"Are we going in, or what?" Sam demanded. The Impala was parked in front of an old house in Flagstaff, Arizona, and Dean wasn't exactly looking forward to the little reunion he was about to have. "She's a Seer, Dean, she already knows we're here." He shrugged and looked at the sign in the lawn. Naylor Psychics, Palm and Tarot Readings, By Appointment Only. The Naylors weren't your average psychics, they were prophets in the great tradition of Cassandra of Troy and could read the future like most people read the paper only better. "You know, in case she didn't notice us in the fifteen minutes we've been sitting here."

"Okay, fine," Dean snapped, opening his door roughly. "But this is a bad idea."

"It was your idea," Sam reminded him.

"And it's a bad one," he replied. "Annie hates me."

"Maybe if you didn't call her Annie…" Sam said slowly.

"I always call her Annie!"

"Fat Annie!" Sam retorted. "Her name is Faith. And she was never really fat."

"I never said she hated me for something that wasn't completely my fault," he pointed out as Sam knocked on the door. "And I was eight, what did you want me to do?"

"Not constantly call her fat or stop when you turned twelve?" Sam muttered just before the door opened.

"Sammy!" a young woman said excitedly when she saw them, immediately going to hug him.

"Hey, Faith," he replied. "You look really good."

"Thanks," she said happily, turning back and forth slightly. "I was in a car accident and had my jaw wired shut for six weeks. I'm a size eight now." Her look darkened when she turned to Dean. "What are you doing here, jerk?"

"Hey, Annie," he mumbled, a bit uncomfortably. "I left you a message."

She stared at him for another long few seconds then turned back into the house, motioning them to follow. "You want to know about Sam and all the others like him. Specifically if Sam's gonna go all Dark Side."

"Basically, yeah," Dean confirmed.

She whirled back around. "Can't help you." She turned to Sam and said apologetically, "Sorry, I am. But I'm not touching this. If I'm not careful, I'll be dragged into this, and it'll end badly. Me being dead badly."

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean muttered after a moment. "Is this because I taunted you your entire life?" he demanded. "Because you've always been totally hot."

Faith gave him an annoyed look. "Yes, Dean. I'm glad you've noticed everything I do is somehow directly connected to you. And your calling me attractive in such a grudging way, totally makes up for the past twenty years. This has nothing to do with my desire to live to thirty, hell no. It's because you incessantly call me fat." Dean was shifting uncomfortably at this point while Sam valiantly tried not to smile so broadly. "But now that you've called me on this, I've seen the error of my petty, girly ways. I need to do some work on my insides and I think I'll start with this. I will get right to thoroughly pissing off the Demon." She crossed her fingers a smiled a bit too widely. "I hope he sets me on fire."

"Point beaten to death," Dean informed her. "And you're a liar."

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Author's Note: I don't own Supernatural. I know that. And this is set sometime after Sam finds out what John told Dean. Only a little spoilers later on, but nothing you don't already know if you've seen any of season two.