Scarlett Rivers was a person of routine. Anything that threatened her routine threw off the balance of the entire day, so the rain that covered the sidewalk on the morning of September thirteenth was a sure fire sign that the day would hold nothing but trouble for her. Jogging in the midst of a thunderstorm wouldn't lead to a very productive day.

"Hey, Scar, do you need anything from the store?" Scarlett was dragged out of her state of pouting next to the windowsill, by her doe-eyed roommate, Emily. She stood in the doorway, smiling kindly. Emily was by far Scarlett's best friend and the one person in this world she'd do anything for, outside of her family.

Scarlett shook her head, reciprocating her roommate's contagious grin. "I think I'm good," she sighed, slinking her bare feet onto the cold hardwood floor with a sigh. "Unless you can buy a weather changing machine, then maybe."

Emily chuckled at her friend's frustration. "Have I ever told you that you have a tendency to be dramatic?" Her keys rattled as she picked them up off of the counter.

Bringing her pointer finger and her thumb together, Scarlett shrugged. "Only a little."

When the door closed behind Emily, Scarlett slumped onto the couch and prepared to shuffle through channels on the television for the remainder of her day.

That was, of course, until there was rattling on the doorknob. Initially, she'd thought that Emily had forgotten something and was coming back, but the more it rattled, she realized that someone was trying to break in. She crept to the side of the door, grabbing the wooden bat that was propped in the corner.

The assumed thief managed to get the door open, causing it to creak on its ever rusting hinges. Scarlett was certain that she would catch the assailant off guard with the bat, but just as she swung, the man grabbed the bat and twisted it, making her twist with it. She quickly released the bat and raised her leg to meet his face, but he ducked all to soon and dodged the attack. He knocked her legs out from underneath her, and managed to pin her to the ground. "Easy, SJ."

At the allusion to her old nickname, she realized immediately that the sandy brown haired man was none other than Dean Winchester. "Dean?" He grinned at her discovery. "W-what the hell are you doing here?"

It had been three years, at the very least, since she'd seen Dean. Even longer since she'd seen the younger Winchester, Sam. She'd seen their father, John, just shy of a year ago on a hunt with her dad, but hadn't heard much of the brothers, other than Dean still doing what he was raised to do and Sam making a life for himself.

"Catching your ass off guard, apparently," he scoffed. "You're out of practice."

Hearing the challenging tone in his voice aggravated her just as much as it did back then. Just to prove that she wasn't 'out of practice', she used her legs to counterbalance the weight he'd put on her upper body and overpowered him. "Not quite," she sneered down at him, forcefully pressing his torso down with her hand. She caught him looking down her tank top and that was when she climbed off of him. Courteously, she offered him a hand up, to which he rejected. Typical. "What are you doing here?" She asked again.

"I, uh, I haven't heard from my dad in a few days," he explained. "I was hoping you'd been in touch with yours, since they've been hunting together."

Her emerald eyes clouded with concern, as she tried to recall the last time she'd heard from the nomadic hunter that was Charles Rivers. "Three days ago, maybe?" She picked at her lip, growing anxious. It was unlike her dad to not check in, but Scarlett felt guilty for not doing it on her own. Job hunting had consumed most of her days, as of late. "You think something's wrong?"

"Honestly, yeah," he nodded, looking just past her, so maybe she would miss the actual sight of feelings within his own eyes. "It's not like him to dodge calls and go MIA on me."

Scarlett nodded, feeling the same. Without speaking, she padded over to where the landline sat on the counter and dialed the number that her father answered—almost—no matter what. The line rang three times and went to voicemail, making her heart sink down into her stomach. The sinking feeling that something had gone wrong was bubbling inside of her.

Dean was able to read her expression like an open book. "I was afraid of that," he grumbled. "I'll keep you in the loop. Thanks for-,"

"Like hell you'll keep me in the loop," she retorted. "If my dad is missing, I'm going to help find him."

"Look, sweetheart." Scarlett crossed her arms, challenging his condescending tone. "With all due respect, our dads are messing with some big league level stuff. Not your typical ghosts and ghouls."

Her eyebrow perched up when she got the feeling Dean hadn't been on a hunt with either of them, but boy was she ready to run with it. "Aw, did you not get an invite to go with them?" She poked her lip out in a pout. "I've been keeping up with the hunters. I go and see Bobby about once a month, so I know just what everyone is hunting up on. So, like I said, I'm coming." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in response. "Don't make me kick your ass again," she scoffed, not phased by his advance.

His face faltered. "Hey, I was going easy on you," he defended. "Go get your crap."

Scarlett left him standing in her living room, as she retreated into her bedroom. She didn't anticipate being gone long, a few days at most, so she stuffed just enough clothes to get her by into a duffle bag, along with her makeup and toiletries. She pulled on a t-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, and her black converse. She opted to not wait for Emily to get back, as that would only prompt questions that Scarlett didn't want to peak. Instead, she scribbled in red on the whiteboard that was attached to their fridge.

family emergency, be back in a couple of days
                              - Scar

"Ready?" Dean urged, checking the time repeatedly.

"As I'll ever be," she sighed, throwing the bag over her shoulder. Surprise was clear on her face when she followed him downstairs and out to the '67 Impala that once belonged to John Winchester. The sleek black color was almost drool-inducing to Scarlett. If the car were a person, she wouldn't hesitate to marry it.

Dean snapped his fingers, bringing her back into reality. "You got a little something right here," he tapped his chin, referring to imaginary drool. He knew she'd always had a thing for the car and he didn't blame her one bit.

Scarlett ignored him as she ducked down into the Impala. "Where to?"

The car rumbled beneath them, when Dean turned the key into the ignition. "First stop, Stanford to get Sammy."

The brunette wasn't so convinced that the younger Winchester would be on board. He had a new life outside of hunting, which was exactly what he'd always wanted. However, Scarlett wasn't going to object. It wasn't like he would listen to her, anyway.

Scarlett could feel Dean's eyes occasionally bore into her face, as he stole glances her way. It was likely because they'd both grown up a lot since the last time they'd seen each other. They'd grown into entirely new people. "You know, if you take a picture, it'll last longer." Her eyes were still planted on the passenger window, watching the rain splotches pile up.

Dean cleared his throat, more than ready to divert the conversation. "What have you been doing, since you stepped back from hunting?" She looked towards him with an arched brow, wondering how he knew she wasn't hunting anymore. "I visit Bobby every now and then, too."

Her shoulders rose and fell. "The only thing I hunt now are jobs," she chuckled, amused at her own joke. "I still keep up with the lore. I try to keep my skills up. You never know, y'know?"

Dean nodded his response. "A little rusty," he teased. She glared daggers at him, and his cheeky grin dropped. "I'm joking. That was a joke." He glanced sideways at her a few times, making sure to watch the road before them. "So, why did you get out?"

Scarlett ignored his question, as she reached behind the seat and grabbed a sweater to ball up under her head like a pillow. "I haven't eaten breakfast yet," she sighed.

He raised an eyebrow at her diversion to the subject, but decided it was better not to push her. After all, it was like they hardly knew each other. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yep." She popped the 'p' on her declaration. "On you, though. For breaking into my apartment."

His lips curved into a crooked grin and he nodded. "I can do that."

They decided on where to eat, which put Scarlett in an overall better mood. Talking around her cheeseburger—that she argued was, in fact, breakfast because it had a fried egg on top of it, and bacon in between the two quarter pounders— she looked up at Dean. "Can I be honest with you?"

"I'd be shocked if you weren't."

She swallowed the bite, lowering the food back down into it paper wrapper. "I'm not sure getting Sammy involved is the answer." Her tone was slightly weary and she scanned his face with each passing word, to try an catch a glimpse of any emotion. "He's started building a life for himself, Dean. It's what he always wanted."

Apprehension was apparent as the bottom of his jaw twitched, but his eyes never left the road. "I know that. But I also know how important family is. He'll want to help—I know it."

Dean's tone left nothing up for discussion, so Scarlett returned to her breakfast. To say she was surprised would be a lie. She knew Dean all too well, and stubborn was an understatement.

Just as the sun started to set, Dean took an exit to refuel. She silently thanked God, because that meant she could return the calls from Emily that she'd been dodging.

As soon as Dean ducked out of the car, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and held down the 2 on her dial pad. It only rang twice before a frantic Emily picked up the phone. "Where the hell are you? What kind of family emergency? Why haven't you picked up the phone? I was about to put out an APB on your ass!"

"I'm so sorry, Em," she sighed. "Today has been crazy, to say the least." She looked sideways at Dean through the closed window, hoping he wouldn't disturb the call. There were so many questions that Scarlett didn't want to answer. Her friend needed to be kept in the dark at all cost. "I know a note doesn't do a lot of justice, but I'll be back in a couple of-,"

"I gotta go take a leak, need anything out of the store?"

Scarlett's eyes widened, and no sooner than the question left his mouth, Emily was asking questions. "Who is that-," She immediately slammed her phone shut.

"Can't you knock?"

Dean looked back at the window, then at Scarlett. "On my window?" Scarlett sighed and rolled her eyes. "Do you need anything, or not?"

"Not."

Dean came out rather quick, to find Scarlett with her elbow propped against the window, supporting her head in her hand. There was a crease between her brows, as she focused on something he couldn't see. She didn't realize he was there yet. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, causing her to recoil. "All good?" He was trying to hard to act like he didn't care, when he really understood.

Scarlett sat up a little straighter, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah," she nodded. "Just, uh, thinking about where our dads could be, is all." It wasn't completely a lie...she just left out the part where her mind was racing with a million possibilities of what could possibly have gone wrong, especially when both of them checked in on a regular basis.

The younger brunette didn't recall falling asleep, but that was likely because the album of Bon Jovi that pumped softly through the speakers was somewhat calming to her. It reminded her of home.

Scarlett was dragged out of her slumber when the car came to a halt. She blinked her eyes, adjusting to the only light being that of a street lamp. She looked up at Dean who was biting the inside of his cheek. "Is this it?" She looked outside of the passenger window

"Yeah." There was something unreadable on his face. Almost like he was...scared.

"What's up?"

Dean's eyes flitted in her direction, but he kept his face forward. "I-uh, nothing," he said quickly. "I guess I should get this show on the road." He even sounded unsure. Regardless, he swung open his door and left the vehicle. He stared up at the intimidatingly large dormitory building. His mind was racing and he couldn't seem to force his legs to go any farther than the curb.

Scarlett noticed his apprehension and rolled her window down. "It'll be fine," she assured him. "Just...try knocking instead of breaking and entering, this time."

His worried demeanor cracked just slightly, as a shadow of a smile appeared on his face. She was right. All he had to do was knock.

The young woman watched as Dean disappeared into the shadows. Her phone screen read 11:53. Maybe not the best time for a knock, but they had to try something.

No more than twenty-minutes later, a much-older-than-she-remembered Sam Winchester was trailing behind Dean. By the looks of their hands flailing, the discussion wasn't going well.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Dean's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"

"Not normal. Safe," Sam countered.

"And that's why you ran away?" She could hardly hear him.

"I was just going to college," the younger brother objected, raising his voice. "Dad was the one that told me if I left to stay gone. That's what I'm doing."

Scarlett opened her door, drawing the attention from the hostile topic of discussion. Dean didn't acknowledge her, but Sam was a bit taken aback, unsure of who she was, exactly. "Dad's in real trouble right now, if he's not dead already. I can feel it. I can't do this alone," Dean continued.

Sam's head tilted to the side, as he tried to identify who was standing under the street light. "Holy shit, SJ?" His eyes widened, as he realized. She waved, flashing him a grin. "You're not even alone."

Dean flashed a glare Scarlett's way, but it didn't phase the girl much. "Look, Sammy, I wouldn't have come if I didn't think I needed your help." Scarlett cleared her throat, making his eye twitch in irritation. "If I didn't think we needed your help."

Sam's gaze fell to the ground, knowing he was going to have to say yes. "What was he hunting? And why was he alone?"

"He wasn't alone," the girl interrupted. "My dad is with him."

Dean walked to the trunk and lifted the weapons board up, propping it up with a piece of wood. He started shuffling through an array of ammo and sheathed knives until he found what he was looking for—John's old notebook. "Why weren't either of you with them?"

"I was working my own voodoo case in New Orleans," Dean explained. "She quit hunting."

Sam raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't question the statement. "Dad let you hunt by yourself?"

"I'm twenty-six," Dean scoffed, flipping through pages. "Here we go. Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California." He handed Sam a sheet of paper for him and Scarlett to look at. "About a month ago, this guy went missing. They found his car, but he'd vanished. Completely MIA."

"Since when is a missing person a hunter's problem?" Scarlett inquired.

Dean looked back down at the notes. "Yeah, well, there's another one that went missing in April, another on in December '04, 03, '98, '92–ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, all same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more, so dad went to go dig around with Charlie and I haven't heard from him since, which is bad enough. I got a voicemail from dad covered in EVP. In almost two years I never bothered you and never asked you for a thing."

Sam frowned, dropping his gaze. He knew his brother was right. He'd let him tackle the life he'd always wanted. "Alright, I'll go," he said lowly. "I'll help you find him, but I have to be back first thing Monday. I'll grab a few things and I'll be back."

"What's first thing Monday," Scarlett raised a curious brow.

"I have an interview," he told them.

Dean scrunched up his face. "A job interview? Skip it."

"A law-school interview. It's my whole future on a plate." He turned his back to them, walking back towards the dorm.

Dean watched as his brother walked away and crease between his brows appeared. "Law school," he thought aloud.

"You should be proud for him," Scarlett reminded him.

Dean simply nodded. "He's got a smoking hot girlfriend too," he smirked. "Totally out of his league."

Scarlett rolled her eyes and sat back down in her seat. She pulled the door closed a little too hard, which made the glove box fall open. A sheet of paper floated down to the floorboard, folded in half with her name written in her father's favorite 'scarlet' colored ink, in his handwriting. She flipped the note open and read:

If you're reading this, Scarlett, it probably means that we've been off the radar for some time. Something is starting to happen. I think it's serious and I think it's coming for you, Sam and Dean. I need to figure out what's going on, so I have to go away for awhile, with John. You can trust Dean, he'll know what to do.

-Dad

Her heart sank down in her chest as she read over the note a couple of times. She opened the car door again, just as Sam walked back up. "Guys?" Her eyes shifted between the too, as all of the color drained from her face. "You need to see this."

The brothers read the note, mirroring her same concerned reflection. This went deeper than just a disappearance.