Highwayman

by LadyEmmy

A death of an old friend has the Winchester/Callum has them travelling down to the small town of Avalon California. But what is *supposed* to be a routine hunt has one clinging to life, and one taking a risk to save them.

Highwayman

Avalon, California

Prologue

The boat rocked gently as the pilot dropped the buoy over the side. The familiar red flag, with its diagonal white stripe, wavered in the night breeze off the water. "We're all set," he called softly over his shoulder to the diver, who stood and spit into her face mask and then wiped it around before leaning over the edge of the boat and rinsed it around.

"I really wish you could make this a day dive," he admitted as he watched her slip the facemask over her head.

She gave him a fond smile and then leaned up to kiss him softly. "It's too risky, and you know it."

He frowned, shaking his head as he looked at her. "Why did you even agree to this? Let them find someone else," he began, not for the first time.

"Baby," she cupped his cheek and looked up into his warm brown eyes. "This'll put me on their radar. Being noticed means promotions, and raises. We'll have enough to set you up with your own boat and your own crew. You won't have to work for Sanchez anymore."

"Yeah, but if we get caught, we'll go to jail and lose what we already have," he told her sternly.

"We won't get caught, I promise," she told him and then adjusted her facemask. His frown deepened as she inserted her mouthpiece and flashed him a thumbs up.

He handed her the powerful waterproof flashlight she'd need in the water. "I'll be here when you get back. Be careful."

With a nod, she sat down on the edge of the boat, put her hand over her mouthpiece, and leaned backward over the side with a splash.

In the water, Amber turned on the flashlight and let her vision acclimate for a moment. The incoming tide had made the water murky, and the late hour didn't improve conditions much. Still, her employer was paying her a hefty bonus to do this dive as discreetly as possible. It was why she'd had her boyfriend pilot his boat out here. She hadn't told him about the bonus because she had wanted to surprise him with his own boat.

With a kick, Amber started her descent, periodically checking her depth gauge. At fifty feet, she levelled off and swung the flashlight around to gather her surroundings. The boat's prow was just a few feet below her and off to her left. She kicked off toward it. With her free hand, she grasped the railing and pulled her body parallel to the deck. Skimming over the deck, she found a hatch that was rotted away enough to pry open. She shined her light into the interior of the boat, and then swam in.

Mentally, she reviewed the layout of the boat as it had been given to her. Just a few feet further - there it was. She stopped, trying the cabin door in front of her. The lock was rusted, so she used her diving knife to jimmy the lock open. The door floated open and she swam inside.

There was a small air pocket at the top of the room, debris floating along the surface. She ignored it as she moved to the dressing table. The chair crumbled slightly in her grip as she moved it, the rug underneath rotting from its long water-exposure. Under the rug was the marking her bosses had told her to expect. Amber put her knife away to free up her hands before she removed the stones from her diving bag, fitting them into the hollows just as they had told her.

A flash of light blinded her temporarily as the magical barrier in the floor gave way to reveal a lockbox. Jackpot. Amber reached for the box. She'd be on the surface and home free in fifteen minutes.

A bony hand closed around her wrist. Amber twisted to face the owner. Bubbles obscured her vision as she screamed around her mouthpiece. The skeletal figure gripped her hand tighter as she struggled. Its other hand reached up and pressed its fingertips against her chest. Amber screamed at the stabbing pain. She reached for the knife strapped to her thigh and tried slashing at the figure before her. The blade slipped through it cleanly, not even phasing it.

Struggling to free herself from the hand around her wrist, Amber's eyes widened as she saw the skeletal fingers reach into her chest. The pain intensified. It felt as though something were tearing away from her insides as the hand withdrew. When it broke free of her, she stared at the small orb of light held in its palm. Her scream died as her vision went black, her body jerking uncontrollably.

It held firm until she went lax, then disappeared. Amber floated to the top of the water, her blue eyes staring unseeing into the dark, inky water. There, she floated, her body still breathing automatically – even after the regulator fell from her lips and left her nothing to breathe but the salt water that surrounded her.

Sunshine streamed in through the wide kitchen window as Evan whipped up a quick breakfast before Dean had to leave to help John open the shop. She scratched at the towel wrapped around her head and carefully flipped his eggs. Figuring that they were done, she transferred them to the plate and brought them over to him.

Dean put down the newspaper that he had been flipping through idly and smiled up at Evan. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Dean reached up and cupped the back of her neck when she went to pull away from him and deepened the kiss. When his fingers crept up underneath the edge of the towel and started to inch into her hair, Evan stiffened and pulled away from him.

Seeing the look on his face, Evan gave him a weak smile. "Sorry."

When she turned away to go back to the stove, Dean reached out and snagged her around the waist. Tugging her back he pulled her into his lap and looked at her. Evan met his eyes briefly and then looked down at her lap, avoiding his stare. When he reached up to grab at the towel around her hair, she caught his hands and looked at him.

"Don't. Please," she said softly.

"Evan, babe, it's been three weeks. I'm used to black now. So is JD. If you keep washing it like that, you're not going to have any left," he told her gently. He'd been telling her the same thing ever since they came back from Texas and she had recovered from the possession, but she hadn't been willing to listen.

"I know. It's just a constant reminder. I want to forget about what happened. What I did. What I could have done."

"It wasn't you," he told her when he saw the sad look in her eyes. "You didn't do anything to us. And that guy in the motel is okay."

A few days after she had woken up, Evan had called the hospital, pretending to be a local reporter, and found out if the guy that she had nearly drained of blood was going to be okay. The police had questioned him about who had done it to him, but he'd only been able to give them conflicting descriptions of her appearance. They had also been sceptical as to how a petite woman like her could have subdued a man of his stature. The case was still open, but the trail had apparently gone cold. Kit and Dean had covered her tracks well.

"I know. I just won't be happy until I'm," she paused and shrugged her shoulders. "Me. Again."

Dean cupped the back of her head again and gave her a soft kiss. "I don't know, the other you was kind of a stick in the mud," he said and she pulled a face, swatting him with the spatula.

"You," she began to mutter, but Dean cupped the back of her head and gave her a quick kiss. Evan pushed herself off his lap and went back to the stove to begin cooking an egg for JD, who sat in his highchair mashing his toast in his hands. Hearing someone coming down the stairs, Evan turned to see Kit come down the hallway.

"Morning Sis," she began as Kit approached.

Kit walked in the kitchen, took one whiff of the breakfast her sister was cooking, looked at her and ran out of the room, one hand over her mouth and a vaguely green complexion.

Evan looked after her sister. "Alrighty then," she looked at Dean and he shrugged at her.

Crossing to the kitchen door, she called "Sam! Hightail it down here, breakfast is almost done and you're going to be late!"

Sam came down the stairs and sat down at the kitchen table. Evan put a plate in front of him and handed him a cup of coffee. He gave her a grateful smile and dug in.

"Anything interesting?" Sam asked his brother, eyeing the newspaper that sat on the table beside him.

"Some chick ganked herself on the east side. We might want to keep an eye on that house for a little while, but other than that, nothing," Dean told him. In the weeks since they had returned there had been nothing eerie happening that had piqued their interest and Dean found himself going a little stir crazy. Working with his father at the shop had been great, he'd been able to bond with John again, but he also missed the hunt.

"Sam, let me go change and I'll drop you off at the train station," Evan said to them, glancing at the clock on the stove.

"No problem Ev," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of toast.

They had fallen into a comfortable pattern. Each morning, one of them would drop Sam off at the station to catch his train to Palo Alto to get to his class. Often it was Dean, but today Evan had felt the need to get out of the house. She hadn't wanted to admit it but since coming back from Texas, she had been leery about stepping outside the safety of the warded house now that she knew that she was open to possession by any spirit or demon that might be in the area.

Turning off the stove, Evan put the pan aside and then left the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she told them and then left the kitchen.

Kit came back downstairs several minutes later. By then, Evan had retreated upstairs to get ready and Sam was halfway out the door to her sister's car to wait for her, tucking the last bite of his toast in his mouth before dropping a kiss on Kit's head on his way out.

"Love you," he told her softly.

She smiled weakly at him. "Love you too."

Walking into the kitchen, she found Dean flipping through the paper while he used a piece of toast to sop up the rest of his eggs. He barely looked up from the paper as she sat down at the table. "Aww, what's wrong, Kitty? You look green. Don't like eggs?" he teased.

Kit slumped in the chair, trying hard to avoid the Jackson Pollack painting that was Dean's plate. Instead she focused on the boys, as JD was happily mashing his own piece of toast into some oatmeal and Jimmy was bouncing in his seat. "I like eggs fine. As long as I don't have to, you know... eat them. Or smell them. Or cook them." Kit shot a glance at the table and swallowed hard, before taking a slow, deep breath.

"Seriously, you look like you're about to hurl..."

Kit shook her head, lips compressed in a thin line. "I hope not, nothing left to hurl..." She got up and looked in the refrigerator. "Please tell me there's some ginger ale left." Spying the bottle, she grabbed a glass and poured it halfway full. "I don't remember being this sick with Jimmy." She sat back down, sipping at the ginger ale slowly.

"Maybe you've got the flu or something," Dean shrugged, putting his plate in the sink and running water over it.

"Maybe. Wouldn't that be just peachy? Morning sickness and the flu..." She pushed the other dishes to one side and sat back as far from them as she could. "You working at the garage today?"

"Yeah, I have to leave in a few minutes." When he turned back, Kit was slouched in her chair. "Why? What's up?"

For the first time all morning, Kit perked up. "Brothermine..." She leaned over the table, her chin propped on her fists, eyes glittering. "I got a call earlier before I came downstairs. A friend of a friend works as a foreman up at a site in the Foothills. He says ever since they broke ground there's been weird things happening. Tools go missing. Noises. Flickering lights. Electric tools short out. He heard I was into stuff like that and wants me to go take a look at it."

"So take Evan." Dean poured some coffee into a thermos and tightened the lid.

Kit shook her head, "JD has a doctor's appointment for immunizations. And it's a haunting. You really think taking Evan into the middle of an unknown place with unknown ghosts is a good idea? Even if she'd agree to it?" Seeing she wasn't convincing him, she tried begging a little. "Come on, I'm bored! I need to do something before Sam drives me crazy and I'm forced to maim him. Evan already said she'd take Jimmy with her so I could go do something today and I can't go alone. Well, I could... but I don't want to. Sam's got class, Evan's got the kids. It's a day trip - hour there, hour back. If we can't figure it out, we'll toss around some salt and cat's eyes shells and come back on the weekend. Please?"

"I have to go to work."

"I bet you John'd let you off for a hunt," Kit's eyes gleamed with mischief.

Dean narrowed his eyes back at his sister-in-law. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

She grinned, "One of my charms. So go ask... Or, I'll call him! If I tell him I need backup..."

"He'll get really pissed and say no way. You don't need to be hunting anyway."

"Oh give me a break! Except for the nausea and that's only around food, so as long as it's not the ghost of Julia Childs, I'll be fine! And it's totally non-dangerous. No one's been hurt so far, just... annoyed." Kit beamed. "Besides, I'll have my big brother there to watch over me. I'll go without you if you say no..." Kit turned to go back to her and Sam's side of the house. "But I won't share the money with you then..."

As Kit disappeared through the doorway, Dean scrubbed at his face. She was almost as infuriatingly insane as her sister. With a sigh, Dean pulled out his phone. "Hey, Dad?" He was going to regret this. If Kit got hurt, he was SO dead, whether he went with her or not.

Kit came back downstairs, kissed Jimmy in his carrier and grabbed her house keys. "Thanks Sis... I needed this break."

Evan hefted the carrier up from the table. "Yeah, well enjoy it now, cause when the new one comes, you're not gonna be so lucky anymore."

"Love you," Kit grinned, hoping to sweeten her sister up.

Evan didn't buy it. "Yeah, yeah... you owe me. What are you gonna do with the free day?"

Kit shrugged. "Not sure, probably just get out for the day."

"Okay... anyway, gotta get. JD's appointment is in half an hour."

Kit waved as her sister headed out the door with the boys. Dean came into the living room just as the door swung shut behind his girlfriend. Kit turned, "So what did John say?"

Dean grabbed his jacket. "I'm off the hook, but only because he was expecting to be slow today. Where we going?" Kit grinned in reply. "Oh no, you don't. My car, I'm driving."

She crossed her arms. "Fine. Spoilsport. But if you make me listen to Metallica all the way there, I will hurt you." Kit went out the door.

"Oh, bring it on..." Dean called at her back.

Kit was actually a pretty good navigator, at least until Dean saw the sign for Highway 49. "No, keep going!"

"Kit, you said Grass Valley. The sign says "Grass Valley", I'm getting off here."

"No, we'll get stuck in traffic, keep going..." Kit sighed. "Would you just trust me? I grew up here, okay? Go up like 4 more exits and get off on the road there."

Dean rolled his eyes, but drove on. At the fourth exit, Kit pointed. "See? Get off here, turn left and it'll take you all the way to the 49..." At the glare she got from the driver's seat, Kit added, "But then you bypass Auburn completely. Totally saves like 10 minutes off the trip. Longer probably since the lunch rush will be starting soon. Higher speed limit, less traffic..."

"Whatever. Tell me about this place you're making me take you."

Kit gave him a look that clearly said she knew how hard she'd twisted his arm. "Old Gold Rush town. Used to be a stop on the wagon route from back east. Whole place is kind of known for being haunted. Pretty much all the older public buildings are, a lot of the historical houses too, but since none of them seemed particularly vengeful, Evan and I left it alone. This guy I went to school with, his dad's the project manager on a project in town, some hotel they're building downtown."

"Yeah, flashing lights, noises, yadda yadda. What about the grounds?" Dean glanced in the rear view mirror as he spoke, pulling his baby onto the winding road back into town.

"No idea. I'm not 100 sure where they're building exactly. That's why I brought the laptop. Gotta be a place we can get wi-fi up there. It's an old town, but it's not completely backward." Kit sat up in her seat. "See, there's the highway there, hang a right and it's like 15 miles up."

"Where the hell are you taking me? Appalachia, the West Coast edition? The first time I hear "Dueling Banjos", I'm outta here, with or without you."

"Ha ha... You are a riot. I'm not worried. Of the two of us, you're the one with the purty mouth."

Dean took his eyes off the road to look at Kit. "God, did your parents not spank you enough as a kid?"

"No, but you think if I ask Sam nicely, he'll give it a try?"

"Kit!"

"He has those really big hands..." Kit gestured.

"I do not want to hear this!" Dean looked distinctly uncomfortable. Ever since he had accidentally walked in on his brother and sister in law the night Evan went into labor, any mention of either of their names and sex made him very nearly blush.

Kit laughed in the passenger seat, knowing it too. "I win!" Her phone rang and she fished it out, "Billy? Yeah? No, we're about 10 minutes away from downtown... okay? No, yeah, I know where that is. We'll meet you there." She shut the phone. "Take the Highway 174 exit and turn left. At the second light, turn right."

"What did your last driver die of?"

"Lead poisoning after I shot him for asking questions." As Dean made the turn off the highway, Kit's jaw dropped. "Oh man, they painted over the old mural on the theatre. I wonder what else has changed... Ohh... that's the turn. He said it was behind the gas station."

"Great place for a hotel."

"Shut up... it's a small town. We're here anyway." At the sight of a man standing on the sidewalk, Kit leaned out the window and yelled. The man looked up and waved Dean into a parking spot at the edge of the site.

"Billy!" Kit bolted out of the car and ran over to him, getting a bear hug.

"Well, Kitty Callum... you're a sight for sore eyes. I wasn't sure you were going to make it. Last I heard you were living in Chicago."

Dean turned off the Impala and got out, eyeing the guy who had his arms around his sister-in-law and cleared his throat. Kit slid back from the embrace and looked at the ground, "Yeah, well, Chicago didn't work out so well. And it's Callum-Winchester now."

Billy nodded. "Yeah, I thought your mom said you were married now." He looked up, "Oh sorry, Bill Baxter. You must be..." He held a hand out.

"Dean Winchester," Dean took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. He was not liking this guy one bit. After the handshake, Dean crossed his arms over his chest, a look of disapproval on his face.

"Oh, wow..." Billy straightened. "Well, it's good to meet you, Dean. My dad's inspecting some wiring on the top floor right now. Let's get you guys some hard hats and take you up there to talk to him."

"Lead the way..." Kit bounded after him with Dean following behind.

On the top floor, Dean removed the EMF meter from his pocket and turned it on. Kit, meanwhile, was engrossed in a conversation with the elder Baxter in the corner. As soon as Dean waved the meter, it lit up and squealed in protest. "Kitty..."

Kit excused herself from the conversation and wandered back to Dean, looking over his shoulder at the meter with a low whistle. "This place is worse than Nana's was... Why aren't we seeing any other evidence?"

"There's nothing?"

"Nope. No sulphur, no ectoplasm, no mysterious writing on the walls, no blood dripping from the ceiling... Mr. Baxter said they hear voices, like whispering. The power fluctuations they had blamed on an overloaded transformer until they realized that stuff only blew out when they worked up here on the top floor. They thought maybe it was something chewing on the wiring, but none of the wiring is actually damaged."

Dean turned off the meter when he realized the readings weren't fluctuating in any way. They were off the scale no matter where he pointed the meter. "Well, this is no help."

Kit shoved her hands in her pockets. "What do you think? Give 'em something to bundle into the walls to keep it at bay?"

Dean shook his head. "We need to know more. Hey, Mr. Baxter? Do you know what this property was before?"

The older man considered that for a moment. "Yeah, they tore down some buildings before we started. A... bowling alley, a teen clinic and I think there was an appliance store here too."

"Great," Dean muttered to Kit. "So we're looking for the ghost of Archie Bunker." Out loud, he pressed, "What about before that?"

Mr. Baxter shook his head. "No idea, you'd have to check with the city I think."

"Well, good thing I brought my laptop, huh?" Kit grinned. "Hey, Billy? Anyplace around here a girl can get wi-fi access and something to eat?" Dean looked at her. "What? I didn't eat breakfast this morning, remember? You had those gross runny eggs..."

"Yeah, and for dragging me up here, I'm getting a greasy burger with extra onions for lunch. And fries. And you're paying. Ohhh, maybe a patty melt..."

Kit swallowed, her face pale at the thought of all that grease and red meat. "You're so evil." She turned to Billy, who was watching the exchange. "So... restaurant, coffee shop, something?"

"Yeah, there's a coffee place about 3 blocks down that has wi-fi. I go down there to study on my lunch hour."

"Perfect!"

Kit picked at her muffin as she typed away at the laptop. Dean arrived back at the table with two cups. He set one next to Kit and sipped from the other as he sat down. "Anything?"

"So far, the land deeds show a bowling alley, the old post office, a general and feed store... nothing that really sticks out..." Kit lifted the cup and took a sip before grimacing and nearly spitting the drink out. "What the hell is this?"

"Rooibos chai tea with non fat milk, or something like that. I asked them for something with no caffeine and healthy for the mama to be," Dean looked rather pleased with his choice.

"Christo," Kit hissed.

"No dice, Kitten..." Dean smirked as he took a long drink. "Mmmm... now that's some good coffee."

Kit gave him a glare, one finger pointed at him. "You may not be possessed, but you are evil and you're going to pay for this..."

"Hey, you played, you pay. I'm not the pregnant one here, remember?"

"God, another year of no caffeine. I'm going to die. Or kill someone..." Kit tapped at the keyboard again. "Ohhh... what's this?"

"What?"

"Hang on... Oh, seems before the general store was built, this land was actually part of the camping area that people used to rest their cattle on the trail. There was a tent city before the actual town was built."

"So..." Dean looked at her in askance, not making the connection.

"So... cholera, diphtheria, pneumonia, influenza, scarlet fever. Hell, a simple broken bone could kill you on the trail. People died all the time trying to get west. It's not that big of a stretch to think that people died in the tent city all the time." She kept typing. "Don't see where they would have buried them though. There's like... eleven cemeteries just in town and four of them date back close to that time, maybe more." She sighed. "Without a name, we'd have too much ground to cover."

"I am not digging up half the cemeteries in town," Dean said with a forced smile as he took another sip of coffee.

"I know that," Kit rolled her eyes. "Besides, one is right outside a Catholic school right in the middle of town. Kinda conspicuous." Kit's brow furrowed.

"What?" Dean set his coffee down. "You're making that face Evan makes..."

"If we can't find the body, maybe we can just settle the spirit. I mean, it's not angry really, just not at rest."

"We don't even know if it's just one."

"True. But we have to do something…." Kit went back to typing. "I wonder if some kind of basic catch-all ritual will work."

Dean twisted the laptop away from her, pointing towards her tea and muffin. "I'll research, you eat."

"Aww, I didn't know you cared," Kit grinned as she popped a piece of muffin in her mouth.

"So, you think this will work?"

"I hope so," Kit replied. "This is a paying gig."

Dean grinned, "I can make this work then."

"Somehow, I didn't doubt that." Kit unpacked the bags of supplies they'd picked up at the local natural foods store. For a small town, they had more than a few of them. Kit had seen small pentacles and various religious symbols on a couple of the employees and had chuckled at how easily they had hidden in plain sight in a fairly conservative town. "Okay, I've got sea salt, white sage, white and black candles, two feathers and some charcoal. There's a baggie with Nana's incense in my purse."

At the information, Dean made a face and Kit smacked his arm before digging out the baggie. "Shut up, it works doesn't it?"

"So, let's do this thing. We're burning daylight. I may be able to get a couple hours in at the shop if we make this quick."

"Can't rush greatness."

Working in tandem with Dean was slightly different than with Sam or Evan. With Evan, it was easy, born of long practice and a tendency to think alike and come to the same conclusion. With Sam, it was more born of awareness. Put her and Sam in the same room, and she just seemed to know where he was, and the same could be said of him. With Dean, though, she found she had to keep him in her peripheral vision to really be sure where he was. Not that she didn't trust him to do what needed to be done, but it wasn't an automatic understanding.

They set up the salt lines, working from the same starting point backward until they met again on the other side of the grounds. Dean propped candles up in each corner of the lot while Kit placed charcoal discs next to them, each with some of Nana's special incense on top. With that done, Kit went back up to the third floor to set up the next part. Dean stayed behind to talk to Billy and his dad, and find a third man for assistance. The hardest part of Kit's little plan was that the candles and incense in each corner of the lot had to be lit at the same time, which was more than they could accomplish alone.

Alone on the third floor, a few curious workers had stayed behind to watch her work. One held up his crucifix and kissed it as she passed. There were a few snide remarks, but when Kit pulled her favourite dagger from her waistband and laid it at her side, they started to subside. "I don't care if you believe or not, but if you're going to stay, you're going to be quiet, polite, and stay out of my way. And don't cross the salt lines."

Kit laid out the salt around her in a circle, placing a set of candles at each of the cardinal points. Facing North, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialled, then set it on the ground next to her. "Dean? Are you ready to go?" she asked loudly so her voice would project.

"You got it, Kitten. We're all in place," she heard back through the speakerphone. Then a loud whistle.

"On one then…. Three. Two. One. Go."

Outside, Dean whistled to get everyone's attention and held up three fingers. He counted them down with Kit, and on "go", everyone lit their candles and incense in order, first white, then black, then the incense.

Kit took a deep breath upstairs as she felt the air around her change, became charged with energy. Inside the circle, it wasn't as bad, but she could see the looks of discomfort on the faces of the men outside the circle. It probably felt worse than the prickles of static that she felt. "Well, that got its attention," she muttered. She lit her own candles, then the incense, taking a deep, calming breath. The dagger in her right hand, she sprinkled salt over it with her left, letting it fall to the concrete at her feet. She then passed the blade through the flame of the candles and the smoke of the incense.

"We call today to those who have passed on, who walk these grounds. Though we know not your names, we know your stories of sacrifice and hardship. Be at peace in your passing, for your life's work is complete. Go now to the beyond that awaits us all, for as you stand here before us, so shall we stand before those that come after us."

With the tip of her dagger, Kit drew a tall archway in the air, large enough for a person to walk through if they wished. "Behold the gates to the Hereafter, step through and shed the griefs and pains of mortal life. Rest easy that you are not forgotten, now and always."

A breeze picked up, ruffling Kit's hair into her face and she vaguely heard Dean calling to her through the phone at her feet. The air rushed toward the gate, pulling the smoke from the incense with it, rustling the grains of salt at her feet slightly. For a moment, it was like being inside a vacuum; as if all the air in the circle were being pulled out and Kit struggled to breathe. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, along with pinpricks of light. Kit went to her knees, one hand in front of her to keep from meeting the floor face-first. The dagger was still in her other hand, waiting to close the gate. "Peace…. Peace be with you!" she gasped.

Suddenly, the smell of ozone and wildflowers overpowered the incense and candle wax. Kit looked up at the gateway she had created, as the last spirit went through. She saw a brief image of long skirts and a bonnet before a flash of light whited everything out. Blinded, Kit struggled to her feet and used the dagger to trace in reverse over the arch she had created, sealing the gateway.

Light-headed, she plopped into a sitting position on the floor, "It's over…" Then she collapsed.

At the shouts coming through the phone in his hands, Dean looked up in time to see everyone on the third floor rush to Kit's side. "Get the candles out now!" he shouted to the other men as he bolted to the stairwell. When he got to the third floor, he had to push his way past the workers who crowded around the circle Kit had laid out.

She lay slumped in the center and, for a moment, Dean's heart stopped. "Kit!" He shoved everyone aside as he went to his knees in the circle, cradling Kit's head on his knees.

"Dude, she just went down… like bam!" someone said.

"Come on, Kit, if anything happens to you, Sam will have my ass in a sling."

Kit's eyes fluttered, and then opened. "Maybe doing that on a mostly empty stomach was a bad idea…" she slurred.

"Hey brat, you scared me for a minute there," Dean teased. "You okay?"

Kit's brow furrowed. "Yeah, a little dizzy." She tried to sit up, and then groaned.

Dean caught her. "Whoa, slow down. You didn't hit your head, did you?"

She thought for a moment, "Doesn't hurt."

"Okay, let's get you up and into the car. You're gonna stay there while I clean this mess up."

"Dean…"

"Don't argue with me, Kitten. You got someone else to think about and if you won't, I will."

"You're just afraid of Sam."

"Phhh…. More like Evan. She's got a mean right hook."

Kit giggled as Dean helped her to her feet. "I know. Been on the receiving end... Whoa.." Kit's knees went out from under her.

Dean scooped her up before she went down. "Now, see? I take you home like this and we're both gonna be in trouble. You are going down to the car. I'll get you some water and you are keeping your ass there until I'm done."

"Okay…. Okay… So bossy..."

Dean carried Kit past everyone and to the elevator, then out to the car after the elevator deposited them on the ground. He didn't set Kit on her feet until he opened the car door and made sure she was safely inside. Shutting the door behind her, Dean tromped to the gas station just a few feet away and came back with a bottle of Gatorade. "Drink this, I'll be back."

When he stalked off to collect the candles and other supplies, Billy approached the car where Kit sat quietly sipping her drink. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little woozy. I don't know why that took so much out of me."

"He looked pretty freaked when you passed out."

"Who? Dean? Yeah, he's just afraid of what our families would do if he brought me home hurt. Little brother or not, I think Sam would kick his ass."

"Still, he's not the kind of guy I expected you to end up with."

Kit choked on her Gatorade, lowering the bottle to her lap before wiping the spilled drink off her chin. "Dean and me? No way!" Kit laughed.

Billy seemed genuinely lost. "But… Dean Winchester…. And…"

Kit laid her hand on Billy's arm. "I'm married to his brother, Sam."

Billy's eyes widened. "Ohhhh….. Oh, man. Now I feel stupid."

"No big deal. I can see why you'd come to that conclusion. Dean..." Kit shrugged. "He's my big brother now…" as if that explained everything.

Billy leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Well, you look happy. A husband, a business, even if it is kind of odd…. I'll call you sometime."

Kit smiled, "Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe before it gets too cold we can get together for a barbeque or something. We need to have an official welcome home party for Dean anyway." At Billy's puzzled look, Kit waved it off, "Long story, but yeah… it'd be nice to catch up with some old friends."

Billy slapped the window frame of the car with his palms and stood. "Well, I better get back to work. Good seeing you, Kit."

"Bye Billy…"

Dean approached the car as Billy walked away, having seen the guy kissing Kit's cheek. He opened the trunk and tossed the bags inside, shutting it with a bang. "So, we got paid." Dean pulled a check from his jacket pocket and held it out to Kit.

"Cool…" Kit opened the check and her eyes widened. "I wasn't expecting this much."

"Yeah, they said they wrote it off as, 'pest extermination consultation'".

"Brothermine, I think we have the start of a great business opportunity here…"

Dean started the car. "Fine, but if the clients are gonna ogle you, I'm bringing the shotgun."

"Billy? Please, wasn't my butt he was checking out as he walked away." Dean went still in his seat at the implication. "Yeah, bro. As a three-dollar bill. I've known him since high school. Trust me, I could dance naked in front of him and all he'd do is hand me a shirt to put on and worry that I'm too cold. You're way more his type." Kit crossed her arms over her chest. "Actually, he thought we were married."

"Oh god…" The mental image made Dean start to chuckle. "Me and you? Us? Never happen."

"Totally. That's like weird." Kit kicked off her shoes, curling up in the corner of the Impala's seat. "So…. Home, Jeeves. Seems I have dinner to prepare for everyone."

"Yessa, Miz Daisy," Dean drawled, forcing Kit to laugh again.

They were still laughing and talking when they stumbled in the kitchen door together, Kit tucking her keys back in her purse as Dean followed her with a couple grocery bags. "You should get to work before John kills you for taking the whole day off."

"Yeah, I'll hit the bank on the way there." Dean set the groceries on the counter. "You gonna be okay here by yourself?"

Kit moved to unpack the groceries. "Evan should be back soon. If Sam doesn't miss his train like usual, he'll be here right around dinnertime. Tell John there's plenty if he wants to come by too after you two close the shop."

"Will do. I'm outta here, Kitten." Dean passed by, dropping a kiss on the top of his sister-in-law's head. She swatted him on the arm as he went out the door.

Sam dropped his bags in the entry into the office on their side of the house. The sight that greeted him was serene and familiar. Jimmy dozed in the seat of his swing as it slowly wound down. Absently, Kit reached over and wound it back up without waking their son, then turned back to the desk. With a smile, Sam came up behind her and slipped his arms around her shoulders. "Hey."

"You're back early." Kit tipped her head back to kiss him. "I wasn't expecting you till tonight."

"Professor Lennox didn't talk over, so I didn't miss my train for once." Over Kit's shoulder, Sam looked at the desk. There was a map of an island, the road along the coast marked with red dots. "What's this?"

"Your dad called earlier and asked me to check out this pattern he noticed." Kit pulled the map closer, tracing the road with her finger. "Over the last fifty or so years, there have been a number of suspicious car accidents and deaths along this stretch of road. It wasn't apparent right away because this area gets a lot of tourists. I've found six incidents so far, but I'm going to keep digging."

"Is he going to close up the shop to check this out?" Sam pulled the map from under Kit's arm and turned to lean against the desk as he examined it.

Kit shook her head. "He can't. Just got a couple cars in. He and Dean are booked solid now all this week and probably part of next, depending on how long it takes them to get some of the parts they need."

Sam looked up. "Well, I can't go. I've got mock trial starting in a couple of days. Our team's got depositions to start." He shifted as he realized what his wife was thinking. "Kit, no. Don't even think about it."

"It's just a couple days, Sam. I can handle this like that," she snapped her fingers.

"It's not safe."

"I have gone up against way worse. I mean, as far as I can tell from the pattern, it's only attacked men. It's probably just a woman in white, in which case, I'm probably the safest..."

"No, Kit," Sam interrupted. "I don't think you should be out there right now. You're not..."

"Hey guys... Sam, you're actually back in time for dinner," Evan came in through the dividing door, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Sam and Kit both stiffened and moved away from each other. Evan looked between them. "Okay. If I interrupted anything, you know, personal, I can go back to our side of the house," she gestured over her shoulder.

"No," they both said at once, and then looked at each other. Sam sighed, "It's nothing. I just got in. I'm gonna take my bags upstairs and grab a shower before dinner."

When Sam had disappeared up to the upper level of the house, Evan looked at her sister. "What's with him?"

Kit rolled her eyes, "Just stressed. Don't worry about it. Now, go on. I have to get this research done before John and Dean get here." She shooed her sister off. "Hey Evan? Thanks for taking over dinner..."

"No problem, you looked about ready to heave when I walked in. Listen, are you sure you two are okay, sis? Seriously, things just seem really tense since we got back from Texas."

"I promise if there's something bothering me, I'll come bug you. Okay?"

Evan sighed. "Okay... ohh... My timer's going off! Dinner's in fifteen!" she called over her shoulder as she left.

Kit laid her head on the desk on her folded arms. "Great."

"...Anyway, by the time I'd dug back to the 1920's, I'd found nine deaths along that stretch of highway. There are some others that are possible matches, but..." Kit explained as she fed Jimmy applesauce.

"But?" John laid his knife to the side and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Kit shook her head, "That spot's pretty well known for diving and sightseeing, so in addition to the automobile accidents, there have been some falls from the cliffs and a few diving accidents. They don't fit the pattern, but something about them just strikes me as..."

"Hinky," Evan supplied as she started the coffee maker. "I know the spot you're talking about. I went out to the island once for a business meeting with L-," she paused. "For work. That spot just gave me the jeebies. I think your father's instincts on this one are right. There's something there, I'm telling you."

"Exactly," Kit looked around for a napkin, shooting Sam a grateful look when he took over feeding Jimmy. She wiped her hands and turned to grab her notes from a folder on the edge of the counter. Pushing her plate aside, she spread out the papers on the table. "At first, I was running on the idea of a woman in white. The road runs right along the channel and there's a definite pattern of male deaths..."

Dean leaned over his sister in law's shoulder to look at the picture of the victims that she had been able to pull up, "Those horn dogs.."

Kit laughed. "I thought so too, but I couldn't find any suicides that would fit the profile. I started expanding my search to any unusual deaths in the area. That's when the rest showed up. Howard Epps drowned while snorkelling. They said he got caught in a net, but there's no net fishing allowed in that area for miles. Tucker Gleeson supposedly fell over a guardrail while taking photographs, but there were no loose support structures and the guardrail is too high for him to just tip over. Plus, he was taking pictures at night? I don't think so," she said disbelievingly. "And three weeks ago, Amber Rae Johnson." Kit looked up, and around the table for some papers. "She went scuba diving and never came back up. When they recovered her body, her tank was still half full and her regulator was in perfect shape."

The crash from the doorway drew everyone's attention. "Amber drowned?" Evan stammered, her hands trembling. She made her way over to the table on unsteady legs and pulled out her chair to sit down, her face even paler than usual under her inky hair. "Are you sure?"

Kit shook her head. "No, from what I can tell, the official cause of death was strangulation. They said she got her suit caught on some debris and choked trying to get free." She reached across the table for her sister's hand. "I'm so sorry; I totally didn't make the connection until just now."

Evan gave a watery smile. "Hey, it's okay. So... who's gonna want coffee?" Her face tightening, she got up and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"I really blew that," Kit said softly, watching her sister's stiff back as she walked from the room. "I better go talk to her." With that, she too disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sam, Dean and John to look at each other with curiosity.

"Ev?"

Evan slammed a mug down on the counter before covering her eyes with a shaky hand and taking a deep breath. "It's bullshit, Kit. Amber knew better than to dive solo, and she never went down without her knife. Hell, we practiced getting out of bad dives. If she'd gotten hung up, she'd have cut her way out - suit, air hose, whatever." Needing to keep herself busy, Evan opened the refrigerator and removed the creamer before slamming the door. "There is no way that she just panicked and drowned."

"I'm sorry," Kit offered quietly.

"Something killed her, sis." Evan opened the silverware drawer and got out several spoons before furiously hip-checking it shut with a bang. "Something killed her and I want that son of a bitch extra crispy."

"We'll get it. I swear. Now, come on. We've probably freaked out all the Y chromosomes in the other room."

Evan's banging around in the kitchen, along with her return to the table to reddened eyes and clenched jaw, led the family to give her a wide berth for the night. Kit had just laid a hand on Sam's arm and shook her head, hoping to explain later.

When it was apparent that she would only go on this hunt reluctantly, it was tentatively decided that they would wait until the weekend, when John could close the shop up for a couple days, then he and Dean would go check things out. Kit opened her mouth to offer to join them, but Sam jumped in and excused them from the table, asking to talk to Kit for a moment.

Guiding Kit back over to their side of the house, he shut the door that connected the halves of the duplex. "Are you insane?" he hissed, turning to Kit. "You are not going on this hunt."

"Like hell I'm not, Sam," Kit shot back. "Did you even see the look on Evan's face? She's scared shitless of this hunt and I really don't blame her. She's been possessed or nearly possessed how many times in the last couple of months? This last victim was a friend of hers, and if Evan can't or won't go deal with this, I will."

"You're in no shape to be out there right now..."

Kit's eye narrowed. "Don't you dare go and get all macho on me now. Jesus, Sam, I've hunted after being thrown down a flight of stairs and falling into a catacomb. I've hunted after being bitten by a werewolf and I did a damn good job at it. Stop treating me like I'm helpless. I'm going, and that's it."

Kit turned to go back to the dinner table, when Sam grabbed her arm as the door opened. "I'm just worried about you..."

"Oh, for God's sake, Sam. I hunted when I was pregnant with Jimmy and everything was fine, so stop treating me like I'm some fragile flower. I was fine that time and I'll be fine this time too!"

The silence around the table was the first thing Kit noticed. She turned and saw everyone in the family watching her with varying shades of discomfort. She sighed heavily.

Dean was the first to speak. "So... awkward..."

For the rest of the evening they discussed the upcoming hunt. John, taking the role of patriarch, decided that it would be best to wait until the weekend to actually go down there. He and Dean would take point and Kit would back them up, strictly in research mode he stressed, as he gave his younger son a look. It was the best that he could do. They needed two of them in the field and a backup in case anything went sour. Since Sam had school and Evan was clearly not ready to be back out there after her last hunt, Kit was the only choice.

Sam seemed annoyed at the fact that his father's logic aligned so well with Kit's. Kit just smiled. It wasn't like she asked John to see her side of things. They both just saw the same logical answer to the situation. Of course, he'd relegated her to "research girl", which she knew meant she'd be spending all her time in libraries and online, but it was better than nothing. The worst injury she could expect would be a nasty paper cut.

Snapping off the light to the bathroom, Evan walked into their bedroom and found Dean sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her. He had an expectant look on his face and Evan knew what he wanted to talk about. Sighing, she went over to the bed and sat down on the edge beside him.

"You want to know about Amber," she said softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked her gently. Though he had talked over the upcoming hunt with Kit and his father, most of his attention had been focussed on Evan's ramrod stiff back and her sudden unapproachable presence.

Evan was quiet for so long that Dean thought she was going to hold it inside, but when she took a deep breath and began, he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"When I moved to LA, Amber was the first person I could call a friend there," Evan started, her voice thick as she fought to keep her emotions steady.

"Was she a hunter?"

"No," she shook her head and smiled slightly. "She was a junior lawyer at the law firm. She handled some of the firm's smaller civil cases." Taking another deep breath, Evan laid her head on Dean's shoulder. "When I left LA, I kept in touch with her for a little while. But we drifted apart. I figured it would be best if she didn't know what I did."

"I know it sucks to have to leave behind friends, but sometimes you have to protect them from what's out there," he told her.

"If I'd been protecting her, I would have gone back to Avalon and gotten rid of the son of a bitch before it killed her," Evan retorted, her anger at herself rising. "I knew something wasn't right with that spot."

Dean turned on the bed and grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. He pushed her chin up with his thumbs. "Babe, you didn't know this was going to happen. You can't blame yourself."

"I can't stop thinking that her death is on my hands," Evan said softly and a tear slid down her cheek.

Hating to hear the sadness in her voice, Dean pulled her close and let her cry softly while he rubbed her back.

"I never said you couldn't do the job, I just said you shouldn't do the job," Sam clarified once he and Kit got to their bedroom that night. Sam sat in bed with one of his law books open on his lap when Kit came back from checking on Jimmy. She slipped off her robe and then climbed into bed beside him.

"Sam, do you really think that, now that your father and Dean know how much you don't want me to go, they're going to let me so much as lift a knife to cut my own food? I'm going to be there in a strictly research capacity."

"I know you though," he countered. You're going to want to get in on the fight."

Kit smiled at him and snuggled up close to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I promise, I won't. I'm hands off on this one," she said. When she saw him close his eyes and shake his head, Kit grabbed the book that was lying on his lap and reached back to put it on the nightstand. "I promise." she said and Sam looked at her from the corner of his eye when he heard the tone in her voice and felt her hands creep over his abdomen.

He quickly grabbed her hands and rolled her beneath him, working his body between her legs and using his weight to pin her to the bed. "You promise?" He questioned her, lowering his mouth to her neck.

Kit shuddered as she felt the warmth of his mouth against her and the feel of his body between her legs. "I promise," she whispered shakily, her eyes closing as she felt Sam press himself harder against her and the once-gentle sucking on her neck become deeper. If he kept that up, she knew that she would promise him the moon.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Kit showed him the truth behind her promise.

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Dean stepped up behind Evan, curling his arm around her waist and laying his chin on her shoulder as she filled the large thermos with coffee. She paused in twisting on the cap, her hand trembling slightly.

"Dean," she began and her voice cracked. "I don't think it's a good idea. We still haven't..." she began and held up her scarred wrist, her voice trailing off.

He turned her around, tilting her head up to meet his stare. "Babe, I know," he said softly. "And we'll find something. We'll get you back out there," he assured her.

"We'd better," she gave him a small smirk. "Someone's gotta keep you from running in like a bull moose."

"Funny," he told her and then took the thermos from her hands and twisted on the top. She followed him out of the kitchen and up to the front door where John and Kit waited for him.

"Daylight's wasting," John said to his son.

"You know women," Dean said with a cocky grin and a look back at his girlfriend.

"You're hilarious," Evan snarked back at him. She then looked at John and Dean. "Promise me something?"

"What's that?" John asked her.

"Get this son of a bitch, whatever it is," she told them bluntly.

John smiled at her and she saw the almost unholy gleam in his eye at the prospect of killing whatever evil thing had been terrorizing that area. "We'll bring you back the ashes," he told her and then walked out the front door.

"Call me if you need some help, Research Girl," Evan smiled at her sister and gave her a hug. "And keep an eye on these two. Make sure they come back relatively unharmed."

"You bet," Kit said and tightened her hug on her sister for a moment before stepping back and grabbing her bag from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder before walking out of the house and out to the Impala.

"Dean," Evan caught his arm as he turned to follow Kit out to the car. She looked up at him, and then glanced at Kit worriedly.

"I'll watch her," he said in answer to her unspoken request. He then bent his head and gave her a soft kiss.

Sam leaned against the side of the car and watched Kit as she walked down the steps of the house and came over to the car. She stopped and looked up at him. She knew he still disagreed with her going on this hunt.

"Sam, I'll be okay. Your father and Dean are going to be there," she smiled at him.

"I know," Sam sighed and cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her slowly. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he said when he broke off the kiss.

"Always am," she said and pulled open the door to the Impala. Tossing her bag into the back seat, she climbed into the car. "Love you. See you in a few days."

"We'll be here," he replied and then looked over the top of the car at his brother, who just nodded at him and gave him a cocky smile. Sam stepped back as the Impala roared to life and Dean backed it out of the driveway. They made their way slowly up the street followed by John's truck.

"They'll watch her, Sam," Evan said from beside him.

"I know," he murmured, watching the two vehicles disappear from sight. "I'd better get ready for class."

"Yeah, you'd better. We've got half an hour to get you to your train, so shag it," Evan told him and then turned and went into the house. In the kitchen, she quickly cleared away the breakfast dishes and then went up the stairs to get Jimmy and JD from where they were waiting in the playpen in JD's room.

As soon as she walked into the bedroom, Evan knew that Nana's spirit was in the room with the boys. Ever since she had come back from Texas, whenever anything supernatural had been nearby, the scars on her wrists had begun to itch. At first it had scared her, but she had grown accustomed to it.

"Morning Nana," she said brightly and felt a warm sensation brush over her cheek. After her possession by Elizabeth Bathory's demon, Evan had grown skittish around Nana's spirit, but she had forced herself to remember who it was. She knew that Nana would never hurt her.

"Come on kiddos,' she said to JD as she lifted him out of the playpen and setting him to the floor. "You too, Bud. Come on," she said before scooping up Jimmy in her arms. The baby wiggled in her arms and giggled when she lifted his shirt and gave him a raspberry on this stomach. "We gotta get Uncle Sammy to the train," she said to JD and he ran out of the room ahead of her.

"Stop at the stairs," she called after him as she followed him out of the room. JD waited at the top of the stairs for her and then sat down on the top step and made his way down the stairs one at a time on his diapered butt. "Kid, it's a good thing you've got a lot of padding," she laughed.

"There's my guy," Sam said as he came out of the kitchen and up the hall in time to take his son from Evan. He held the baby with one arm while he slung his bag over his shoulder with the other.

"What are you going to do today?" Sam asked her as they made their way out to the car and buckled the boys into the car seats in the back of Evan's Thunderbird.

"I have to go over to Mom's. She's taking me to her salon to get this fixed," she said, holding up a strand of black hair.

"I was kind of getting used to the black," he told her as he climbed into the front seat of the car. He grinned at the glare she sent him.

"You sound like your brother," she muttered and started the car. Backing out of the driveway, she made her way up the street and towards the train station. "I don't know how long it's going to take, so when you get out of class, call me on my cell," she told him as she pulled into the parking lot of the station a short time later.

"Will do," he replied easily and then reached over the back seat of the car and took his sons small hand. "See you later, Dude." Looking at JD, he smiled. "You be good for your Mom today, okay?"

"Okay Unc Sammy," JD said from his car seat and Sam shook his head. With both Dean and Evan teaching JD to call him Sammy he was never going to lose the nickname.

"Well see you tonight, Sammy," Evan said, laughing at the way Sam's eyes rolled before he climbed out of the car and trotted off towards the train that was just pulling into the station.

"Okay kiddos. We're off to see Gramma and Grandpa," Evan told the boys as she turned up the CD and pulled the car out of the parking lot, heading towards her parents' place.

"This town sucks," Dean muttered as he stretched to his full height after coming through the small doorway of the cottage style motel room. He threw his bag on the bed in the room that he was going to be sharing with his father. "Whoever heard of a place where you can't take your cars? And the golf carts?" Dean snorted derisively. "I feel like I'm in Munchkinland."

"It's been like that for generations, Dean," Kit told him as she pushed open the door between the two motel rooms.

"Evan would feel right at home here," Dean smirked at his sister-in-law.

John simply shook his head and dropped his bag on the bed near the door. "We're not going to be here that long," he told his son. Secretly though, he had to admit that Dean was right. He didn't like leaving his truck parked where he couldn't watch it either. There was the risk that someone would get curious and discover the weapons cache he'd built into the truck bed, or the false bottom in the trunk of Dean's Impala.

"Okay Kitty, what else can you tell us about this area," Dean shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Kit leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest. "Catalina Island's a huge tourist area. In fact most of the people on the island are tourists. It's close enough to the coast that a lot of diving enthusiasts make day trips to see the shipwrecks. When I expanded my research, I found that the suspicious deaths followed up and down the roads of the island AND the shore in the same basic area."

"But whatever's causing these deaths doesn't follow a specific pattern," John surmised.

"No. The victims have been both men and women. It doesn't match with any lunar cycles or the normal ritual times. And all of the deaths have been," she trailed off, trying to find a way to explain. "Normal. For lack of a better word."

"Have there been any survivors? Someone who could tell us anything?" Dean questioned.

"The only actual eyewitness account was a woman who had been driving back from a party with her boyfriend. She said that she thought she saw a person, and then a sudden flash of light from her boyfriend and then he lost control of the car and it crashed," Kit told them. "She couldn't give a description of the person she thought she saw, and there was no other body found at the scene so the cops dismissed her story, thinking that she was probably drunk."

"Guess we'll just have to go out there tonight and see happens," John said as he sat down in one of the motel chairs. "Can you pin point an area where most of the victims were found?"

"Sure thing," Kit said and then went back into her room to grab the map of the area and the file. Bringing it back into their room, she sat down at the table with John and they went over the map. "The highest concentration is in this area." She said a short time later, pointing to one spot. "I think if we patrol that area, we'll have better luck."

"We?" John raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head. "No, you're staying right here tonight. Dean and I will check out the area."

"Come on, John," Kit implored.

"I promised Sam that you would be research only," John told her. "You're staying here."

"Dean," she began but stopped when he held up his hand.

"I promised both Evan and Sam that you'd stay out of the fight," he told her and Kit let out an aggravated sigh.

"Well grab some dinner later and then head out," John told them in a voice that brooked no argument from Kit.

"Fine, I'll stay here," she grumbled.

"Dad, this is the tenth time we've been along this stretch of road," Dean said as he once again shone his flashlight on the map. They had been out for almost four hours, making their way up and down the stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway Kit had indicated. They were prime targets, and yet other than a few flickers of static on the radio station on John's truck, they hadn't seen anything.

"I know," John sighed and then pulled off to the side of the road. "We'll make one more sweep and then call it a night. Whatever's here, I don't think it's going to show tonight."

"We'll have Kit check the books again when she wakes up. See if there's something we might have missed." Dean snapped off the flashlight as John made a wide turn and headed back in the direction they had come. The road was quiet in the early dawn as they headed back towards Long Beach where John parked had his truck. They grabbed a cup of coffee from an open "roach coach" before they boarded the first morning ferry back to the island.

Kit looked up from the book she had been reading as they walked into the room. "You're back early," she frowned at them. "I didn't think you'd be back till later today."

"It was a bust," Dean said and dropped onto his bed. "Nothing showed."

"There were a few flickers of something on the radio, but that's it," John told her. "We'll go out again tonight and scout the land where the bodies of the previous victims were found. Maybe we can turn up something there."

"I'd chalk it up to just random coincidences, but Evan said that this place gave her the creeps," Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and then leaned back on his hands on the bed, looking at the two of them. "And I don't think it's just because her friend died."

"Well, we can give it one more night," John said, making a decision. "If we don't turn up something by tomorrow, we can go home, but keep an eye on the area."

"I'll get some topographical maps of the area for tonight," Kit said and went back to her room. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she called the house, smiling when Sam picked up the phone. "Hey baby," she began.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Evan muttered under her breath as she came out of the shop and looked at the piece of yellow paper pinned beneath her windshield wiper, fluttering in the gentle breeze. Snatching it off of the windshield, she peered at it with angry green eyes. Looking around, she found the "No Parking" sign that the ticket said she was in violation of.

She ran a hand through her mostly red again hair and growled in frustration. "Do a favor for someone and you get busted for it," she muttered, throwing her purse into the passenger seat of the T-Bird. Sliding into the car, she slammed the heavy door and tossed the ticket onto the dashboard. Starting the engine, she put the car in gear and pulled the car into a tight U-turn before pulling out into the side street. As she drove down the road, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialled her sister's place. When there was no answer, she tried her sister's cell phone. When there was still no answer, she tried her parents' house. She was growing worried when there still wasn't any answer. In desperation she tried her parent's cell phone.

"Hey Dad," she said when Edgar picked up the phone on the third ring.

"Hey honey," he said cheerfully.

"Do you know where Angie is? I just tried her place to let her know that I was coming to pick up the boys and there's no answer," Evan said, peering over her shoulder as she changed lanes.

That morning, after dropping Sam off at the train station, she had dropped the boys off at Angie's, before going to John's shop to wait for the delivery of a part that he needed for one of the customers. The delivery man had been vague as to what time he would be there, so Evan hadn't wanted to take the boys on what had proved to be a long and boring wait.

"I have the boys back at the house," Edgar told her. "You're not done yet," he said to someone and Evan heard a minor scuffle and then Jimmy's rather disgusted wail. "Angie got called into work. Some girl decided not to show up for her shift at the bank. She dropped the kids off at our place and we took them out to the park. I brought them back here to get them cleaned up before you got home."

"Thanks Dad," she said with a smile. "I'm on my way home now. Be there in a few."

"No problem, honey," Edgar told her. "See you when you get here."

Evan snapped her phone closed and tossed it back into her purse. At the light, she reached out to idly grab the ticket that was caught between the windshield and the dash. She frowned as something caught her eye and she found herself staring at the shadow that fell across her hand. Her gaze snapped up to the corner of the windshield and she stared at the small design that Dean had etched into each corner of the glass.

"It creates a lock box. No demon can get through it or in it. It'll make it a safe zone." She remembered Sam's words when she had questioned what Dean was doing.

Evan jumped when the car behind her honked his horn loudly and she glanced at the light and saw that it had changed. Stepping on the accelerator, she bit her bottom lip in thought as she peered once more at the design. Could it possibly work?

With a growing urgency, she quickly made her way through traffic towards the house. Pulling into the driveway, she threw the car into park and climbed out; running up the stairs and pushing open the front door.

"I'm home!" She shouted and dropped her purse at the door and kicking it shut. She went into the study and looked through the large bookshelf that held their library of the occult. Snatching the leather-bound book that she was looking for, she went around the desk and sat down, flipping it open.

"The boys just went down for their nap," her father said as he walked into the study. He frowned when he saw his daughter pawing through the book. "What is it, honey?"

"I'm not sure yet," Evan said honestly. Stopping at one page, she looked up at her father. "I think I might have found an answer to my possession problem."

Coming around the desk, Edgar looked at the page and then at his daughter. He frowned slightly, but kept reading. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been relived that after her possession in Texas, which he hadn't been happy that John and Sam had kept from him; Evan had made the decision to quit hunting. But he knew that his daughter was unhappy being left behind. "It might work," he agreed.

"There's only one way to test it," she said and grabbed one of JD's washable markers from the top of the desk and drew the design onto her hand. "Nana?" She called out and waited. Within a few moments of the call, she felt the itch at her wrists. "I need your help." She said and then looked at her father.

Sam slung his bag over his shoulder as he stepped off the train.

"Sammy! Over here," he heard the familiar voice. Looking around, he saw the familiar red Thunderbird sitting in the parking lot and his sister-in-law sitting on the hood. She waved when she saw him and he walked towards the car.

As he approached the T-Bird, Sam looked into the car and saw that she was alone. "Where are the boys?" He asked as she slid off of the hood and circled the car.

"Dad's watching them at the house. He's going to stay with them until we get home tonight," she told him.

"Why is your father watching them?" He asked as he climbed into the car and waited for her to slide in and start the engine.

"I need you to come with me," she told him as she pulled the car out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Sam tossed his bag into the back seat of the car and turned in his seat to look at Evan.

"To see an artist, Sammy," she said and turned the car towards the highway. "Father K is going to meet us there."

"I don't understand, Evan." He frowned when she showed him her hand and he saw the mark there. "Are you kidding me? A Devil's Trap?"

"You said it yourself, Sammy, it creates a lockbox. No demon, or spirit, can get through it or inside it. That's why you and Dean put them all over the cars. So we turn me into a walking lock box."

"But, I don't think it was meant to be put on a person," he said slowly, examining the mark on her hand. "How do we know it will work?"

"It does," she told him, explaining that she'd already tested it with a spirit she knew would leave voluntarily, namely Nana.

Sam pulled a face and then smiled at Evan. He remembered when Evan had told them that she was quitting hunting because she had been afraid of being possessed again, and he hadn't blamed her. After witnessing the emotional and physical torture her possessions had caused, he'd been afraid for her. To be honest, he had also been afraid of her. Still, keeping a natural born hunter like her from the hunt, she'd wither away and die. "Let's go see an artist."

"Thanks Sam," she said, pressing the accelerator until the car leapt forward.

Later that evening Sam, Father K and Duggan Jones sat in Father K's small house. The three men could only shake their heads as Evan downed another shot of Jack Daniels. Her face scrunched up as the fiery liquid burned a path to her stomach. She shivered as she watched the needle blur over the skin of her wrist, but she felt no pain. Of course, she couldn't feel much below her waist either. Or her face. Or her arms.

Evan gigged drunkenly as the strains of "Highway to Hell" sounded from her purse a few minutes later. She waited until Duggan, the tattooist stopped and waited for her to answer. As she dug into it with one hand, she missed the look that Duggan, Sam and Father K sent each other.

Pulling out the small pink cell phone and looking at the display, her face brightened when she saw the name. Flipping it open, she giggled again. "Hey baby!"

In the motel room, Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the display to make sure he dialled the right number before putting it back to his hear. "Evan?"

She giggled. "Yup, is me."

"Are you drunk?" He asked her, incredulous.

"Naw," she shook her head and wobbled on the chair. "I don't get drunk."

"I knew I shouldn't have let her have anything to drink," Father K said as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from teetering.

"I don't usually let people drink before they have any work done, thins the blood too much," Duggan Jones said. He pushed at the bandana that he had tied around his head to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes as he worked, and waited for Evan to finish on the phone. "But I figured she was going to need a bracer."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Princess. Is Sam with you?" Dean questioned her with a shake of his head.

"Yeah. Why?" She asked him.

"Can I talk to him?" Dean asked slowly as though he were speaking to a child. He then looked over at Kit and his father who were sitting nearby. "She's wasted."

"I heard that," Evan interjected, her words slurring slightly.

"What?" Kit laughed in surprise, looking up from her book.

"What the hell is going on back there?" John questioned him and Dean shrugged.

"I need to talk to him," Dean told her, turning his attention back to his apparently inebriated girlfriend.

"You don wanna talk to me?" Evan asked, pouting.

"You're not going to remember anything I say to you, so put Sam on," Dean told her, shaking his head.

"Sammy!" Evan called, even though Sam was sitting right in front of her. He rose from the chair and took her phone. "Hey, Dean."

"Why is Evan drunk?" Dean asked as soon as his brother came on the line.

"Don't ask," Sam said, shaking his head as he moved away from them as Duggan started back to work. "How's it going?"

"Wonderful. We crapped out last night and today wasn't much better. Dad and I are going to head out in a few minutes to make another sweep of the area," he told his brother. "Seriously dude, why is Evan drunk?"

"I'll explain later," Sam promised. "So there's been nothing so far?"

"Nope. If nothing pans out tonight, we'll be home tomorrow because to tell the truth, dude, your wife is a crabby bitch when you're apart," Dean told him. They talked for a few more minutes before Dean put Kit on the phone to talk to Sam.

"Okay, she's done," Duggan said as he set aside the instruments.

"I have to go," Sam told Kit and told her that he loved her before hanging up the phone.

"I can't see it," Evan said, her words running together as she squinted an eye at her wrist.

"That's why we used the UV ink. It will only appear under black light. No questions that way," Duggan reminded her as he wiped the traces of blood away from her wrists. He then spread a thin layer of ointment over the tattoo and wrapped some gauze around her wrist as he had done with her other wrist earlier. He sat back when Liam came over to them, took Evan's hands in his and said a silent prayer.

Shaking his head, Duggan began cleaning up his equipment. "Blessing a tattoo. Still can't get over that," he said. The first time he had worked on Evan, when she had him do the cross and rose tattoo on the back of her neck, he'd thought she was nuts when Liam had blessed it when he was done. But with what she did for a living, he figured that the more God was looking down upon her, the better.

Evan grinned and rose from her chair, and gave the grizzled man a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks again Duggie."

"Anytime Ev," he said gruffly, but there was a touch of affection in his voice.

"Are you going to be able to get her home okay?" Liam asked Sam as he held onto Evan's shoulders and guided her in more or less straight path towards the door.

"She's short," Sam replied. "I can throw her over my shoulder easily enough."

Evan stopped and sent him a dark look over her shoulder. "I am not short. Your legs are just too tall." Stopping suddenly on the steps, she looked at Sam as a thought struck her. "How do you and Kit..." then just as suddenly as the question was out, she waved her hand in front of her face. "Nevermind, I don't even wanna know..."

Sam felt his face burn with embarrassment and he hissed at her. "Evan, that's not something you ask in front of a priest."

Evan sent him a puzzled look. "Why not? He's interested in procreation,"

"Oh dear god," Sam said in strangled voice.

"I promote it as it applies to the Bible, Evangeline dear. I'm not interested in the mechanics of it," Liam replied calmly, although it took great effort to remain so.

Sending him a leering grin, Evan replied, "Damn, cause if I was single still, I bet I could change your mind."

"Ohhh kay, it's time to get you home," Sam stammered and grabbed Evan's shoulders, pushing her down the stairs towards the passenger side of her car. Once he had her safely buckled into the car, he looked back at Father Liam and sent him a weak smile.

"May God be with you, Samuel," Liam said and shook his head at the woman waving drunkenly at him.

Climbing into the car Sam shot Evan a look. "You realize that we can never come see him again."

She blew a giggly raspberry in response. "Home, James," she slurred as Sam pulled out of the church parking lot and headed towards home.

When he pulled the car into the driveway, he glanced over at Evan as she slept in the corner of the car. He was tempted to leave her there, but that was petty and he'd only hear about it the next day from everyone. Parking the car, he climbed out and went around the front of the car. Opening her door carefully, he caught her before she spilled out onto the driveway.

"Whoa, where'd the door go?" She muttered as her body shifted and began to slide.

"Upsy daisy," he said to her, as he cupped beneath her arms and pulled her from the car. He set her on her feet and she grinned at him for a split second before her legs turned to water. Sam boosted her over his shoulder before she could hit the ground and pushed the car door shut with his knee. Holding tight to her legs, he walked up the front steps of the house.

"Kit's right, you do have a nice ass. Not as nice as Dean's, but it's still nice. Now his I'd love to just..."

"I'm warning you now, Evan. Shut up," Sam gritted his teeth as he pushed open the front door.

The light in the living room flicked on. "And where the hell have you two been? Oh my god, what happened to her?" Edgar demanded as he saw his daughter's body slung over Sam's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Uh oh. Busted," Evan whispered loudly and giggled. "Hi Daddy!" Evan cooed as she looked around Sam's legs at her father. "What are you doing on your head?"

Shaking his head, Edgar threw up his hands. "I don't want to know. Put her to bed. The boys are asleep. I'm going home."

"Thanks for staying with them Edgar," Sam said appreciatively as the older man shook his head and made for the front door.

"Love you Daddy!" Evan waved at Edgar as he left the house, still shaking his head.

Sam climbed the stairs and took Evan into the room she shared with Dean and dumped her on the bed. He then went into the bathroom and got her a glass of water and shook two aspirin out of the bottle from the medicine cabinet. Going back into the bedroom, he found Evan curling up on the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder.

"Evan, wake up," he said gently and she cracked one eye open and looked at him.

"Wan go sleep," she mumbled.

"You will. But drink this first. And take these," he ordered her gently and she sat up, to take the glass of water from him and swallowed the two tablets he dropped into her hand. "They'll help with the headache you're gonna have tomorrow."

Swallowing the tablets, Evan drank the water. "Thanks, Sammy."

He gave her a fond smile. "Go to sleep."

Without further argument, Evan lay back down and closed her eyes. Sam rose from the edge of the bed and pulled the boots from her feet, dropping them to the floor and then pulled the comforter up over her.

Going in to check on JD, he tugged the blanket back up over his sleeping body. At the light movement, JD opened his eyes and looked up at Sam. A light sleeper just like his Dad, Sam mused.

"Hey bud," he said into the quiet. "Go back to sleep."

With a nod, JD curled up under the blanket and closed his eyes.

Sam left the room quietly and went down the stairs to go over to his and Kit's side of the house. Walking into his son's room, he saw the rocking chair beside Jimmy's crib moving slowly.

"How's he been?" He asked the spirit in the chair and the light beside the crib flicked on once and then again. Sam smiled and went over to the crib, running a finger gently over his sleeping son's cheek. The baby moved towards the light touch and reached out in his sleep for it, grasping tightly to Sam's finger. "It's okay, Dude. Dad's home," he told the sleeping baby.

He stayed with Jimmy for a little while longer before snapping off the light and making his way to his bedroom. Stripping down and tossing his clothes into the hamper, he crawled into bed, Kit's scent surrounding him as he drifted off to sleep.

After Kit had made dinner, despite her slightly green tinge while she did so, John and Dean left the motel, walking to the marina where their newly-rented boat was waiting. John started the engine while Dean cast off the mooring lines. Guiding the boat out of the marina, John opened the engine up full throttle as they headed across to the mainland where the vehicles were parked.

Once they reached land, they climbed into John's truck. Dean retrieved the sawed-off shotgun from his duffel bag, loading it with rock salt shells while his father pulled out of the parking lot and onto PCH in the direction of the area they had previously patrolled.

"Maybe we should expand the route a little," Dean said a few moments later as he laid his father's loaded shotgun aside and loaded his own. With the weapon across his lap, he pulled out the map and shone the flashlight over it. "There were a few spots further up that we could check out."

John nodded and reached over to turn on the truck's radio as an early warning against paranormal activity in their vicinity. Glancing at his son, John saw how intently Dean was studying the map and realized that he had missed hunting with Dean, like they had the years Sam had been away at school.

When the radio station began to flicker, Dean glanced at it and then at his father. John raised an eyebrow and turned his attention to the road, but his ear was tuned to the radio, trying to pick out any EVP.

As they went around a bend in the road, John slammed his foot on the break and glanced briefly into the rear-view mirror to make sure no one was behind him. Dean braced one foot on the dash and grabbed at the shotgun that started to slide off the seat of the truck and his knee. As the truck shuddered to a stop, the dial on the radio rolled back and forth, stations flickering past at rapid speed until it settled on one static-filled station.

"Stand and deliver!" The shrieked order poured through the radio at them.

"Holy shit," John muttered as the truck skidded slightly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled in surprise.

Looking out the windshield, they gaped at the figure before them. The headlights of the truck shone through the pale figure. The air around them became charged with an uncomfortable energy that ran through the truck and tingled along their bodies. The scent of rotting flesh mixed with salt filled the cab of the truck around them.

Dean frowned as he took in the spectres appearance. The ends of the white shirt fluttered on the slender shoulders on an intangible breeze. Dark breeches encased muscular thighs and disappeared into knee high boots that faded into nothingness. Thick black hair curled down over his shoulders and a black tricorn hat sat cockily on his head. As Dean watched, the man raised a hand and pointed a cutlass at them.

"Great," he muttered. "It's the ghost of Captain Morgan,"

As they stood there, the man's mouth formed into words that poured through the radio. "Get out!"

"Like hell we are," John snapped back at the man, who frowned darkly at them. Swinging his arm, the blade of the cutlass slashed through the air and struck the hood of the truck, taking off one of the lights John had mounted to the grill. John and Dean jumped in surprise as the lights dimmed. The spirit swung the cutlass again and took off one of the other lights. As it brought the blade down once more, a thick, viscous substance splattered against the windshield. Taking a closer look at the foul smelling substance, John said to his son. "It's ectoplasm!"

Dean shot his father a surprised look. "That is one seriously pissed off spirit!" Turning back to the spirit, Dean gaped as it started to stride closer to them, its body cutting through the truck. "Dad!"

"Shit!" John cried and threw the truck in reverse, stomping on the gas pedal. Just as the truck started to move, the engine sputtered and died. The truck rolled backward slightly and John pulled the emergency brake to halt it.

Grabbing the shotgun, Dean rolled down the window and climbed halfway out to point the barrel at the spirit. Tugging the trigger the loud report filled the air, echoing off the trees as the rock salt tore through the spirit. It turned its head and glared at Dean.

"Rock salt's not working, Dad!" Dean hollered as the spirit turned towards him.

"Dean, get out of the way!" John shouted as he stepped out of the truck and pointed his shotgun at the spirit that suddenly shifted and slid towards his son. Dean, seeing his father raise his shotgun tipped backwards and dropped out of the window to the asphalt. Pain seared through his shoulder as he landed, but his grunt of pain was swallowed by the blast of the shotgun.

"Dean?" John shouted at his son, coming around the front of the truck.

"I'm okay," Dean groaned. He took his father's hand and John pulled him to his feet. Grabbing his own shotgun from the ground, Dean looked around. "Where'd the son of a bitch go?"

John looked around slowly, listening intently. "I don't know."

The stench of rotting flesh and the ocean hit Dean seconds before he saw the spirit phase into sight behind his father. He reached out for John's shoulder and gave his father a shove as he raised his own shotgun at the spirit and pulled the trigger. The spirit once again vanished from their sight.

"We gotta trap this thing and then banish it," John told him and Dean handed his father the shotgun.

Pulling open the door of the truck, Dean grabbed the bag of supplies off of the floor and his father's journal from the glove box. "That clearing Kit showed us on the map is going to be the best place to go," Dean told him, already turning towards it.

They made their way through the woods, listening for the spirit that was stalking them. When they stumbled into the clearing, Dean opened the journal and found the spell that would serve to banish the spirit. Taking the bag from Dean, John pulled out the items they'd need. On the ground, he drew a circle with a nearby stick, then filled in the new furrow with salt. Dean walked around the circle and placed the candles at the four compass points.

"Come on, you son of a bitch," Dean muttered as he looked around the trees. He turned as the putrid scent hit him once again. Pain flared in his chest as an invisible force struck him, knocking him backward. The journal fell from his hand as he struggled to right himself. He could see the spirit streaking towards him and scrabbled on the ground for his shotgun.

Seeing the spirit go after his son, John grabbed the journal and began to shout at the spirit. The Latin phrase, while not enough to banish the spirit, drove it back from Dean, giving the younger man a chance to get to his feet and get his shotgun. The spirit's face twisted in pain and anger as it rushed at John.

"Dad!" Dean shouted as John was struck by the spirit and lifted from his feet. His body was thrown violently through the air, stopping only when he hit a thick tree and bounced off.

John groaned. Something stabbed at his insides when he tried to breath and he could taste blood in his mouth. He tried unsuccessfully to stand, but groaned in a sprawl at the tree's base. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean rise up and aim the shot gun. Ducking his head, he heard the loud report and felt tree bark rain down on him as Dean fired at the spirit, the rock salt tearing through the advancing figure.

"Dad, you okay?" Dean slid to his knees at his father's side, helping him roll over. He stared down at him for a moment, his breath catching as he saw how pale his fathers face was.

"Get the damn thing," John said weakly, pain filling his voice and clouding his eyes.

"It disappeared when I shot at it," Dean told him. "We have to get you out of here before it comes back." Looping one of his father's arms over his shoulder, Dean helped him to his feet. John groaned again as the change in position shifted ribs that he knew by now were broken. At the first step, his knees buckled. The additional weight threatened to drag Dean down with him, he staggered a moment but braced himself. With one hand keeping his father's arm over his shoulder and the other supporting him at the waist, he half dragged him out of the clearing towards the truck.

At the truck, he put his father inside and slammed the door before running back to the clearing to gather their equipment. He kept alert, listening to the sounds around him, sniffing the air to see if he could smell the spirit anywhere near as he shoved the things back into the bag. He paused long enough to pull out his cell phone and dialled Kit's cell phone.

She answered on the first ring. "Did you get it?"

"Meet us at the Marina. Dad's hurt," he responded instead.

"I'll be there."

Dean ran back to the truck and climbed in behind the wheel. When it started up with no problems, he knew that the spirit was nowhere near. Throwing it into gear, he turned the truck around and stomped on the gas pedal, heading back towards Long Beach and the boat.

Kit shoved her feet into her shoes and pulled on her jacket, grabbing the room key in her free hand ob her way out the door. As she walked, she pulled out her cell phone and called the house. "Come on, answer the damn phone," she muttered as it rang. A few moments later she heard a familiar sleepy voice.

"'ello?"

"Hey baby," she said, smiling despite herself. "It's me."

"Hey," Sam said, sitting up in their bed and glancing at the clock. Seeing the time on the clock, he sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Dean just called. Your dad's hurt," she told him.

"I'm on my way," Sam told her, already throwing the blankets off.

"Sam," Kit began.

"I'm on my way," he told her again and hung up the phone.

Pulling on his jeans, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on as he left the bedroom and going down the stairs. Taking the stairs on the other side of the house two at a time, he banged his hand on Dean and Evan's door once before pushing it open.

"Evan, wake up," he said and Evan sat up straight in bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, blinking as he flipped on the overhead light. "Dad's hurt," Sam told her.

"What?" She muttered, frowning at him. "What happened?"

"Kit didn't know any more than that. She just said Dean called her and said that Dad's been hurt. I'm going out there."

"I'm coming with you," Evan said, scrambling off the bed.

"Evan, the boys. You stay here with them."

"Sam, if it's something that could hurt your father, than it's going to take all of us. We'll drop the boys off at Angie's and go out there." She told him and then stopped as her head spun briefly. "Let me have a quick shower first," she said and headed to the bathroom. "Get the boys ready."

She kicked the bathroom door shut and stripped out of her clothes, stepping into the shower before the water had a chance to warm up. The shock of the water cleared some of the fuzziness from her brain, enough that she could quickly clean up and process what Sam had said. In a towel, she dug through her dresser until she found a pair of battered jeans and a t-shirt she could pull on. Scraping her damp hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her bag and left the bedroom to go to JD's room.

Her arms itched as she entered and she knew that Nana's spirit was in there with him. JD sat up on his bed and watched her approach, and Evan knew that Nana had woken him up for her. "Thanks Nana," she told the spirit and felt a warmth on her cheek.

"Momma?" He frowned at her slightly as she picked him up, and cuddled him close to her body. Evan turned and found a bag already filled on the top of JD's dresser.

"Were going to see Auntie Angie and Uncle Kevin, okay baby?" She asked the little boy and JD nodded at her, not asking questions. As Evan grabbed the bag, she whispered, "Thanks again, Nana." Thankfully, the hunter's ghost knew the drill and had begun preparing the little boy's bag as soon as Sam had left Evan's room.

Meeting Sam in the front foyer, she saw that Jimmy was staring at them wide-eyed, not fazed by the happenings at all. Sam had a baby bag slung from one shoulder and the bag of weapons that they had brought into the house slung on the other.

"Yep, he's a Winchester alright," Evan grinned at Sam as they hustled out to the T-Bird. "I'll call Angie and let her know we're coming," she said as Sam threw the bag of weapons into the trunk of her car and then buckled Jimmy into his car seat. She tossed Sam the keys and put JD in his car seat before climbing in. She leaned over the back of the seat and buckled JD in as Sam started the car and backed out of the driveway.

Once JD was secured, Evan slid back into her seat and pulled out her cell phone. Dialling her sister's number, she waited as the phone rang. "Did Kit say anything at all?"

"No. All Dean told her was that Dad was hurt," he told her as he turned at a light.

"Damn," she muttered. "Angie, it's me," she said as her sister answered. "Sis, I need your help," she began and then told Angie what she knew.

Twenty minutes later, Angie and Kevin had taken the boys without comment and had told them to keep them posted. With the promise that they would, Sam and Evan were on their way towards Long Beach. Kit met them at the shore with the boat that John and Dean had rented.

"He's got three broken ribs," Kit told them as they climbed into the boat and she started the engine. "Dean got them taped up, but he's not real happy at the moment."

"Did Dean tell you anything more about what happened?" Sam asked his wife, taking the wheel of the boat when he saw that Kit was starting to turn green from the motion of the boat.

"Yeah, he said they were attacked by Captain Morgan," Kit said, on the deck of the boat and took deep breaths to quell the uneasiness in her stomach.

"Captain Morgan?" Evan looked at her sister in puzzlement than frowned. "Sis, are you okay?"

Kit shook her head, "Not really."

"We're almost there," Sam told her, pushing the throttle on the boat harder.

"What's this about Captain Morgan?" Evan asked her, trying to get her sister's mind off of her discomfort.

"He looked like a pirate," Kit told her, and then went on to explain the way the spirit had been dressed and all of what Dean had told her once they had gotten John's ribs taped up and him resting somewhat comfortably.

"This area was known for pirates," Evan said a short time later when Sam pulled the boat into the slip that had been assigned to them.

"But pirates hit people on the water," Sam corrected. "These people are being hit on land mostly."

"Pirates didn't hit just on the water Sam," Kit told him.

"Some "Highwaymen" were also pirates," Evan explained as the three of them walked towards the motel where they had been staying. "Some of them would hit people on land, and then go out to their ships and sail away in order to avoid being caught by the local authorities."

"I haven't had a chance to look to see if there were any prominent pirates or highwaymen in the area," Kit told them, pushing the door open.

"Hey, baby," Evan said as she saw Dean come through the connecting doors of the motel rooms. She slid into his arms and gave him a tight hug before she pulled back and looked at him. "How's your Dad?"

"He's sleeping. I gave him enough painkillers to drop a horse. He should be out until morning," he told her and Sam.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked his brother as he went past him to look in on his father, who was indeed sleeping soundly.

Dean sat down in one of the chairs and pulled Evan down onto his knee. "It's a strong son of a bitch. Took me off my feet a couple times before it threw dad into a tree. Left ectoplasm all over the hood of the truck too."

"Oh my god," Evan breathed. "I don't think I've ever come up against a spirit that's had ectoplasm."

"I've only seen it once or twice myself," Sam told them, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at his brother. "You okay man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't get it as bad as Dad did," Dean answered. He then looked at the woman sitting on his knee. "Hey, you're red again," he said in surprise.

"I didn't even notice," Kit laughed. "Sorry, Sis."

"Yeah, well don't be too joyous," Evan said tugging off the baseball cap she had been wearing.

"Um.." Kit began and then stopped. "New fashion statement?"

"Who the hell are you trying to be? The bride of Frankenstein?" Dean asked her as he reached out a hand to touch the white hair that fringed her face.

"No," Evan grumbled and then pulled the hat back down low over her face. "After they stripped the black out of my hair and dyed it back to red, the dye wouldn't stick to these strands. I think that Bathory bitch started draining me like she did her other victims. So now I'm stuck with this."

"It could be worse," Kit said, trying to make her sister feel better. "It could have given you wrinkles."

"Funny," Evan swatted at her sister.

"Evan, what happened to your wrists?" Kit asked sharply, fear running through her as she grabbed her wrist and looking at the fresh bandage around it. "What did you do?"

Dean looked at her other wrist and his face darkened. "What happened?" He then looked at his brother. "You shouldn't have brought her here."

"Relax, its okay!" Evan said in a rush, trying to calm Dean down. "It's okay. Trust me." Sliding her hand along his cheek, Evan leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. She then turned to Sam. "You bring the light?"

"Yeah," Sam said and then dug in his bag for the black light. Taking it out, he powered it up while Evan took off the bandages.

"I solved my little problem," she told Dean and Kit, and then held her wrists under the light, scars towards the black light.

"A Devil's Trap?" Kit questioned her sister and Evan nodded.

"It's the newest in tattooing art. Duggie used a new kind of ink. It only shows up under black lights, so there's no questions about the marks. Unless I go clubbing or something," she smirked.

"That's not bad, Sis," Kit grinned.

"Plan girl. Always thinking," Dean murmured and then cupped Evan's cheeks and gave her a kiss. "I told you we would get you hunting again."

"That's where we were when she was drunk last night," Sam told his brother.

"Yeah, about that," Evan began sheepishly. "Um, we can never go see Father K again."

"What did you do?" Kit asked her sister, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Sam, a horrified look on her face.

"I said something about the Bible and sex and changing his mind. It's all a little fuzzy," she admitted.

Dean looked at Sam, who only shook his head in response. "Okay, let's get back to the hunt," he said instead.

"Looks like we're on research, Sis," Evan said to Kit and rose from Dean's knee and went over to the table, pulling Sam's laptop out of the bag.

"The sooner we find this thing the sooner we can get out of Munchkin land," Sam said.

"I like it here," Evan said with a shrug of her shoulders as she sat down. "It's nice and cozy."

Dean and Kit looked at each other and began to laugh, leaving Sam and Evan to stare at them with puzzled look on their faces.

A few hours later, Kit and Evan pushed the computers away in disgust.

"There's no record of any highwaymen being arrested in this area," Kit told them.

"And no known pirates either," Evan added as she rubbed her tired eyes. She smiled up at Dean as he set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of her.

"How's John?" Kit asked Sam as he came back into the room from looking in on his father.

"Still sleeping. But he's not looking as pale as he was when we first got here. I just want to keep an eye on him to make sure that there's no internal bleeding."

"Dad wasn't coughing up blood and his breathing seemed easier once I got him all taped up, but we should keep an eye on him."

"When you tried the banishing spell, which one did you use?" Evan asked Dean.

"The all purpose one that was in Dad's journal," he told her and sat down on the chair and settled her on his knee.

"Well, since we can't find anything on this guy, it looks like that's going to be the best one to use." Evan said, leaning back against Dean's chest and sipping her coffee.

"I say you, Sammy and I go back out there tonight and put the sucker away," Dean looked at Kit and Sam.

"I should come to," Kit said and was quickly outvoted when all three of them said no.

"You have to stay here and take care of John," Evan told her.

"And don't argue with us," Sam told her when Kit opened her mouth to do just that.

"I should be going with you," John said a few hours later. He shifted on the chair and a grimace crossed his face despite his effort to stop it.

"John, you're in no shape to be trying this again tonight," Kit told him logically.

"We got this one covered, Dad," Sam told him as he gathered together some of the stuff that they would need.

"We'll be back in a little while," Dean told his dad as he threw the ammo box in the weapons bag.

Stuffing a few extra shotgun shells into the pockets of her jeans, Evan went over to John and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You can't hog all the fun," she said and then laughed at the dark look he sent her.

"One of these days," John began and Evan wiggled her fingers at him as she walked out the door.

"I've been saying that for years, John," Kit told him as the door closed behind Dean and she and John were left to themselves. "So," she started. "Up for cribbage?"

"Where did you see this thing last night?" Evan asked from the back of the Impala as she looked at the map that Dean had given her.

"Just past the bend. It was past the main concentration of attacks," he told them. Evan showed Sam the spot on the map that Dean was talking about and he nodded.

As they approached the spot, Sam leaned forward and turned the radio to a station where they could hear nothing but static.

"Dad did that last night and the spirit spoke through the radio," Dean told them.

"And it said "Stand and deliver?" Evan questioned and Dean nodded. "Well, that was common for a highwayman to say when attacking stagecoaches and carriages."

"If this thing has been attacking through the years, I wonder why we haven't heard anything before now. How is it picking its victims? This is a pretty busy stretch of highway," Sam wondered aloud as he flipped through the folder that Kit had given him.

"Well, the victims have always been alone when attacked on this stretch," Evan said, peer over the back of the seat at the folder.

"Do they have any kind of connection? Similar jobs, anything?" Dean asked them as he slowed down the car.

"Nothing," Sam said and closed the file, tossing it up on the dashboard. "Evan, what do you know about this area? You said that you were here before, and it gave you a vibe."

Evan thought back to when she had been to Avalon last and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "It was when I was interning at the law firm in LA. We came out here to get a deposition from a witness. The whole time I was here, I just had this creepy feeling."

"Who were you here with?" Dean asked her idly, but she noticed a small tick in his cheek as he asked her.

"One of the lawyers from the firm," she replied. "I haven't been back since then."

A short time later, Dean pulled the Impala off to the side of the road where they had first encountered the spirit the night before. They climbed out of the car and made their way to the clearing. As they entered it, Sam and Dean broke off and walked around the circle, righting the candleholders that had been left behind the night before.

As they righted the candles, Evan kept her attention to the trees, ever watchful for the spirit. She held John's journal tightly, her finger marked at the summoning spell. Her other hand held the hilt of her sword tightly. Moving around the clearing, she paused and rubbed her wrist against the leg of her jeans.

"Evan, we'd better get the summoning spell ready in case we have to call the spirit," Sam said to her as he began to light the candles.

"We're not going to need it," She told them as the itch grew worse. "He's already here somewhere. My spidey sense is going off."

Dean racked the shotgun quickly and looked around. Just as he turned his head, the putrid stench of rotting flesh and ocean air hit him. He ducked as the spirit's blade cut through the air and whizzed over his head. Dropping onto his back, Dean fired the shotgun at the spirit. The rock salt tore through it and he saw it fade away.

"Evan, look out!" Sam yelled suddenly as he saw the spirit materialize behind her.

He took a step towards her, but stopped when she, in one motion, tossed the journal at him and pulled her sword free of the scabbard strapped to her back. She took one quick look and then turned, swinging the sword at the spirit, catching its blade as he swung it at her. Stopping the spirit's blade she jumped back out of its reach.

"Sammy, start the incantation," Dean said to him, already starting to move around to come up behind the spirit.

Sam flipped through the journal shone his flashlight on the page. "Evan, try and drive it towards me," he called to her, watching as she ducked another swing from the spirit.

"You got it, Sammy," she cried back as she swung her blade at the spirits neck. It vanished just as the edge of her blade started to cut into its neck. "Dammit!" She cursed in anger. "Damn thing doesn't play fair."

"Keep an eye out, baby," Dean said as he moved over to where she was standing. As he reached her side, he saw the blade materialize and come down towards her head. He shoved her out of the way, jumping back himself as the tip of his blade whistled down along the arm of his jacket. He spun away from the spirit and shot a round of rock salt at it.

"That son of a bitch is not getting away from me again," Evan muttered. Kneeling, she pulled a small vial of holy water out of her pocket and sprinkled it over the blade of her sword. She then pulled out a small plastic container full of salt that she had started to carry in her pockets for emergencies, and poured it over the blade, watching it stick to the damp metal.

As his brother and sister-in-law fought with the spirit, trying to drive it closer to him and into the salt circle, Sam began to walk around the circle and light the candles, saying the banishing spell in Latin. He kept an eye out for them as the spirit came closer. When it seemed to veer off to the wrong side, Sam grabbed the large canister of salt and poured a small pile on the ground at his feet. Kneeling, he grabbed a handful of the salt and threw it in the direction that the spirit was trying to move to, creating a line on the ground that it could not cross, helping them drive it towards the entrance of the circle.

"Good move Sammy," Dean shouted at his little brother with a cocky grin.

"Head low Dean," Evan cried as she stepped up behind the spirit and held the sword similar to a baseball bat and swung the salt encrusted blade at the spirit. As the blade arched in the moonlight, Dean jumped back and away from the spirit. He heard it scream in pain as the salted metal cut into it and he circled the spirit in order to help her drive it towards the circle Sam now had lit with candles.

Sam's voice grew louder as he repeated the incantation over and over again. He saw the essence of the spirit grow weaker from Dean and Evan's attacks. Once the spirit drew closer to the salt circle, Sam ducked out of it, needing only for the spirit to finish stepping into the circle before he sealed it and finishing the last of the incantation and banishing it.

"Sammy, Evan, duck!" Dean shouted as he loaded two more shells into the shotgun. He saw Sammy duck out of the circle and off to the side. Evan grasped the hilt of her sword with one hand and swung it in a wide arch. As it cut through the spirit, she turned on one foot and dropped to her knees, the blade of her sword slicing over the ground and to one side as she ducked her head against her knee. Dean raised the shotgun over her head and fired two quick rounds of rock salt at the spirit, driving it back, but with an enraged scream the wounded spirit vanished from sight.

"Sneaky bastard," Dean muttered as he looked around.

"It's still here," Evan told them, her wrists itching almost painfully. "Sam!" She turned and saw the spirit materialize behind Sam and wrap its arm over his shoulder. One rotting hand slapped against his chest and the tips of its fingers began to sink into the flesh. Sam threw back his head and screamed in pain as the spirit reached into him. He tried to grab the hand that was clamped onto his heart, but his fingertips simply slid through the spirit.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted in anger as he ran at his little brother. He tried to grab the spirit, but his arms went right through the spirit. Evan charged behind Dean and grabbed at the spirit, her hands catching onto it, the Devil's Traps preventing her from sliding through it. She tried to pry the spirits hand off of Sam, but it held tight.

"Dean, help me!" She cried and Dean grabbed hold of her hands, trying to help her pry off the rotting fingers as they sunk deeper into Sam's chest. The spirit began to laugh with a dark glee as they struggled to free Sam.

Sam's body went cold as he screamed in pain. He dropped to his knees as a shudder ripped through him. As he watched, the fingers began to slide out of his chest, and with it he saw a small light come with it. Staring at it for a moment in shock, his body then slumped down to the ground. Dean and Evan fell back as the spirit suddenly disappeared from before them. They looked around, but the itching at Evan's wrists had stopped and she knew that it was gone.

"Sam?" Dean crawled over to his brother and turned his prone body over onto his back and shook his shoulders violently, "Sam, answer me! Sam!"

"Dean? Is he…" Evan couldn't voice the words. She laid her hand on his neck and waited. Relief flooded through her as she felt the thump of his heart. "He's alive."

"Holy shit," he muttered as he stared down into Sam's wide eyes. Grabbing his flashlight, Dean flipped it on. Shining it off to the side of Sam's eyes, he noticed that there was no reaction. "Evan, look at his eyes."

Peering into them, Evan felt a shiver run through her. "They're empty, like there's nothing inside of him."

"There isn't," Dean said slowly as realization dawned on him, his voice strangled as he said. "It took his soul."

Evan's head snapped up as the weight of his words sunk into her. "Oh my god," she breathed, looking back down at Sam's prone figure, before the realization hit her. "Dean, it's not too late." Rising to her feet, she extinguished the candles and started to gather their things.

"What are you talking about? Evan, what are you thinking?" Dean questioned her, rising to his feet.

"I'll explain on the way back to the motel," she told him. "Get Sam. If what I'm thinking is true, that bastard is going to come back to finish the job."

Taking his brother's arm, Dean pulled him up into a sitting position. He then wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled him to his feet. Sam's body moved easily, as they made their way through the trees towards the Impala. Dean put his brother in the back seat and buckled him in. He paused for a moment, shuddering at the eerie way Sam sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead with unblinking eyes. Shutting the back door, he climbed into the front seat and started the engine.

"How the hell are we going to explain this to my father and Kit?" Dean asked Evan as he pulled the car in a U-turn.

"I don't know," she said, pausing as she flipped through John's journal to look at the silent Sam. The once lively eyes stared straight ahead and she couldn't help but feel uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

"What did you mean it's not too late?" Dean asked her as he sped away from the area and back towards the port.

Opening the journal, she flipped through the pages until she found the passage that she was looking for. "A soul displaced will remain, so long as the body remains unharmed. The connection between body and soul is severed only by mortal death."

"So as long as Sam's body is alive, the soul has a place to return to."

"Exactly. And I think I just figured out why Kit couldn't find a clear-cut pattern for the attacks. The deaths themselves were natural deaths," she told him, then rushed on to explain when he frowned at her. "Okay, un-naturally natural deaths." Reaching out to the dashboard, Evan grabbed the file that they had been looking at earlier. "The photographer was found at the bottom of the hill after taking a fall. Doesn't sound strange, unless the reason he fell is because his body couldn't stop him without his soul to control it."

"It wasn't the spirit that killed him, it was the fall," Dean said trying to understand.

"Yes. And when the body died from the fall, his soul had no place to go back to."

"Okay, so why doesn't Sam's soul snap back into his body?" Dean asked her.

"I don't know. Maybe because the spirit's stopping it, holding it somewhere," Evan scrubbed her hand through her hair in frustration.

Dean pulled the Impala into the marina parking lot and stopped. "Okay, so it's not a simple spirit we're dealing with."

"I don't think so. Spirits don't usually steal a person's soul," Evan replied.

"They either scare the shit out of them or they kill them," Dean amended as he got out and unbuckled his brother from the back seat. It took the both of them to manipulate Sam up to his feet. Each of them then took hold of one of his arms and nudged him forward. Sam's legs moved with the motion, his muscles remembering the act of walking, even if his mind and soul were unable to drive them.

Making their way carefully down to the boat, they moved Sam into the boat and sat him down on the deck where he couldn't fall overboard. Evan held onto him while Dean fired up the engine and took off across the bay towards Avalon. At the marina, they struggled to get Sam out of the boat and walk him as inconspicuously as possible towards the motel. They had almost made it before they heard a deep voice call out to them.

Looking over her shoulder, Evan saw the island security guard coming over to them. "Let me handle this," she hissed at Dean. She pasted a bright smile on her face as she turned towards the man. "How can I help you?"

"Is there a problem here?" the man asked, looking over Evan's shoulder towards Sam, whose legs were beginning to sag.

"Oh no, Sir. No problem. It's my brother in law's birthday today and his brother took him out for a drink," Evan explained with a smile, drawing the man's attention away from Sam. "I had to go play cabbie."

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked her and she noticed that he now seemed more interested in her than he was in Sam. "He looks like he's had way too many."

"Psshhhh, he's a lightweight. Three beers…." Dean interjected, giving the man a drunken look.

Brightening her smile, she looked at him. "I appreciate your concern. We're just going to get Sammy back to the room and get him into bed."

"He looks to be quite a handful. Here, let me help you," the man said and before either one of them could say no, had taken hold of the arm that Evan had let go of and was helping Dean boost Sammy up to his feet.

Dean sent a look over his shoulder at Evan who shrugged helplessly at him and moved around the man to stand in front of them and lead the way back to the motel room. As surreptitiously as possible, Dean ran his hand over Sammy's face and closed his eyes so that the man, if he happened to tear his attention away from Evan's ass long enough to look at Sammy's face, wouldn't notice the blank stare.

With the security guard's help, they got Sammy back to the motel with little trouble. Evan dug the room key out of her pocket and slipped it into the lock. As she turned the key and pushed open the door, she said to the man in a loud voice, "Thank you so much for your help, Officer. I really should remember that Sammy can't hold his liquor. Oh hey Sis," Evan said as the door swung open and they saw Kit and John sitting in the chair. "This nice officer helped us get Sam from the boat. I'm afraid we let Sam have a few too many."

"Dammit, I asked you not to let Sam get drunk," Kit said, her voice steady despite the tremor that ran through her at the sight of Sam's limp body.

"Thank you, Officer," John said, walking around Kit to take hold of Sam's arm from the man and brought Sam into the room.

"You sure you folks will be okay?" The man asked them, but his eyes never left Evan.

"We're sure. Thank you officer," Evan smiled at the man and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Dean and John dragged Sam's body over to the bed and laid him down.

"What the hell happened?" Kit demanded as she moved to Sam's side and ran trembling hands over him. "Where's he hurt?" Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she stared at her husband, fear and anger rioting through her.

"He's not," Evan began.

"Not really," Dean clarified when his father turned to stare at him in amazement. "We think it stole his soul. He's breathing and his heart's beating, but there's no other reaction." He turned away to the window.

Sensing Dean needed a moment, Evan quickly explained the theory they had reached on their trip back from the mainland.

"Oh my god. What are we going to do?" Kit cradled Sam's head in her lap, stroking his hair.

"I don't know yet, Kit," Evan said sadly shaking her head and looking at Sam worriedly. "First thing we're going to have to do is dig deeper."

"Dad, we should call Bobby. See if he knows anything," Dean added and John nodded, already digging into his coat pocket for his cell phone.

"Sis, wake up," Kit whispered softly hours later, touching Evan's shoulder.

Evan jerked awake. "I'm awake," she mumbled and then grinned ruefully at Kit. "Sorry."

"Did you find anything?" Kit sat down on the chair beside her sister and passed her a cup of coffee.

"A shit load of nothing," Evan muttered in disgust, pushing away the computer. "I found at least a dozen more deaths that could be tied to this spirit. But nothing on the spirit itself."

"I couldn't find anything either," Kit admitted. "There's got to be something that we're missing."

"I don't know what it could be," John said, closing his journal and looking at them as he pulled up a chair on the other side of the table from them.

Dean swung open the door and set the paper bags down on the table. "Find anything?" He asked as he passed around the Styrofoam containers from the café down at the marina.

"No," Kit sighed and picked at the contents of the container. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably, but as she took a few deep breaths, she was able to push it away.

As Evan poked at the food, she looked over the files. Fanning the photos of the victims out, her gaze landed on the one of Amber. Picking up the photo, she looked over it. Looking at the eyes of the woman, staring lifelessly from the photo, Evan felt a stab of pain run through her. Her eyes looked like Sam's did now. Picking up the file, Evan flipped through reports inside. Her frown darkened.

"See, what did I tell you. She has that look," Dean said to the others, sipping his coffee. "What did you find?"

"I don't know," Evan said, shaking her head. "What were the times of the deaths?" She asked them.

Kit took a couple of the files and looked through them. "Coroners have pegged the times at anywhere from midnight to three am," Kit told her.

"Same here," Dean answered, picking at his breakfast and looking through the rest of the files.

"These ones too," John said, looking through some more of the files. "Spirits are often drawn to come out at that time of the night. The moon's pull is stronger at that time. Easier to come across the veil."

"What are you thinking, babe?" Dean questioned her.

"I don't know," Evan sighed sadly. "It's just that the coroner has Amber's death at the same time as the rest. But that would mean that she was diving at night."

"Maybe the temperature of the water was affecting the time of death?" Kit questioned.

Evan shook her head. "No. It may throw her body temp off by a few degrees, which could move the time of death by a few hours, at the most. But that would still mean that she was diving at night."

"What are you getting at?" John asked his sons girlfriend.

"There's no diving at night in this area. So what was she doing down there?" Evan asked them.

"According to the police reports, there were no witnesses. No one saw a boat or a diver the night she disappeared," Dean told her, taking the file from Evan.

"The reports are wrong," Evan said suddenly and rose from her chair. "We have a witness."

"What witness?" Kit asked her sister.

"There's only one person Amber would have gone out on a boat with at night. Her boyfriend Carlos," Evan answered. Rising from her chair, she grabbed her coat.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, looking at her in surprise as she moved around the room.

"To see a man about a ghost," she answered. "I'll be back soon."

"I'm coming with you," Dean said, pushing aside the remains of his breakfast. Evan stopped and looked at Dean, but when she saw the determination in his eyes, she nodded.

"We'll be back soon," Evan told them. "Watch over Sam."

Dean and Evan made their way across the bay towards the cars and climbed into the Impala. Dean pulled out of the parking lot and followed Evan's directions down the coast to a small marina. Pulling into it, Dean parked the car and they climbed out. Evan led the way down to the pier and they stopped at a small sailboat.

"Carlos? You here?" Evan called out.

They waited for a few moments before they heard movement from inside. A tall lanky man with shoulder length blond hair walked up out of the boathouse and stopped at the top of them. "Evan!" The man smiled and came to the side of the boat.

"Hey Carlos," she smiled at him and climbed up onto the deck of the boat, taking the man in a hug. "It's been a long time."

"Too long, short-ass," he said affectionately and then noticed Dean standing on the deck behind her. "Es policia?" He asked her in Spanish.

"Dean? No," Evan shook her head and smiled. "Carlos, this is my fiancé Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Carlos Ramirez. Amber's boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you," Carlos said, holding his hand out to Dean once the other man had climbed onto the boat. "So you decided to take on this one, did you?" Carlos smiled. "After," he paused as he saw a fleeting look that crossed Evan's face. "She's a handful," he said instead.

"I'm finding that out," Dean said to him with a rueful look on his face.

"Carlos, we need to talk to you about Amber and the night she died," Evan said gently sitting on the railing of the boat.

The man's face shut down and he turned away to stare out over the water. "She's dead. Leave it at that."

"Carlos, I know you were there the night she died," Evan countered. "Please tell me what you know. What are you hiding?"

"Why didn't you tell the police that you were there?" Dean asked him.

"No se cuales que habla," he replied stubbornly reverting to his native Spanish.

"Carlito, hay una persona que Amber confiaria en una barca. Ala noche, especialmente. Es tu. No mientame," Evan snapped, her anger growing.

"Evan," Dean said warningly, putting a hand on Evan's shoulder. He couldn't understand everything they were saying, his Spanish being spotty at best, but he knew by the tone of her voice that she was getting ever more upset.

"Si hablo, sabran," Carlos said suddenly, his voice no more than a whisper, but there was a distinct note of fear in it.

"Quien?" She started and then paused as she thought about it. "Lob-?" She started he cut her off.

"No diga sus nombres. Tienene oidos por todas," Carlos answered, fear tainting his voice.

"Que el le envoi despues?" Evan questioned him, her surprise and anger growing.

"No se," Carlos answered in resignation, realizing that Evan wasn't going to go away.

"Le dijeron que era peligroso?" Evan demanded.

Carlos shook his head. "No."

"What was she doing down there?" she asked him sadly.

"I don't know, Evan. That's the truth. She said that it would be better if I didn't know everything," Carlos explained to her as he turned and sat on the railing across from them. A sad look entered his dark brown eyes. "She said it would put her on the radar for a promotion. I didn't want her to do it. But you know Amber. When she was determined to do something, she did it."

"What's down there?" Evan asked him.

"The Valiant," he told her. "It sank in the 1930's. It's become a tourist dive now. It was supposed to be an easy dive. Twenty minutes. Tops. But she never came up. And I got scared," he admitted, his voice growing thick with the shame and anger he had been carrying since Amber's death. "The harbor patrol was starting to come out. If we'd been caught there, we would have gone to jail."

"Carlos, have you heard of the strange happenings around Avalon? Unexplained accidental deaths?" Dean asked him.

"There have been some stories. My grandmother used to talk about that place having un toche del diablo, a touch of the devil. She refused to go anywhere near it," Carlos told them.

"Carlos," Evan began.

Carlos hung his head. "I don't know what happened to Amber. I'm sorry. I can't help you." Looking at her, seeing the look on Evan's face Carlos asked her, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find out what happened to Amber," she replied slowly, laying her hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Who is he afraid of?" Dean asked as they made their way back across the bay to Avalon an hour and a half later.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish," Evan replied instead of answering.

"I know a little," he admitted. "Who is he afraid of and what did he mean that she was doing it to get on their radar?" Dean questioned her.

"She was down there as a favor to the company. I guess she hoped it would get her a promotion," Evan said disgustedly.

"Is that who he's afraid of? Her bosses?" Dean questioned her.

"She worked for some very powerful people," Evan told him.

"Why would they ask her to do something illegal?" Dean was surprised.

"With them, nothing surprises me," Evan replied.

"Who did she work for?"

"A law firm," Evan stated shortly and climbed out of the boat and tied it off.

Dean watched her walk up the pier towards the motel, her back stiff, and her stride angry. He knew that there was something she wasn't telling him, but with the way she was right now, he wasn't going to push her.

Pushing open the motel room door, she threw down her purse and shrugged out of her jacket. Throwing it down on the bed, she looked at John and Kit who were flipping through some of the books spread out on the table. Turning to look at Sam lying prone on the bed, Evan felt heartsick.

"Did you talk to the boyfriend?" John asked them, frowning at the look on Dean's face as he followed Evan into the room and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Yeah,' Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "But he didn't know anything more than we do."

"That's not true," Evan told them sadly.

"What did he tell you?" John asked her, watching the emotions that were flitting across her face.

"Only that we're looking in the wrong spot." Evan said suddenly. "We need to find out everything we can on a ship called the Valiant. It sank off the coast here in the 1930's. We need background on the owner, the ship, and any cargo. Anything we can. The key to this lies with the Valiant."

"Sis, what do you mean?" Kit asked Evan, watching her move around the table and began tapping on the keys. "What's on it?"

"I don't know. But if they're involved, we're looking for something bad," Evan muttered, already flipping through internet sites.

"Evan, what's wrong? You've been in a mood ever since we talked to Carlos," Dean said, watching is girlfriend with a worried frown.

"If who's involved?" Kit asked her sister.

"Them. They sent her down there and they didn't even warn her," Evan told them, disgust, anger and sadness in her voice. "I didn't warn her," she corrected as she typed into the other computer.

"Evan, stop," Kit said, walking over to her sister and grabbing her hands, making her stop. "What's wrong Sis?"

Evan looked over at Sam and her face crumbled. Pulling her hands free of Kit's Evan ran her fingers through her hair. "I should have warned her."

"About this area?" Dean questioned her.

"No. About them," Evan clarified. "I knew what they were, and I didn't warn her."

"Sis, are you talking about?" Kit began, and then trailed off when Evan nodded.

Looking at the puzzled frowns on Dean and Johns faces, Evan sighed. "Years back, I lived in Los Angeles. I was an intern at a large law firm called Wolfram and Hart." Rising from the chair, Evan began to pace the room. "What I didn't know at the time was that they were bad news."

"If they would have an employee break the law by diving down to a ship to scavenge something, than I would have to say not," Dean said.

"It's more than that," Kit told them, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"The majority of their clients were," Evan sighed. "Demons."

"Demons don't need lawyers," Dean argued.

"There are some that have adapted to this world. They stay below the radar. Wolfram and Hart helps them do that. And then cleans up their messes when they revert to their nature," Evan explained. "I should have told her who and what they defended."

"You didn't know that they would send her down there," Dean said to her, coming over to curl his arm around her shoulder and turned her into his chest, rubbing his hands along her back.

"I should have told her," Evan said stubbornly, laying her forehead on Dean's shoulder. "It's my fault. I didn't warn her. And I didn't come back here even when I knew that it gave me the creeps. If I had, than Sam wouldn't be like this."

"Evan, you had no way of knowing what would happen," John told her, rising and running his hand down the back of her head comfortingly.

"It's not your fault," Kit said to her sister, knowing that despite the assurance, Evan would continue to blame herself for what happened to both Amber and Sam.

"Yeah, well I won't feel better until we get Sam back to normal. And to do that, we need to find out what those bastards sent her down there for," Evan said, brushing the tears that had formed in her eyes away.

"Looks like we have more digging to do," Kit said to her sister, running a hand down her arm and then going over to the table and pulling the computer close, starting a new search.

A few hours and many cups of coffee later, Evan sighed in frustration and pushed the computer away from her.

"There's nothing here," she announced. "From everything I can find on this Ford guy, there's nothing that would draw Wolfram and Hart's attention. He was a businessman and a family man. And before his death there were no suspicious deaths connected to him."

"Even his business partners were clean," Kit told them as she closed another webpage.

"It may be a long shot, but I think I found something," John said suddenly as he flipped through the copies of the webpage's that they had collected on the owner of the Valiant. "Before the Valiant sunk, one of Ford's business partners said that he was looking for investors. He was looking to raise funds in order to finance a dive expedition. He said that he was on the verge of finding something called the Christina Theresa. For some reason, that name sounds familiar to me."

"Is that a ship?" Evan asked him, looking at the article that he passed her.

"I've never heard of it," Dean added, reading over Evan's shoulder.

"I think I have," Kit said with a frown. Turning, she pulled the computer back to her and began typing. "The Christina Theresa was a Spanish Galleon that was believed to have sunk off the coast." Her frown deepened. "Not too far from here actually."

"When did it sink?" Evan asked her sister.

"It was supposed to dock in Avalon around mid August in 1795. It never made it. There were thirty five people on board. No survivors."

"Is there anything else on it?" Dean asked her and Kit went back to typing.

"A painting of the owner of the ship," Kit cried triumphantly a few moments later as she turned the computer around.

"That's the son of a bitch," Dean muttered as he looked at the picture of the old fashioned tintype of the man. "That's the spirit that got Sam and Dad."

"That is James T. Putnam," Kit told them. "He was an English Lord that was under suspicion of being a Robber Baron or Highwayman."

"Suspected? I would have to say that he's proven himself," Evan groused as she looked at the photo. "So what's his story? And why would Wolfram and Hart want anything to do with his ship?"

A few minutes later Kit looked up from the computer screen. "The Christina Theresa itself was just a ship, nothing special about it. Built in 1792, it was one of the minor ships in the Putnam Shipping fleet. The interesting part of the story comes from Putnam himself. From 1780, Putnam lost his wife, his daughter and his son."

"Let me guess, they all died of un-naturally natural causes," John said gruffly, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a grimace. His ribs were beginning to hurt again.

"His daughter fell from a horse, his son drowned and his wife fell from a balcony," Kit told them.

"And then he died in a shipwreck," Dean finished.

Kit nodded. "But there's still something about that ship that bothers me. I know I've read something about it before," she frowned. Grabbing her cell phone, Kit dialled the house. "Hey Angie," she said a moment later. "I need you to find something for me."

"What's that?" Angie questioned as she put the phone on speaker and fed Jimmy with one hand and passed JD a plate with fruit slices on it.

"I need you to go through Nana's journals and find some mention of a ship named the Christina Theresa," Kit told her sister.

"Okay," Angie said and looked at Kevin, who rose from the chair and went into the study. "How's it going?" She asked as she picked up Jimmy and laid him on her shoulder, patting his back.

Looking at Sam laying prone on the bed, Kit bit her lip. "It's going fine," she lied.

"Your grandmother is crazy," Kevin announced a moment later as he came back into the kitchen. "She practically threw a book at me." He laid the book down on the table and opened it to the page that Nana's spirit had opened it to. "The Christina Theresa owned by James T Putnam."

"We know that part," Kit told him.

"Well according to this journal, the Reapers assigned a Jacob Sydney to watch over the resting place of the Christina Theresa," Kevin told her.

"Jacob Sydney? Who has his journals?" Kit asked them.

"Father K has them," Evan said, perking up at the name of the long dead Reaper. "I remember looking through them a long time ago."

"I'm on it," Dean said when Kit opened her mouth to say something. Grabbing his cell phone from his pocket, Dean started to dial the priest's number. "Hey Father K," he began when he answered.

Kit talked to Angie for a few more minutes before her sister put Jimmy on the phone. A few moments later Kit gave the phone to Evan so he could speak to her little boy. Evan smiled as he talked to the boy for a few minutes before hanging up.

"According to Father K, the ship itself isn't the key. It's what's on the ship that we need to be looking for," Dean said a short time later as he snapped his phone closed. Going over to the computer he turned it around and began typing. "In 1779, James Putnam came into possession of a necklace," Dean showed them the screen. "This necklace contains the Levalle Emerald."

"I'm not following," Kit said, looking at the picture.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Evan groaned. "You know the Hope Diamond?" Evan said, remembering what she'd heard of the stories. "Think little brother," she added when Kit nodded. "History has it that the emerald was taken off of some sacred lands in Africa by Cyrus Lavelle in the 1500s. He had it made into a necklace for his wife, who died in a mysterious fall not long after."

"Since then, the necklace has had nine different owners, each of them either fell into ruin or lost members of their family shortly after. The last known owner of the necklace was James T. Putnam. When his ship went down in the storm, his estate was divided among the remaining family members. There was no emerald necklace in the estate records," Dean finished.

"He had it on the ship with him when it went down," John surmised, grimacing as he moved in the chair.

"Yes," Dean answered his father. "From what Father K found in the journals, Sydney figured out the resting place of the Christina Theresa."

"Where is it?" Kit asked them and Dean showed him the co-ordinates that the priest had given him. Taking the computer from Kit, Dean pulled up a webpage and plotted in the numbers. "Looks like Ford was close when he was searching for the wreck. He was only about twenty miles off."

"I don't know much about that area," Evan said as she looked at the map. "But I know who does." Taking Dean's phone, she dialled a number.

"You're crazy," Carlos hissed at Evan a few hours later. Anger crossed his face and he walked out of the motel, slamming the door behind him.

"Evan," Kit began, but Evan held up her hand.

"I'll talk to him," she said and followed Carlos out of the room. "Carlos," Evan called out, and jogged over to him, grabbing his arm. "Carlos, please. Just listen to me."

"No," Carlos shook his head furiously. "What you're talking about is insane. It's not real."

"Your grandmother believes in it. Why can't you?" Evan asked him.

"My grandmother was a superstitious woman, I'm not," Carlos argued.

"Look Carlos, I know it's a lot to take in. But the things that your grandmother was scared of are real. All those stories that you heard as a child are true. The only thing is that they were watered down versions. Demons and ghosts are cutting a bloody fucking path through our world. Wolfram and Hart defends them. They leave them out there to kill innocent people. And they send people like Amber to do their dirty work. Work that gets them killed."

"You're crazy," he snapped sharply and turned away from her.

Her anger rising, Evan called after him. "You see how Sam is? Well that's what happened to Amber." When Carlos turned towards her with blazing eyes, Evan forced herself to continue. "She floated there, soulless, her body going through the motions of breathing even when she should have stopped because she was taking in water. She just kept going through the motions until she died."

"Stop it," Carlos said softly, pain filling him as he thought about what had happened. "Stop it."

Evan walked over to him. "I – we – can stop this from happening again, Carlos. Don't let another person die. Help me."

Carlos took a deep breath and despite himself he shook his head in resignation. "Is this why you left LA? To fight these things?"

"I had my reasons," Evan said flatly. "Carlos, I need your help. We have to find that necklace. It's the only way we can save Sam. It's the only way we can get the thing that killed Amber. And it's the only way we can put her soul to rest."

"You're crazy," he sighed.

"That's the popular theory," Evan smirked at him and took his hand, taking him back to the motel room. "We've got some planning to do."

"What exactly is this thing going to do?" Dean asked a few hours later as they stood on the deck of Carlos's boat.

"It's a Remote Operated Vehicle," Carlos explained to Dean who stared at the large submersible that had been decorated to look like a shark. "We call him Bruce." He gave them a questioning look. "You know, after the shark in Jaws?"

"You, my friend, have a twisted sense of humor," Evan added as she walked around the submersible.

"So what is Bruce going to do?" John asked them as he shifted uncomfortably on the deck. The gentle rolling of the waves were causing his body to move and his broken ribs to protest, but he had insisted on coming.

"We're going to send him down to the co-ordinates and see if the Christina Theresa is even there. If it is, we may even be able to use Bruce's robotic arm to retrieve the necklace and bring it up," Carlos explained as he programmed the co-ordinates into the remote computer that ran the ROV's directional systems. "Okay, he's ready to get wet."

Dean and Evan picked up the ROV and took it over to the rubber slide affixed to the side of the boat. Setting it down, they let it go and watched it slide down into the water. As soon as it hit the surface of the water, Carlos hit the power and the ROV's propeller began. Once it began to dive, they moved back over to Carlos's side. He reached up and turned on a small monitor.

"From here we'll be able to watch his progress?" John asked him and watched the water bubbles that passed in front of the camera lens on the submersible.

Carlos nodded. "Whatever passes in front of the camera, we'll see."

"Kit would have loved to see this," Evan said as the submersible started on its way down through the greenish blue water. The rays of the sun beat down on the water, streaking down through its depths.

"Do you think we should have left her back at the motel?" Dean asked them.

"There was no way we could have brought Sam on board," John told him. "Not in his condition."

"He's right, Dean. We can't risk anything happening to Sam until we get that necklace and get his soul back," Evan told him gently as she ran her hand over his shoulder. Since Sam had fallen to Putnam's spirit, they had made sure to keep his body protected.

"The sooner the better," Dean muttered as he watched the monitor. "How long is it going to take to get down there?"

"It shouldn't take too long," Carlos said as he started to manoeuvre the submersible.

As it started to sink, it grew harder to see through the water. The rays of the sun struggled to fight through the depths but they soon petered out and the water grew darker. Schools of fish flitted around the submersible, skittish at the intruder into their midst, but still curious enough to explore it. Some of the more daring ones bumped their noses up against the lens.

"They're not too bright, are they," Dean said as one particularly daring fish swam at the lens again.

"You have something in common," Evan retorted with a grin and then laughed as Dean smacked her ass.

"Funny," Dean groused.

They watched the depth gauge on the submersible rise and the light levels fall, making it harder to see. Carlos flipped a switch and lights surrounded the ROV. The dark ocean waters stretched out on all sides of the vehicle. As the temperature of the water fell the schools of fish petered out, but every once in a while they would see some of the deep water dwelling marine life.

It was an hour and a half before the camera spotted a shape in the distance.

"Whoa," Dean said suddenly, reaching out to the side of the monitor. "I think I saw something. Can you turn it back?"

"Do you think that's it?" Evan asked as she leaned in for a closer look at the monitor, trying to see make out what Dean saw. Carlos moved the joystick on the ROV and turned it more towards the dark shape. As the nose of the vehicle turned the lights illuminated the front of the ship. Evan jumped a little when a woman's face sudden came into view of the camera lens. "Holy shit," she breathed.

"It's the masthead," Carlos told them as he moved the camera to record what they found.

"Wasn't it bad luck to have a woman on board?" Dean questioned them, frowning as he took in the detailing on the masthead.

"Actual women on board were bad luck, but they believed that if a woman bared her breasts to a storm, it would appease the gods and they would have smooth sailing," John told them.

Shaking her head, Evan muttered, "Men. You'll do anything to get a woman naked. Carlos, can you move along the side for me?" Evan asked, moving closer to the monitor to take a look at it.

As the ROV motored along the side of the ship, John pulled out the printout of the historical blueprints of a Spanish Galleon. "The captain's quarters would be the most logical place to keep the necklace," he told them and then pointed to the screen. "According to this, it should be right around here."

"She looks in pretty good shape for being down there for this long," Dean said as the ROV panned along the outside of the hull of the ship. The wood, although covered in barnacles, dirt and deep water weeds, was still in pretty much one piece. Moving further along the hold, they found a large crack in the hull. "It looks like she was broadsided by a pretty bad wave."

"It could have been worse," Carlos told him. "I've seen ships busted up by the waves and everything on board spread over a couple of miles."

"Can you fit the ROV inside?" Evan questioned him and Carlos made a face.

"It may be a tight squeeze, but Bruce should be able to get in," he told them as he moved the joystick for the ROV. The vehicle slowed for a moment as Carlos tried to manoeuvre it in through the crack. The inside of the ship glowed eerily from the lights on the submersible, but it slipped inside.

"You should be in the main part of the hull," John told him, shifting beside them as he looked at the map. "There should be a set of stairs that leads to the captains quarters."

Guiding the ROV through the hull, Carlos found the stairs and sent the vehicle up them. Evan gasped when the ROV glided over the remains of the people that had been trapped on the ship as it had gone down. The years underwater had deteriorated the body, the flesh having either been washed away with the currents or picked clean by scavenger fish over the years. Bleached out bones lay scattered along the corridor.

"Oh god," Evan breathed. "That had to be a horrible way to die."

Mutely, Dean curled his fingers through hers and kept his eyes on the screen. "Let's find that necklace and get out of there. This ship's giving me the creeps," he admitted.

A few moments later, Bruce came to a portal door hanging from one hinge, the corroded brass plate on the door identified it as the captain's cabin. "There it is," Evan said softly, watching intently as the submersible glided through the doorway and into the dark room. "Okay, so where would be the best place to find the necklace?"

"He'd want it hidden, either to protect people or stop them from stealing it," Dean told her. "Carlos, can you pan it around the room so we can see what's there?"

"Sure thing," Carlos said and then moved the joystick. The submersible spun in a long, slow pan of the room.

"Wait, what was that? Go back," John said suddenly, catching sight of something. Carlos turned the camera back and John pointed at the screen. "Right there. Move in closer to that?" Nodding, Carlos gave Bruce a gentle nudge and moved it to where John was pointing. As the light fell on what they were looking at, Evan and Dean looked at John in surprise.

The camera panned over the Captain's bunk and they saw what they could only assume were what was the remains of Putnam lying in the bunk. The ragged bedding fluttered around the bones in the gentle current created by the submersible.

"He was sleeping?" Evan asked in amazement as she stared at the remains.

"I doubt it. He must have known about the curse and thought that that was what was bringing his ship down. He must have just laid down and let the ocean take him," Dean said.

"Look what he's holding," John told them and they could see for the first time the wooden chest about the size of a jewel box, clutched in the skeleton's arms. As the ROV moved closer, they could see the symbols engraved on the cover of the chest. "He must have thought that they would ward off the curse."

"Obviously it didn't work that well," Evan snorted. "Carlos, see if you can grab that chest." She ordered gently.

Carlos raised his gold crucifix and kissed it, then reached out to flip a switch on the remote panel. He took hold of the second joystick and moved it gently. They could see the robotic arm moving out in front of the camera. The pincer-like attachment on the arm grew ever closer to the chest. "I really don't think we should be disturbing the dead like this," Carlos told them.

"Just try not to disturb the bones too much," Evan said low in her throat, feeling a little uncomfortable herself.

As soon as the pincers took hold of the chest and began to slide it out from under the bony arm, a loud squealing filled the deck of the boat. Dean and Evan grabbed for their ears, Carlos jumped back in his seat and John frowned as something streaked across the monitor. The ROV was swung around violently and they saw a brief flash of something before static filled the screen and they lost contact.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded, rubbing his ears to try and drive away the ringing.

"Carlos, rewind the tape," John ordered him and Carlos stabbed at the rewind button, rubbing his temple with one hand.

"Son of a bitch," Evan muttered as she watched the tape. She pressed a button and the tape went into slow motion. As she watched, the screen was filled briefly with a bright figure. "It's him," she said and hit the pause button. Looking at the screen, they saw the translucent figure, the gaunt twisted face of James Putnam.

"It's guarding the chest," John sighed and sat down on the bench at the side of the boat.

"What happened to my ROV?" Carlos asked them.

"Spirits give off electro-magnetic energy. It screws with electrical equipment. It probably shorted out the ROV's systems," Dean told him. "As long as that spirit is hanging around that ship, anything electrical we send down there is going to end up the same as the ROV."

"Looks like we need to come up with a plan B," Evan told him softly.

Taking the tape from Carlos's boat, they trooped back to the motel to where Kit waited nervously for them. As soon as they walked into the motel room, Kit sent a look at Sam and rose from the bed.

"What happened?" She asked, gently closing the bedroom door behind her as they moved into the next room.

"We've got a problem," Evan told her sister, a sad look on her face.

"Well, aren't you guys just fucking rays of sunshine," Kit said grumpily, looking between the four of them. "What's the problem?"

"Kit," Dean began and then shot a look towards the bedroom door, not sure how to tell her.

"We found the necklace, but Putnam's spirit is guarding it. It shorted out the ROV," John told her. "We couldn't get it."

"Oh no," tears formed in Kit's eyes as the implications of what they were saying hit her. "What are we going to do now?"

Evan looked at her sister, saw the tears that shone in her eyes and then fell down her cheek. A stab of agony tore through her at the sight of her sister's pain. She went over to her and took her in her arms, rubbing her hand over her back and burying Kit's head against her shoulder. "We'll think of something, Sis. I promise," Evan said softly. "I promise."

Hours later, Evan stared at the screen, watching the footage captured by the ROV over and over again. Looking at the gauge readings displayed at the corner of the monitor she frowned and scribbled down the numbers. Grabbing Dean's wrist she rewound the tape. As soon as the submersible entered the crack in the hull, she started the stopwatch feature on his watch.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked her, looking up from the journal he had been flipping through.

"I'm not sure yet," she told him distractedly, her eyes darting from the video to the stopwatch. She stopped the counter and the tape when the camera first found the chest. Writing down the numbers she muttered to herself and frowned slightly. "Ten minutes." Sitting back in her chair, she bit her bottom lip and stared at the numbers. Pulling the laptop closer, she began typing. A moment later she growled under her breath as she stared at the webpage she pulled up. Rising from the chair she grabbed Dean's jacket from the back and shrugged into it.

At her sisters sudden movement, Kit looked up from the bed side where she had been carefully feeding Sam a liquid meal supplement to keep his body from failing. "Where are you going?"

"I need to talk to Carlos for a minute," she told her. "I'll be right back." Leaning down, she gave Dean a quick kiss and then grabbed the paper she had been scribbling on and walked out of the motel room, closing the door behind her. Hunching into the jacket she jogged down to the marina where Carlos had his boat tied up.

"Hey Evan," Carlos smiled sadly at her from where he had been sitting on the deck, winding the anchor rope. "Did you guys find anything that will help Sam?"

"I think so," she told him. "But I need your advice."

"If I can help," he replied, watching the way she climbed aboard the boat and began pacing around the deck. "What is it Evan?"

"Would it be possible to dive down to the wreck?"

Carlos stared at Evan, a dumbstruck look on his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"Just tell me if it's possible," she insisted.

"You saw the readings down there. It would be crazy to try."

"Is. It. Possible?' She asked him slowly.

"Yes. Maybe," he admitted, shaking his head. "If it was planned properly and you had the right equipment. But to dive down there, a person would have to be a Master Diver."

"How hard would it be to get the equipment?" Evan tried to remain nonchalant, but her mind was beginning to work.

"Do you even realize what you're asking?" Carlos demanded of her when he realized the full extent of what she was asking him.

"Can it be done?" She asked him slowly, not deterred.

"Evan, no," Carlos stammered refusing to let her continue. "What you're considering," he started.

"Considering what?" Dean asked them from the dock beside them.

Evan turned and found Dean and Kit looking at them, frowns on their faces. Dean's dark green eyes traced over her face and his frown darkened. John came up behind them, his gait slowed by his broken ribs. Evan looked at the older man and saw how the pain of both his injury and what had happened to his youngest son weighed heavily on him. Since Sam's soul has been taken, she doubted that any of them had had a decent nights sleep.

"I've got an idea," Evan said slowly.

"No," Carlos interjected.

"What are you thinking Evan?" John asked her, frowning as he saw the adamant look on Carlos's face and the resolved look on Evan's. "What's going on?"

"Sis?" Kit looked worriedly at her sister.

"We've looked through the journals and found nothing. There's no way to destroy the necklace and break the curse unless we have it in hand. Which means that we have to find a way to bring it to the surface. The ROV didn't work. Dean, you said it yourself, any submersible that we send down there is going to be shorted out by Putnam's spirit," she began, dismissing anything that they might use as an objection before they had a chance to voice them.

"Evan what are you thinking?" Dean began warningly.

"We have to dive down to the wreck," Evan said. "Or rather, I have to dive down to the wreck. And bring the necklace to the surface."

"Dive down there? With the spirit? No way," Kit shook her head and stared at her sister.

"Evan if you go down there, Putnam will get you," John reminded her.

Holding up her wrists she said gently. "With these, I'll be protected. It tried to get me and it couldn't." She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "There's just one small problem."

"I'm glad you think it's a small problem," Carlos snapped.

"What problem?" Dean demanded.

When Evan hesitated, Carlos ordered her sharply. "Tell them."

Glaring at Carlos, Evan turned to her family. "The Christina Theresa is resting in 300 feet of water," she told them slowly.

Kit gasped as she looked at her sister. "You're kidding me." When Evan shook her head, Kit collapsed onto the bench at the rail, sighing heavily. "We're fucked."

Dean looked at them in puzzlement. "What am I missing here?"

"130 feet is a safe dive limit," Carlos told him.

"I don't like the sound of this," Dean muttered.

"Diving down there is doable," Evan assured them hastily. "If we have the right equipment, it can be done. You said so yourself, Carlos," she turned to the man.

"I also said that the person would have to be a Master Diver."

"Carlos, I am a Master Diver. You were there when I went through my certs," she reminded him.

"No. I can't be a part of this," he retorted. "Have you even kept on your training? You're nuts if you think you can do this!"

"You're not going," Dean said firmly. "There's no way. We'll think of something else."

"Dean, there is no other way," she implored him.

"Evan, it's crazy," John countered.

"There's got to be another way. After what happened to Sam, we can't lose you too," Kit said, her voice almost begging her sister to see reason.

In frustration Evan turned away from them and took a deep breath. "Has anyone got a better idea?" She asked them softly, turning back to face them. "Look, we have to get down to that wreck. We have to get that necklace and destroy it, or Sam is going to be stuck like that," she waved a hand in the direction of the motel, "forever."

"Why can't we hire someone to go down there?" Dean questioned, reaching for other possibilities.

"Dean, think about it. If we hire someone to go down there, it will be marked as a historical find and we would never get our hands on the necklace let alone destroy it," Evan said logically.

'Why does it have to be you?" Dean demanded.

"I'm the only one that can, babe," she replied softly, walking over to him and sliding her hand along his cheek. "If you go down there, the spirit will grab you like it did Sam."

"So we'll draw a Devils Trap on and it won't be able to get us," he snapped, his anger rising as fear began to claw at him.

Evan looked at him sadly and shook her head. "No, Dean." She then turned to the others. "I have to go. I'm the only one dive certified. Even if I wasn't, Kit's pregnant, she can't risk it. The pressure would play merry hell with John's ribs, he could shift one and have an embolism. Carlos can't go because he's the only one that knows how to run the surface equipment. I'm going. End of discussion."

"I can't help you on this," Carlos said to her, a tremor in his voice.

"Carlos, you know you're the only one I'd trust on this, but if you don't help me, I'll find someone who will," she told him bluntly.

"Evan, what you're talking about doing," he began but she interrupted him.

"I'm talking about saving someone's soul, their life. If we can get the necklace and break the curse, then no one else will have to die because of it. And we won't have to go home and try to explain to Jimmy why his Daddy is a fucking vegetable!"

After two long days of research, Dean, Kit and John were no happier about the idea of Evan diving down to the wreck. They were forced to admit, though, none of them had been able to come up with any other possible solution. Kit's call home had gotten the rest of the family started on Nana's journals, looking for any information that they may have missed. Dean had, meanwhile, been burning up the lines calling Father K and any other hunting contacts they had.

No one had come back with anything the Winchesters hadn't already known. As much as they wanted to avoid it, it seemed the only way to save Sam would involve Evan taking a risk of her own.

"I need more than two minutes," Evan's voice grew louder and Kit looked up at her sister.

"You're redlining as it is. If you push any harder, you're going to need way too much decompression time," Carlos cautioned.

"Come on, four minutes at least. It's going to take me at least two minutes to get to the Captain's quarters, get the box and another two minutes to get back out."

"Evan..."

"Do the calculations again," she demanded. "There has to be a way to get me more time."

"Stubborn bitch," Carlos snapped at her. "You're going to get yourself dead."

Evan took a deep breath to calm herself. "Sorry. You're right, but we don't have any other choice. Sam can't last much longer like this. I have to make this dive tomorrow and I have to have at least four minutes once I get down there." She looked at Carlos, her expression tight with worry. "Please."

"Crazy woman," Carlos muttered to himself with a shake of his head. He crumpled up the paper in front of him and started over, trying to figure out how to eke out another two minutes' depth time.

Leaving Carlos to work in peace, Evan joined her sister in the bow. "Where're Dean and John?"

"With Sam," Kit replied quietly as she rested her forearms on the railing, cocking her head to squint at her sister in the sunshine. "I don't like this plan," Kit told her honestly.

"Honestly, I don't either." Evan said, leaning a hip against the rail. "And I know that Dean doesn't. He's barely spoken to me in two days."

"He's worried, Sis. Can you blame him?"

"Kit, we've been over this," Evan began and Kit held up a hand.

"I know, but it doesn't change the fact that we're all scared as hell," Kit told her.

"Putnam can't hurt me," Evan assured her with a gentle smile.

"We're not worried about him. Sis, how many times have we pushed things to the limit? This is... once you're down there, none of us can help you. What if something goes wrong? I can't..." Kit's voice broke, and she looked away, her fingers wiping at teary eyes.

"Kit," Evan pulled her sister against her side comfortingly. "I have to try. It's family."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I know," Evan said, forcing herself to grin.

"We're all worried, not that the testosterone patrol would ever admit to it," Kit said ruefully with a nod in their general direction.

Evan pulled Kit closer, placing a kiss on the top of the head that rested on her shoulder. "It'll be okay, I promise." She straightened. "Guess I'd better start with Dean. I'll be back."

"Good luck," Kit said as her sister started to walk down the gangplank towards the docks.

Evan waved her hand over her shoulder and walked up the dock towards the motel. She shoved her hands in the pockets of Dean's jacket and hunched her shoulders against the increasing wind.

"How's he doing?" she asked softly as she entered, closing the cottage door behind her. Dean's jacket was shrugged off and draped across the nearest chair as she crossed to Sam's bed. She perched on the edge, one hand reaching out to brush an errant curly lock out of her brother in law's face.

"No change," John said gruffly, shifting his weight in the chair where he'd spent most of the day in vigil over his youngest son.

"I'm sorry, John. I really am," Evan said quietly.

"It's not your fault," he replied, looking up at her.

"I can't help it," she said with a rueful smile. "Where's Dean?"

"He went to take a shower."

Evan laid a hand on John's arm as she passed him on her way to the connecting room they'd been sharing with John. In the silence of the room, she could hear the shower through the bathroom door. It lasted only a moment before shutting off, to be replaced with the sound of Dean puttering in the small space. When the door swung open, Dean emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel clinging to his hips and another around his neck. Water beaded on his face, running down his jaw to his neck and onto his chest. Despite everything, Evan found her body reacting to the sight.

Dean looked up as he scrubbed the end of the towel through his hair. "Hey," he rumbled as he pulled fresh boxers from the duffel on the foot of the bed.

"Hey," she replied back. "We need to talk."

"About what?" He asked her, pulling the boxers on under the towel before tossing the towel onto the bed. He turned his back to Evan to look at his reflection in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair.

"Dean, you've been blowing me off for two days. I know you don't.." she began, but he cut her off.

"You're right. It's the only way to get the necklace," he said.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Evan said, walking over to him and laying her hands around his waist, looking at him though the mirror. "You're angry with me. Why?"

"I'm not angry with you," he denied, his eyes not meeting hers as he grabbed his comb, running it through his hair.

"Bullshit," she countered. "You can't lie to me, Dean."

Throwing his comb down, he turned around to face her. "You could die. Sam's," he stopped and took a deep breath, waving a hand at the door to the other room. "Sam was always my responsibility. You're supposed to be my responsibility. I'm supposed to be the one to protect you, and I can't. And I can't sit back and watch you risk your life. Jesus, Evan, we could end up losing both of you!" He turned away from her, propping himself against the dresser with his hands as his body sagged under the weight of his worries. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.

Evan paused, her hand in mid-air before she touched his shoulder. She stepped closer, pressing against his back as she laid a kiss on his shoulder blade. "Dean, baby, listen to me," she started, ducking under his arm and wedging herself between him and the dresser. "We're all family now. This is one time you have to let me do the protecting. It's my turn to do the heavy lifting," she cracked a smile, before cupping his face in her hands, tipping it so she could see his eyes. "I'm the only one who can do this. But I need you, Dean. I need to know I have your support."

"God, Evan," Dean slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She sniffled and laid her head against his shoulder, her arms sliding up under his arms to curl around his shoulder blades, holding her tight.

The pre dawn sun rose weak, yet hot, over Avalon the next morning. The birds sang outside the motel room window and as they started to wake, they could hear the people of the small town begin to move around the cobblestone roads, oblivious to the turmoil of the four people hidden away in the motel rooms.

Dean rolled over on the bed and slid his arm across the bed to pull Evan close, but all he came up with was sheets. Raising his head off the pillow he frowned as he looked at the empty place beside him. Pushing himself up onto his elbow he looked around the room. Evan sat at one of the windows, watching the activity just outside their room, her arms curled around her middle. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes tracing over the fiery ponytail that lay against her back and the snow-white fringe around her forehead. When her mouth twitched slightly, the dimple in her cheek winked at him and he felt that familiar tension within him.

"You okay?" He asked her as he slid out of the bed and pulled on his jeans, not bothering to button them up as he walked up beside her. Sliding onto the window bench behind her he slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

Evan nodded slowly, turning her head to look at him. "I couldn't sleep." She reached up and laced her fingers through his.

"There's still time to," he began, but Evan shook her head.

"No. We're running out of time. It's got to be today," she told him slowly and Dean laid his cheek against the top of her head.

Hearing movement from the other room, Evan sighed and started to rise from the window. "It's time to get ready."

No one said much as they made their way down to the marina where the boat was docked. John and Dean manoeuvred Sam's listless body towards the dock. Kit had insisted on going with them despite the fact that the rolling of the waves made her stomach queasy, but no one had wanted to leave Sam alone. Once Sam was lowered into the bunk, they tied him down, not wanting the rocking of the boat to roll him out where he could get hurt.

Evan stood at the bow of the boat guiding Dean, who was steering. Kit sat down below with Sam while John sat in one of the captain's chairs behind Dean as it motored out to the meeting place. Once the two boats were anchored and lashed together, they climbed over onto Carlos's boat.

"Why do we have to anchor this far away from the wreck?" Dean asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to anchor right overtop of it?"

"It would take too much rode to anchor at 300 feet. To anchor at 300 feet, it would take anywhere from 1200 to 2400 feet of line. It would take up too much space on the boat, plus it's heavy and we don't need it weighing us down."

Dean nodded in understanding.

"Carlos, you could not have picked a worse color," Evan groused as she took opened the trunk that Carlos' had delivered to the boat the night before. She held up the heavy-duty neoprene suit. The sleeves of the suit were pink and the body of the suite was a mauve color.

"Don't bitch, it was the only one I could find that was small enough on such short notice," he told her as he turned on the GPS system.

"That doesn't look like a wet suit," Dean said, eyeing the suit Evan held up.

"It's not. For deep dives, you wear a dry suit so you can layer under it and stay warmer," Kit told him as she eyed the suit and grinned at the look on her sister's face. "I put some sweatpants out for you," she told her sister.

Going down below deck, Evan closed the curtain on the bunk where Sam was strapped down and quickly peeled off her jeans. Pulling on the pair of fleece long johns that Kit had picked her up, she pulled on the oversized sweat pants and wriggled the baggy sweatshirt over her t-shirt and then pulled on a pair of thick woollen socks and tucked the legs of the sweat pants into them. Scraping her hair back into a braid she went back above.

"You look like a bag lady," Dean said with a grin as she emerged.

"If it keeps me from freezing my ass off, I don't care," she retorted as she picked up the suit again. Going over to the bench at the side of the boat, she sat down and wiggled her feet into the attached dive boots. Rising, she pulled the suit up to her waist and tucked the sweatshirt into it.

"Evan, wait," Dean said suddenly. Standing in front of her, Dean pulled off the pendant that perpetually hung around his neck and slipped it over her head. He then cupped her face and gave her a quick kiss before she could speak. Pulling back from her, he stared down at her with dark green eyes. She smiled at him and clutched the pendant in her hand before pulling the suit the rest of the way on.

She turned her back on him. "Zip me up." Dean reached out and tugged the zipper up her back and then flipped the magnetic seal closed over it. Turning around she said to them. "I feel like I'm wearing a mascot suit."

"Evan, I need you to listen to me," Carlos told her as he approached carrying a putrid green tank in his arms. Setting it before her, he waited until everyone gathered around her. Dean sat on the bench beside her, while Kit sat on the other side. "I got you a Nitrox tank." Evan pulled a face. "It may taste terrible, but the mix will make it easier for you to breathe," Carlos assured her.

"I've run the safety line from here to the wreck for you. It's knotted at fifty-foot intervals. That will help you keep track of where you are." When she nodded in understanding, he continued. "I've pre-positioned tanks and three "Mr Sun" lights for you along the line. The first one is at 150 feet. And I numbered them so you use them in the proper order. It's important that you do," he stressed.

Rising, Carlos went over to the side of the boat and picked up the underwater scooter and brought it over to her. "It's going to take you two hours to get to the wreck. This will help you for part of the dive. I have the coordinates of the ship loaded into them. You ride this down to 130 feet."

"Why can't she take that all the way down?" Dean questioned Carlos.

"She'd descend faster than her body could adjust to the water pressure," Carlos explained. Turning back to Evan, he continued. "At 130 feet, the scooter will stop. Flip this switch," he showed her. "I've rigged it with a self inflating homing device. It'll drag the scooter to the surface where we can pick it up. If I lose this thing, my boss will have my head," he told them with a rueful smile.

"Is she going to be able to change the tanks herself down there?" Kit asked worriedly.

"It's not going to be easy," Carlos agreed, then explained to Dean and John. "She's going to lose some dexterity. These will help," he said, handing her a pair of gloves. "They've been developed for arctic waters, they have a fleece lining and they're made thinner, but it's still going to be like a little kid holding an oversized crayon. I also went with the jacket style set up. All she has to do is dump the old tank and put the new set up on. You'll have to take a deep breath to change the tank, and change it quickly," he told her.

"It's a good thing I quit smoking," she joked, despite the tremor running through her voice. Dean curled his fingers through hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"The next set up will be at 250 feet," Carlos told her. "It's going to be harder to change the jacket because it's going to be colder at that depth."

"How long is it going to take her to get down there?" John asked.

"Two hours," Carlos answered slowly. "Evan, the most important part will be once you get down to depth. I got you four minutes. No more than that, and the clock starts ticking once you hit that hull," he stressed. "If you go over four minutes you're not going to have enough air to come back up properly."

"Thanks, Carlos," Evan smiled at him weakly.

"Take this," John took off his diver's watch and set the timer for four minutes. When Evan looked like she was going to object, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a stern look. Evan shut her mouth and took the watch.

"Once you get the box, haul ass out of there," Kit told her sister.

"But keep your breathing normal," Carlos warned her. "If you start breathing heavily or hyperventilating you run the risk of an embolism."

"No stress or anything," Evan grumbled. She then held up her hand Carlos frowned at her. "I know. Breathe normal."

"Here," Kit said to her sister. "I got you this. It's a dive bag with a self-inflating homing beacon. As soon as you get the chest with the necklace in it, put it in here. Once you're out of the ship, send it up."

"Why don't I just keep it until I get to the surface?" Evan asked.

"Because if you keep that box, you're going to have Putnam's spirit dogging you all the way to the surface," Dean said. "You're going to have enough to worry about."

"When you get out of the ship, you'll find your next set up at 275 feet. Next one at 200 feet. That's going to be your first decompression stop. Stay there for twenty minutes."

"And if she misses any stops?" Dean asked softly, already knowing that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I'll get the bends and I would probably die. It's the same as shaking up a bottle of soda and then unscrewing it really fast. Except it would be my head that explodes as the gasses in my blood start to bubble up.

"The decompression stops release the pressure slowly, like when you unscrew the soda cap a little to take the pressure off," Carlos told him and Dean's hand clenched her fingers tightly in reaction. "Your next stop will be at 125 feet," Carlos continued while Dean digested the information. "Stay there for another twenty minutes."

"If she stays longer, what will happen?" John asked Carlos.

"She'll run out of air before she gets to the surface," Carlos told him. "Your last decompression stop will be at fifty feet. Since we can't talk to you, I've added an underwater writing board at each of the tank setups. I need you to send us a message, to let us know you're okay."

"It's not going to be easy to write," Evan reminded them.

"Then draw a smiley face, I don't care. Write something," Dean said to her trying to keep his voice calm.

"Evan, I want you to take this with you," John said, pulling a sheath from his jacket pocket. "I picked it up a few years ago. The blade is pure iron."

"Thanks John," Evan said softly. "Okay, I guess it's now or never."

Rising from the bench at the side of the boat, Evan took the knife from John and strapped it around her thigh where it would be easily accessible. Taking the hood from Kit, she pulled it over her head and made sure her hair was tucked inside. Walking over to the back of the boat, she held onto Dean's shoulder as she slipped the flippers onto her feet. Carlos brought over the jacket with the tank set up and helped her slip it on. Evan quickly did it up and made some adjustments. Looking at them, she pasted a weak smile on her face. "Too bad my MP3 player wasn't waterproof, this is going to be a boring dive with no tunes. Fish talk isn't the most stimulating conversation."

Kit tried to laugh but ended up choking back a sob. Seeing the look on her face, Evan gave her sister a quick hug. "I'll be back. But if I'm not," she began and Kit pulled away to look intently at her sister, and nodded without Evan having to finish.

Turning back towards the ocean, Evan then looked at Dean. She cupped his face and he bent down to give her a soft kiss. When he pulled his head back, Evan could swear that his eyes were shining. Pulling on the gloves that Carlos had given her, Evan took another deep breath and took her mask from Dean's fingers. Gripping it tightly Dean and John took her arms and hoisted her up onto the back of the boat. She looked back at John when he didn't let go of her arm right away.

"Don't take any chances down there, we can't lose both of you," he told her and she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Taking a deep breath before her nerves could give out on her, Evan stepped off the side of the boat and dropped into the water. The first sun-warmed layers enveloped her quickly as she sunk down. She closed her eyes tight against the salt water until her body popped back up to the surface. As she tred water, she wiped the water from her face, emptied out the mask, quickly spit into it and rinsed it out before pulling it over her head and made sure it was sealed around her face. Fitting the regulator into her mouth she took a few breaths, getting used to the vinegary taste of the nitrox mix.

Dean, John and Carlos lowered the scooter into the water for her and she grabbed the handles. Looking up at the four of them standing at the back of the boat, she had an attack of nerves and was beginning to rethink the whole plan. But when she saw Kit's wedding band glinting in the sun, she knew she couldn't back out. There was just too much at stake. She flashed them a thumbs up.

"Vaya con Dios," Carlos said as she turned on the scooter. The engine whirred to life and began to dive and Evan, holding tight to the bars, sunk down with it. She clutched it tightly and stretched her body out flat. The water slid over her and brought back long forgotten sensations. It took her a few moments to get over the instinct to hold her breath as the water surrounded her. She fought off a moment of panic as the scooter took her deeper and began to breathe slowly.

As the scooter made its way along, heading in the direction of the wreck, and angling downwards, Evan looked around her. She could see the ocean floor beneath her, and the sun shimmering against the top of the water. It had been a long time since she had gone diving, but it was coming quickly back to her. She could feel the water kicked up by the scooters motor running over her and she felt weightless. The fish darted away from the scooter's high-pitched whine. The bubbles from the regulator gurgled around her and when she looked behind her she could see the trail they left in her wake. If she could forget what she was going down there for, Evan knew that exploring the waters around her would have exhilarated her.

On the left side of her, she could see the safety line that Carlos had laid out for her. Every fifty feet there was a knot with a bright orange flag on it so she would be certain to see it. As the scooter descended more, she could feel the water temperature begin to drop and the sunlight was growing weaker. She flipped the lights of the scooter on and found it a lot easier to see the safety line. Glancing at the watch John had given her, she realized that she had been down for forty-five minutes.

It wasn't too long after she passed the second knot that the scooter engine stopped. Evan adjusted the buoyancy bladder on the jacket, bobbing slightly until her weight equalled the pressure of the water around her. Once her body stabilized, she unhooked the underwater light that Carlos had attached to the scooter for her and wrapped it around her wrist. Turning it on, she shone it over the scooter, looking for the underwater writing board that had been affixed to the scooter. She grabbed the pen in her fist and drew a big smiley face on the board.

She reaffixed it to the scooter and then looked for the activation switch for the self-inflating beacon. Flicking it over, she watched the large balloon type inflator burst from its packing and begin to fill. Even before it was half done, it dragged the scooter from her and began to ascend. She took a moment and watched it begin to rise before she turned to look downwards. Keeping the safety line to her left she flattened her body out and angled herself downwards, adjusting the compensator on her jacket so she could descend further and began to kick her legs.

From here on in, she was on her own.

"Carlos!" Kit cried, as the monitor began to beep. "Carlos, the first beacon has been activated."

Carlos, Dean and John came over to the monitor and looked at it. John grabbed the binoculars and looked out over the water. "Where is it?" He asked as he scanned the surface.

"It should be coming up on our starboard side," Carlos replied and the four of them moved to the side of the boat.

John continued to scan the surface, a frown crossing his face. A moment later a large balloon broke the surface and bobbed on the waves. "There it is."

"I'll go get it," Kit said, already pulling off her T-shirt and stripping off her jeans to the bathing suit beneath her clothes. She climbed onto the Waverunner and Carlos untied it, pushing her off from the side of the boat. She switched on the engine and twisted the throttle, the jet ski shooting forward. She bounced over the waves to the beacon, pushing aside the sudden nausea that gripped her stomach. Maybe next time, she'd send Carlos out to do the retrieval.

Grabbing the beacon, Kit dragged it up a bit and knotted it around the back of the jet ski and turned it back towards the boat, towing the scooter behind her. When she got back to the boat, Dean and Carlos lifted the scooter out of the water and laid it on the deck. John detached the writing board from the scooter and showed them the big smiley face she had written on it.

"So far so good apparently," he said, handing his son the writing board.

"Getting down to that point was the easy part," Carlos reminded them. "It's gonna get dicier as she gets deeper."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"She's going to be near hypothermic. Diving that deep is like sitting in a deep freeze on an ice block for eight hours," Kit told him.

"This just keeps getting worse," he muttered as he looked down at the board and saw the smiley face. He definitely wasnt feeling very smiley.

Reaching the first tank set up, Evan paused for a moment, wiggling her fingers to gauge her dexterity. Taking a few deep, slow breaths, she undid her jacket. Slipping it off, she tucked it between her legs, gripping it tightly for the extra weight as she detached the second jacket from the safety line and slipped into it. Doing it up loosely, she adjusted the compensator until she was neutral, then tightened the jacket so she couldn't slip out of it.

Once it was comfortable, she slid the regulator of the new tank into her mouth and took a deep breath, dragging oxygen into her starved lungs. She took a few moments to adjust the flow of air and then pulled the old tank setup from between her knees and attached it to the safety line along with the light. She detached the new light from the line and slipped it onto her wrist. Taking the small writing board from the line, she gripped the pen in her fist, she wrote a small message and then pulled the cord on the homing beacon. It started to fill and she let it go, watching as it drifted up towards the surface.

Turning, Evan gathered her bearings and then dove, kicking her legs, pushing herself deeper. With each kick, she could feel the weight of the water press down on her. As the compensator regulated the gasses in the buoyancy bladder it pressed against her ribs as she breathed. As she went deeper, the temperature of the water dropped perceptibly. With the light flaring into the dark waters in front of her, Evan flexed her fingers. The cold was starting to seep through the thin layer of rubber and fleece of the gloves. She knew that the deeper she went it would only get worse.

"The second beacon's up," John told Carlos, as the beeping on the monitor started. He looked at the screen and then up over the water with the binoculars. "There it is," he told the younger man as he pointed.

"I've got it," Carlos said as he climbed aboard the jet ski and ran it out to the beacon. Snagging it from the water, he ran back to the boat and tied it to the side before climbing off of it and onto the deck.

Dean came above deck from the other boat where he had been down watching over Sam. He stopped at the door to the small bathroom below deck and knocked on the door. "Beacon's up," he told Kit through the door.

"I'll be there in a second," Kit said as she rinsed the vile taste from her mouth as she forced aside the wave of nausea that hit her once again. The rocking of the waves of the ocean had finally gotten to her. She grabbed a towel and ran it under the cold water and then wrung it out. She patted it against her forehead and the back of her neck as she made her way up the stairs and climbed over onto the other boat. "What does it say?" She asked as she saw Dean looking over the writing board.

"Doing good," he told her and then showed her the board.

Kit took the board from him and saw Evan's sloppy writing. "It's going to get worse, Dean. The deeper she goes, the pressure of the water is going to start affecting her nervous system."

"I know," he told her. "I talked to Carlos. He told me what to expect." A look crossed his face as he stared at the writing board. "I hate just sitting here waiting."

"So do I," Kit said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Feeling a sudden need to be doing something, Dean grabbed the various weapons they had brought on board and settled himself cross legged on the deck and began to methodically take apart the shot guns and clean them piece by piece.

Kit watched him for a moment before going to the side of the boat and looking out over the water. Closing her eyes, she sent up a silent prayer. "Please watch over her."

Glancing beside her, Evan swung her wrist a little and shone the light along the rope. She was coming up to the third knot in the safety line since she had changed the first tank. Only one more and she would have to change again. Looking at the watch, she found that she had been only down for an hour and a half but her muscles were starting to twinge with the exertion of kicking against the pressure of the water. Taking slow, even breaths, she tried to regulate the strength that she used for her kicks. It was going to be a long swim back to the surface and she didn't want to expend all of her energy.

Always keeping the safety line in her peripheral vision, Evan looked around her. The darkness of the ocean crowded in around her, and although she knew that at the depth she was in she had the ocean to herself, she still felt confined. She took a quick breath as a sudden wave of fear washed over her. Stopping, she pulled herself upright and adjusted her compensator. Closing her eyes, she measured her breathing. She listened to the gurgle and hiss of the air bubbles being released and ran a hand through them, feeling them ripple up her arm before they drifted up to the surface. Between the bubbles, she heard the low, almost static-y sounds of the fish that were hiding in the darkness around her.

You are not alone, and you are not confined. There's a whole ocean around you, and you're charting unknown areas. So cut it out, she scolded herself. Opening her eyes, she gave her head a little shake and then pushed herself down further.

Catching sight of something in the distance, she pointed the light at it and found the next tank waiting for her. She gave an extra kick and grabbed onto the safety line. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she unsnapped the jacket she was wearing and shrugged out of it. Her body started to float up and she jammed the old tank between her legs to keep herself anchored down while she struggled to get the new tank unhooked from the line. The coldness that had seeped into her fingers made it hard for her to grip the jacket. She felt it slip and start to sink away from her.

In desperation, she released the other tank and snagged the falling one with one foot. Reaching down, she forced her fingers to close around it and haul it up to where she could shove one arm through. Hitting the release valve on the oxygen tank, she jammed the regulator into her mouth and took a deep breath. Looking down, she saw the other tank disappear into the darkness of the water below her and knew that there was no way she was going to be able to retrieve it.

Getting the jacket fastened, she adjusted the compensator. She slipped the writing board off of the line and wrote a short, choppy message on it. It was getting harder to hold the pen and she noticed that her hand was shaking slightly and knew that the pressure was wreaking havoc on her nervous system. Pretty soon she was going to be lucky to be able to write at all.

Sending the beacon up, she looked down into the darkness. She was almost there. Pushing herself down, she forced all other thoughts out of her mind. All she had to do was reach the ship, get the necklace and they would get Sammy back from the darkness he was trapped in.

"What does it say?" Dean asked as he and his father helped Kit up from the jet ski and onto the deck of the boat.

"I don't know yet," Kit groused. She grabbed the board and flipped it over and stared at it for a moment. "Guys, the water pressure is getting to her. Badly," she told them, and showed them the board. The short hand words were barely legible. "Dnggod."

"Doing good?" John questioned as he looked over her shoulder at what Evan had written, trying to decipher it.

"I think that's what it's supposed to be," Kit mused.

"How far down is she now?" Dean asked Carlos.

"That one was at 250 feet," he answered. "She's about fifty feet away from the wreck."

Glancing at his watch, Dean frowned. It seemed to have been so much longer, but Evan had only been down there just under two hours. Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he sat back down at the side of the boat and grabbed the next shotgun. As he took it apart and began to clean it, he steadfastly pushed all thoughts out of his mind. He was not going to give in to the feelings that were clawing at the pit of his stomach.

"Is he going to be okay?" Carlos asked Kit, nodding towards Dean as he sat beside her at the monitors.

"Yeah, he will be as soon as Evan's back up here," Kit smiled ruefully. "If he can keep his hands busy till then, it won't be as bad for him."

"He's definitely not the kind of guy I would have expected her to wind up with," Carlos said with a smile. "But then Evan's changed a lot since she left L.A."

"Did you know her well when she lived there?"

Carlos half nodded. "I thought I did. She and Amber used to do everything together. When the three of us were together, I sometimes felt like a third wheel."

"When she lived here, it was a whole other side of Evan. One that I had no part of," Kit said sadly.

"That's not true. Amber and I got to know you through your sister," Carlos told Kit. "When you started at Berkeley, she was so proud of you."

"Why didn't she ever tell me that?" Kit said, sounding small.

"She had to be the bad-ass big sister, she couldn't tell you that," Carlos laughed.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if something happens to her," Kit said softly, a catch in her voice.

"Think positive," he told her. "How did you guys get into this kind of thing?"

"It's a long story," Kit laughed.

The wreck loomed up before her and Evan shuddered as she took in the decaying wooden ship. She had thought that it was scary on the ROV screen, but up close and personal, it was worse. She could almost feel the waves of evil flowing from it, and she could swear that the temperature dropped even further as she approached. She felt a shudder run through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

Looking at John's watch, she set the timer as she swam closer. She took a deep breath and kicked herself towards the crack in the hull. As soon as she slipped through, she hit the timer. Picturing the ROV video in her mind, she shone the light in the direction the submersible had gone and started in that direction. Pulling herself up the stairwell, Evan forced down the nausea as she moved over the bodies that had been left to decay in the water. As she passed over them, particles of bone and flesh sprung up in her wake.

Glancing at the watch, she found that almost a minute had passed. She was going to have to hurry, she told herself. Pushing herself onward, she found the captain's quarters. Evan threw herself against the door and shoved it open. She cringed as she heard the dust covered hinges of the door squeal even through the depths of the water. Shining the light around the room, the beam landed on the skeletal remains of James Putnam lying in his bed. The ROV lay on the floor of the ship beside it. She glanced at the timer again. Three minutes left.

Stumbling over to the bed, Evan shone the light around the floor beside the bed, remembering that the small chest had fallen to the floor when Putnam had shorted out the ROV. Grasping at the remains of the bed sheets, she threw them up and shone the light under the edge of the bed. Finding the box, she grabbed it and curled it against her chest.

When the light began to flicker, Evan felt the scars at her wrist begin to itch. Turning quickly, she jumped back in surprise as she stared into the angry face of James Putnam. His mouth opened in an angry scream, and his hands shot up to grab at her. His fingertips scrabbled along her chest, searching for her heart. Pain flared through her as they fought to burrow into her, but the tattoo's held fast and prevented him from pushing into her.

Her anger rising, Evan curled her fingers around the hilt of the knife John had given her, praying that she could keep hold of it as she yanked it from the sheath. Swinging the iron blade up, she shoved it into Putnam's chest, his look of anger turned to one of surprise as she pulled the knife blade up, slicing him deeply. The iron in the blade cut through him and his spirit dissipated in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. It wouldn't be long before Putnam pulled himself together and took another run at her. Glancing at the timer, she swore silently at herself. She had just over a minute to get herself out of the ship and start back to the surface. Curling the box tightly against her chest, Evan grabbed the tether on the ROV and dragged it behind her as she forced herself out of the captain's quarters. Running as best as she could against the water pressure Evan pushed herself off the stairs and jack-knifed down them. Kicking her legs hard, she swam through the ship, the ROV bouncing along behind her. Shining the light ahead of her, she saw the crack in the hull.

She had just reached it, when something wrapped around her arm. In her peripheral vision, she saw the translucent boney fingers of Putnam's spirit. She felt the pain run through her again as his fingers tried to push through her back. Turning, Evan swung her arm and sliced the blade through his arm. She could feel his scream of pain and anger run streak through her as she slashed at him again. He dissipated before her and Evan pushed herself off of the bottom of the ship. Glancing at the watch, she groaned inwardly as the counter hit zero.

"Shouldn't she be out of the ship by now?" John asked Carlos, keeping his voice low so Dean and Kit wouldn't hear him, wouldn't hear the worry in his voice. Checking the timer that Carlos kept at the monitor, he frowned. They should have heard something from Evan by now. She should have been out of the ship, and sending the necklace back up to them. He didn't want to think it, but the only thing that would explain the delay was if something went wrong. And, as he looked over Dean and Kit, he knew that if something had gone wrong, the two of them would be lost.

"John," Carlos said with excitement in his hushed voice. "The beacon just came into range." He frowned suddenly and his voice lowered. "But it's not rising as fast as it should be."

Turning back to the monitor, John located the small blip on the screen. He frowned as he oriented himself, then grabbed the binoculars and watched the water. "You don't think it's weighted down, do you?" The image that sprang to mind sent a jolt of fear through him.

"I don't know," Carlos said, a grim thought crossing his mind but he was loath to voice it.

"What is it, Dad?" Dean questioned setting aside the knife he was sharpening and coming over to stand by his father.

"The beacon just sounded," he told his son. "The necklace should be on its way up." He kept his voice neutral, not wanting to worry Dean, or frighten Kit.

"Do you really think that shattering the emerald will release Sam's soul?" In all the calls Dean had made to Bobby, Father K and every other hunter he could think of, they had all agreed that destroying the emerald would break the curse upon it. He just didn't seem too sure.

"It better, or all of this is going to be just a dangerous waste of time," Kit said as she turned to face them.

"We'll never know unless we try it," John told them, scanning the ocean's surface.

Off the bow, the large balloon burst through the surface and then settled. As the gentle waves hit the side of it, the balloon began to sink.

"I'll go get it," Carlos cut in as Kit started towards the jet ski. Climbing over the side of the boat, he dropped onto the machine and Dean quickly untied it. Pushing off, Carlos cranked the key and the engine flared to life. Twisting the throttle, he shot out over the waves, skimming the surface as he want over to the large balloon. As he neared it, he saw a shadow in the water below the surface and felt his heart stop for a moment. The last thing that he wanted to think was that something had gone wrong and the beacon had dragged Evan's body to the surface.

Slowing alongside the balloon, Carlos reached out for it and pulled it up. The tether cord stretched taught as something heavy dangled from the bottom of it. Raising it higher, the weight broke the surface and it took him a moment to realize that he was looking at the ROV that they had lost on the wreck. Relief flooded through him and he exhaled slowly, not even realizing that he had been holding his breath. Dangling below the ROV was the small mesh bag and the box that Evan had risked her life for.

Taking the mesh bag off of the beacon, he looped the tether onto the tow ring at the back of the jet ski and pulled the ROV back to the boats. Once he had the jet ski tied back up, he unhooked the tether and handed the beacon balloon to John and Dean. They dragged it up, and Carlos guided the ROV up onto the deck.

"She sent the ROV back up?" Kit asked him, amazed when she saw the submersible.

"I guess she didn't want to leave any evidence behind," Carlos said.

"Did she get the necklace?" Dean questioned, dismissing the submersible. When Carlos held up the mesh bag with the box within, they stared at it for a moment, almost in awe of it.

"Let's get this piece of shit destroyed and Sammy back," Dean muttered and grabbed the mesh bag. Taking it over to table with the monitors, he took the box out of the bag and set it on the table. The small lock on the chest was rusted, but otherwise it was in good shape. Kit handed him the knife that he had been cleaning. Taking it, Dean brought the handle down against the lock sharply a few times until it broke. Flipping the top open, he reached in and pulled out the small leather pouch from inside. Pulling open the drawstring, he tipped the contents into his hand. A large brilliant green emerald set into a gold-filigreed setting slithered out.

"It's beautiful," Kit remarked, lifting the necklace from Dean's hand to examine it. "Too bad so many people have had to die because of it."

"How the hell do we destroy it?" Dean questioned his father.

Flipping the top of one of the bench seats at the side of the boat, Carlos hefted out a small anvil that he had stored inside and John handed Dean a sledgehammer. "The old fashioned way," he said.

"I'm going to go sit with Sam," Kit told them as she watched them set up the anvil. John nodded, but took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze a before he let her cross the deck and climb onto the boat and disappear below deck to where Sam was tied to the bunk.

Setting the necklace face up on the anvil, Dean rubbed his hands together and then gripped the handle of the sledgehammer. Carlos and John stood back while he hefted the sledgehammer from the deck. Swinging it up over his head, he put all his strength behind it and brought the heavy head down onto the stone. As the precious gem shattered a wave of energy and light radiated out from it. The boat shook from the force of it and they were forced to cover their eyes from the brilliant light.

Down below deck, Kit laid a hand on Sam's leg and held onto the chair she was sitting in as the energy rocked the boat dangerously. She gasped as a wave of cold followed the energy blast. Once the boat had stopped rocking, she looked at Sam.

"Sam? Baby? Can you hear me?" She asked, her heart in her throat. She moved to sit on the side of the bed and took his hand. "Sam? Please answer me."

"Any change?" John and Dean stood at the doorway, watching Sam with worried looks.

Kit turned and shook her head. She was about to say something to them when she felt his fingers twitch in her hand. Her gaze snapped to her husband and she laid her hand against his forehead. "Sam. Can you hear me? Sam?" Leaning over him, she pressed a kiss to his forehead while Dean and John crowded into the small bunk.

"Son, wake up," John coaxed him, his voice trembling slightly.

"Come on, little brother," Dean pleaded. "Get your pain in the ass self outta that bunk."

"Baby, please, wake up. Squeeze my hand, Sam," she ordered him. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me dammit!"

Slowly Sam's eyes fluttered shut for a moment then drifted back open, his fingers curling around his wife's fingers.

Her legs ached as she kicked. Her back ached as she angled herself upwards. Her whole body ached as the compensator squeezed around her as she rose. She fought off the temptation to just let the gas bladder fill and drag her to the surface. But to do that would be certain death, so she struggled along, trying to keep her body from rising too fast, and trying to keep the safety line in sight.

The first change of tanks after leaving the ship had been even more difficult than her trip downwards. The cold and the pressure had seriously screwed with her nervous system. Her hands shook so bad that had been afraid that she might lose the tank. It had been harder for her to hold her breath while changing the tanks. And the message board that she had sent up, she thought that if it was at all legible she had better count herself lucky. Exhaustion was starting to set in. While she had been hovering at the safety line for the twenty minutes while her body decompressed, she had been hard pressed not to close her eyes and drift to sleep.

When the timer had gone off, she had groaned. She had used a minimum of movements to keep herself upright and in place while she had waited, but now she was going to have to push her legs again. Whenever she kicked, her muscles screamed at her. And she still had another 225 feet to go. Taking a deep breath, she had given a kick, propelling herself along the line.

Well, there's one good thing about this, she told herself. I'm not going to have to exercise for a month. She suppressed the giggle that threatened to bubble up at the thought.

"I think the oxygen mix is getting to her," Carlos grumbled as he looked at the whiteboard message that had come up with the last beacon.

"Why?" Kit asked as she stuck her head above deck.

Carlos turned the board to reveal an indecipherable scribble.

"Does it usually have that effect on people?" Dean raised an eyebrow, staring at the horribly written words.

"Not usually," Carlos told him. "But a deep dive like this can affect people differently."

"Shouldn't she be getting near the surface by now?" John asked Carlos from where he sat at the side of the boat, looking at the submersible with a frown on his face.

"That one was set at 275 feet. Her next stop is at 200 feet," he answered, checking his calculations.

She wasn't going to make it.

As she floated 200 feet off the ocean floor, Evan had to face facts. She was not going to make it back to the surface. Her legs were cramping from the cold and the exertion every time she kicked, and she could swear that she was getting less distance with each one. She'd found that she had to kick more often to get the same amount of distance. Her lower back was knotted as well. It was getting to be a struggle to breathe, even though the gauge said there was plenty of mix in the tank. They felt like they were filled with sand. The stab jacket tightened around her ribs with each breath she took. Her teeth chattered around her regulator, she was freezing.

When she had stopped to change her tank, she'd had to struggle to drag the new tank on. Her arms had screamed in protest at the weight of it and her fingers had fumbled with the fastenings. When she had tried to write a message, she'd ended up dropping the pen, her fingers had shook so bad.

She took slow, even breaths as she rubbed her hands over her legs trying to massage the pain out of them. It helped for a moment, but she knew that as soon as she started to move again, her muscles were going to tense up.

Her inward litany of discomforts grew as the timer went off and she gave herself a kick forward, pain shooting down her legs. She could only hope that the necklace had made it to the surface and that they had been able to help Sam. If they hadn't, than all of the pain she was feeling now would have been in vain.

"I don't like this," Dean said as he looked at the illegible, half written message on the board.

The air was beginning to cool down. The sun was just starting to sink towards the horizon. It had been over five hours since Evan had gone into the water and Dean was just wishing that the day from Hell would end.

"Don't tell Kit," John told his son, glancing at the other boat where Kit was sitting down below deck with Sam. He still hadn't revived completely and Kit had refused to leave his side.

"Carlos, is there any way to get that ROV working? Maybe if we can send it down to her, see if she's okay," Dean turned towards the submersible that was sitting on the deck.

Carlos shook his head. "The saltwater got into the circuitry and fried it. I don't have the parts here to fix it."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, looking out over the ocean before sitting down on the deck and grabbing up the shotguns that he had already cleaned. He took the first one apart and began to clean all the parts once again. The waiting was killing him.

Quietly, John climbed over the rail to the other boat and went down below to check on Sam and Kit.

"Did she get to the next beacon?" Kit asked when she heard John's footsteps on the stairs. She curled her fingers around Sam's hand tighter, but looked over her shoulder at her father in law.

"Yeah, we got it. She's doing okay," he lied, pushing aside the sick feeling as the words left his mouth. Until they knew for sure, John figured it would be best for her to stay in the dark. She had enough to worry about.

"Good," Kit said with a sigh of relief. "How much longer till she's up?"

"We still have a few more hours. We'll come and get you when it's time. From what Carlos says, we're going to need your help with her," John reminded her.

"I'll be there," Kit smiled softly and then turned her attention back to Sam, who battled between moments of wakefulness and shock as his body adjusted to the return of his soul.

John gave his youngest son a sad look and then went above deck. Climbing back over the rail he went over and sat near Dean and grabbed another cleaning rag and began to take apart one of the other shot guns.

The water was getting warmer and the pressure around her body was beginning to ease. She was able to take deep, even breaths without the jacket crushing her ribs. Looking up, Evan could see the water lightening as she drew closer to the surface. Some more adventurous fish swam closer to her, flittered away from her when she kicked then came back, trailing her at a distance. Some of the larger fish darted out at her, but she batted them way. When a little blue fish darted in front of her, Evan had to suppress a giggle as she thought of the Disney movie that JD always wanted to watch. After today, she knew she was going to have a whole new appreciation for marine life as the current pushed her back down.

Now I know what a salmon feels like, she thought to herself.

Seeing the next tank just a little further in front of her, Evan tried to ignore the screaming pain in her legs, back and arms. She kicked harder against the current, fighting to get to the tanks. When she arrived there, she could at least try to massage out some of the pain from her legs. With a grimace, she held her breath and slipped off her tanks. By the time she pulled the new tank set up and got it into place, her lungs were screaming for air and she was growing dizzy. She fumbled with the regulator, shoving it into her mouth. Adjusting the flow of oxygen, she took a few deep breaths.

After massaging the ache and numbness from her fingers, Evan gripped the pen as best as she could and wrote a short message. Activating the beacon, she let it go. She then set the timer on the watch and waited, rubbing her hands over her arms and legs, trying to work the knots out of them.

"She's back," Kit said as she pulled the jet ski up to the side of the boat and climbed off while Carlos tied it up. "This one is at least understandable," Kit said with a bit of an edge to her voice. She had been upset when she had come across the last message that her sister had written, but more upset that they had kept it from her.

"Doing good, almost done," Dean read the message aloud and gave it to his father to read.

"The water pressure around her is lessening and the water will be starting to get a little warmer," Carlos told them. "But she's still not out of danger yet. She still has one more decompression stop, but when she hits the surface, we're going to have to be ready."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned, feeling suddenly uneasy.

"She's going to be disoriented, nauseous and hypothermic when she reaches the surface," Kit explained.

"And she's going to be in a lot of pain," John told him.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Dean demanded of them.

"Evan asked me not to," Kit told him. "She knew she had to go and she knew that if you knew the risks, you wouldn't let her."

Dean shook his head in anger. "I'm going to kill her when she gets back up here."

"What did Evan do now?" Sam asked from the deck of the other boat as he climbed unsteadily over the railing.

"Sammy!" Dean cried when he saw his brother. Going over to him, Dean threw his arms around him and gave Sam a tight hug. "Dude, I was so worried about you." Pulling back from him, Dean cupped Sam's pale cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said roughly. "I'm okay."

"Sam!" Kit wound her arms around her husband's waist and hugged him close, burying her face into his chest, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. "It worked. It worked," she murmured, relief flooding through her.

Sam tightened his arms around his wife. Looking up he saw his father standing before him. "Dad."

"Sammy," John laid his hand on his youngest sons shoulder and gave him a watery smile. "Do you remember anything?"

Shaking his head slowly, Sam tried to think back. "No, all I remember is a pain in my chest. It felt like I was having a heart attack and then… nothing. What happened? Why are we in a boat in the middle of nowhere?" He then looked up and noticed Carlos for the first time. "And you are?"

"I'm Carlos. I'm a friend of Evan's," Carlos told him ruefully.

"Dude, there's been a lot going on," Dean began.

"So you're telling me Evan's risking her life for me?" Sam questioned them, his voice weak as they explained to him what had been happening over the past few days. "Where is she?" Sam went over to the side of the boat and sat down. After days of being catatonic, his muscles were weakened, but the shock of what they had just told him nearly floored him.

"She should have passed the fifty foot marker by now," Carlos told him.

"Should have?" Sam was confused. "She's late?"

Dean sat down beside his brother, his hands clenched between his knees as he stared down at the deck. "She's been sending up message boards from each stop. But the last one hasn't surfaced yet."

The rushing wall of water had taken her by surprise.

She had been about to release the last beacon and start towards the surface when it hit. She tensed her body in reaction as the surge swept her sideways, her body freewheeling dangerously. Her head spun as she was thrown off course. She tried righting herself, but the surge swept around her, driving her further away.

Remembering back to a time when Amber had been caught in an underwater surge, she let her body go limp and the water flowed around her, her body stopped whirling. She adjusted her compensator and rose up out of the surge until she could no longer feel it pulling at her. Looking around, she pushed aside a wave of panic when she couldn't find the safety line. She tried to remember how many times she had spun, but she couldn't. And she had no idea how far the surge had taken her off track.

Evan hovered for a moment, trying to figure out her options. She knew that she could try and go back to find the safety line, and then run the risk of running out of air before reaching the surface. Or she could try for the surface and hope to hell that they could find her. Taking a few deep breaths, Evan closed her eyes and tried to decide what to do.

Giving a kick, Evan pushed herself upwards, hoping she was making the right decision.

"I got the last beacon on the monitor!" Carlos shouted across the boat to the others. "But it's way off course."

"What do you mean off course?" Sam questioned, pushing himself up off the bench and making his way over to the monitors, his body still shaky, but growing steadier against the rolling waves.

"It should have come up five miles in front of the boat. It's about fifteen miles west of where she should be," Carlos pointed, and grabbed the binoculars.

"How could it be off course?" Dean demanded coming over to look at the monitor.

"It could have been caught in a surge," Carlos answered, his face masked with worry as he scanned the ocean's surface.

"What the hell is a surge?" Kit looked out over the ocean, her voice trembling.

"It's an underwater current. If Evan tenses, it will sweep her away. She has to remember to keep her body limp. If she does, the water will go around her," Carlos explained.

"What the hell is going to happen to Evan?" Dean grabbed Carlos shoulder and turned him around, staring at him with angry green eyes. His jaw clenched tightly as he forced himself not to give into the panic that was threatening to take over him.

"Until that beacon comes up, I don't know," Carlos admitted. "When it comes up, we may be able to use its positioning to locate Evan."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered under his breath, letting go of Carlos and stalking around the deck of the boat, running his hands through his hair.

"There's the beacon!" Carlos cried a few moments later when he saw it burst through the surface and bob on the waves.

Kit ran towards the side of the boat and climbed onto the jet ski. She pushed aside the queasiness that gripped her stomach as the machine bobbed over the waves. She circled the beacon and grabbed it off the water and then headed back towards the boat. Throwing the line to John, she gave her hand to Sam and he tugged her back up onto the boat.

"Last one," Dean read as he took the board from Kit. "So what do we do now?" He asked Carlos.

"If she did hit a surge, chances are she wouldn't have gone as far as the beacon," John interjected. "So we patrol the area between here and where the beacon came up."

Dean was already headed towards their boat. Jumping over the railing, he landed on the deck of their boat and headed towards the wheelhouse. Hitting the starter, the engine flared to life. Sam followed behind him, and untied the boat from Carlos's. Kit ran behind them and climbed over the railing as Dean threw the throttle forward and the boat shot away.

"Be careful Dean," Sam cautioned, "We don't want to hit her." And Dean nodded, slowing the engine, trolling the area. Grabbing the radio, Sam hit the button as he looked over the side of the boat into the water. "Carlos? Any sign yet?"

"Not yet," came the crackling reply from his father. "Carlos has the sonar running, but it's going to be hard to distinguish between Evan and the marine life."

"Come on, Sis," Kit said softly as she looked over the other side of the boat into the water. She could see down into the deep blue waters, but saw no sign of her sister.

She could see the surface of the water.

The sinking rays of the sun cast jewel like patterns over the waves, sending shards of light down to her. She flipped off the light at her wrist and focused on the growing light above her. Fighting the eagerness within, she kept herself from rising too fast. But with her legs screaming and her body shaking from the cold that had sunk down to her bones, all she wanted to do was get to the surface.

Just a little further, she told herself trying to push aside the thoughts of the pain filling her. Her legs grew weaker and she had to kick more and more to keep herself rising to the surface. With each breath, she found the oxygen flow lessening and shallowed her intake. The water grew warmer around her, she could feel the change in it through her suit.

With one last kick, she broke through the surface of the ocean the waves lapping around her. But before she could adjust her vision to the sunlight, she felt her body start to sink. The weight of the tanks was pulling her down, and she had no strength left in her legs to keep herself up. The water began to close over her head again.

"Dean!" Sam shouted suddenly over the noise of the engine and pointed off to the side of the boat. "There she is!"

Kit and Dean looked to where Sam was pointing but didn't see anything at first. Then they saw the pink and mauve hood that Evan had been wearing bob on the surface and then sink under it again.

"No, no, no," Dean cried as he saw the water close over her head.

"Oh my god, she's going under!" Kit screamed in horror.

Swinging the boat around, Dean pushed the throttle forward. The boat skimmed over the surface of the water towards Evan. They saw her arms thrust from the water as she struggled to push herself back up.

"Dad, Carlos, we found her!" Sam yelled into the radio. "Bring up the lines and get out of there. We'll get her and meet you back at the marina!"

"Dean, hurry!" Kit yelled as she watched her sister's arms go back down into the water.

As they approached, Dean cut the engine and drifted towards where they had seen her. Pulling off his boots and jacket, he threw them aside on the deck and pushed himself up onto the side of the boat, diving into the water where they had last seen Evan go down. He opened his eyes, ignoring the stinging of the saltwater in his eyes and looked around. He stayed down until his lungs began to scream from lack of air. Rising, he grabbed a quick breath and then dove down again. He felt a sudden flood of relief when he saw Evan trying to kick her way back to the surface. Pushing himself down to her, he grabbed her arms and pulled her up as he rose to the surface.

"Where are they?" Kit yelled. She had started up the engine again and was circling the area where Dean had dove.

"There!" Sam shouted pointing at the water as Dean's head broke the surface.

Dean kicked his legs hard, trying to keep himself above water as he struggled to pull Evan up. When her head broke the waves, he swam towards the boat, dragging her behind him, her legs kicking weakly.

Sam leaned over the back of the boat and curled his arms around Evan and dragged her up onto the deck. Dean climbed up the ladder and jumped onto deck. Pulling the regulator from her mouth, he struggled to undo the jacket and drop the tanks off of her.

"Kit, get us out of here!" Dean shouted and Kit turned the boat around, sending it skimming across the water towards Avalon.

Evan struggled against the hands on her. She heard the whine of the engine, the wind blowing against her body, but the light was too bright. Her eyes stung when she tried to open them. Her whole world felt off kilter, and her legs wobbled as she tried to stand. Collapsing to her knees on the deck, she dragged in shallow breaths. Her throat felt swollen and raw. Everything hurt. Her head spun and her stomach lurched. She tried to push it aside.

"Dean?" She croaked, her voice barely audible from the Nitrox. "Dean?"

"Don't try to talk, baby," Dean said to her softly, running his hands over her face gently, letting her know that he was there.

Evan pushed his hands away. She tried to dig her fingers into the collar to pull the hood off, but they wouldn't cooperate. "Sam?" She rasped, pushing the words from her throat. "Sam?"

Feeling fingers slip into the collar of the hood, they gently peeled it from her head, freeing the tight material from around her face. "I'm right here, Evan," Sam said gently.

Forcing her eyes open, Evan squinted at the face before her. The soft green eyes staring back at her. The eyes that had been so vacant now once again full of life. A sob caught in her throat as happiness welled up inside of her. The sob turned to a gag as the wave of nausea pushed it's way up to her throat. She pushed away from Sam and tried to crawl to the back of the boat, gagging as she did.

"Dean, grab the bucket," Kit ordered, the sound of her sister's gagging making her own stomach turn.

Reaching beside him, Dean grabbed the bucket and went over to Evan. He put it in front of her and smoothed his hand along her back as she wretched into it. Sam moved to her side and scraped her damp hair back from her face as she heaved again and again until there was nothing left. Kit pushed the throttle as far forward as she could, coaxing more speed from the boat as her own nausea grew.

"Well, I've had warmer welcomes," Sam smiled weakly.

By the time they got back to the marina, Evan lay on the deck of the boat, shivering violently from the cold. Sam and Dean packed as many towels and blankets around her as they could. Kit slowed the boat down as she approached the docks, and found John and Carlos waiting for them on the deck.

"How is she?" Carlos questioned as they tied up the boat.

"She's in and out of it," Dean said, lifting Evan's shaking form from the bottom of the boat and climbed carefully onto the docks. Carlos draped a solar blanket around her body as they made their way back to the motel. "We have to get her into a shower and warm her up." Pushing into the motel room, Dean took Evan into the bathroom and stood her in the tub.

Kit came in behind him and took hold of her sister's arms. "Dean, I need you to go get some hot coffee, and some of that cream for sore muscles," she told him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean retorted. "Sam or Dad can go."

"Dean, I'm asking you to go," Kit said sternly. Her eyes never wavered as she stared him down. With a growl under his breath, Dean turned and walked out of the bathroom.

"Thanks sis," Evan rasped, looking at Kit through half-closed eyes. She couldn't even remember when it had happened, but at some point, she had given in to the painful stitch that had formed in her side as the compensator had pressed more and more against her increasingly-full bladder. It had given her a moment's relief and a small measure of warmth to her legs, but it was also as embarrassing as hell.

"No problem," Kit replied, unfazed. Carlos had pulled her aside and told her that it would most likely happen, and knew that her sister would be mortified if Dean had known.

She took over unzipping the suit when Evan's fingers fumbled. She grabbed a towel and gave it to Evan to wrap around herself as she tugged the suit down over her body along with the sweat pants and long johns she had been wearing. Rolling the wet clothing up in the solar towel she shoved the mass into the garbage bin and then took it out to Carlos. "Get rid of these."

Carlos took the bin and nodded and without a word went out to the dumpster behind the motel. Once he had tossed it, he gave the motel one last look and then walked back to his boat. Evan was in good hands, she was with her family. And although he felt he had no right to ask it, he had a sudden need to ask Amber for forgiveness.

Evan sat in the bottom of the tub, her legs pulled up to her chest her arms wrapped around them tightly as she shook from the cold. She rested her head against her knees as tepid water ran down her over her head and body. When her body had grown used to the temperature, she reached out and turned up the hot water, groaning as the heated stream hit her skin, her teeth chattering.

"Hey baby," Dean said a short time later, pushing aside the shower curtain enough to be able to sit on the side of the tub beside her. He had yet to change out of his own damp clothes.

"Hey," she whispered, her throat still raw from the nitrox. 'Déjà vu."

"You really gotta stop hanging around the water," Dean smiled at her, rubbing his hands over her shoulders and Evan gave him a weak smile. Even after all the time that had passed, the image of her drowning in the bathtub at his hands still haunted him.

When the water started to turn cold, Evan pushed herself to her feet, her muscles aching with each move. She groaned in pain and Dean's jaw clenched. He wound his arms around her waist and lifted her out of the tub. Setting her down, he grabbed a towel and began drying her off, feeling the coldness of her skin even through the towel.

"I feel like a child," she whispered roughly as he drew her into the motel room.

"Shh," he ordered her gently and pushed her down onto the bed. Leaning up to her, he gave her a soft kiss. "Lay down."

Too exhausted to do anything else, Evan stretched out on her stomach, her head turned to the side as Dean sat on the edge of the bed. He squirted some of the muscle cream into his hands, rubbing them together to start it warming. He then took one leg and bent it gently. Starting with her feet, Dean massaged the cream into her skin. His calloused hands worked over her calves and up the backs of her thighs.

"Feels good," she murmured softly, her eyes sliding closed as she felt her stiffening muscles begin to loosen under the pressure of Dean's hands. Each breath she took felt like sandpaper scraping her throat. Her lungs ached with each breath and she felt like she had a ton of grit in her eyes.

The warming of the cream began to seep down into her as his hands lingered around the small of her back working the tense muscles again and again. He then moved up her back and over her ribs where she was bruised from the jacket and tanks. His jaw clenched when he saw the small circle of bruises on her back and he knew without her saying that Putnam had come after her, leaving his mark on her when he hadn't been able to steal her soul.

When she whimpered in pain, Dean leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade softly. He continued to move his hands up her back and over her shoulders and arms. The warmth of his hands and the cream along with the roughness of his skin against her soothed her and she gave in to the exhaustion of the long day. Dean pulled the comforter and the extra blankets over her to keep her warm and sat beside her for a long while, watching her.

"How is she?" Sam asked later when his brother came out of the bedroom. Kit raised her head from where it had been resting on his shoulder. Her arms tightened around Sam, almost afraid to let him go.

"She's asleep," Dean told them, sitting down on the side of the bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his fingers in his hair. "And she's sore."

"She'll be like that for a few days," Kit told him. "And we can expect her to get a case of bronchitis or even pneumonia."

"I've never been more scared than I was today," Dean admitted to them, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes.

"She's back with us, Dean. She'll be okay," John told his son.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Sam said softly to his brother.

"The main thing is that it worked and we have you both back," Kit told them all. Holding Sam tightly, she laid her head back on his shoulder, but she couldn't help but stare at the closed bedroom door to where her sister lay sleeping.

"Thanks for all your help, Carlos," Evan said softly into the phone two days later, her voice still raspy from the Nitrox and the bronchitis that had been diagnosed that morning.

"No, Evan, thank you. You were right. I left Amber there to die, and I will never forgive myself for that. I don't envy what you and your family do, but I'm glad that we have people out there fighting for us. By helping you destroy what killed her, maybe I'll be able to rest a little easier knowing that someone else won't die because of it," he said softly, his voice cracking.

"Maybe we both can," she whispered. "Vaya con dios, amigo."

"Take care, Evan," Carlos replied and hung up the phone.

Evan shifted on her chair and stifled a soft groan. Her body still ached and her lungs still burned, but she was going to be okay. And they had Sam back. But looking down at the address she had scribbled down on the motel stationary, she knew that there was one more thing that she had to do. Rising from her chair, Evan went into the bedroom and dug through her bag. Changing out of the sweatpants and sweatshirt she had been wearing, she took a quick shower and changed. Stepping out of the bedroom, she scribbled a quick note then grabbed her purse and car keys and headed towards the marina to catch the ferry to the mainland.

Evan drove slowly through the winding roads of the cemetery until she came to the small knoll where Carlos had directed her. Stopping the car, she paused for a moment before turning to grab the large bunch of flowers, yellow carnations, wrapped in cellophane that sat on the seat beside her.

Pushing the door open, she slid out and carefully closed it, not wanting to break the stillness of the air around her. She had never liked cemeteries. Over the past years they had become simply a place to hunt for evil. But as she looked around, she saw the beauty that sprung around her. The deep, earthy smell of the freshly mown lush grasses and the flowering hedges that sectored parts of the cemetery. Even the headstones, while a marker for death, gently reminded everyone that those they guarded had once been among them and deserved to be honoured.

Smoothing the gauzy black skirt down over her legs, Evan carefully picked her way through the rows of headstones and over the knoll to the Johnson family monument. The brass plaque that bore Amber's name stood out among the older, well worn ones of family that had passed long before. Behind the shatterproof glass, she saw the simple marble urn that held Amber's ashes. Above the plaque, embedded in the marble was a decorative brass decal that held a picture of a smiling, happy Amber. The Amber she would always remember.

Silently, Evan slid the bouquet of flowers into the wrought iron holder embedded into the marble beside Amber's name. Stepping back, Evan pressed shaking fingers to her mouth and closed her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears.

She looked up when she felt a hand slid over her shoulder and looked to see Kit standing beside her. Kit stepped forward and set a smaller bunch of wildflowers in the holder on the other side of the plaque and then moved back to stand beside her sister.

Dean laced his fingers through Evan's and gave them a gentle squeeze. She gave him a watery smile when she saw that he, Sam and even John had dressed in their black suits. She leaned up and pressed her lips gently to Dean's cheek, then reached her hand out to Sam. Pulling him close and gave him a tight hug. She sent John a grateful smile and he laid his hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She had lost her friend, but they had gotten Sammy back with the knowledge that they had gained from Amber's death.

As they stood there, they felt the first drops of rain. Evan raised her head and looked into the brilliant blue sky as it started to rain faster. The drops gently struck her skin and she saw the first streaks of color that lit across the sky. They darkened and grew wider as the rainbow formed over the cemetery as it rained harder.

Evan smiled and then reached out to the plaque, tracing her fingertip over its warm surface in a protective rune. "Rest in peace, my friend."

"Let's go home, babe," Dean said softly and they headed back to the cars.