Sam let out an annoyed sigh as he filled the tank of the Impala. Dean had been looking through the snack section of the gas station for almost ten minutes, and Sam would bet anything that he'd be returning with the greasiest, most artery-clogging thing he could find. And he'd probably grab granola for Sam, making fun of his habit of eating healthy as if it was embarrassing.

When Dean finally came out of the store, Sam pulled the nozzle out, screwing the gas tank closed and shutting the cover. Dean was holding what had to be 35 dollars worth of snack food, and Sam made a mental note to get to an actual diner as soon as they could so he could force something green down his older brother's throat. Their lives were already getting messed up now that apparently angels existed and one had brought Dean back to life, he couldn't handle losing Dean to heart disease of all things.

His brother seemed to be doing everything he could to not act like the 'righteous man' the angel claimed him to be - drinking more, sleeping around - the usual, but cranked up to 200 percent. Sam didn't get it. Sure, Dean could be a complete asshole at times, but he was the guy who hadn't walked away from the life of trying to save people from monsters - Sam was the one who had left. Dean being the 'righteous man' wasn't infeasible, even if Sam wished to any deity that he and his brother would finally get left out of prophecies and huge plots.

"Found you some of the rabbit food you're always -"

Dean was cut off from whatever insult he was going to spit out when a black SUV came speeding into the gas station, the tires screeching as it swerved closer to them. However, the brakes were slammed and it came to a stop fifteen feet away.

The person exiting the vehicle was only saying a string of swears under her breath, obviously angry. It was sort of strange to hear when it was paired with a heavy Valley Girl accent.

"Oh my fucking God, the things I do for -"

As she stepped fully out of the car, she slammed the driver's side door harshly enough that Dean made an audible pained sound.

However, it became clear a second later that her abuse to the car wasn't the only reason she was pissed off and Dean was uncharacteristically silent. Spinning to look at Dean, the woman's eyes narrowed and an enraged expression covered her face.

"I'm going to kill you, Winchester!"

She began walking towards them and Sam tried cataloging all of Dean's recent hookups who would be this angry to see him, since her words had been directed at his older brother. Had Dean not let her know he was leaving in the morning or something? He usually picked up bar flies so Sam had always thought the women knew they would only be temporary. Oh crap - was she some past one night stand who'd gotten pregnant? She didn't look like Dean's usual type, though - she was really tall and somewhat lanky, with bleached hair and loose, wrinkled clothing.

Dean responded with a tight, worried voice that seemed somewhat disbelieving when he croaked out, "Tracy?"

The woman - Tracy, apparently, though Dean could be remembering the wrong name - looked like she was about to tear him a new one. As she strode up until she was right in front of his older brother, Sam could admit that he was somewhat amused and curious as to what Dean had done to get such a reaction out of the woman. Especially since Dean seemed incredibly unprepared to be dealing with her. Sam was predicting some more yelling and insults in the future.

However, instead she punched him hard enough on the mouth that even Sam winced just seeing it happen. Dean turned to the side and bent down slightly as he spat on the ground with blood in his saliva but stood back up straight a second later with a look of complete shock, marred by his already-split lip.

"What the - how the hell are you here?"

The woman pushed up the right sleeve of her button down shirt and Sam was taken aback by the large scarring on her wrist. It seemed like a burn scar and actually looked sort of like the one on Dean's -

"When your feathered chauffeur swooped in you grabbed on to me and tore me out with you, you stupid, stupid son of a bitch!"

After finishing her sentence, Tracy shoved Dean back, making him stumble a few steps. Ever since Dean had come back from hell, Sam had been even more protective than usual of his older brother. Having to bury Dean's body - the memory of having to even look at it still kept him up at night, and he was determined to not let his brother be hurt again if he could do anything to prevent it.

So when Tracy's eyes flashed black, Sam acted on his first instinct.

The sound of Sam's pistol going off seemed louder than usual. Even though Dean knew logically that he couldn't have heard the bullet when it hit her chest, he could have sworn that the dull thud reached his ears.

The moment of silence afterwards was stifling, and the first sound that broke the quiet was an extremely offended, dramatic scoff.

"Did you seriously just shoot me? In the heart?"

Oh shit.

Dean cringed at Tracy's shriek and avoided her eyes, knowing that she was probably far past enraged at this point. He could only imagine that they were still fully black at the moment – she tended to flash her demonic traits when she was pissed.

Sam shifted back and forth on his feet and was visibly caught off guard. He couldn't blame him; demons didn't really make a habit of yelling at the Winchesters, and dealing with angry women was more of Dean's forte - Sam was the one they usually cried on.

Obviously, this was not going to be one of those scenarios that played out like he had wanted. Dean really, really had not seen this coming.

Sam decided to enter the conversation and spoke in a threatening tone as he reached into his pocket to probably pull out holy water.

"What do you want with – "

Dean immediately slapped the bottle out of his brother's hands, barely processing what was happening. Tracy was - shit, they'd met in hell. How the fuck was she here, and in a body that looked exactly like her soul-flesh in the pit had? Tracy waved her hand dismissively at Sam and the darkness bled out of her eyes. Her posture relaxed and she loosely crossed her arms in front of her chest. Flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder, she rolled her eyes and scowled. Her disgruntled, California-accented voice cut him off.

"Shut the hell up, gigantic. It's whatever. But Dean here has some fucking explaining to do."

Sam looked on edge still and bewildered, turning to Dean with an alarmed look on his face. Dean knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he was familiar with the fact that Sam didn't necessarily see the things they hunted in a black and white manner; he thought in shades of grey and at times tried to discern whether or not the monsters they pursued always deserved to be hunted. But demons - demons were always evil in both of their books. Clearly Dean's familiarity with one was freaking him out. Dean wanted to reassure Sam or say something to explain, but... shit. He'd have to come clean about the fact he remembered hell, especially since he had made it obvious that he recognized her immediately.

It would be hard not to when she had been his only - Friend? Companion? - during the 40 years he'd been in the pit that wasn't psychotic or torturing him.

Sam clearly wanted to gank the young woman – the demon – in front of them, but she seemed adamant as far as talking to Dean, and damn, that was a conversation he didn't want to have considering he was starting to suspect what had happened. To his surprise she hadn't attacked Sam or tried to kill him, which was pretty cordial for a demon considering Sam had just shot her. Sam was staring at him with a tense expression that clearly demanded an explanation. Apparently Dean was supposed to be the judge, jury, and executioner of Tracy, who was now impatiently tapping her foot in front of them and twirling a lock of her bleached blonde hair around a finger.

Hell

Dean didn't know how much longer he could do this. It had been ten years and every goddamn day he wanted to pick up the knife when offered. Every day he considered it, even as he spit at Alistair and cursed him with every insult he knew. It was only clinging to the thought of Sam that kept him from doing it. He - he couldn't turn into the sort of thing he hunted. It was a minuscule, stupidly small chance, but when he even considered the possibility of going up to Earth as a demon, it scared him. Would he see Sam, Bobby, even Jo or Ellen and kill them? His memories were all he had.

Dean recoiled, flinching back on the hooks holding him and causing him to let out another strangled grunt of pain when the thing appeared in front of him. It was a vague shape, barely an outline - but he could hear the sniffling, low sound a dog made. This thing was a hellhound. Was this some new way to toy with him? Make the things that killed him tear him apart every day in new ways?

A minute later though, the thing hadn't touched him. Instead, he watched with incredulousness as its form became clearer and clearer until it was standing before him and looking sort of like a Rottweiler. It sat down on its haunches and just looked at him.

"Lennon, come!"

The shout made the hound turn and stand up before it took off, and when Dean followed its path with his eyes he saw that it was running up to a woman.

No, she wasn't on the rack - so the hellhound had ran towards a demon. When it reached her, he watched with disbelief as it nuzzled into her outstretched hand, which immediately began scratching behind its ears.

"What are you doing all the way out here, you little monster? No running off!"

She turned her head after finishing with her bizarre baby talk, looking around before finally seeing Dean and making eye contact with him. With a small, surprised sound, she patted the hellhound again on the head and strode over. When she finally stood right in front of Dean she didn't laugh or start tormenting him like he had anticipated and prepared himself for. Instead, she started talking with an interested California accent.

"He doesn't like anybody but me. So who're you?"