you grew up around the winchester’s and bobby singer. bobby, john and your dad were friends. your dad was a fellow hunter, he started becoming more distant after your mother died around when you were 10. he started going on hunts more often than he should. leaving you stuck with dean and sam alone in their motel room, going to different schools every month or so. sometimes you would even live with bobby, you would just learn at his home. teaching yourself. you were younger than dean and sam, younger than dean by 8 years and younger than sam by 4.

you were a quiet kid, usually. you always followed rules and were kind, but when your emotions got the best of you.. you could lash out.

you had your fathers temper. it really showed when you argued with your dad. like john winchester, your father showed his anger mostly through bruises on your skin, cracks and holes in the walls, broken beer bottles on the floor of your home. harsh words. he forced you to be tough, to fight back. he hated when you didn’t. this happened more often, especially when you turned 16 and then 17. over the course of your teenage years, you ended up running to bobby when your dad would hurt you. you couldn’t go to sam or dean, they always moved. sam eventually left to work on his education and dean drifted away.

now, you’re 18. you’re at home, your dad constantly shouting and screaming at you. berating you, saying how useless you are. it’s your fault your mother died.

one day, you run to bobby’s house. sobbing. you had a black eye, bruises on your body. you were tired, worn out. you knock on bobbys door. hoping he would let you in, hoping he would help you. he usually did.. but there was always some sliver of doubt he would continue.

he opens the door. seeing you. tears staining your cheeks, the black eye. his heart sank. you immediately dropped your bag, wrapping your arms around him. you couldn’t take it anymore. your sobs came out immediately. your hair was disheveled, your clothes clearly just thrown on in an attempt to run.