Chapter Fifty-two.

Oh, my little Becca Backers! I am so very sorry for the wait! I know it has been a billion and a half years, and you've all been so patient in waiting, and I owe you so much. So much. I do apologize, and I will do my absolute best to not make this too long, but I do think you deserve an explanation.

With holidays, and school, and the numerous piles of medical issues I have going on at the moment, I have just been quite overwhelmed, to tell you the truth. So, since I am on bed rest and unable to sit, I have written this lovely piece for you. I do hope you enjoy it.

A million thanks to those of you who have stuck around and especially to all you new adders! I bow down to you all and owe you so much. Seriously. It's all you, guys. I cannot express my thanks enough. You all mean so much to me. I appreciate and love each of you. Forrealsies.

Extra thanks to the fabulous sweetkiwi604, Jenmm31, and SPNxBookworm for their days and days and days of help and dealing with my rants and just being the sweetest people with my medical stuff. They are always there for me, and I really, really love each of you. You're the best.
Be sure to check out their stories (and all the other stories) in my FAVORITES tab! Definitely worth it, I promise.

So, I believe I have addressed everything...

If you have any questions or anything, please, feel free to contact me! While I haven't been SUPER quick on the responses lately, I do try to read and respond! I promise!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I hope you enjoy this chapter!



"I'm free!" I yelled as the doctor turned off his saw and pulled the cast off of my arm. "Ew and I'm extremely gross," I made a face at my arm that was flaky and extra pasty white.

Leaning up against the counter beside the table I was sitting on, Sam chuckled and shook his head, his whole upper body moving. "I'm glad you're finally admitting your problem to a doctor, Bec."

Sticking my tongue out at my brother, he and the doctor laughed at our antics. "That's just your skin –" the doctor began to explain before my eyes widened and I stared at him like he was crazy.

"Just my skin? Doc, if I've got a disease –"

"No, no," he assured me. "It's due to the lack of sun and air and the inability for your skin to shed properly.

Yummy. "Keep talking it up, doc, you're makin' me miss that thing more and more."

The doctor chuckled and then set his saw on the table. "Did you want to keep your cast?"

"Keep it?" I asked, running my finger over my now fully exposed arm and shuddering at the touch as it grossed me out.

"Some people keep them. They take out the waterproof lining and put the fiberglass mold on a shelf, like a souvenir."

I looked at Sam and shook my head when he stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged his shoulders in a sign that he didn't really see it as a bad idea. "No thanks. I have enough souvenirs to last me a lifetime." And by that I mean memories, a photo or two, and scars. Lots and lots of scars.

Looking the teal beastie over, the doctor shook his head. "You know," he stated, "these things are usually riddled with names and well wishes. But yours definitely stands out."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, flexing my fingers and pretending I was Spider-Man for a hot minute.

Looking a little skeptical, the doctor examined the cast closely. "Your friends must not think very highly of you," he offered gently.

What is this man talking about? My friends freaking adore me. And if they don't, they better start. "What?" I yipped, not understanding him while I held my arm up very close to my eyes to inspect.

"Right there," he held the cast up for Sam and me to see and pointed to the single word that sat right along the rim where the finger and thumb holes were. The small, second part of the word looked almost delicate next to the large, bolded, capital letter heading it all. It read, "Bitch"

Sighing, I dropped my arm and looked up at Sam. "My friend had this idea. See, she says that every time someone says, hears, or reads the word 'itch', that then they'll be itchy. And then they're itchy all over. I told her that was dumb. So, she said she was gonna prove me wrong, because her brothers did it to her all the time, so she knew it was true. Well, so Kate wrote it there, so I would see it all the time; and then that night, when I was sleeping, my older brother added the big ass 'B' because 'That way people will know who it is, like a dog tag. I'm just trying to make sure you wear your personality on your sleeve, Bec. No one likes a liar,'."

The doctor's eyes shifted over to Sam who rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Our other brother did that. I actually like her," he joked with a wink and smirk. I stuck my tongue out at Sam anyway.

Laughing at me when I froze and watched him watching me, the doctor then pointed out a signature. "Good job, space case. Five bucks says this never comes off'." I rolled my eyes at the memory of the signing. I tell ya, I hang out with some of the meanest people. "There's a smudge here, did you spill something?"

"No, supposedly it's a skull and crossbones," I told him as he held the spot in question up for me. "Apparently writing on it is 'too cliché and I'm not gonna write 'get well' when I know you're just gonna break something else in two days. You're the clumsiest person I know' and then it goes on from there. But she's no artist, so it looks like a smushed up light bulb and sticks really," I explained as I handed the cast back over to him.

"What about this one?" the doctor continued. "'I told you to be careful. You never li –' Well, it just turns into a line from there."

"Yeah, I pulled my arm back before she could finish. I don't need her lectures both on my arm and over the phone. And I was getting annoyed with their "sympathy"."

"And this large one over here?" He moved right along to the long passage that took up most of the one half. Benefit of only having five people to sign your long lasting bandages. "Is that Latin?"

"I needed to memorize some stuff, okay?" I bit, losing my patience very quickly with this guy. Geez, are we really going to go through the back story to every signature.

"Relax," Sam cut in, pushing himself off the counter and coming to stand beside me with a hand clasped on my shoulder. "Is there anything she needs to do now with her arm?"

The doctor set aside the cast and grabbed a stapled set of papers. "Here are a few exercises that will help strengthen your arm. If you do them a couple times a day for the next few months, you should be right as rain."

After going through the exercises, we were finally able to leave. I was flexing my hand and moving my wrist around like it was a brand new thing I'd never had before. "I look gross," I told Sam as I touched my arm and watched flakes of skin fall.

Chuckling, Sam held the door open for me. "I'll help you do those exercises," he announced.

"You mean you're going to force me to do things I don't want to do," I answered, looking up at him.

"Becca," Sam said warningly with a hard look in his eye.

"Calm down, Sadie," I winked, earning a glare. Oh, he knows I'm right. Sometimes I think he only ever agreed to me meeting up with my friends because she was, as he says, 'the only logically sound one'. Whatever. It's not like Sadie has the best of luck from stopping me from doing things.

Continuing our bickering, we walked to the motel's attached diner and found Dean, who didn't even look up at us. "What'd the doc say?" he questioned, shoveling food into his face. Disgusting. Holding my freed arm up to show him, my eyes widened when he choked and almost spit his food into the napkin. "Jesus, I'm trying to eat here. Put that deformed thing away."

Falling into the seat across from him, I rolled my eyes. "That must be the charm that makes the ladies swoon."

"I'm charming," he bit back through a mouth full of scrambled eggs.

"Clearly," I responded, making a face of disgust.

You know, as a kid, I don't remember participating in a whole lot of Halloween traditions. Well, Americanized ones anyway. I didn't really do the whole "dress up" thing like the other kids. I didn't go ask strangers for candy, because we trusted next to no one, and besides it's hard to go room to room when you're not allowed to leave your room. I didn't pretend to haunt things, instead, I hunted the haunting. Whoa, that could almost be a tongue twister. I didn't go that route to try and scare children – although now, looking back – I may have had the best advantage of doing so. But now? At twenty-three? Holy crap. Never have I played dress up and involved myself with strangers – candy providing ones or not – so much in my life. Still hunt the hauntings, though, so I mean… not everything has changed…. I don't like change.

Today I was playing the part of "inspector" while Sam and Dean were "alarm company technicians". Complete with tool box props, don't ya know. Going from zero to all out in way too little of a time frame.

"All right, guys, this is the place," Sam told us as we continued to walk away from the car and towards the apartment building across the street. I shook my head at his comment. Of course this was the place. Why in the hell else would we have come here? For shits and grins? There are way better things I could be doing with my time. What a boob.

"You know, I've gotta say us three did just fine without these stupid costumes, Sam. I feel like a high school drama dork," Dean complained before smiling as a thought crossed into his mind.. "Hey, Becs, what was that play he did?"

"Our Town," I answered automatically. I would never forget watching Sam do that play. I'd been so proud of him. He was so excited, and had been talking about it for so long… It was one of the few times we were actually in a town long enough for him to do something like that. He felt like part of a crowd. He had been happy. I would never forget Sam being genuinely happy like that.

"Yeah. You were good, Sammy, it was cute."

Sam was not as amused as I was, laughing at the way Dean had said it. But Sam was good. He was great. I feel like he can't be bad at things. "Look," Sam cut off my giggles and Dean's prideful look. "You wanna pull this off or not?"

Pulling at the neck of my new, white, button-up blouse, I groaned, "I do," I told him. "I wanna pull these clothes off. Especially these stupid pants. And this shirt is tight. I feel constricted. I can't…breathe," I ended dramatically, gaining looks. "Plus, this jacket is weird. I don't like it."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back towards Sam as we continued forward. "I'm just saying', these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?"

"Whose?" Sam and I asked at the same time. Since when did we get paid?

"Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?" Dean remarked.

"I mean, it's not rocket science or brain surgery… and all you do is check the yes box, so…"

"Shut up."

Sam had pretty much blown off Dean's comment and look, and continued to head straight to the land lord's office to explain who we were. And oh man, this lady didn't seem to think we were too good of a company as she eyed us from her door that was propped open with a slippered foot. Don't hate on me lady.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam politely told her as she led us to the victim's apartment.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…" she explained as we followed her into the apartment. All right. There's the unnecessary inspector hint. Stopping beside her as I passed through the door frame, I saw large spots of blood on the carpet. Like, all over. It was a mess. "You guys said you were with the alarm company?" she questioned, looking to me.

"Yes," I answered with a nod, stepping further into the room and avoiding the many blood puddles that had sunk into and stained the carpeting.

"And you're an inspector?" she eyed me with an upraised brow as I slowly walked around the edge of the blood and tried to figure out if it maybe said something.

"That's right," Dean cut in. "We wanted our own inspection for insurance purposes."

Raising my brows and smiling at the obviously judgmental hag, I whipped out a pen and pad of paper. "Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man." My mouth fell at the landlady's comment and I slowly and unknowingly moved my hands up to my boobs.

Sam cleared his throat, gaining my attention, and causing me to look down to see that each of my hands was cupping a boob. Dropping my hands and feeling my cheeks heat up – I tried to play it off like it hadn't just happened. Even if I do randomly touch my boobs multiple times on the daily. "Well, that's why we're here. To see what when wrong and stop it from happening again," Sam explained to her.

"Now, ma'am, you found the body?" I questioned as I went to stand beside Sam, notepad and pen at the ready.


"Right after it happened?" I continued, pretending to be writing. I was drawing a picture instead. So far, it was a flower. And a very, very bad bunny. Like, poorly drawn, I mean. Not bad like, evil or needing punishment… or if you're like Dean, not sexual… Great, now I just pictured a bunny dressed in crazy leather. Which seems a little wrong… since bunnies and cows are animals. Man, I could go for a burger right now. Ugh, these pants are already cutting into my stomach. I should definitely cut back on being a fatty… but food is so freaking tasty.

Shaking her head, "No", the lady answered, causing me to jump and eye her with a bit of fear. I'd completely forgotten I was sort of in the middle of a conversation with her. "Few days later. Meredith's work called – she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell."

Looking from the lady to the blood spots on the floor, I scrunched up my face. Seeing where the larger pools were – I tried to imagine the way Meredith could have been laying. And then the smell. "Oh grody," I groaned when I envisioned it.

The lady nodded in agreement. "Any windows open? And sign of a break-in?" Dean asked inspecting the door pretty closely.

"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in," she explained, causing him to turn from the door and nod his head before setting the toolbox down on the ground.

"And the alarm was still on?" Dean pressed.

"Like I said, bang-up job on your company's doin'," the lady bit.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed some hair behind my ear. This lady had a mega attitude. A very unnecessary attitude if you asked me. "Did anyone check the building's wiring? I mean, this place is kinda old. Maybe the lines leading to the alarm are faulty or something?" I posed. And it's plausible. It's not like this is the friggen Taj Mahal or anything. Man, that landlady did not like my idea. If she could have murdered me, she would have. But she needs to wipe that look off her face. Otherwise it's gonna freeze like that… holy crap. What if that WAS her face, already frozen? Poor lady.

Then, just as the lady stepped up to say something else to me – which I was more than prepared for – Dean spoke, catching her off guard. "You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of a struggle?"

The lady shook her head, eyes never leaving mine. "Everything was in perfect condition – except Meredith."

"And what condition was Meredith in?" I asked, just as tightly as she did. You wanna go, lady? Let's go. The minute she began speaking and looked away, I began to wander around the room, checking for, well… anything. Including a easy way to tackle her if necessary.

"Meredith was all over," the lady sighed, rubbing her neck with a hand. "In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been some kind of whack job…" I turned to see the lady staring at the blood on the floor. You could just tell she was remembering the scene. And unless you've ever seen a scene like the one she's remembering, I don't think you'll ever understand that look in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't wanna tackle her as bad. "But I tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it."

I caught Dean's eyes and mouthed out "werewolf" as the thought immediately entered my mind. I mean, wild animal, pieces of the lady everywhere, no sign of anything? Those things are pretty stealthy. Makes sense, minus the undetermined entrance. But we could work on that later. Yeah, it could totally be a werewolf. Unless you're thinking like Dean. Which is probably why he gave me an expression that clearly read "stop thinking, you're a moron". Well excuuuuuuuuuse me.

"Ma'am," Sam asked the lady, "do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once-over?"

Looking down once more at the floor, she sighed. "Oh, well, go right ahead. Knock yourself out."

"So a killer walks in and out of the apartment – no weapons, no prints, nothin'," Dean was saying as I walked back into the apartment from "following up with a few last questions to the landlady", to see him holding the EMF.

"I'm tellin' ya. The minute I saw that article, I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam responded as the EMF went super crazy.

Well dang, if I didn't think this was our thing before, I definitely do now. Pushing myself up into a standing position from where I was crouched next to the couch, I sighed as I stretched my body out. "Seeing as how that thing is screaming like it is, I'm gonna have to go with, obviously we agree. I mean, duh," I gestured to the device that made a loud scream in Dean's hand.

"So, you talked to the cops?" Sam asked our brother.

"Uh, yeah," Dean smirked, causing me to immediately roll my eyes. You could just tell he'd done more than just talk to some cops. Dude had picked up a chick. Or at least attempted to. And now we were going to have to hear the grotesque tale.

Leaning against the window sill and crossing my arms, I lowered my brow at him. "I swear to God, dude, if you say something unimportant about some girl –"

"I spoke to Amy," he cut me off with a wink. "She's, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

Sticking my tongue on the underside of my upper teeth, I threw my head back, just knowing I would regret the question. But that didn't stop me. Dean and I were just at that level with each other. You play wing woman for your brother a couple times and bam, you're actually bonding. "How perky was she Dean?" I breathed, not actually caring, but knowing he wanted someone to ask.

"Oh, she was perky," he grinned, his eyes almost twinkling at how perky she apparently was. He looked almost like the pervy guy who isn't allowed at high schools.

"Yeah?" Sam questioned, clearly annoyed at the subject causing Dean to drool. "What else you find out?" Sam tried to make Dean continue to the point, rolling his own eyes.

Shoving off the window and going to stand next to Sam who was impatiently waiting, I huffed out a – what I thought was damn near silent, "People think I'm perky, too, ya know."

Except it wasn't silent apparently, because the next thing I know, I've got an overgrown human staring me down. Well, not staring staring. Like, he didn't seem pissed per se. Not like Dean. Sam was more… surprised? He seemed taken off guard. Almost as if he didn't understand what I meant. "What? What people?" he quickly snipped, eyeing me up and down with raised, confused brows. His face made my mouth fall open as I didn't understand. Wasn't it obvious? Was he really still 'you're my little sister, you're not allowed to be perky'?

Finding myself unable to answer him, I just tilted my head and looked to where Dean was definitely drifting off further as a deep smile played on his lips. "Well," he started, almost entranced and dreamy like as he recalled what happened. Either way, it was grossing me out, and I looked at him like he was a moldy piece of cheese. And not the moldy cheese people eat, which by the way – is gross. Who eats mold? That's so wrong. So wrong. "She's a Sagittarius," Dean continued, causing my face of disgust to deepen. "She loves tequila. I mean – wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo –"

"Dean!" Sam yelled, cutting him off and bringing him back to the present.

"What?" he jumped, not sure why he was being scolded. He had to look around the room a little bit, like he couldn't remember where he was or what was going on around him. "Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Uh, nothin' we don't already know."

"Well, other than Amy's apparently got a great, perky rack," I shrugged before stepping away from the window and slowly walking around the "outer area" of blood on the ground.

I could practically hear the rolling of Sam's eyes as the huff escaped his throat. Dean was reminiscing again, evident by the tone in his voice before he caught himself and shifted to 'pain in my ass mode' once more. "Actually, smart ass, there is one thing they're keepin' out of the papers." Turning to look at him, I raised a brow, signaling he should continue his point. "Meredith's heart was missing."

"Her heart," I posed, like he was joking. I mean, he was joking, right?

Looking at me like I was an idiot, he nodded his head once. "Yeah. Her heart."

We all looked at each other and then the blood on the ground. Her heart? "So, what do you think did it to her?" Sam questioned, causing all of us to look at one another once more.

"Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack," Dean reminded. "Maybe it was a… werewolf?"

"Son of a bitch, that's what I said and you told me I was dumb for even thinking it!" I immediately attacked. What kind of shenanigans are these? Did that bum not completely shut down my werewolf theory less than an hour ago? What an idea stealer!

Getting upset, Dean scowled. "You were dumb for thinking it. You had nothing to back up your evidence before."

"Yes I did," I argued quickly, ignoring Sam as he tried to cut into the conversation.

"Oh, so you knew her heart was missing then? Because until now, nothing else said werewolf," he bit back, blowing off Sam as well.

Not to be completely put off and run over, Sam stepped between Dean and I and stopped us. "Guys, it's not a werewolf," he yelled over our continued disagreement. "The lunar cycle's not right." Giving me an "I told you so" look, Dean ducked as I chucked my pad of paper at his head. "Plus," Sam continued, yanking the pencil from my grasp before I could aim it, "if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit."

Seeing that Dean was back to studying the blood on the carpet, I stuck my tongue out at him as I snatched back my pencil. Walking past both of them, I collected my pad of paper off the floor just in time for Dean to smack the back of his hand against my upper arm. "See if you can find any masking tape," he told me all calm and normal like we hadn't just been arguing about this. What. A. Boob.

But, because I am the wonderfully perfect little sister that I was raised to be, I found him his masking tape. And tried to throw it at the back of his head. Except Sam caught it and handed it to him all nice like. Traitor. With the tape, Dean started taking strips and connecting areas of the blood, like it was connect the dots or something. The guy's brilliant, because there is no way I would have thought to do that. So, kudos and extra points to him. When he was satisfied that he'd connected all areas to their friends, he stood up and stepped back to where I was trying to figure out just what he'd made. It was a circle, with two lines coming off of its sides… well, like, okay, since a circle doesn't actually have sides, imagine that there was a line cutting right through the center of the circle, extending past the edges, but now get rid of the line IN the circle. So just the extensions are there. So, okay, there's the circle, with its extensions, right? And then, at the ends of the extensions, were these curves. Almost like they were going to go around the circle and connect to the other extension to form an outer circle. But they only went about half way around. Yeah. The circle, extensions, and the curves.

"Ever see that symbol before?" Sam asked out loud as we all stared at it.

"Never," Dean answered, shaking his head.

"Me either," Sam mimicked.

I continued to look at the symbol until I felt both their eyes boring into my head. Looking up, I scrunched my face. "Oh, yeah, 'cause I'm the one who knows random symbols. What, are you new?"

"Thanks, boys," I smiled as I walked out of the men's bathroom and smiled at the two guys who agreed to watch the door for me. Both smiled back and eyed me once more before saying it was no problem with a wink or two. Smirking, I held my head high and pranced right on by that long line that was still unmoving outside the girls' bathroom. Ha. Tell me 'honey, some of us actually care about what we look like, so it's more important that we get into the bathroom first' before skipping me again, chiclet. I hope you stab yourself in the eyeball with your eyeliner. Winking at the brunette who had shoved herself in front of me in the line, I chuckled as I saw her legs crossed and the light bounce in her stance as she impatiently waited.

"Wait," she called to the guys that had stood watch for me. "Can I go in there, too?"

After looking at each other, the boys scoffed and walked inside the bathroom with a quick blow off. Word travels fast when you're a skank face don't it?

Either way, I win.

Except not in the dry hands department. The boys hand blow dryer was broken, so I had to resort to shaking them out. I was gonna have to grab a napkin quick. Nodding at Sam who had a clear view of the hall leading to the bathrooms, I silently assured him I was all right, and then smiled when I saw Dean hold up a napkin.

"All right, yeah," Dean chuckled waving the napkin just in front of my face.

"Thanks," I beamed, taking it from his hand and wiping my cold, wet ones with it.

"Hey!" Dean growled, watching me ball up the now damp napkin and shove it in my half empty glass of water.

Fixing my shirt, I looked at him, confused. "What?" I asked, not understanding.

Sam just smirked and shook his head at me, causing me to not understand even more. "You mind doin' a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?"

"Dean doesn't have an upstairs brain," I jested to Sam, earning a flicking of water in my face from my oldest brother.

"Look," Dean started, wiping his hand on his jeans and then placing his elbow on the table to point at Sam and me. "There's nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so – what about that symbol, you find anything?"
Sighing, Sam shook his head and pushed the drink I was messing with across the table. He does know I'm twenty-three, right? The hell. "Nope, nothing. It wasn't in Dad's journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess."

Nodding his head, but seeming a little disappointed, Dean turned to hear my answer. Reaching over and attempting to grab the drink that Sam had suddenly found a desire for; I scowled as Sam held it up and took a sip. Turning to Dean's raised brows and waiting face I crossed my arms and said, "Bro, I took a nap. Hop off."

"Well, regardless," he turned to Sam after giving me that disapproving big brother look, "there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?"

"Right," Sam nodded, steeping the glass on the table but keeping a hold on it. "Yeah." Letting go of the glass and shooting me a look, he then whipped out a newspaper clipping. Who just carries that stuff around with them? "His name was, uh – his name was Ben Swardstrom," he squinted at the piece, looking for the information. "Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Sam deal – the door was locked, the alarm was on," he explained as he handed the paper over to Dean for him and me to look at.

Scanning the gray paper, I took it from Dean's hands. "Is there any connection between the two of them?" I asked.

"Not that I can tell – I mean, not yet, at least," Sam defended his lack of findings. Now it was my turn to shoot him a look. No expects you to have all the answers all the time, Sam. Calm down. "Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common – they were practically from different worlds."

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is?"

"The bartender's phone number. Which is now swimming in your water glass," Dean shot me another disapproving look. Getting a look on my face, I started to stay something, only to have Dean hold up a hand and look at Sam, a little surprised. And I can see why. Sam had a shocked look on his face. His eyes were bugging out and his mouth was even a little bit pursed. It was like he wanted to say something but couldn't find out how to do it without the actual whatever he needed was in front of him. He used to do that when we were little. Get that face and then couldn't talk until he had the papers or book in front of him to start his ramble – like it was some sort of launching pad for his spew of info. "What?" Dean and I asked as the same time, Dean searching the bar, me staring at Sam. Instead of answering us, Sam pushed off his seat and bumped right past me, not even saying sorry. "Sam?" we questioned together again, watching him walk further into the crowd until he stopped at a blonde woman, causing her to turn around.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Dean. "Great," I started, leaning back against the table and crossing my arms over my chest. "Now both of you are pervs. I'm the only decent human left in the group. The only one who doesn't – "

"Yeah, you pay for that drink?" Dean asked, sipping his own beer while indicating to my drink that had been confiscated by my twin. "Pull your shirt down a little more there, Tits Magee, I don't think you're being decent enough," he finished, eyeing me.

Giving him my un-approving eyes, I purposely reached my hand into the cut of my shirt and pulled up my boobs in my bra, causing them to appear larger and further pushed up towards my chin. Yeah, you can bet that earned an eye roll like no other. Good thing both of us knew the other wasn't completely serious. And it was also beneficial that both of us knew that if it came down to it, those puppies would get tucked away and a giant brother wall would appear if necessary. I can handle some crap, but it's nice having the wall there, too.

Sighing, I looked over to where Sam had disappeared, and my jaw dropped as I saw him take the girl in a hug. What the hell? Does he really have that many friends throughout the country? "Dean! Do you see that? He's hugging her! Why is he hugging her? Does he know her? What's going on? Ew, Dean!" I slapped him with the back of my hand repeatedly, surprised and almost a little anxious about what was happening to Sam. "He knows her, how does he know her?"

Grumbling and swatting my hand away, Dean turned on his seat to look. "Bec," he growled before locating Sam's location, "I've seen as much as you have. What makes you think I know something? Who do I look like? Yoda?"

Looking at him and then shrugging, I turned to face him. "I mean, you're just as ugly and you're English is just as good, so…"

Glaring and throwing one of my own ice cubes at me, Dean finished his beer and wiped his hand over his mouth while setting the bottle on the table. Eyeing me up and down and rolling his eyes once more, he playfully shoved me to the side, causing me to stumble as he walked off towards Sam. Straightening myself out and growling at where Dean's back now faced me I grabbed my drink and finished it before heading off after my brothers.

"…what's-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar," I heard the short haired blonde telling Sam as I came to stand next to Dean.

"Who?" Sam questioned, clearly smiling a little bit at the interaction with the girl. God, what a boob.

Smiling at my twin, the girl leaned back in her chair. "Oh, it doesn't matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while."

Hearing Dean clear his throat, I looked up at him in wonder and watched as his face clouded with hurt pride as he was ignored. I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face when his mouth dropped and his brows shot up a bit. He looked at me, shocked. I think probably more at Sam than this girl. "Ha, use your words, Dean. Watch," I told him, quietly. "Sam?" I questioned with just enough curiosity in my voice to tell him that he should probably introduce his blonde friend now.

Would you believe these two ignored me?!

"You're from Chicago?" That's right. Sam just moved right along as if I didn't even say anything. As if I wasn't even standing there. Since when does Sam ignore me? I do not approve.

Shaking her head, but smiling deeply, the blonde didn't even bat an eye toward Dean or me. "No, Massachusetts – Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

I don't like her. Nope. Just the way she said that. This girl is at creeper status. We need a rescue team in here for the overgrown puppy. "Dean," I whispered, nudging him. "I don't like her."

Dean shrugged me off as Sam smiled back with, "Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again."

Oh gag me. Were these two really flirting? Gross. I don't want to see this. "Well, I'm glad you were wrong," the blonde replied, causing my face to scrunch at the sight. I feel dirty. I don't know why I don't like watching this. This is wrong. I was trying to get the smell of 'wrong' out of my nose as Dean cleared his throat even louder. And then it happened. "Dude, cover your mouth," the blonde snapped with venom, turning to look at Dean with disgust.

Oh no this trick did not just do that. "Excuse me?" I questioned, raising my brow and cocking a hip out while I tipped my head in front of Dean to stare her head on. "And just who are you? You don't know him, or me, you better –"

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg," Sam started, looking offended.

"Meg?" I sneered, glaring up at him. "You're sorry Meg?" What in the hell? "Why are you sorry Meg? She's the one all –"

Sam shot me an angry look that told me to knock it off and then spoke over me. "This is, uh – this is my brother, Dean, and my sister, Becca," he explained. This Meg chick's brows shot so far up in the air, I thought they would fly off her forehead.

"These are your siblings?" she asked, almost seeming to choke on the words. Is it really so hard to believe we're his siblings? I looked angrily over to see Dean smiling and quickly slapped the back of my hand against his arm.

"Don't smile at her. We don't like her."

Looking almost guilty, Sam looked at Dean and me before rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "Yeah," he sighed. Definitely guilty.

Cockily stretching out a hand and gaining back every ounce of confidence, Dean shot Meg his "smirk" and waited for her to greet him. "So you've heard of me?" he posed.

Eyeing his hand and then his face, Meg's brows lowered drastically and angled angrily over her eyes. "Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Both of you," she growled, shooting me a glare. "Nice," she turned back to Dean, "the way you treat your brother like luggage." Shock ran through me and I turned to see Dean was just as surprised by her words.

"Sorry?" Dean managed to get out, apparently struggling with the situation himself.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants? Stop dragging him over God's green earth?" Meg continued. "And you," she began attacking me. "The burden. You know, keeping secrets from your brother isn't going to fix your broken relationship. Maybe if you had been a little more honest with him, he would have been there to save you that night, too."

My whole body froze; breath, blood, and everything inside of me. Dropping open without any control from my brain, my mouth hung there, unsure of how to pronounce any words. She knew. She freaking knew. Everything I'd told Sam, everything I specifically said was a secret, she knew. He told her. He spilled to her what I could barely even spill to him. And here I had been, stupidly thinking we were back to being okay. "You told her?" I cried, gaining attention from people around the bar. Dean was already putting a hand up and doing his best to hold me back.

Sam stood in front of Meg, holding his hands on her shoulders to keep her sitting. "Meg, it's all right," he quietly told her as my eyes widened and then immediately narrowed.

"Meg?" I sneered, lurching forward, only to be stopped by the wall I call Dean. "You're worried about her?"

Squirming against the hold Dean was putting on me, I was pushing his hands off of me the best I could. "Okay," Dean struggled, fighting me. "We're gonna go now." Trying to get around my brother, I was then lifted up and my feet were dangling in the air. Stretching forward and attempting to scratch out Sam's betraying throat, I saw Meg stand up, looking like she was ready to fight back.

I couldn't control Dean as he started to walk away. All I could do was continue to struggle against his shoulder as I tried to continue to fight my way to Sam, to attack him.

"Sam, I'm sorry," I heard Meg telling him as Dean pushed us through the crowd. "It's just – the way you told they treat you…..if it were me, I'd kill them."

"You wouldn't even get close enough to plan an attack, you slimy blonde bitch!" I yelled as Dean marched angrily for the door.

As I was carried further away, I heard Sam apologize once more to Meg, saying, "It's all right. They mean well."

Why is it that every time I get into some thing with Sam, I'm the one who ends up getting separated from the situation? It's because I'm youngest, isn't it? And this is bogus, because I'm almost pretty sure that I'm not the one who caused it this time. That Meg did. But, because I'm the little kid on time-out, I was stuck here, leaning against the door of the Impala while Dean went to go and drag Sam out of the bar. Apparently he was sick of hearing me blow up about Sam telling Meg what had happened to me. Maybe he was just fed up on his own, because, he looked pretty pissed as I went on. His jaw kept getting tighter and eventually he just said, "Stay here" before stalking off.

Watching my brothers clamber down the stairs, I couldn't hear everything that was said, but I glared anyway. I was so pissed off right now. Just wait until he gets over here. Not moving from my spot against the front door, I just continued to glare as Dean and Sam stopped in front of me. "What, were you bitchin' about me to some chick?" Dean finished growling as they stood just inside my death glare.

Sam sighed and ran a hand on the back of his neck while looking away for a second. "Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen –"

"Uh, it's actually damn important, Sam. Damn important. What were you thinking?" I snapped, furthering my death glare. Who was I kidding. This was pointless. He stood up for her and didn't even think twice about her attacking us in there. He wouldn't care what I thought. Not taking my eyes off of Sam as the angry thoughts bubbled up, I shoved myself off of the spot where I was leaning against the car. Turning, I reached out to open the door when a hand grabbed my upper arm. Yanking it out of my brother's hold, I spun and held up a finger with a menacing look. "Don't touch me," I snarled to him, causing him to look at me in shock.

"Bec, come on," he tried, not really sure what it was that was wrong. He held out his hand to me again, only to drop it when I looked at it.

"Don't tell me to come on, Sam. If you wanna tell someone something, go find Meg," Sam stopped as I opened my door and went to get in the car. "What?" he questioned, not seeming to understand.

"You told her. You told her. The one thing," I had now spun and was in his face, or like, his chest, but I was glaring up at him and there was a very pointed finger jabbing into his chest, "that I told you was a secret. Did you forget how hard it was for me to even spill my guts to you? I freaking broke down. And I don't just do that. Do you understand that? It broke me to tell you what happened all those years ago, and you just took it and blabbed it to some complete stranger!"

Stepping back and looking at me with pain and agony in his eyes, Sam's voice broke. "It's not like that, Becca. I didn't mean –"

"To tell her? You didn't mean to just spill your guts to her in some bus stop in Indiana because you were having a 'bad day'? What, did you think that you being gone was some peachy time for us?" I stepped up and shoved him back a few steps, only to have him not fight back. "Because it wasn't. But we didn't go telling the world our problems. Because when we have problems with one another," I shoved him again, "we either work it out, "and again, "or we bottle that shit up." And again. "We sure as hell don't go telling secrets to people for them to judge us with." Shoving Sam back once more, he stumbled and had to put a hand out to catch his tall frame before it went crumpling to the ground.

"That's enough, Bec," Dean simply barked, standing back where we'd left him. I turned to look over my shoulder at him. His head was tipped back as he watched the fight unfold in front of him, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He wasn't even stopping me.

Breathing deeply, I looked back to my twin who was looking at me in horror. "I didn't even tell my friends right away, Sam. That's how big of a deal it is," I spoke as calmly as I could, trying to level my breathing and anger before I went too far. "It took me over a year. And you just told that," I half pointed back to the bar, dropping my hand because of all the loss of enthusiasm and care, " – her…. Without a second thought or any concern for how it would make me feel." I shook my head and looked at my feet.

A hand clapped onto my shoulder and I didn't look up to see Dean standing behind me. I knew it was him, and I knew that nothing else would be said about my problem with Sam for the time being. It was going to just hang there, swallowing us up and making everything uncomfortable. "Well, is there any truth to what she's saying?" Dean cleared his throat, his eyes dark and piercing as they stared at Sam.

Not sure how to react, Sam opened his mouth and shook his head, looking back and forth between me and Dean. "What?"

Taking his hand off my shoulder and standing directly beside me, his hands back in his pockets and his stance defensive, Dean continued. "Am I keeping you here against your will?" Sam shook his head, giving Dean a look that questioned his words. "And what about her? You embarrassed about having her for a sister?" My stomach knotted and I felt weak at Dean's words. It hadn't even been my fault. I had to take a deep breath to try and stabilize myself. A warm and heavy comfort washed through me as Dean's arm draped around my shoulders. A comfort that I was finding myself to heavily rely on lately.

"No, of course not, Dean," Sam's voice broke again, looking at us with what I swear were tears in his eyes when he saw my face.

Sam barely got all the words out before Dean chomped his own over them. "You don't talk about her like that, Sam. Got it? You ever tell anyone about what happened to her again, or say anything about that night, or anything else I don't wanna hear you say about it, and I'll put in the hospital myself. Understand?"

"I… I'm sorry. I never meant –" Sam started to say, before I tightened my lips and looked away from his eyes. Not finishing his sentence he took a deep breath and did what we Winchesters do best. He buried it and moved on. "I – I think there's somethin' strange going on here, guys. Like, maybe even a lead."

Huffing and dropping his arm from around my shoulder, Dean looked at Sam with tired eyes. "Why do you say that?" our eldest brother asked.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. An now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know, random coincidence," Dean mused, shrugging his shoulders.

"It happens," I bit quietly, still coming down from the anger I held.

Sam looked at me once more before continuing with much less zest. "Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

Hearing a chuckle from beside me, I looked over to see Dean smirking as he rubbed a hand up and down his chin. "Well, I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" Sam rolled his eyes while mine narrowed, and then Sam laughed while I scoffed. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?" Dean fully laughed as Sam because serious with my immediate response.

"Wait, why are you cheering for Team Meg? We don't like her, remember? She's a bitch. I am not approving of this."

"Do me a favor," Sam moved right past my comment. "Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor."

"What are you gonna do," Dean posed as I started to interject and received a growl from my brother.

Sam looked back at the bar before catching our glances. "I'm gonna watch Meg."

Dean laughed turning to look at the car with a grin on his face. "Yeah, you are."

"Oh gross," I groaned spinning on my heel and stalking off to the car. "You're both perverts!" I shouted before slamming my previously opened door shut and then walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.

Settling myself in, I clicked my belt into place just as Dean sat beside me.

A small silence settled over us as he turned on the ignition and moved the car forward. "You know he's sorry, right?"

"He always is."

Slowly flicking each page to the next, my eyes roamed the random notes that flooded my father's journal while I lied on the couch and leaned my head against the arm. Crossing one ankle over the other, I bent my legs and used them for a back rest for the journal. None of the drawings in here really seemed to match the one on the floor. At least none of the drawings I'd seen so far. Looking over at Dean, I saw him lean back in his chair and hold his phone out in front of his face as it rang.

"Hey," Sam's voice came through the speaker. Kill me.

"Let me guess. You're lurkin' outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?" Dean smirked, shooting me a wink as he spoke. Yeah, he was back to normal. I mean, I pretty much was too, but I was a little more harping on the fact that I was unsure if I was willing to let go what had happened so easily. Sure Dean made his threat that would most definitely probably stand until it actually needed to be enforced; but that was not my point. My point strictly had to do with me and Sam. And I didn't like it.

Closing the journal and pushing off the couch, I threw the journal on the table and walked to the fridge for a bottle of water. "No," I heard Sam snip through the phone immediately. Rolling my eyes as I drank from the bottle, I choked as I heard Dean chuckle at Sam's sore, "Yes."

"Perv," I muttered, recapping my water and sitting at the table across from Dean.

"You've got a funny way of showin' your affection," Dean told him, sliding some papers over for me too look at.

Studying them, I saw that Dean had actually found quite a bit of information on the subject. Not only on this Meg girl, who did in fact exist; but also on the sign. Which actually meant something. "Did you find anything on her or what?" Sam butted, ignoring Dean's smartass comment.

"Sorry, man, she checks out," Dean sighed, leaning forward in the seat and holding his hand out for the paper he'd slid me. "There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?"

Snatching the paper back and balling it up, I glared at Dean. "Hey, what happened to the no need to know business of mister businesses?"

"That's only for you," he answered blatantly.

Widening my eyes I stared at him. What a hypocrite. It's cause I'm a girl, isn't it? "What about the symbols?" Sam continued, pretending our little side conversation hadn't even occurred. "Any luck?"

Holding his hand out once more, I handed over some papers with the drawing etched into the top of it. "Yeah, that I did have some luck with. It's, uh – turns out it's Zoroastrian."

"Wow," I mumbled, looking at more of the research still in my hands. "That's like, really old stuff, Dean."

"Yeah, very, very old school –"

"Like, two thousand years before Jesus old!" I blurted.

Leaning back and shooting me a look, Dean set a hand on his leg. "Hey, yappy, you want to tell him?" Shaking my head, I pulled my legs underneath me as I continued to look through his notes. "It's a sigil for a Daeva."

"What's a Daeva?" I heard Sam ask the same time I did.

"Oh, Bec, you mean you don't know?" Dean teased, receiving the crumpled Meg paper to the forehead.

"Dean," Sam bit, trying to drag him back to the task on hand. "What's a Daeva?"

Kicking the balled paper away from him, he leaned back in the chair again. "It translates to 'demon of darkness'. Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes – kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls."

"I thought hell hounds were like demonic pit bulls," I admitted.

"No, those are hell hounds," Dean answered, rolling his eyes.

"How'd you figure that out?" came Sam's voice, sounding surprised and a little shocked at the amount of information Dean had managed to acquire.

Reaching over and snagging my water, Dean took a sip while looking at the phone he'd deposited on the table with a look. I think it read 'fool, please'. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasin' around here."

A huff-scoff baby left my throat as I snatched my water back from him. "Oh, yeah? Name the last book you read," I threw at him.

Giving me a clearly defeated look, Dean quickly tried to hide it with a different expression. "No, I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?" Laughing, I almost missed Sam's "yeah" through the line. "Shut up," Dean barked, kicking my chair under the table. "Anyway, here's the thing – these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured."

"So," I huffed through my laughs that were still dying out. "So," I lost.

"So someone's controlling it?" Sam asked for me. What a smart cookie, that boy.

Standing up, Dean came to walk around the table and stand behind me. Just as I wiped a tear from the edge of my lashes from laughing so hard, a strong grip wrapped around my mouth – taking me by surprise and cutting off my air supply. "Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos."

"Ew," I groaned into his hand, only to have it come out as, well, not a coherent "ew".

"So, what do they look like?" Sam asked, obviously getting more involved with the case than he had been at the start of the conversation.

"Well," Dean started, tightening his grip as I tried squirming out from underneath him, "nobody knows, but nobody's seen 'em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town. Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?"

I tried groaning once more from behind Dean's hand while Sam snarkily said, "Bite me," with a large hint of venom in his voice.

Reaching for the bottle of water, I uncapped it and threw the bottle backwards, covering Dean in the liquid, causing him to let go of me immediately. "DON'T DO IT SAM, WE DON'T LIKE HER," I yelled as I quickly dodged out of the chair and held the still half empty bottle in front of me as though it were a decent weapon.

"No, bite her," Dean continued to tell him. "Don't leave teeth marks, though – Sam? Are you?" Double checking the time on the phone, Dean dropped it onto the table and faced me. "You're gonna pay for that."

Scoffing, I prepared my stance. "Please. It's just water. You're not sugar, you aren't gonna melt."

With a quick look, Dean charged me, causing a high pitched squeal to escape my throat as I bolted into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" Dean joked to Sam who was back in the room with us after apparently a very interesting confrontation with Meg.

"Do not call her hot. She was evil. We don't like her. Stop forgetting that," I told him as I threw a fry at his face. Oh yeah. Sam had brought me food. I'm starting to maybe like him a little bit more. Until all my food is gone that is.

Sliding past the "hot little Meg" comment, Sam leaned against the wall. "Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing."

Coming to stand next to me, Dean stuck his meaty hand right into my fries and took a handful, regardless of the slaps I was throwing at his oversized fist. "So, Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl," he told me with a nudge to the side before shoveling my food in his face and chuckling around it. I hope you choke, ape face. "And what's the deal with that bowl again?"

Yeah, turns out there was a weirdo bowl that Meg was using when Sam like, I don't know, burst in on her. I wasn't there. But I guess it was like a two way deal. Like a phone. "She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone."

"With who?" I asked around a mouthful of freshly sipped soda. "With the Daeva?"

"No, Dean said those things were savages," he nodded to our brother as Dean grabbed half my burger. You seriously just ate a whole burger, all the bacon they scraped off mine, and onion rings… times two. Two orders of onion rings. Get off of my food! "No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's comin' to that warehouse."

Dean chewed loudly above me as he thought about what Sam was saying. So, that didn't even mean Meg was a higher up. She was just some lackey, which means that we definitely had bigger problems. Snapping the back of his hand against my upper arm, he pointed to a file sitting directly in front of me, and motioned for me to hand it to him. What. A. Bum. Slowly reaching out and exaggerating the slowness of handing it to him, he angrily ripped it from my hands. "Holy crap," Dean grumbled around the burger as he dropped about a quarter of the stolen half back onto my wrapper. This son of a bum.

"What?" I growled, flicking his infected piece of food away from mine.

"What I was gonna tell Sam earlier – I pulled a favor with my," he cleared his throat and got that dreamy look on his face again….ew, "friend, Amy, over at the police department. Turns out she was more than willing to give me her –" he began rambling.

"Focus," I groaned.

Snapping back to reality, Dean flipped open the file. "Right. The complete records of the two victims – we missed something the first time."

"What?" Sam and I snapped, jumping up and coming to see the notes in Dean's hands.

"The first victim, the old man – he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born here. Look where he was born," he told us pointing to the page.

Scanning the paper at his finger, I read it just as the words came out of Sam's mouth. "Lawrence, Kansas."

"Mmhmm," Dean agreed, as he reached around and grabbed the second file from the table. "Meredith, second victim – turns out she was adopted. And guess where she's from.

'Lawrence, Kansas' was printed on the page.

"Holy crap," Sam gasped, falling into the chair across from where I had been sitting.

Taking the file from Dean, I studied it further as they talked. "Yeah," Dean agreed, sitting down in front of my food and just eating it like it was his own.

"I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?" Sam questioned, leaning forward on the table to talk to Dean.

Shrugging and shoveling more fries into his mouth, Dean tipped his head to the side. "I think it's a definite possibility."

But I didn't. "I don't understand," I told them from where I still stood, looking at the files. "What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?"

Continuing to eat my food and drink my soda, Dean shook his head. "Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

Sitting in the third chair at the table, I laid the files in front of me and reached over for my half of the burger, only to receive a slap on the hand from Dean. Is this guy serious? "No, we can't," Sam told him. "We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her."

"I'll tell you one thing," Dean announced, finishing off my burger. "I don't think we should do this alone."

I took one of the weapons bags from Sam as he walked back from the Impala. I was told to go with him and help, but that meant being alone with him and that always means talking and feelings and that is just a big old ball of not happening. So I was waiting at the door while he walked all by his lonesome. Passing through the motel doorway, I looked up and heard Dean leaving what I assumed was as per usual, a message for our dad on the phone. "We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse – it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can," he finished before hanging up.

"Voicemail?" I questioned, dropping the bag on the bed.

"Yeah," Dean answered before looking at everything Sam had collected for the hunt. "Jesus, what'd you get?"

Sam laughed before opening one of the bags. "I ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything," he explained as Dean nodded in agreement. Both dug into the bags and pulled out guns, handing some to me and began loading and checking their own while I stared at mine in my right hand. It felt heavy and weird as it fit much better than it had for the past months that I'd had a cast.

"Big night," Dean announced, watching me.

"Yeah," I mumbled back.

"You nervous?" Sam asked, stopping his loading of the gun for a moment.

I didn't answer. I wasn't so much nervous as I was uncertain. I didn't like this. None of it made sense. The two things that linked the victims together was that they were from Lawrence? There had to be more… It seemed like such a stretch to pin it back to the thing that killed our mom… I wanted more answers. "No," I finally sighed, slowly taking apart the gun and separating the clip from it. "Why, are you?" I looked up to his eyes, more than just that question in my own.

"Well, I am," Dean butted in, grabbing another gun. "This is Bec's first night with two hands again. Now, I know you got lucky with that guy back in Minnesota, but we can't bank on that again. I'm gonna need to see you out shooting at a target again before I let you be my only back up."

"Saved Sam's ass," I bit. "You scared, Sam?"

"No. No way," he shook his head quickly, giving me the complete belief he was pretty much terrified and angry and running strictly on adrenaline of this being related to our own family. It was like his logic was gone completely. Nodding my head, I continued with my gun, finishing it and setting it gently on the bed next to the bag. "God, could you guys imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

No. No I couldn't. There was no way I could ever actually picture myself facing it, because it would mean the end of the search and that meant… well, I didn't know what that meant. But I don't like change, and I don't like uncertainties. And this seemed too easy. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?" Dean told him with a smile.

Sam smiled, grabbing another gun. The idea was clearly exciting him. "I know. I'm just sayin', what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school – be a person again."

Looking up I snapped my eyes immediately to his, causing his smile to immediately disappear. "You wanna go back to school?"

"Uh… yeah, once we're done huntin' the thing."

"Huh," I chirped, giving up on the gun and ammo thing all together at that point.

Dean was eyeing us closely, definitely aware of the rising tension. "Why, is there somethin' wrong with that?" Dean slowly drawled out, clearly trying to gauge my level of upset.

Shaking my head, I pursed my lips, my eyes never leaving my twin. "No. No, it's great. Good for you, Sam. School. You gonna keep in touch this time?"

"Becca," he sighed. "I told you –"

"Yeah, I remember," I stopped him, my eyes lowering back to the guns. I began collecting the finished weapons and began reloading them into the empty duffel.

Silence took over the room before Sam cleared his throat and held out a finished gun for me to take. "What are you guys gonna do when it's all over?"

Leaning back in his chair, Dean looked up for a moment. "It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be somethin' to hunt."

"But there's got to be somethin' that you want for yourselves –"

"I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over," I answered angrily as I shoved another knife into the bag, causing Sam to look at me, and Dean to watch closely again.

Sam stood up, dropping his gun into the bag. "Look, I told you, Bec. I'm gonna be here this time, okay? Whether physically or not. You can count on it. I promised."

Rolling my eyes, I faced away from him as I began to clean up my clothes and other things creating a mess in the area I claimed as my own. "Forgive me for being a little skeptic on just how deep your loyalties lie," I answered.

"I said I was sor –" Sam started before Dean pushed himself up and cut him off.

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere?" at the sound of his voice, my twin and I turned to face him, a little surprised at the outburst. "I mean, why do you think I came and got you from Stanford in the first place?"

Shrugging his shoulders and throwing a hand in the air, Sam slapped it to his leg. "'Cause Dad was in trouble. 'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom. 'Cause you needed a way of wrangling in Becca."

'Wrangling in Becca'? What the hell does that mean? No one has to wrangle me. I'm not cattle. "Yes, that, but it's more than that, man," Dean groaned, stuffing his gun into the bag with a pissed off mood. "You and me, Dad and Bec – I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again."

"Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. For either of you. But things will never be the way they were before," he spilled.

Turning and leaning up against the dresser, I crossed my arms over my chest and crossed one ankle over the other. "I thought things were gonna go back, Sam. I thought you said that you were gonna be this great big brother again that I could rely on. You were gonna come swooping back in and be my best friend and help me and be there for me and that everything was going to be fixed because now I wasn't alone. Now I didn't have just Dean, but I had you, too. Everything was supposed to just pick right back up. Was that all a lie? Huh? Were you just bullshitting me?"

"No, Bec, I just meant –"

"Things could be the same. You just have to try," I threw at him, my tone rising and anger flooding my voice.

Sam finally snapped. He raked a hand through his hair and faced me with an annoyance in his eyes. "I don't want them to be! I'm not gonna live this life forever. Look, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."

"And I'm the one that's changed," I scowled before shoving off the dresser and stalking out the front door with a loud slam.

It was probably extremely stupid of me to hiss as loudly as I did, but Dean's boots on my poor little fingers hurt like a mother trucker. And just why was the queen of the forest crushing my delicate digits? Because we were climbing up an elevator gate. That's right. Climbing. An elevator gate. Tell me how often you guys do that, because it's no picnic. Once Dean released my now throbbing fingers from the pressure of his mammoth sized boot, he wrapped a large paw around my forearms and yanked me up to the floor by him and Sam – who I was still not talking to or touching. Inspecting my fingers and bending them to make sure that they wouldn't need a bunch of little casts on them, I looked up when I heard a female voice chanting something. I pulled out my gun silently after Dean's nod of instruction, and followed between my brothers as we crept between the gate we'd climbed and the wall of the building, coming to hide behind a stack of crates.

Squinting to get a better look at the altar Meg was standing in front of; I froze when her voice called out to us. "Guys," she sighed, seeming almost disappointed. "Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?"

"Well," Dean huffed, narrowing his eyes, "that didn't work out like I planned."

"Why don't you come out?" Meg asked, turning to face directly towards us as though she could see right into our eyes. "Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship."

Stepping out in front of me, he scoffed. "Yeah, tell me about it," he told her, lowering his gun.

"Gag me," I groaned as Dean cleared his throat.

"So, where's your little Daeva friend?" he demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

Smiling cockily, Meg's eyes roamed the space around all of us. "Around," she responded with a lift of the eyebrows. "You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good," she indicated to the gun in my brother's hand.

Tipping his head and throwing on a smirk of his own, Dean didn't miss a beat when he said, "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon."

"So, who is it, Meg?" Sam questioned, trying to take control of the situation and show her how strong he was. His like and confidence in her clearly disappearing. "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

Flicking her eyes forward to us again, a strong smile crossed her face. With a lick of her lips, she stepped forward a single step and practically whispered out, "You," before a dark shadow appeared on the wall behind her. I couldn't even react fast enough as the shadow jumped out and seemed to attack all three of us at the same time. Sam went down, claw marks digging into his face as Dean flew back smacked into the crates we'd been hiding behind. A sharp pain pierced into my ankle as my leg was pulled out from under me and I was dragged forward to land in front of Meg who bent down and held my cheeks in her hand. Struggling to push up against an invisible force that pinned me down as though something was sitting on me; I had wild eyes as the blonde smirked, tightened her grip, and said, "Let's see if your brothers can save you this time. Or better yet," her eyes almost seemed to light up with evil. If I didn't know better, I'd say she grew horns. "Let's see if you can save them," she finished before a sharp pain radiated from the side of my head.

Blinking, I groaned as a sharp throbbing pain consumed my entire brain. My sight finally focused and I found Sam and Dean both sitting on the floor across from me and tied to large wooden posts. Trying to use a hand to run through my hair and check the left side of my head which felt warm, sticky, and broken, I tugged – only to discover I was also tied to a chair. "I have got to get better at this job," I groaned, tipping my head back gently since it hurt to move it at all.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean called out. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend…is a bitch."

"That's a friggen understatement," I mumbled, slumping the little bit I could in my seat.

Not missing the look I got from Sam, I rolled my eyes. "This, the whole thing, was a trap," he bit to Meg. "Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin' what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it?" Meg laughed from the stool she had taken from beside me. "And that the victims were from Lawrence?"

Groaning against the pain, I answered for her. I knew that we were going into this half cocked. "It's all bull crap. Them being from Lawrence didn't mean anything. It was probably just some ploy to get us hooked. God, am I missing part of my skull? My head has never hurt this bad before. What did you hit me with?"

"You killed those two people for a lot less," Sam bit out angrily to Meg. He never could handle collateral damage. One of his better qualities if you ask me.

"Baby," Meg practically cooed, leaning forward in her chair. "I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

Not surprising. Sam would pick the super psycho bitch. Blinking against the pain that was starting to cloud my vision again I grimaced as Dean spoke. "You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time," he smiled, causing me to roll my very pained eyes. "But why don't you kill us already?"

Meg put her leg that was crossed over the opposite back down on the floor, a loud noise sounding through the room on contact. "Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" she mocked in a quiet voice. Leaning in, I couldn't see her face, but I could practically feel the attitude in her voice. "This trap isn't for you."

"Dad. It's a trap for Dad," Sam announced as the thought popped in his head.

The sharpness was becoming overwhelming as they spoke. The throbs had an almost rhythmic beat that I just knew wasn't the same as my heart beat. "Oh, sweetheart – you're dumber than you look," Dean shot. "'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

Leaning back, Meg shrugged. "He is pretty good. I'll give you that," she told us before getting up and sitting down on Dean's lap, straddling him and making me pissed. "But you see, he has one weakness," she purred. Trying to be as silent as I could, I started trying to bend my wrists to work the pocket knife out of my pocket and cut the ropes. Except my vision was spotty and it was really hard to focus on both staying awake and getting the knife.

I really do not like this girl. "What?" I coughed. "What's his weakness?" I croaked around a dry throat, trying to stop whatever it was she was doing to my brother.

"You," she answered, a little louder than her words had been before. "He lets his guard down around his kids, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody – nice and slow and messy."

My stomach churned. I didn't like the outlook of this at all. A family massacre. Tasty. Just how I wanted to go out. "It's not gonna be that easy," I told her, my middle and pointer finger doing their absolute best to hold tightly to the blade that was fighting to fall to the ground.

"Yeah," Dean added. "It's gonna take a lot more than some….shadow to kill him."

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here – they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see." My eyes slowly tried to dart around the room regardless of the pain, looking for the shadows. They found nothing. Holding the end of the knife, I tried to use my other hand to pull the blade out so I could cut. There was no way this was going to work. I almost couldn't even see as the black spots seemed to grow and try to take over all of my vision.

"Why are you doin' this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?"

Turning to face Sam directly, still in Dean's lap, Meg dropped her hands to her thighs. "I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do – loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy – and Jess."

My hand balled up and my nails dug deeply into my palms; both from her words and because the blade wasn't budging. "Go to hell," I spat at the same time as Sam, angry with both her and myself.

Facing me and smirking, Meg's brows dropped over her eyes as her head tipped with her words. "Baby, I'm already there." I wish I had lasers for eyes. I wish I had lasers for eyes. I wish I had lasers for eyes. Sliding away from Dean's lap and placing herself on Sam's I couldn't help but notice his entire body tensed. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty," her voice had dropped, almost to a seductive whine – and I found myself annoyed. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me – changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?" she "whispered" into his ear.

"Gag me," I moaned as Dean barked out, "Get a room, you two."

"I didn't mind," Meg continued, ignoring the comments. "I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun." Then she started to move her mouth up and down his neck.

"You wanna have fun?" Sam growled. "Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now." Oh, hell no. I am not watching live porn involving my brother. That can stop right freaking now.

She didn't even stop. She just continued to kiss him, and further whatever it was she was planning on doing right in front of us. I'm officially grossed out. Finally able to grab a hold on the blade with my other hand, I did my best to pry it open. A small sound drew my eyes to Dean and Sam's side of the room and made me freeze. It was slightly metallic, as though things were maybe being scrapped together. Like a blade in a pocket knife. It was me. Oh my god, she was going to kill me, and then, because I couldn't save them. My eyes widened, thinking that one of the Daevas were coming, and I saw Meg stop and move over to Dean, reaching behind him. Leaning back she held a knife and tossed it away from her before returning to Sam. Oh my god. My whole body relaxed. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?" she pouted.

Chuckling slightly, Sam shook his head. "No. No. That's because I have a knife of my own." Quickly, Sam yanked his arms forward and grabbed Meg's shoulders before head butting her. Dropping to the floor, Meg didn't move as Sam groaned and held his head for a minute. Please, bro, like your head pain is even close to mine right now.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, "Get the altar."

Stepping over Meg, Sam stood in front of the altar, looking it over and then angrily flipped the table. A large whoosh broke my eyes from Sam to the area he'd previously been tied to. A dark shadow emerged, grabbing a tight hold of Meg and dragging her to the wall while she screamed and clawed at the floorboards. The glass window shattered as the shadow passed through it and Meg followed, a piercing scream coming from her as she left the warehouse. Moving swiftly, Sam used his knife and sliced through Dean's ropes and mine before bending down and looking in my eyes. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

Grimacing, I put a hand to my head and felt warmth. Pulling my fingers away, I found the tips to be covered in dark blood and sticky. "I don't know," I shook my head as he put his hands on my sides and helped me stand. He frowned as I swayed on my feet.

"Guys," Dean called, standing at the edge of the window, looking down.

I nodded to Sam as he helped me over and we looked to see Meg on the ground, staring up to the sky… dead.

"So, I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around," Sam offered.

"I know their pain," I mumbled, touching my fingers to my wound again, still grimacing at it. I mean, dude. I freaking just got a cast off, and here I am, probably dying because my brother has some hard on for a psycho killer chick trying to off our entire family. I blame all of this on him.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean asked, still looking at Meg's body.

Humming out a response, Sam was gingerly touched his own cheek as he checked the intensity of the claw marks.

"Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that's not so buckets-o'-crazy, huh?" Dean smiled before allowing me to grab his arm and have him lead me out of the warehouse.

I'd felt even more lightheaded as we made our way back to the motel, and the guys agreed that once we got inside and had the bigger first aid kit they could fix everything. But I wasn't allowed to go to sleep just yet. Something about concussions and me not caring what they had to say after denying me a very much craved sleep. Eff them and eff concussions. I do not have time for either of those. I do however have time for a nap. So, fighting off unconsciousness, I allowed Dean to blindly lead me back to the room as my eyes stayed shut because the world around me was just way too bright and hard to focus on right now. It was like a hangover, but like, with a large dent in my head. And way less alcohol. Each step we took was like a jolt of sound throughout my entire head, and I didn't like it. At all.

"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" I heard Dean ask as we continued down the cold hall.

I heard Sam respond from behind us, bringing whatever it is Dean was talking about. "I said it before, and I'll say it again – better safe than sorry."

Hearing a gruffle groan thing from Dean, we suddenly stopped and I felt him shift around before the key slide noisily into the lock on the door. The door banged open, and I heard it lightly bounce off of the wall off the wall on impact. "Hey!" Dean suddenly shouted, causing my entire body to jump and sway as he was suddenly no longer beside me, but instead, in front of me and I think actually growling like a bear. My eyes shot open at his voice, and even though it was like a stab to the head with each swivel, they still moved all over trying to figure out what was going on. A click sounded and light flooded the room, sending a searing pain into my head. My hands shot to my head, my eyes squinting, and my teeth clenching, all to be met with the sound of Dean's voice as it dropped in tone and questioned the entire world around it as he simply spoke, "Dad?"

My breath caught and I loosened the intensity that my entire body held. Dad? Like, as in my dad? There was absolutely no way. Slowly forcing my eyes open, I looked around Dean to see him. My dad. He was actually there. I mean, here. He was actually here. Right in front of me, a stupid little grin of relief on his face as he looked at all of us, his hands tucked into the pockets of that giant, stupid, old, beautiful, wonderful smelling, leather jacket of his.

"Hey, guys," he said. That was it. That's all he said, and Dean immediately moved towards him, clapping him in a hug that bounced off the walls and caused my heart to freaking leap to my throat. Great. More crap I don't need right now.

The minute Dean let go of him, which was – trust me, freaking hours – I made my move. I stumbled my way over and wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him to me, my eyes, and my breaths struggling, and my head pounding, and basically I was probably just dying. But I didn't care, because he was back. And he was physically able to hug me and make everything one hundred times better…. And he was alive. His arms held me to him tightly, and his hand moved up to cup around the back of my head, soothing me like when I was little. "I'm so glad you aren't dead," I choked around the lump in my throat, causing him to chuckle – his chest rumbling against my cheek.

"What happened to your head?" he asked, letting go and pushing me away slightly so he could tip my head and examine it.

"Bitches be trippin', Dad, what can I say?" I joked, just glad to see his warm, guarded yet loving eyes staring into my own.

"Well, we'll get you patched up, all right?" he nodded, rubbing his thumb on my cheek. I nodded in agreement and smiled, hugging him once more and then letting go. Silence settled lightly in the room before my dad sighed and I saw him smile genuinely, staring at the doorway where Sam still stood. "Hi, Sam," he greeted.

Sam looked like he was about to break and run to our dad like a little kid. But he didn't. He didn't do any of that. He just slowly put the bag on the floor and softly said, "Hey, Dad." My heart broke for him.

Apparently, Dean couldn't really take the moment of family pain either because he cleared his throat and addressed our dad. "Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry."

Nodding and seeming so far from pissed, my dad just looked over at Dean, growing instantly tired. "It's all right. I thought it might've been." Wait, so, he knew we were there? I feel like that's gonna need just a little more explanation than I've currently received.

"Were you there?" I quickly asked, almost hoping I didn't already know the answer.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

Sam and Dean immediately answered in unison while I grimaced and stared at the window just beyond my father. "Yes, sir," they answered while my head throbbed.

Sitting down on the bed, I took a deep breath, bringin all eyes to my form. I'm sure I looked like a supermodel. "Sam, grab the first aid kit so we can patch your sister up. Don't need her passing out and not waking up on us. The last thing I want right now is a hospital visit." Figures. It didn't take very long for the swing of things to reemerge as Sam opened the first aid kit and moved my head however he needed to, Dean at the ready and keeping a close eye, my father continuing his talk of the hunt. "It's good about the girl. And it doesn't surprise me," he told us, rubbing a hand over his unshaven chin. "It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon?" I asked, my head tipped at an almost ninety degree angle as Sam worked at cleaning the wound.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell – actually kill it."

Kill it? My eyes shot practically through my head as they rolled to look at him. "How?" Dean practically tripped over the word as it stumbled out of his mouth.

"I'm working on that," our father responded. Which, in reality, means 'I actually don't have a way right now, but I'm damn sure about what I am planning.'

The light, painful pressure Sam was applying to my head disappeared as he turned to address the man. "Let us come with you. We'll help." Aww, sweet Jesus, here we go.

I could feel the familiar pain of the arguments growing as it combined with the already pretty consuming pain that flooded my head. "Sam, don't," I groaned out loud, lying back on the bed and preparing for the usual shut down my body went into at the situation.

"No, Sam," my father's automatic response cut through the air. "Not yet. Just try to understand." Nope. Wrong words. This was bound to explode. "This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in a crossfire. Look at what has already happened to your sister. I don't want any of you hurt anymore."

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us," Sam argued, causing me to frown. Nothing he was going to say would support his argument after I came waltzing in here with blood clotting in my hair and flaking in streaks on my cheeks.

"Of course I do. I'm your father, and your sister is already battling a possible coma," his voice was rising as he held out a hand, indicating to me. Dean was in the process of helping me to slowly sit up so he could resume what it was Sam had been doing. "Listen, Sammy," our dad continued, his voice dropping and struggling to stay calm. "Last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

"Too long."

And then my heart was in my throat again as Sam finally hugged our dad, tears visible on both their cheeks. Oh man. I am so turning into a girl right now. I cannot handle this. I had to look away to control myself. When my dad stepped back into my vision, I shot my eyes back to see even Dean was struggling to remain strong as he worked on my head. In the blink of an eye, a black shadow shot into the room and threw my father back into a wall of cabinets, sending him to the ground as Sam flew to the ground in the other direction. Dean jumped up, screaming "No" as he moved to react, only to be thrown into the table near the door, I was shoved into the wall at the head of bed, my air supply slowly being cut off by a tight pressure on my neck as my body slid up so I dangled, my feet unable to touch the mattress below.

I watched in silent torture as it felt like my neck was being crushed and broken beneath the invisible force. My brothers and father were flung around in front of me, crashing into furniture and walls as cries of pain escaped their throats. And I was left to do nothing but watch. I couldn't even help them, and it was killing me. This was what I was supposed to save them from. I just knew it. Whatever was going on had to do with what Meg had said up in that warehouse. Tears slowly slipped down my cheeks as my body hung against the wall, my throat squeezing further and further shut. Gravity was pulling my body, or at least that's what I think it was. It felt like I was being stretched towards the ground, but the force around my neck refused to ease up. The pain in my torso deepened as my lungs felt like they were going to burst, right along with my skull that continued to throb as if it were pounding from the inside out. I didn't know how much longer I could take as I saw the blood on their faces and heard the cracks of tables and probably bones breaking. I needed to get off the wall.

After fighting and struggling to push away from the forces keeping me at bay, my strength was vanishing. Slowly, I was finding myself fading, the edges around my sight were growing dark as the black spots moved in and merged to cover everything I could still see. My lungs stopped expanding as the pain overwhelmed me and I heard my own voice strain in hopes of any small trace of air. My fingers that had been scratching at the force around my neck was barely moving, and it was almost impossible to move – much less keep my head up and fight the sleep that had been itching to overtake my entire system. My legs felt like they each weighed three tons, and I thought they were about to completely snap off and separate from the rest of my body from the force that pulled at them. As my eyes gave up and fluttered closed, I heard Sam's voice cut through the air, but he wasn't making any sense at all to me. I couldn't even pick out a single word before everything seemed to just disappear.

I was leaning against the hood of the Impala, a bag of ice against my now damp, but for the most part – clean hair. Apparently, passing out from a shadow whatever means that only a bottle of water to the face will cause you to wake up in a panic, deeply inhaling air, convinced everyone in your family was probably dead. The throbbing in my head hadn't fully subsided, but I could feel it dying down as Sam shoved a bag of weapons into the backseat.

"All right, come on," he said, shutting the door closed. "We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back." Oh yeah. They lit a flare to get rid of the shadows. Turns out that whole light versus dark thing is super accurate.

Pushing off of the hood from where he'd been sitting beside me, Dean left me to apply the necessary pressure to my skull. Trust me when I say it wasn't as hard as he had been doing. "Wait, wait, wait!" he barked, shoving the ice into my hand. "Sam, wait," he jogged over to where Sam and our dad was standing at the bed of our dad's truck. "Dad, you can't come with us."

Whoa. What? I thought Dean's whole thing had been finding our dad. We finally found him. Or, rather, he found us. But either way, we were back with the guy, so what was going on? I cannot handle this kind of switch-a-roo and crap with this big of a headache right now. I'm gonna need a play by play, please.

"What? What are you talkin' about?" Sam barked back, smacking Dean's upheld hand.

"You boys, Becca – you're beat to hell," my dad sighed, looking past them and catching my eyes.

"We'll be all right," Dean barked, trying to get back to what he was talking about.

Sam turned, angrily staring Dean down. "Dean, we should stick together. We'll go after those demons –"

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Becca's friggen head is bleeding and she's fighting a concussion. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He – he's stronger without us around."

"Dad – no," Sam argued, blowing off Dean and turning back to our father who had been watching me as he listened to Dean. I watched as Sam set a hand on our dad's shoulder, drawing his eyes to his face. "After everything – after all the time we spent lookin' for you – please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son," my dad explained, sighing when Sam shook his head. "Okay, you've gotta let me go. You gotta watch out for your sister over there, okay? Keep her safe." Biting my lip, I looked down at my shoes, pressing my ice harder to my head. This wasn't fair to them. Sam didn't want to be here to take care of me, and I didn't want to make him do anything he didn't want to. Now he'd only be here on orders. I didn't want that. Sam clapped his hand on our dad's shoulder once before dropping it, looking like he was ready to punch something. "Be careful," our dad said as he opened the driver's door to his truck and caught all of our eyes once more. "And don't let her go to sleep for at least eight hours," he ordered before climbing in the truck and taking off around the corner.

Sam stood there, watching our dad's truck as I saw Dean's shoulders drop. This was seriously never easy. No matter how many times we went through it. I felt like it only got harder each time, because you never really knew if that was the last time, and no one should have to live on that kind of uncertainty.

"Come on," Dean clapped a hand to Sam's chest, dragging him back with him as he walked over to where I was sitting. "You alive?" he questioned with concern, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me and took in my appearance.

"Barely," I sighed, uncrossing my ankles and looking at him.

"Well, that ain't dead, so I'll take it," he nodded, turning to face Sam. "You take the back so we can keep a close on her? Make sure she doesn't pass out?"

Sam nodded, shooting me a small smile before helping me into the front seat and then promptly sitting so that he could keep eyes on me the whole time. Shutting his own door, Dean sighed, stuck the key into the ignition and just stared ahead to the alley entrance, where our dad had turned and disappeared. Scoffing and shaking his head, he shifted the car and rolled out onto the main street where cars were passing, none the wiser to the fact that our family had just been physically torn apart again… for protection. To the fact that my twin was in the back seat, fighting a whirlwind of emotions as he clenched his jaw and stared forward. To the fact that I was apparently a punching bag and someone that needed body guards around her at all times. To the fact that my oldest brother just took on a crap load of new responsibility as he watched our father drive away with no real answers to anything. Least of all, those cars were full of people who were just as clueless as we were as to when we would see him again.