still alive because of you. You had a good run, maybe it was time to let go.

"Dean, hurry. We're losing her," you heard the muffled yell of Sam.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the room. From the sound of it, more than one person entered.

"Damn it," you heard one of them yell. Your consciousness was fading too fast to distinguish sounds sharply. "Cas, heal her!"

An odd pain filled your body. Discomfort might better fit the sensation that was racing through your body. It didn't hurt, per se, but it was like someone was trying to make something fit that shouldn't. Almost like a toddler trying to piece together a puzzle.

Your eyes fluttered open to see the two boys who rescued you and then the one you assumed to be Cas standing anxiously over your body. It hurt, your body, but the pain was opposite from the pain the Hellhounds left. You felt like you had over exerted yourself in an intense workout.

"What?" Your voice was breathy from the pure shock. Upon looking over yourself, a gasp escaped you. The shredding from the Hounds was nowhere to be seen. There weren't even any scars left on your skin. "How?"

Cas stepped forward and opened his mouth, but Sam placed one hand on his shoulder and one on his back. "Tell her later, Cas. Right now she needs to rest." Sam gave you a quick and small smile before walking out with Cas. Dean stood against the wall by the door with his hands in his pockets.

"So," he stepped forward and clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together as he advanced. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but they'll have to wait until tomorrow. Get some rest," he hesitated and pursed his lips, clearly trying to remember if he had learned your name.

"Alice," you told him, though you were beginning to be less wary of these boys. "Who are guys, anyways?"

"My name's Dean," he stepped closer and you could see his eyes and how amazing they were. You hated to admit it, but he was someone that belonged in a dreamland. He had a rugged, but caring way about him, and that was all just what you were gathering in the short span of time that he was talking to you. "The giant is Sam and the other guy is Cas."

You smirked when he called Sam a giant, as that was your first impression of the guy. "And where am I?"

Dean only shook his head. "No more questions tonight. You need to rest, you'll be pretty worn out for the next few days."

He walked over to the dress beside the bed and rummaged through the middle drawer, tossing a dark shirt at you after a moment. "Sorry it's nothing spectacular," he said. "But it's probably better than that," he motioned to the pathetic excuse of clothes on your body. Thanks to Crowley's Hellhounds, there was a considerable amount of fabric missing. "There's a shower in that room if you want to clean up."

"Thanks," you mumbled and Dean nodded his head before leaving you alone in the strange concrete room.

The shower seemed to call out to you, the blood remaining from your wounds seeming to sit heavy on your newly healed skin. You carefully planted your feet on the floor and shuffled toward the door on the left side of the room.

Your surroundings left you wanting something more pleasing to the eye, and that didn't exclude the small bathroom. Everything was concrete and had a slight musty smell. Not that you were complaining because this place was currently your safe haven. It just didn't seem like a place that would be easy to call home.

You had to rip your clothes off your body since they were so caked on with blood. There was no sense in even attempting to salvage the remains of your once favored pair of jeans and shirt so you tossed them into the rubbish bin before climbing into the shower. The warm water ran welcomed down your skin and washed away the night's horrors with the blood.

You ended the shower sooner than you truly wanted, because you thought it rude to be wasting all of the water. There was that and the fact that you wanted to go to bed more than you remembered ever wanting in the past. So, you toweled off and slipped on Dean's shirt with nothing to cover your private areas. It fell just short of the middle of your thighs. The shirt had a woodsy smell that was mingled with a faint cologne.

Your bare feet padded silently against the frigid concrete floor back into the bedroom. A fresh blanket that wasn't stained with blood greeted you, a note and two pills sitting atop of it. The note was from Dean and it read:

Thought you might want some clean

blankets and something to ebb the pain.

Sweet dreams, Alice.

A thankful smile found its way to your lips. It was kind of these boys to do for you what they did. You sat the pills on the nightstand, not fully trusting them yet and quickly searched through the drawers in the room for a weapon of sorts. It wasn't long before you found a knife and crawled into bed, the weapon grasped tightly in hand. The position wasn't a foreign one to you. You were a hunter, after all.

Tomorrow, you resolved. Tomorrow I will get answers.