John Winchester was not awake that morning. Neither was young Sammy. Six year old Dean, however,
had been awake since the crack of dawn. Because John had stayed up all night on a case, and hadn't slept in almost a week, he relied on his eldest son with the task of packing their bags. He was to have all of the bags done by the time his father woke up, and he was only three quarters through. Why did they have to have so many bags?

Dean, being the only one awake, was the only one who heard the doorbell ring.

"Um, hello?" he called.

No Answer. Dean shouldn't have opened the door. He knew that. He should've waited until his father was awake, but he got curious. Cautiously, he crept forward, avoiding the guns and knives strewn about the floor. Then he curled his small hand atound the knob, unlocked the door, and opened it.

He was expecting a monster, maybe even a hunter, but what he found was nothing of the sort. What he saw, there on the welcome mat, was a girl fast asleep.

She must have been around his age judging by her petite build. Long blond waves cascaded down her shoulder and freckles dotted across her nose. She was wearing a plain white t shirt, a pair of light wash jeans, and some adidas that looked like they could've once matched her shirt, but have since grown brown from mud.

Dean looked one way, then the other, but she didn't seem to have come with a parent.

Should I bring her inside? Dean thought.

Should I wake up dad?

He quickly discarded the idea. His Dad needed to sleep, so he would have to handle the situation in his own.

Carefully, he picked her up (bridal style) and placed her on an sofa-chair. Dean then, draped a blanket over her and put a bag of fruit loops on the coffee table, just in case she was hungry when she woke up.

He was about to get her a pillow when her eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of peircing blue eyes.

"Oh," he said, "You're awake."

"Where am I?"

"Amityville Motel. Where's your daddy?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't know. We move a lot."

"Really? We do to! Me and dad and my brother, I mean." He grinned before continuing. "My name's Dean."

She smiled back.
"Mine's Ricky."

"Here," he said giving her the froot loops, "You look starving."

She gratefully took the cereal before eating a handful.

"Is your dad a hunter?" Dean asked.

"No." She shook her head.

Dean could tell she was lying.

"Your dad is a hunter, isn't he."

Ricky gave a defeated sigh. "Yeah. I'm not supposed to tell people though."

"It's okay, I'm a hunter too. I bet your dad is at this motel. It's the first one in town."

Dean took her hand and they went down stairs and through hallways, knocking on every door they passed, before they found the right one.

The man who opened the door looked miserable. That is, until he heard the voice of his daughter.

"Daddy!" She cried.

The man's frown turned into a grin.

"Ricky!"

He scooped up the child into his arm and gave a curt nod to Dean.

"Thank you."

-------

John was waiting for his son at the door when Dean came back. He didn't look happy.

"Where were you?"

Dean explained the story of the girl and how he helped her get to her father, thinking his father would be proud of him for helping the girl. His father, however, didn't think of him as a hero and Dean was punished for wandering off on his own and for not packing up all the bags.

That wouldn't stop the six year old from dreaming of her. The girl he saved all by himself. She was the friend that was always in the back of his mind, the one that never truly left. What he didn't know is that this wouldn't be the last time that they met...