The Devil's Daughter

Sam and Dean sped away in the Impala, driving for a while in silence. They had searched the streets for the blonde girl, certain she hadn't made it that far away. Kansas played low from the speakers of the radio, the classic rock songs playing background noise against the silence,

"There's no way she could've gotten this far on foot." Dean frowned as they pulled up several blocks over.

"Not in human form." Sam agreed, his mind replaying the scenes from the graveyard over and over again.

"Your sure you think she's a hunter?" Dean questioned, glancing at his brother in the darkness.

"Positive." Sam affirmed, "She was just way under trained or way to emotionally bound."

"I vote for both." Dean replied as the car pulled to a stop in front of a Motel. "But what do you say we stick around and find out?"

"Like we have a choice?" Sam shook his head, not looking at his brother who only heard the false sarcasm in Sam's voice as they climbed out.

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The last shadows of night curled around Krysti as she moved through the early morning hours, making her way home. Her heart was racing and tears drenched her black jacket, mixing with the dirt and blood from the graveyard. Her head spun like a whirlwind, every emotion raging deep with in her. From greif to anger. She finally settled on anger and stupidity. She felt like a failure. Yes, she was new to the hunting scene, she didn't know all the ends and outs and she was mostly playing it by ear. But wasn't that how most of the greats had done it?

She had seen her fair share of battles, but this one had been nothing she had expected. Seeing Lilly, seeing...seeing him like that...and then watching those two strangers kill them...had been...hard didn't even begin to describe it. It was like watching their deaths all over again. Seeing...seeing their bodies...she shivered at the thought. And the newcomers had only make the things worse, only added to the frustration. This was her town and she had been protecting it since the demons had shown up two years ago.

Carefully, Krysti turned onto her street, watching the shadows for any sign of movement, any sign of the demons. The streets were silent, no sign of movement anywhere. Finally satisfied that all was safe, she jogged forward moving toward the two story Victorian house that she called home. The home was as dark as it should be at near four in the morning, all the windows were pitch black and stilled in the ending darkness. Quietly she slipped in side, the quiet protectiveness of the house welcoming her. Tip toeing, she slipped up stairs, listening for any sign from her sleeping mother, but there was nothing. Relaxing, she slipped up the stairs, making her way quietly to her room. Everything was safe, at least for tonight. She could sleep, recharge and think tomorrow. Right now, her bed was calling and she wasn't resisting. After carefully putting away her weapons, she fell onto the bed and let the darkness of sleep overtake her...

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When Krysti awoke the next morning, she could tell that something was wrong. Sunlight filtered through the open bay window and the house lay silent. Rolling over she glanced at the clock, which read near eleven. Her heart jumped, something was wrong. The words repeated through her head again. She should have been awake at six, getting ready for school. Her mother should have called her down for breakfast...

Without thinking, she shot forward, her feet landing cat-like on the cold wood floor. She ignored the shocks of cold the met her feet and ran quietly through the halls of her home. First to her mother’s bed room, it was the last room on the right at the end of the hall. She swung open the door to find...nothing. Her mother wasn't there. Hadn't over slept, hadn't wakened her. Opened books lay on the lamp stand, unfinished.

Full blown panic surged through her as she rushed back down the hall way towards the stairs that over looked the kitchen. She stopped short on the top stairs, just before the ceiling of the kitchen. The sound of movement had caught her ears. Was someone in the house? Was it her mother? She couldn't be sure. Carefully, slowly, inching forward she knelt at the staircase, still hidden behind the bars of the banisters and the edge of the ceiling. She had to stifle a gasp. It was the two boys from the graveyard. She could just barely make out their conversation.

"Bingo," The first boy spoke, his hair was buzz cut, he was slightly taller then the other boy and Krysti also assumed he was the oldest. She watched as he reached down and picked up a photograph and a short pang of grief met the panic that swelled in her chest. It was the photo of Krysti and Lillie, her twin sister. And John was sitting beside Krysti, her elementary school crush, her high school boy friend. Markus sat beside Lillie. The four had been best friends since grade school, but now Krysti was the only one left alive. The only one left to find justice.

"Poor kid." The second one commented, taking the photo from the first boy. "Losing your sister, boy friend and best friend all in one week? No wonder she freaked."

"Yea, but I'm still not so sure she's a hunter." The first boy responded, moving on to search the rest of the kitchen.

"What else could she be?" The other dark haired boy asked. "Your not thinking she is the one responsible for this are you? Did you not see her back there? She was seriously freaked man. Scared as hell."

"I don't know if she is or not, which is why we're here..." Suddenly the boy stopped at the stove. "Hey Sammie, check this out." The other boy, Sammie, joined him.

"Breakfast. Cold." Sammie affirmed, "Looks like something when down." Krysti's heart froze at his words, her mother...they had her mother. She knew it, she could feel it. Quickly and quietly, Krysti moved back up stairs, back into her room. She had to find her mother, she wasn't going to let them take her, let them use her, the way they had used everyone else...

....Sam stared silently at the small remains of the struggle that had gone down, the photo of the blonde, Krysti, still clutched in his hand. A strange sense of worry, of protectiveness washed over him. Where was she? Had she escaped or was she now a victim?

"So, I'm guessing Krysti either made a dash for it, or she's the vic." Dean spoke as if reading his mind.

"Yea, I'm guess. We need to do a scan of the house, just to make sure though." Sam nodded, turning away from the scene, read to start the rest of the search, however he was stopped dead in his tracks because the girl was standing at the bottom of the staircase, half in the doorway, half out. a shotgun in her hand.

"Damn it." Sam heard Dean curse behind him.

"Looking for me boys?"