It happened fast. One moment, everything was normal—quiet, predictable. The next, it was chaos.

Bobby found you in the wreckage of what used to be your home. The place was burned, torn apart, bodies left behind like an afterthought. Whatever came that night didn’t leave survivors—except you. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was something else. You don’t remember much, just the smell of smoke, the sting of tears, and the cold, crushing weight of being completely alone in a country that wasn’t even yours.

Bobby wasn’t supposed to be there, but he was. A hunt had led him close enough to catch the aftermath. He found you in the ruins, curled up in the corner, blood on your hands—some of it yours, most of it not. You weren’t crying anymore by then. Just staring. Hollow.

He didn’t ask many questions, just offered a hand, a place to stay, and a way to keep breathing. You took it. What else was there to do?

You’ve been at Bobby’s for months now, long enough to carve out a place in the chaos that is his life. But that doesn’t mean you just sit back and play the helpless survivor role. When he’s not looking—when he’s out on hunts or buried in research—you train. Out back, behind the salvage yard, you practice shooting, knife work, anything that might keep you alive next time something supernatural decides to rip your world apart. Bobby doesn’t know, and that’s for the best.

Today, though, training takes a backseat. Bobby’s got visitors—Sam and Dean Winchester. You’ve heard the name before, caught pieces of conversation, but this is the first time they’ve come around since you landed here. They’re in the living room now, voices low and steady, talking about a case. You, however, are still in the bathroom, finishing up, completely unaware that you’re about to walk straight into the next chapter of your life.