Business As Usual.
A terrible unearthly shriek rent the sky of the quiet suburban street.
"Shoot it again!" Sam yelled at his brother from where he was backed up against the inside of the front door.
Across the room, Dean quickly reloaded and tried to aim at the thing advancing on him, but was flung backwards through the kitchen door by a wave of psychic energy from the creature, slamming into the table, which splintered under the impact.
"Dean!" Phoebe shouted from where she was sheltering under the stairs, but he didn't get up.
"Grab the gun!" Sam called to her, unable to get past the invisible barrier that restrained him and help her or Dean.
Phoebe hesitated, plainly terrified by what was going on in her house, but she trusted these guys. Dropping to her knees, she shuffled forward until she could reach the shotgun Dean had dropped, and raised it to her shoulder.
"Come on Phoebe!" Sam urged. "One more shot and it's all over!"
He wasn't convinced that this was true - whatever this thing was, it was a lot stronger than they'd expected - but he didn't really know what else to try. And Dean didn't look like he was going to be much help anytime soon.
Steeling herself, Phoebe aimed, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.
The shot tore the creature apart, a flare of brilliant green light escaping in its death throws, pushing Phoebe over onto her back.
Sam, released from the hold it had on him, hurried over to her.
"You okay?" he asked her, helping her to her feet.
She nodded, glancing over to where Dean was lying among the remains of her table.
Sam ran to his brother, who was thankfully beginning to stir.
"Dean! You alive?"
"Wha-?" he replied groggily, rubbing his head. "What hit me?"
"My kitchen table," Phoebe told him apologetically. "Are you alright?"
"Sure. This happens all the time," he half-lied, wincing as he found the lump rising on the back of his head.
Sam helped him up and they all sat down in the shattered living room.
"Is it really gone?" Phoebe asked, casting her eyes over the devastation that had once been the downstairs of her house.
"Whatever that thing was?"
"Looks like it," Sam assured her. "I'm not really sure what it was, but the way it blew apart like that, I'm pretty sure it's not coming back."
"Good. Let me get you something for your head," she said to Dean, getting up and going upstairs.
"It blew up?" Dean asked. "And I missed it? That sucks."
"Yeah, after Phoebe shot it this green light kind of, tore it to pieces."
"Cool," Dean nodded, flinching at the pain in his head.
"Phoebe shot it? She's quite a girl."
"Yeah." Then something in Dean's tone caught his brother's attention.
"Hey, you're into her!"
"Shut up!" Dean threw him a dirty look, but there was less conviction in it than usual.
"You are so into her, Dean!"
"It's a good thing I've got concussion here or I'd have to kick your ass."
Phoebe's reappearance down the stairs interrupted this brotherly bonding session.
"Looks like you're going to have to get a new table," Sam told her, taking in the damage the creature had caused during its rampage.
"Yeah, your brother's got a hard head," Phoebe bantered, tending to Dean's cuts and bruises.
"How about you, Sam? You hurt?"
"I'm okay. You?"
Phoebe shrugged.
"That thing doesn't come back, I'll be alright."
She looked up at the siblings.
"How do you do this all the time? I've never been so scared in my life, but you must have come up against hundreds of things like that."
"Not quite hundreds, but we're a bit more used to it than most people, yeah," Sam replied. "We, uh, had an unusual upbringing."
"No kidding. The closest I ever had to anything like that was, I don't know, my dad taking me to his shooting club."
"Sam said you knew how to handle the shotgun. That's pretty impressive," Dean spoke up, holding the cold compress Phoebe had brought him to his head.
"Not as much as you guys knowing how to kill it in the first place," Phoebe pointed out, shaking out a couple of aspirins and passing them over to him.
"I owe you guys. Thank you."
"No problem."
Dean smiled at her, then winced again.
"You got anyone who can come over?" Sam asked her.
"You shouldn't be alone after what you've been through."
Phoebe bit on her lip, trying not to think about it.
"Yeah. I'll get some of my girlfriends to come over in the morning. They can help me pick out a new table."
A shallow smile surfaced at that.
"But you guys are welcome to stay here 'til then. I've got plenty of room."
Then the businesslike mask broke down and she started to cry, unable to stop the memories flooding back in. How the creature had so brutally murdered her parents. What it had done to the neighbour who'd come in to help Phoebe when it had in turn attacked her, saving her life at the expense of his own. And the terror it had continued to inflict upon her until the Winchesters' intervention.
Sam leaned over and squeezed her hand, and despite the pain in his head, Dean put his arm around her, letting her cry on his shoulder.
In the morning, the brothers packed up their stuff and said their goodbyes to Phoebe on her front porch.
"I wanted to thank you properly. For getting rid of that thing and saving my life," she said, hesitating.
"You do this for a living, don't you? Helping people?"
The two young men looked at each other.
"I guess."
"Well then. I get paid for my job, so I figured you should get paid for yours too."
She held out two envelopes.
"There's a thousand dollars in each of these. It's not much for saving my life, I know, but I-"
"Hey you don't have to-" Sam began, but Phoebe cut him off.
"I want to. I have the money my parents left me, and I want you to take this."
She put an envelope firmly into each brother's hands.
Dean peeked into his, whistling at the pile of notes inside.
"Thanks. Hey, remind me only to help nice people who want to pay us from now on," he said to Sam, who rolled his eyes.
"Thank you Phoebe," he told her, tucking his envelope inside his bag.
"And if you guys ever come back this way again and you need somewhere to stay, look me up, okay?"
She passed Dean a card with her phone numbers on it.
"Anytime."
"Thanks," he said again, pausing.
Sam, sensing that perhaps he was getting in the way, started to say something about having to put his stuff in the car, but before he could finish, Phoebe had leaned forward and was kissing Dean, her arms around his neck.
Grinning, Sam left them to it, heading over to where they'd parked across the street.
Dean came over a few minutes later, hiding a smirk as he threw his bag into the back of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
"So, we're going to be passing by here a lot, huh?" he teased, but Dean didn't rise to it.
The brothers looked over to where Phoebe was waving from her front door.
"Shut up and drive, little brother," Dean said, turning his focus back to the road and, still grinning, Sam started the car and they drove away.
Phoebe was also grinning as she went back inside, closing the door behind her.
She didn't really hold out much hope of seeing either of the Winchester brothers again, but thought she had to at least say something. And Dean was seriously cute.
A sudden noise from the kitchen made her start. Her nerves, already strained by the events of the past few weeks, jangled like crazy.
Oh god, what if that creature wasn't really gone? Should she call them?
No, see what it was first and if it wasn't just an ordinary noise - well she'd scream and run like hell.
Summoning as much bravery as she could, Phoebe pushed open her kitchen door and there, among the wreckage, was a girl.
"Who-?" Phoebe began, too surprised to make any more sense.
"What are you doing in my house? How did you get in?"
"The lock on your back door's broken," the girl said, then smiled.
"Not all that's broken, by the looks of it. Fight with your boyfriend, was it?"
She took a bite out of the sandwich she held in her hand, perfectly calm and laid-back, making herself at home.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Meg," the girl said, her mouth full. "You're Phoebe?"
"How do you know my name?" Phoebe asked, her alarm beginning to return.
She spied the carving knife block on the counter alongside her and began to edge closer to it.
"Do you ever say anything that isn't a question?" Meg asked, rolling her eyes.
Then, without changing her tone, or even looking at Phoebe, she added,
"By the way, if you even think about picking up one of those knives, I swear I will cut you."
The girl reached down and pulled a knife of her own out of her bag, a huge, wicked looking thing with ornate carving on it that looked a thousand times sharper and more dangerous than anything in Phoebe's kitchen.
Phoebe pulled her hand back, putting it behind her. She felt her heart beat faster, her palms starting to sweat as she looked again at the girl, wondering what the hell was going on.
"What do you want?"
"We'll get to that in time." Meg looked around her.
"You know, this is a nice house. The bits that aren't falling apart, anyway. How's a kid like you afford all this?"
"I'm not a kid, I'm twenty-one. This is - was - my folks' house."
"Was? Tough break kid, shit happens." Meg shrugged, taking another bite from her sandwich.
"Shit happens?" Phoebe repeated, anger beginning to surface through her fear.
"My parents were murdered! I only moved back here to take care of the house-"
"Haven't done a very good job, have you? So how about you tell me what happened here, and whether it had anything to do with the two guys I've been following?"
Phoebe's eyes widened, her surprise betraying any chance of subterfuge.
"I see it does. So let me guess, you had a ghost in your house and those two brave, pretty young men fought it off for you?" Meg continued, getting up and advancing on Phoebe, who tried to back up, but the counter caught her hip and she couldn't get out of the way.
"Oh don't look like that," Meg reproached.
"I'm not going to hurt you, unless I have to. Be a smart girl and everything will be fine."
"Why are you following Dean and Sam?"
"You don't need to know that. I just need you to do me a favour."
Phoebe swallowed nervously, her gaze switching from Meg's face to the knife held in front of her. She nodded.
"Go on."
"You said that if they came back this way, they could call you, right?"
"You were listening?"
Phoebe was outraged, despite her trepidation, that this girl had been spying on her. How long had she been in the house?
"I heard a few things from back here, yes. So listen, if those two do decide to stop by again, you let me know, right?"
"What for?"
"As I said, you don't need to know. It's not your business, and if I were you, I wouldn't make it my concern."
Meg raised the knife, using it to brush a strand of Phoebe's blonde hair back from the other girl's face. Phoebe gripped the counter top with both hands, trying not to let her terror show.
"You just let me know if they come by here, understand?"
"But if you're following Dean and Sam," Phoebe asked, biting down on her fear.
"Why didn't you do whatever it is you want to do when they were here?"
A peculiar expression crossed over the girl's face.
"I'm not allowed to yet," she replied. Then her face cleared.
"Just so you know I'm serious," she continued.
"I'm going to show you something."
Meg went back over to her bag and pulled out a weird-looking cup, more like a chalice, and emptied the contents of a vial into it, half-filling it.
"Give me your hand," she commanded Phoebe, who stayed where she was.
"Oh don't be such a baby. This won't hurt. Much."
Phoebe still didn't move, so Meg raised the knife once more, a bored expression on her face.
"We can do this the hard way if you want, Pheebs. Now come on."
Cautiously, Phoebe moved to stand by Meg, her hand held out.
Meg grabbed it and sliced open the soft pad of Phoebe's thumb, twisting her hand over so that the blood that spilled out fell into the cup. Phoebe made a small pained noise, but Meg was a lot stronger than she looked, and she couldn't pull free.
Finally, Meg released her, swirling the contents of the cup and muttering in a language Phoebe didn't recognise. She set the cup down and, grabbing hold of Phoebe's hair, pulled her over it so Phoebe could see the images rising in the bloodied water.
She gasped aloud in horror at what it showed her, but Meg held the back of her head, forcing her to watch until it was done.
Pale and shaking, Phoebe collapsed into one of the few remaining unbroken chairs.
"Just so you don't get any thoughts about calling the boys after I'm gone," Meg explained. "I don't need to be here to kill you, and if you try to double-cross me, that's exactly what I will do."
She scooped the liquid back up into the vial, and then stuffed it, the cup and the knife into her backpack, pulling out a piece of paper with her number on it and putting it down on the counter.
"Thanks for the sandwich," she added, as if nothing had happened. "I took a few other supplies too, for the road. See you around, Pheebs."
Meg waved at her cheerily, then vanished out the back door. Phoebe just sat there, struggling to comprehend the visions Meg had shown her, not understanding what had happened, but knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Meg had meant every word she'd said.
Three months later:
Sam leaned over the map spread out on the car bonnet, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun.
"Hey you know," he called over to Dean. "If we keep on going down this road, we're gonna be coming pretty close to Castleford."
"Where?" Dean stuck the gas nozzle back into the pump.
Sam gave his brother a 'you-don't fool-me' look.
"Castleford. You remember, Phoebe's place?"
"Oh, yeah," Dean replied, distracted. "I'm gonna pay for the gas."
Sam grinned to himself, folding the map and picking up Dean's cell phone from the car. He wandered off the forecourt of the gas station before finding the number he wanted.
"Phoebe Davies," came the answer.
"Phoebe! This is Sam Winchester."
"Sam!" Her voice was distant, but she sounded pleased to hear from him.
"How are you?"
"I'm good, we're both good. Listen, Dean and I are going to be passing your way pretty soon. Does the offer of a room still stand?"
"Of course! When?"
"Uh, if all goes to plan, we should get to yours in about, four, five hours."
"Right. I'm at work 'til six, but I should have everything ready by the time you get here."
"Okay, see you later then. Thanks, Phoebe."
"No problem. Bye Sam."
Sam turned back as Dean came out of the gas station.
"It's all set up," he greeted his brother.
"Phoebe's letting us stay at hers tonight."
Dean blinked at him.
"That was fast. How close are we?"
"We'll get there before dark."
"What about those hospital suicides we were gonna look into?" Dean asked.
"They'll still be there tomorrow," Sam pointed out cheerfully. "What's the matter, don't you want to see Phoebe? I bet she wants to see you again."
"Hey, what girl wouldn't want to see me again?" Dean tossed back, getting into the car and starting it.
"It's only having you hanging around all the time that ever puts them off."
Phoebe sat at her work desk, staring at her phone. Sam had rung off more than five minutes before, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do what she knew she had to do, not yet. Dean and Sam had helped her, saved her life even; how could she betray them to that psycho-bitch?
But then what chance did she, Phoebe, stand against her? The visions Meg had shown her had given her nightmares for weeks, and haunted her still. No, she had to do it. Maybe she could somehow warn the Winchesters. Maybe it would be alright.
Taking a deep breath, she re-opened her phone, and called Meg.
The car pulled up outside Phoebe's house just as night was starting to fall. The front door opened almost immediately, and she came out to meet them.
"Hey, good to see you guys again."
She gave them both a hug; the one she gave Dean perhaps a little more lingering than the one she gave his brother.
"Come inside, I've got dinner ready."
"Music to my ears," Dean remarked, and they followed her inside.
After they'd eaten and finished their catching up, Phoebe got to her feet.
"I'll show you guys where you're sleeping," she told them, leading them upstairs.
"Sam, this is your room."
She opened the first door at the top of the stairs.
"Bathroom's next door. Dean, this way."
She led him down the hall, past a door that was ajar. Dean glanced inside, seeing a conservatively-decorated double room that he realised must have belonged to her parents. He turned away, feeling that he was somehow intruding and closed the door, following Phoebe into the next room.
This one was smaller, painted a pale rose-pink with movie and band posters on the wall.
"Uh, this is your room," he pointed out.
Phoebe sat down on the bed, a very direct look in her blue-green eyes.
"Yes it is. I want you to stay here with me tonight."
Dean considered this, dropping his bag and jacket down on a chair. Phoebe seemed to know her own mind well enough, but he was well aware of the recent traumas she'd suffered and he didn't want her to end up thinking he was taking advantage of her.
"You sure?"
Phoebe just smiled, getting up again and coming over to him.
"Well, okay then," Dean told her with a smile of his own, and when she leaned in to kiss him, he kissed her right back.
Sam, who was currently unpacking his bag in the spare room, couldn't hear this exchange, but he had a pretty good idea what was going on.
Although he and Dean had bunked down on the sofas among the wreckage of Phoebe's front room the last time they'd stayed here, Sam already knew she only had one spare room, so he was in no doubt as to where Dean would be spending the night.
Maybe this would be a good thing; not just a one-night stand, but someone his brother could connect to a little, get him to open up a bit. And this girl seemed okay. She'd come through a major trauma and hadn't even freaked out too much over the whole supernatural thing.
Sam took out the picture of Jessica he carried with him, putting it on the table by the bed, then he undressed, got into bed and turned out the light.
Early next morning, before the sun had fully come up, Phoebe was woken by a sound at the door.
She turned over in bed, but Dean was still stretched out asleep alongside her, oblivious. Something twisted inside her painfully as she looked at him, knowing what she was about to do, but she got up all the same, pulling on her clothing as quietly as she could and sneaking downstairs to let Meg in.
"Oh I'm sorry," the psycho-bitch greeted her, pushing past Phoebe into the house.
"Did I wake you?"
"They're upstairs," Phoebe replied, her voice dull.
"Great. Show me."
Meg grabbed hold of the back of Phoebe's shirt, shoving her along in front of her. Phoebe, hardly able to believe she was really doing this, led Meg to her bedroom.
Dean woke up as he heard feet on the stairs, rolling out of bed and pulling on his boxer shorts just as Meg kicked the bedroom door open, dragging Phoebe with her.
Reacting instinctively, he grabbed for his bag, thinking to get a weapon, but Meg pulled the gun out from where she'd tucked it into her waistband, holding it aimed directly at his bare chest.
"Who are you?" he asked, raising his hands.
"Name's Meg," the girl with the gun replied, shoving Phoebe down against the wardrobe, not taking her eyes off Dean.
"I have a little business I need to settle with you and Sam."
She ran her eyes over him assessingly.
"I have to say," she remarked to Phoebe. "I wasn't expecting you to go along with this quite so wholeheartedly, Pheebs. Although I should congratulate you on your taste."
Dean looked over at Phoebe, crouching with her back against the wardrobe, his eyes suspicious, accusing.
"What's she talking about?" he demanded.
"Oh poor baby," Meg cooed.
"Just found out your new girlfriend betrayed you? How sad."
"Dean-," Phoebe began, trying to get up, her face a picture of terror and remorse.
"I'm sorry, I had to do it. She said-"
The barrel of Meg's gun slammed down onto Phoebe's forehead, knocking her out with a sickening crack.
"That's enough from you," she remarked, advancing on Dean, who held his ground as he tried to weigh up the situation.
"You know, this has worked out better than I'd hoped," she continued.
"I tried getting through to Sam last time, but I guess he's too hung up on that dead girlfriend of his to pay attention to anyone else. You're a lot easier to reach. Where is baby brother, anyway?"
As if in answer to her question, the baseball bat smacked into her skull and Meg's eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she joined Phoebe on the floor.
"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked as he took in the scene - his brother standing there in only his underwear, flanked by two unconscious girls, one of whom was still gripping a gun in her hand.
"How should I know?" Dean protested angrily.
"This crazy chick bursts in on me with a gun, saying something about Phoebe tricking us and then she starts going on about how she knows you!"
Sam, lowering the bat he'd grabbed from Phoebe's spare room when he'd heard it all kick off, looked down at the girl at his feet and was surprised to see he recognised her.
"Hey yeah, I have met her, when I was hitchhiking out to California. Her name's-"
"Meg. That much I did get. Don't suppose you also know why she's here and what she wants?" Dean asked, dressing quickly as Sam picked up the gun, checking to see what other weapons the girl might be carrying.
"No idea. She said Phoebe was in on this?"
Dean didn't reply, but Sam saw the thunderous expression on his brother's face and decided not to push it.
"We should tie them up before they come round," he continued. "Give us some time to ask them what's going on before anyone can try and kill us again."
"Good idea. You take her, I'll deal with this one." Dean picked up Meg, dragging her over to the chair and hunting round for something to tie her to it with.
Sam lifted the unconscious Phoebe, taking her back into the spare room and doing the same. The girl looked so innocent, had seemed so sweet - could she really be evil?
And what was going on with Meg? She'd seemed okay too, but Sam was rapidly learning ever since he and Dean had started this crazy road trip that people were rarely what they seemed to be.
He fetched a bowl of water and a sponge from the bathroom, washing away the blood from the lump that had begun to swell up on Phoebe's head where Meg had hit her. That seemed to happen a lot in this house.
Sam filled a few more minutes packing up his things, in case they had to make a sudden getaway, then settled down to wait for Phoebe to wake up.
It took a while - clearly Meg knew what she was doing when it came to knocking people out - but eventually she began to stir. Phoebe's groan of pain on waking jolted Sam out of his half-dozing state, and he got up quickly.
"Phoebe?" he asked, unsure what to expect.
"Ohh, my head," she moaned.
"I think I'm gonna throw up."
Sam held onto the sides of her head, looking into her blurred eyes as they tried to focus.
"Sam? Why- why am I tied up?"
Her vision cleared as she remembered what had happened.
"I'm so sorry Sam, I didn't have any choice. She... I don't know what she is but she's crazy. She said she'd kill me if I didn't let her know if you came back here."
"Why is looking for us?"
"I don't know, she wouldn't tell me. She threatened me, Sam. Showed me things, terrifying things. She said she could kill me, even if she wasn't here."
"Showed you things?" Sam repeated, picking out the words of interest in Phoebe's remorseful outpouring.
"What things?"
"Visions." Phoebe struggled to explain herself through her thumping headache and rising nausea.
"She has this cup...bowl thing. She put my blood in it and she made me watch while it showed me these terrible things, then she kept my blood. She really scared me, Sam.
I didn't know what else to do."
"I believe you." Sam reached around to untie her, helping her up.
"You okay?"
Phoebe pulled a face. "I need some aspirin. That bitch hit me really hard."
"Gonna throw up?"
"I'm alright. Let me see her."
"Dean's with her."
Phoebe's face, already pale and strained, looked worse at the thought of confronting Dean again.
Dean however, had problems of his own.
Meg came round a few minutes before Phoebe regained consciousness, and she seemed much less affected by her own blow to the head, shrugging off the after-effects almost immediately.
"Ooh, kinky," she remarked, on realising that Dean had tied her up.
"I'm a little surprised little Pheebs is your type if this is what pushes your buttons. Don't suppose you got much of it with Miss Bland America last night."
Dean's fist lashed out, Meg's head snapping back under the blow.
"Someone's not a happy little bunny," she replied, shaking her head to regain the feeling in her jaw.
"You sore 'cos I got your girlfriend to sell you out? If it makes you feel any better, she didn't want to do it."
"It really doesn't," Dean replied tightly, trying to keep a lid on his anger.
Phoebe had made an idiot out of him and that stung more than her betrayal. He shouldn't have let his guard down, shouldn't have let a pretty face distract him and let him get caught out like that.
"She rolled over way too easily though," Meg carried on. "I only had to cut her a little and she gave in right away."
"So what is it you want, Meg?" he cut her off.
"You've been tracking us? Must be something important."
Meg shook her head.
"Uh uh, pretty boy, I'm not talking. You don't get answers that easily."
"Oh? What's it gonna take then?"
"Well you seem to like a bit of the rough stuff," Meg taunted. "So go ahead, try it. See what you can beat out of me.
"Don't tempt me," Dean snapped, his hand curling into a fist almost involuntarily.
"What's the matter? Can't handle a real woman? Guess not, if little Buffy through there's what you're used to."
Dean's fist was raised to hit her again, but he was prevented by Sam coming in and grabbing hold of his brother.
"Hey! Chill, Dean. Don't let her get to you."
"But we were just getting started," Meg called out as Sam dragged Dean out into the hall.
"What's she doing here?" Dean demanded, throwing Sam off and indicating Phoebe accusingly.
"She's okay Dean. It wasn't her fault."
"I-" Phoebe began, but Dean turned away.
"I don't wanna hear it," he snapped, pushing the door of the bedroom open again, Sam following.
"Hi there Sammy," Meg greeted him. "Nice to see you again."
"Meg," Sam replied, remaining neutral, at least on the outside.
"You wanna tell me why you're here?"
"No," she replied, sounding almost cheerful. "Can't tell you that yet."
"She keeps saying that," Phoebe spoke up. "Like she's waiting for something, or someone."
"So what are you?" Sam asked, going over to stand close to her, looking into her face.
"Witch? Satanist? Something nastier?"
"Maybe she's a demon," Phoebe threw in. "She's enough of a bitch, that's for sure."
The brothers turned to look at her.
"I did some reading after you left," she shrugged. "You guys showed me there's a whole load of weird stuff I know nothing about, and I wanted to learn."
"Just 'cos you've read 'Dick and Jane's Book of the Paranormal'," Meg retorted dismissively.
"Doesn't mean you have any idea what's going on here, little girl."
"Dean, take Phoebe downstairs, will you?" Sam asked, tiring of the girls' sniping.
His brother seemed to feel the same, as he grabbed Phoebe's arm and pulled her out of the room.
This distraction, however, meant that Sam missed hearing Meg whisper an incantation to sever her bonds. She kept her arms behind her at first so he didn't see, but as soon as Sam came close enough to her, she lashed out, leaping up and knocking him over.
Sam yelled as she landed on top of him, punching and kicking. Taken by surprise, he tried to ward her off, but one particularly violent blow knocked the breath out of him and Meg took advantage of this to grab her bag and make a dive for the front window.
She kicked out at Sam as she passed, making sure he wouldn't get up, eliciting another cry of pain from him, then slid the sash window up and climbed out onto the porch roof, dropping from it to the ground below.
Dean burst back into the room, summoned by his brother's shouts.
"Window," Sam gasped, and Dean vaulted through it after her.
Phoebe came in behind Dean, helping Sam up as he recovered his breath.
"Are you okay?" she asked him.
"Yeah. We have to get after her."
Phoebe ran over to the window, looking out along the street, still only half-lit in the dawn.
"I can't see where she or Dean went."
Sam pulled himself together and headed down the stairs and out the front door, Phoebe tagging along.
But it was no use; Meg had vanished, and all their combined efforts to track her down failed. After over an hour of searching, they headed back to Phoebe's house.
Dean immediately gathered up his things, going to put them in the car but Sam stopped him.
"Slow down," he said. "We don't need to run off. If we can't find Meg then maybe she's gone and we don't have to worry about her."
"She'll show up again," Dean told him grimly.
"Maybe. But we'll be ready then," Sam agreed. "Why the hurry now?"
"Can you think of any reason we have to stay?" Dean asked, his face blank and his voice neutral, but Sam knew him well enough to read his demeanour as angry, hurt, bitter.
"Listen to her," he urged his brother quietly, aware that Phoebe was within earshot.
Dean stared at him for a moment, then relented, dropping his bag to the ground.
"Alright."
He turned back to Phoebe, arms folded, head on one side, waiting for her to speak.
She glanced at Sam, who nodded at her reassuringly.
"I am really, really sorry," Phoebe said, unable to think of anything else that would properly express how she felt. "The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, but I... I got scared, and I didn't know what else to do."
"You could have told us about her, given us a warning," Dean pointed out coldly and Phoebe dropped her head down.
"I know. But like I said to you before, you guys are more used to this stuff than I am, and I guess all those books I read didn't make any difference after all."
She met his eyes once more, no longer pleading, acceptance growing within her.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me. Just, hear that I'm sorry, and that I never wanted anything bad to happen to you, either of you."
There was a long silence.
"Okay. I hear you."
Dean walked over and held out his hand, which she hesitantly took. He squeezed it briefly, then dropped it again.
"You might wanna watch out for Meg," he called out to her, picking up his bag once more.
"I can't guarantee she won't come back for you."
"I don't think she will," Sam butted in. "It's us she's after, right?"
"Yeah, that makes it all better," Dean grunted in a surly fashion, pushing past them both and leaving the house.
"He'll come around," Sam told her, not entirely convinced - not sure he'd forgiven her himself - but wanting to make it right as much as he could.
"Give him time. Maybe we'll be passing by here again."
"Ignore this if you want to," Phoebe replied tentatively.
"But the offer still stands. Anytime you need a room."
"Thanks," Sam said, picking up his own bag, not realising that the gun Meg had left behind was no longer inside but instead hidden in the cupboard under Phoebe's sink. "We'll think about it."
The brothers got back in their car.
"You think she'll show up again? Meg I mean," Sam asked.
"Count on it. She's a lady with a mission, alright, even if we don't know what it is."
"I guess we'll find out sooner or later," Sam noted, watching the scenery pass by.
"How 'bout you? You okay?"
"You really don't wanna be asking me that just now, little brother," Dean replied, but not sounding as cold or angry as Sam had feared.
"So, what was it about these hospital suicides you were telling me?" Sam asked instead.
And the two of them drove away from Castleford, heading back out onto the open road, business as usual resumed.