"Bethany Rae! Get your butt back in here!" Beth heard her stepfather's voice clearly through the front door as she strode angrily away from the bar, her long dark ponytail swinging with each step. "Beth! I mean it!"

"I'm out of here, Rick. I'm done. See you around," she shouted back, unlocking her dingy-white beat-up '65 Ford Fairlane and climbing behind the wheel, slamming the door. She threw up a cloud of dust as she backed up and tore out of the dirt parking lot, fishtailing a little as she hit the main road.

Her thoughts flew furiously as she drove. Seriously! Did Rick and her mom think she was going to let them treat her like a child forever? She was twenty-freaking-five years old, and they had the nerve to try and tell her who she could go out with! The guys that left about a half an hour before her were both-well, hot, with that sense of danger around them that seemed to draw her like an alcoholic to his whiskey. And when the one who introduced himself as Dean had asked her to leave with him, her mother had come unglued and ordered them out of the bar. Actually, unglued was an understatement-she had never seen her mom so upset, and accusing her of overreacting just made things worse. Dean had slipped her his cell number as he left, winking, and she had stuffed it into her pocket so her mother wouldn't see. Beth reached for her pocket-the scrap of paper was still there. She smiled defiantly to herself, then reached for the ipod and cranked some tunes, driving a little too fast as usual and letting the music wash over her, fitting her angry mood.

She came to a screeching stop in the driveway of their faded two-story house, slamming her car door and walking with determination to the front door. She took the stairs two at a time, grabbing a suitcase from her closet and throwing clothes into it with abandon. She filled a duffle bag with more, then grabbed a box and added her CD's, laptop, a few books and pictures, and anything else she could think of on the spur of the moment. She had threatened before, but this time she was really leaving, and she wanted to be gone before her mother or Rick had a chance to catch up to her. She loaded her car quickly, then left her small Midwest home town in her rearview mirror, not even caring about a destination. All she cared about was getting away.

She thought with frustration of the two years she had been gone from home, free, pursuing what she wanted to do with her life. It had been two-no, three years now. Nursing school. She did well, too-and then her mom had the heart attack, and she came home to help out, then let them guilt her into staying to help run the bar and grill. Gave up her dream to help her family, and in return they tried to run her life. Well-no more.

It was already 1 a.m., and she knew she needed to find a motel room for the night. Hopefully they wouldn't follow her out of town. They'd think this was just a tantrum, and by the time they realized differently, they hopefully wouldn't be able to find her. Not that she didn't plan to let them know she was all right-just not for a few days. She spotted the motel sign, lights partly burned out, about 30 miles from Lovell, just on the edge of Greybull, and pulled into the parking lot. She walked into the office, reaching for the cash in her pocket, and stopped dead as she met the green gaze and wide smile of Dean Winchester, who was standing near the front door.

"Well-look who just crashed our party, Sammy," he said, his voice husky and warm. "Beth, right?"

Beth felt herself blush a little, nodding with a half smile. "Yeah. And you're Dean, and you," she said, turning towards the taller man, "are Sam."

"Right," Sam answered, nodding with a friendly smile. "I take it you continued that shouting match with your mother after we left."

"You have no idea," she answered, shaking her head as she stepped up to the desk. "Single room, please." She registered and paid for her room, then turned to face the brothers, who stood waiting for her to finish. Dean's smile was gone from his face, and she looked at him quizzically. "Something wrong?"

He shook his head, squinting a little as he looked at her. "Look, I didn't mean to cause trouble for you. Didn't even know that was your mother, in fact. I hope you're not burning any bridges here."

She looked back at him, one hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. "Don't worry about me. This has been coming for a long time. Tonight was just the last straw." They walked out of the office together, grabbing bags from their vehicles and heading for the doors to their rooms, which were next door to each other.

"Want to come in for a drink?" Dean threw the invitation over his shoulder as he entered their room, then turned to wait for an answer.

She stared at him, tempted for a moment, but then smiled and shook her head. "Look, no offense, but I don't really know you guys. But thanks for the offer."

The smirk was back on Dean's face, and it made her heart falter a little. "Smart girl," he countered, and Sam smiled as he waved goodnight, closing the door behind them.

Beth entered her room, throwing her bag on the bed and shaking her head at the hideous early-70's decor. She dead-bolted her door and headed for the shower, hoping it wasn't too disgusting. She was pleasantly surprised at the cleanliness, which helped somewhat to make up for the ugly. She put on an old threadbare t-shirt and a pair of shorts, brushed through her long dark hair, and crawled into bed, sighing with relief and exhaustion. It didn't take long for her to drift off to sleep, deciding that morning would be soon enough to figure out where she was going.

A loud crash jolted Beth from a deep sleep, and she lay there, not sure if she had really heard it or if she had been dreaming. She squinted at the alarm clock, which read 4:23; then another crash and a muffled shout startled her completely awake, her heart pounding. The sounds were coming from next door, Sam and Dean's room, and she scrambled out of her bed, heading for the door. She stepped outside, planning to knock and ask them if they were all right, but the door was standing wide open. She moved aside barely in time to avoid being flattened by a body flying out of the opening, and stood open-mouthed as Dean looked up at her, his face bloodied. "Get back to your room!" he ordered harshly, launching himself up from the ground and rejoining the chaos inside. Beth backed up, her eyes wide, and did as she was told, listening, horrified, to the noises coming through the walls.

A few seconds later, it seemed as if the silence was deafening in contrast. Beth debated with herself, but concern for the men next door won out, and she left her room again, going to their door. Sam was slowly getting up, while Dean was-holy crap, he was pulling a knife from the body he knelt next to on the floor. A small sound escaped her lips, before she had time to clap her hand over her mouth. Dean's expression as he looked towards her frightened her almost more than the scene before her, and she turned and ran back to her room, Sam's voice calling out her name behind her. She grabbed her phone, shaking with shock, and heard Sam calling her name, banging on her door. "Beth, please-just let me talk to you. I need to explain what's going on." He sounded calm, but she was scared out of her wits.

"Leave me alone! I just saw your brother stab someone! I have to get the police!"

"No, Beth-please. Just let me explain. Please." She was hesitating, and she didn't understand why.

"How do you explain him pulling a knife out of someone's body?"

The next voice she heard was Dean's. "Beth-open the door. We need to talk."

"No freaking way! You are not getting in here!" The door flew inward with a crash, and Beth backed away with a small shriek, dropping her phone and backing into the wall. The panic she felt was so intense she was seeing spots before her eyes, and she could hear Sam's voice trying to calm her.

"Beth, please listen. We're not going to hurt you. Just calm down and let us explain." Sam walked towards her slowly, stopping to pull a chair out from the small table nearby. "Please, Beth." He nodded towards the chair, and Beth peeled herself from the wall and perched there, ready for instant flight. She glanced, terrified, at Dean, who sat on the bed next to his brother, staring at the floor, the muscles in his jaw working. He picked that moment to look up, and she was relieved to see that the murderous, chilling expression he had worn earlier was gone. He looked frustrated and tired, and he spoke softly to her.

"Beth, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but what we just killed in there-they were demons."

Her dark eyes widened in disbelief. "Demons." She turned her gaze to Sam, who looked back at her calmly, and nodded as he answered.

"That's right-demons."

"Demons? Like 'The Exorcist?'"

Dean's voice was quiet but tense. "Yeah. Demons. Head-spinning, pea soup-spewing, pain-in-my-ass demons." His cell phone rang just then, and he grabbed it roughly from his pocket, standing and moving to just outside the door of her room. "Bobby-got anything?"

Beth looked at Sam again, her mind reeling. "Sam, seriously? Those things are real? I mean, I thought they were, but not here. In hell. Where they belong."

"They're real. Unfortunately. And their boss is kind of pissed at us. He thinks we have something that belongs to him, and he wants it back."

"Satan is pissed at you? That's great."

"Not Satan. Crowley," Dean answered as he entered the room. "Bobby's got nothing right now, Sam. But he's working on a better way to hide us from them. Apparently he's found a way around our hex bags."

"Crowley?!" Beth's voice was incredulous as she stared back at Dean. "Hex bags? You guys are seriously yanking my chain."

"No, we're not." He met her gaze full-on, and she almost flinched. "I know how crazy this sounds, believe me."

"If those are demons, why don't they disappear when you kill them?"

"This isn't 'Charmed,' sweetheart. They don't disappear. At least the bodies they're possessing don't. What we have in there," he nodded towards their room, "is what's left of the poor sons of bitches they possessed. Most of the time the only thing keeping the bodies alive are the demons inside. They just wear them like a rental tux for the prom."

A single tear was making its way down Beth's face, and she brushed it angrily away. "You're telling me that those things can get inside anybody? Every person I meet could really be a demon? They just stroll around up here like they own the place?"

"Look, we're not trying to scare you, Beth." Sam spoke in a soothing voice, but she looked at him, eyes wide with fear.

"Really? You're scaring the crap out of me. Good job."

Dean approached the table, pulling the other chair out and sitting down in front of her. "Beth, I'm sorry. I wish you had never seen any of this. But you have to believe us, we are the good guys."

"How do you know those things aren't going to possess you? How do you..." Dean's hand went to the neck of his t-shirt, and he pulled it down to reveal a symbol tattooed on his upper left chest. She looked over at Sam, who was doing the same.

"Anti-possession symbol," Sam answered quietly. "We had amulets, but we figured in our line of work, we needed something more permanent."

"And what exactly is your line of work?" Beth asked, her voice shaking a little. She looked up into Dean's green eyes, and was surprised to see a brief flash of vulnerability, quickly masked.

"We're hunters. We hunt demons, and monsters, and ghosts. Whatever evil thing we run across. We try to save as many people as we can." He looked back up at her, unflinching, waiting for her reaction.

Beth stared back at him, her eyes wide. A few seconds passed before she shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "You guys have to be crazy. That's the only explanation."

"Well, darling, I suppose you could be right. But what they just told you is the truth." Beth almost fell to the floor as she leapt from her chair and whirled around to see where the sarcastic, condescending voice was coming from. Dean's chair hit the floor as he stood, an angry sneer on his face.

"Crowley!"

"Good. You know me, and I know you. Now tell me, who is this charming new friend of yours?"

"Where did you come from?" Beth stammered, backing up by the headboard, as far as she could get away from this new threat.

"Hell, darling-and I need to get back. You can't find good help these days."

"Then you should go, don't you think?" Dean growled. "And she has nothing to do with this, or with us."

Crowley's brows raised, and he threw a disbelieving look Dean's direction. "Really? Seems like you were all getting rather cozy together. Breaking the ice, as it were. And she does look like your type, Dean." After a few seconds of silence, he sighed impatiently. "All right. I can see we're getting nowhere like this. Why don't you just tell me where it is, and we can avoid any more unpleasantness for the time being."

"Screw you," Dean ground out between clenched teeth, barely getting the words out before Crowley sent him flying with a wave of his hand. He crashed against the far wall, landing with a thud and a grunt of pain. Sam took a step towards the demon before Crowley spoke again.

"Really, Moose, do you think that's wise?" He looked towards Beth, who was still cowering by the bed. "You try to raise them right, teach them how to behave, and this is the thanks you get." He twisted his hand in the air, clenching it into a fist, and Sam cried out in pain, dropping to his knees on the floor.

"Stop it! What do you want?!" Beth screamed at him, running to Sam's side. Crowley flashed an evil smile, and released Sam, who leaned back on the bed, breathing heavily.

"I like her, she's got spirit. Hope she can keep it." Crowley folded his arms and continued. "Now, boys, I grow tired of this little game. Where is the Colt?"

Dean was sitting up slowly across the room. "We don't have it, you brain-dead dick. Remember a couple of years ago, the hunters that killed us and sent us to heaven? They cleaned us out. Haven't been able to find them since."

Crowley sighed again. "Lovely. I think you Winchester boys had better get your priorities straight. I need that gun. And you need me to take you off my most wanted list. Sounds like a fair exchange, don't you think?" He tilted his head and grinned, then focused on Beth, who still knelt next to Sam. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, ducks. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon. I look forward to it." As she gazed back at him, quaking with fear, he vanished.

"Sam, are you all right?" Beth asked quietly. Sam nodded, and she rose to cross the room, kneeling next to Dean, who was leaning back against the wall under the windows. "Dean? How about you?"

Dean looked at her, his brows drawn together in frowning disbelief. "I'll be fine. Sammy, my shoulder's dislocated again. I could use a hand."
Beth stood and moved away as Sam came to help his brother. She grabbed the ice bucket from the dresser and headed out to the ice machine a few doors down from their rooms. She was only gone for a moment, but as she drew near her door with the ice, Dean came flying out towards her. A look of pure relief crossed his face, followed by another frown as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the room. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Getting some ice for your shoulder! Why the hell are you yelling at me?" She jerked her arm from his grasp, her dark-lashed eyes spitting fire back at him before she turned to go to the bathroom for a towel. She made an ice pack and, despite her anger, positioned it very carefully on his shoulder. He raised his other hand to hold it in place, glancing up at her with an abashed expression.

"Thank you," he muttered, then fired off a glare at his brother, who stood behind Beth, trying unsuccessfully to smother a grin.

"You're welcome." Beth's voice was short, but her hands were gentle as she put them on his face, tilting it to one side, then the other as she examined the cut on his forehead and one on his lip from the previous demon fight. "These need to be cleaned," she murmured, turning to go back to the bathroom for the first aid kit and a clean cloth. Sam cleared his throat, and Dean shot him a murderous look, but his brother turned his back, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as Beth approached. She took the warm washcloth and cleaned the cut on his forehead, then his split lip. He spoke softly as she dabbed antibiotic ointment on his forehead.

"You clean up after a lot of bar fights?"

"A few. And I went to nursing school for a couple of years, just didn't get to finish."

"Dean." Sam's voice held a warning, and Beth looked down at Dean's face in time to catch a leering grin.

Beth looked at him sternly. "Really?" But the corners of her mouth teased at a smile in spite of her efforts to stifle it.

"Could have used you in a couple of hospitals I've been in," Dean teased, and Beth shook her head as she gathered up the first aid supplies. "So, when do I get my sponge bath?" That earned him a wet washcloth in the face, and Beth walked to the bathroom to put away the kit.

Sam shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean retorted, tossing the wet rag at him.