- You gotta be kidding me!
- You're the first person to see my eyes since...since I left my group. So tell me...

Saskia's eyes are not yellow like Azazel's. They're more like honey colored, but the S shape is there.

- That's...that's almost exactly his eyes
- Oh God...

Saskia rises from her chair and rushes outside. She's breathing heavily, her whole body hurts. He was right. Logan was right. I'm evil, i've always been evil. She feels a hand on her shoulder, and tries to calm down.

- You ok?
- No Dean, no, i'm not...What...happened to me?
- I don't know. But i told you about my brother right?
- Yes...
- Maybe that's what happened to you.

Saskia sites on the porche's stairs, and Dean sits beside her.

- You said...you said your brother was brought to a house with all the other children who were given demon blood.
- Yeah.
- I wasn't there, obviously. - Well your tattoo...
- What about it?
- Your mother told you she made it to protect you, right?
- Yes.
- Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe the night she died, he came for her. My mother had made a deal with Yellow-Eyes, he gave her ten years. Do you remember anything that happened when you were little, something out of the ordinary?
- I don't have any memory before i was five.
- Really? Not a single one?
- No. Nothing.
- So something did happen. And then, she tattooed you because she knew he would come for her, and then come for you.
- She said the tattoo would keep the bad man away...Tears are overflowing her.

- All those years i thought she was crazy. I thought she was just a lost woman, torturing me for nothing. She did protect me, she did save my life. And until the very end i've despised her, i loathed her. And she never said anything...ever.- She didn't want to scare you, for sure. You know if Sammy had known what the demon blood would make him do...it would have destroyed him...And your powers are far greater than his...

Saskia wipes her eyes, and lights a cigarette.

- Logan knew. He always called me evil.
- Maybe his father knew, and told him.
- Your friend, the one you called.- Garth?
- Yes. He contacted Pivnik, right?
- What...what do you want to do?
- If Logan knew, then Pivnik knew. If Pivnik is alive, i have to see him.
- Saskia...
- I won't do anything to him, but if he knows things about me, I want to know them!

Her eyes are glowing again. She need to know who she is. It's clear now. How can she live without knowing anything about herself, her family, her history? If Pivnik is alive, he owes her an explanation. He never helped her, he never tried to do anything for her. And even today, he could have had her killed. Not killing him is going to be an effort. But she won't, right?
By this moment, she completely forgot Mike is coming back in the morning. She forgot about the wedding. She's focused on hunting Pivnik and she's never felt this excited in years. She feels suddenly hungry, though usually she's never hungry. She walked to the kitchen and starts making herself a sandwich. It's almost dawn.

Dean is still sit on the porch. She rised and left without a word, lost in her thougts. Of course he could give her Garth's contact. After all she has the right to know who she is and where she comes from. Without realizing it he walked straight to the kitchen. Standing on the threshold, he's looking at Saskia's silhouette. She's holding a huge knife, and she's cutting big slices of bread. He thinks he's hungry too, and before he can realize it, he's standing right behind her, almost touching her.

Saskia can feel his breath on her neck. A few hours ago, he was trying to kill her, and she can still feel the excitement of the fight. He doesn't move, he doesn't touch her. She's holding a knife. What is he thinking.

Dean puts his hand on Saskia's right hand, the one holding the knife. She quickly turns around and puts it on his throat. He doesn't move, he makes his annoying little smirk. She smiles.

- Not afraid?
- Not even a bit.

Saskia grabs his neck and kisses him, still holding the knife. But he slowly grabs her wrist, and she lets it fall on the ground. There will be no unnecessary words. She thought she would die tonight, now she needs to feel alive. He's strong, he's scarred. He knows who she is and he doesn't flee. He's exactly what she needs right now.

She almost killed him, and then she trusted him. She's weak and strong, good and evil. He doesn't know exactly what led him into tearing her clothes, and holding her so passionately, but he needed it. He needed that violence, that attraction. There won't be a second time, and he know it, but right now, he can't get enough of her.

- It's morning. Your brother's going to wake up soon.

Saskia gets up from the living room carpet. She doesn't try to hide her nudity, but walks slowly to the fireplace and lights, again, another cigarette. Dean walks to her, not trying to hide either.

- We won't see each other again, right?
- I don't think so, no.
- I'll give you Garth's number, just promise me you won't kill that guy.- I will. Now excuse me but i have to get dressed and clean that mess up.

Dean puts back his clothes, and climb the stairs to find Sam slowly regaining consciousness.

- How do you feel?
- Better than yesterday. Dude, you look tired.
- Uh the...couch was not really comfortable.
- Gettin old?
- Shut up!

When they both reach the living room, Saskia's waiting them with cups of coffee. She's dressed, the room is cleaned up and she's acting like nothing happened. They drink their coffee, and say the usual greetings. Dean tries to meet her eyes, but she keeps on staring at her cup. When they finally get inside the Impala, Sam asks

- Something happened last night? Things were pretty awkward back there.- No uh, not at all, she's just an unusual girl...I guess.

Mike's coming in two hours. And Saskia has to think about what she's going to tell him. Maybe she owes him the truth, maybe he won't be able to handle it. But this marriage won't happen. Not now, anyway. She has to stop running, and stop trying to be someone she's not.

She was born on the road, and raised on the road.

It's calling her. Let's go.