A/N: Didn't like how the chapter turned out the first time so I fixed it. The story's still horribly unbeta-ed but it works...right!

Two days passed without a single word uttered between Deanna and her dad. A trip that normally took about a day, Tulsa, Oklahoma to Farmer's Branch, Texas, took 2 and a half, thanks to the numerous pit stops made by both parties so Deanna could either, refill her water bottle, go to washroom, or empty the contents of her already empty stomach after the throat irritation got to be too much to handle.

With each stop the evil stares Dean directed at Sam increased in duration and degree, until Sam could take it no longer and exploded. "What, Dean? What? What is it?"

Dean studied his brother's face for a while before speaking. "What happened to you back in that room?"

All of Sam's anger seemingly drained from his body as he bowed his head and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know. I'm standing in the doorway with 3 coffee cups and the next thing I know I'm on the floor with a bloody nose and you two are across the room with wide eyes staring at me like I had murdered someone."

"Well you were damn close to doing so." Dean snorted angrily. "I heard her collarbone crack, Sam. I knew that if you had broken that then she had no protection against you whatsoever. She would dead within a matter of minutes. You were crushing her throat, man. I'm amazed she still has the ability to ta-"

"I saw her throat, Dean, I'm not blind!" He gripped his head in his hands and clenched his eyes shut. Since that day he had spent all of his waking hours - all forty-eight – desperately trying to purge the awful visual that had plagued him since waking up on the motel's floor from his battered mind. With every twist and turn of his head he saw Deanna. The pain in her eyes. Her throat and the hand shaped bruises that surrounded it.

She had taken to wearing turtle necks and long sleeved shirts, but none of it helped. He still had the claw marks and caked on blood on his knuckles, wrists, and hands. He still knew what lay behind the shirts. He still knew what he had done to her. No one could just wash a memory like that away with a quick cup of stale coffee and a pat on the shoulder. Why should he be any different?

Deanna appeared suddenly in front of the car and slammed her hand against the hood of the Impala and in the loudest voice she could manage, she growled. "We have to get there. NOW!"

Both Winchester men simultaneously exited the Impala and dove to Deanna's side. "What happened, De?" Dean spoke, but Sam was the one that made contact with her, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't say he was surprised when Deanna all but ignored his existence and turned to Dean. "It killed again...another baby...I know..." she shook her head and grimaced."I can't tell you how I know, but---I just know."

The brothers shared a quick look before Dean turned back to Deanna. "Your dad will drive the Stingray, De. You ride in the car with me, have a few hours of sleep in the back-" "But I-" "I can see it in your eyes, Deanna. You have a shit poker face, just like your dad. When you're in pain it shows." He ignored the pained grimace that slowly crossed his Sam's face as the words "in pain" slipped from his lips.

As soon as Deanna knew she had been found out she let her eyes glaze over. She slowly made her way to the back door of the Impala and opened the door, and in passing informed the two still standing near the front of the car that "It did it."

The two turned toward her. "What?"

For the first time since the situation in the motel room, Deanna settled her attention directly on her dad's form and continued. "It hurt me...it wanted to stop me from coming." She turned to Dean. "Dad didn't do anything." a steely expression suddenly blossomed on her face and she snarled. "Let's go get this son of a bitch." Then got in the car and slammed the door.

Sam and Dean shared a quick smile before each turned towards their respective side of the Impala. No words were shared simply because Dean's "No chick flick moments" rule was still strictly enforced. The only reason it would ever and could ever be ignored was if one of them, greater good forbid, had contracted some life threatening, flesh eating disease and only had moments to live. Dean had come up with said rule almost 24 years ago and still followed it as strictly as some people followed the Gospels in the bible. He always had and probably always would. Some things never died.