I woke up screaming.

I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't think; all I felt was a searing pain in my back and walls pressing in on all sides.

I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse, and then I kept screaming until no more sound came out and I was left taking sharp, ragged breaths as my heart rate finally started slowing down. Where am I?! What's happening?! Why am I hurting?! Did I go blind?! Have I been kidnapped?! Where's Ella?! Is she okay?!

At the thought of Ella, I was able to think clearly. If she was in the same situation, I had to get her out. She came first.

Alright, first things first: where the fuck am I?! I could just barely move my arms from their position by my sides and bring them up to rest on my chest. I pressed my hands against a satiny, cushioned surface above me, and then I realized that that same material was all around me. Oh, God, I thought as a terrifying suspicion started growing in my mind, am I in a coffin?! Have I been buried alive?! Oh, God, where's Ella?!

My heart started pounding again as panic took hold of me, and I beat my hands against the top of the coffin. "LET ME OUT!" I yelled. "I'M STILL ALIVE! LET ME OUT!" I realized then that if no one had let me out when I was screaming, there was a very small chance of it happening now.

Okay, okay, calm down. I'm not gonna get outta this by freaking out. And I've got to get outta this. I've gotta find Ella. I took a few deep breaths and found that the air supply in my coffin was severely lacking, and I knew my screaming had just made that worse. Add that to the list of problems I'm dealing with.

Alright, Gari, focus. You got this. Busting out of a coffin should be no problem. Awesome magical powers, activate. I put my hands against the roof of the coffin and closed my eyes. I had been getting better at controlling my powers before Greg died, but, ever since, I'd had a hard time focusing even the smallest amount of energy on anything. However, this was a matter of life or death, so I hoped that that would give me the push I needed to actually do something productive.

Remember what Greg said. Clear your mind. Picture what you want. Only think of what you want. Think about getting out. Think about finding Ella. I used up more of my air supply by taking another deep breath to steady myself.

"Out," I said aloud. "Ella." I pushed up on the coffin and felt power tingling through my body. "Out. Ella." The power reached my fingers, and I strained against the weight of the coffin's lid and the dirt that I guessed was piled on top of it. "Out, Ella." I continued to repeat the words like a mantra as I focused every bit of power I had into my hands. "Out, Ella, out, Ella, out, Ella, out, Ella, out, ELLA!"

The coffin lid flew open with a noise that sounded like a small explosion, and sunlight streamed in and blinded me as dirt poured down around me. I clawed my way to the top of the six-foot drop and flopped onto the ground in front of a tombstone to catch my breath. I heaved in and out for at least ten minutes, happy to have fresh air and open space again. I sat up and looked around, noticing that I was, in fact, in a cemetery. The weather was hot and humid, which I found odd as I saw the leaves turning colors on the trees. Somewhere in the South, then, I thought decisively. But how did I get here? And where the hell is Ella?!

I searched the ground near me for any freshly turned earth, figuring that she would've been buried alongside me by whoever got us, but all I saw was the evidence of my escape. So she got away. Relief washed over me at the thought, but it was soon replaced with confusion. So why didn't she rescue me?! She wouldn't just leave—

My thoughts stopped abruptly as I finally looked at the gravestone in front of me. That's not possible, I thought slowly. That can't be right!

But the words were literally etched in stone: "Garideth Leigh Vulcan, April 13, 1983 – May 18, 2012. Loving sister and friend. She saved the world a lot." In front of the gravestone was a faded picture of me that I had no memory of taking, and I looked at least six or seven years older than I really was. Beside that was a fresh bouquet of roses and lilies.

But that doesn't make sense! I thought bewilderedly. The date's off by almost ten years! And I'm not dead!

I started to get to my feet then, determined to go somewhere to figure out what was going on, but the pain in my back flared up and I dropped to my knees with a yelp. I reached under my shirt to try to find out what was hurting me so badly, and my fingers brushed over a large scar only slightly to the right of my spine, and I found the exit wound on my chest. I'm not dead, I thought as I winced and pulled my hand away, but I should be. Something like that should've killed me. What the hell is going on?!

I looked at the gravestone beside mine and let out a small gasp. Camilla Harken?! Ella's sister?! I suddenly knew where I was. What the fuck am I doing in Abbeville?! Ella swore she'd never come back here! I've gotta find a phone or something. I need to talk to her.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I used my tombstone to pull myself to my feet. I patted my pockets in search of my cell phone, but all I found was a crinkled up picture of me, Ella, and two guys who looked vaguely familiar. Ella was kissing the shorter one on the cheek, and the taller one and I had our arms around each other. Neither of us was looking at the camera; instead, we were grinning stupidly at each other, as if we couldn't be happier than we were just being together. I suddenly felt a strange pang of longing in my heart for something and someone I'd never known.

With a huff, I shoved the picture back into my pocket and turned toward the gate leading out of the cemetery. It looked like I was right in the center of town, and I wondered if anyone had heard my explosion. Just to be safe, I figured it was best to get away as quickly as possible. As I started walking, I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had chosen my funeral outfit. I could've ended up in a dress, but I was thankfully in a pair of black skinny jeans and my favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I even had on combat boots, though they looked a little different from the pair that I owned, and my amulets and the bells on my bracelet jingled as I walked.

Wait. Amulets? I grabbed the unfamiliar one and held it up to inspect it. A blue stone was in the center, surrounded by a silver disk covered in Latin spell work. I managed to pick out one word, which I recognized to be "search."

"Quarere," I read aloud, and the stone in the middle lit up. "Huh. Guess that's the magic word. I wonder what it helps me search for." I frowned when the stone continued to glow; then I shrugged and let it fall back beside my mother's necklace, figuring it would stop glowing eventually.

I made my way up a brick-laid street, looking for a place that might have a phone. A restaurant was to my left, and I figured that was my best shot. I pushed open the door and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkened lighting. Bells chimed together as the door moved, and a hostess walked up to me.

"Welcome to The Village Grill," she said with forced happiness. "Just one?"

"What?" I frowned, not understanding at first. "Oh, uh, no. I was actually wondering if you have a phone I could use."

"Yeah, sure. Go to the bar. Take a left right past the drinks."

I nodded and headed where she'd pointed. "Thanks," I threw over my shoulder.

"Lemme know if ya need anything else," she called, but I didn't reply.

"What'll it be, hun?" the bartender, a woman a little older than me, asked. She gave me a slow once-over and frowned. "Whoa, what happened to you?"

I looked down at myself and realized for the first time that I was covered in dirt from clawing my way out of my grave. I decided to ignore the question. It wasn't like I could give her an honest answer, anyway. "Um, the hostess said you have a phone I can use?" I said unsurely.

"Yeah...sure." She sat an old landline on top of the bar, then sat a glass right beside it and filled it up with whiskey. "On the house, hun. Ya look like ya could use it."

I nodded my thanks and put the phone to my ear. I dialed Ella's main number, but all I got was a message saying the number was no longer in use. Okay, one of her numbers is bound to work. I've still got two more. Don't give up yet.

Five minutes later, I had called Ella's other two numbers and all three of mine, getting the same disheartening results every time. Then there was only one thing left for me to try.

Taking a deep breath, I started punching the numbers of a phone I hadn't called in almost a year. If any are connected, it's this one. I held my breath as I waited for Ella to answer or at least for the old, familiar voicemail to pick up, but I was once again met with an automated woman's voice telling me the phone was no longer activated. I exhaled slowly, anger and despair causing my eyes to well up with tears and my hands to shake. We said we'd never disconnect it. We said we'd always keep it so we could hear his voice when we needed it. Why is it disconnected?!

Okay, don't freak out. I can find her. I can find her anywhere. I took another deep breath to steady myself and downed the glass of whiskey in one big gulp. Okay. Okay. I got this. I can do this. I pushed the phone away from me, not wanting to look at it anymore, and the bartender came up to me again.

She refilled my glass and said, "Y'okay, hun?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but just then, a waitress came around the corner. "Ella called out again," she complained to the bartender. "This is the second time this week! Seventh time this month!" I froze, wondering if my luck was starting to change.

"Well, what can ya expect," the bartender said sympathetically, "what with her takin' care of three kids and her boyfriend runnin' out on her last year?" Wait, what?! That can't be my Ella!

The waitress rolled her eyes, but she leaned over the bar and dropped her voice to avoid being overheard by too many people. Her eyes lit up with the chance to gossip, and she beckoned the bartender forward. "Yeah, but y'know his brother's been livin' with her since then?!"

"You're kiddin'!"

"Nope! He fixed my AC unit a while back, and I saw him in town the other day. He was gettin' baby food and diapers at Bi-Lo. I heard he's been workin' at Porter's Mechanics for a few months."

"How'd ya know it was him?" the bartender asked skeptically.

"Believe me, if ya saw him, ya'd know," the waitress replied with a smirk. "That family is blessed with some genes, lemme tell ya. Six-foot-four of muscle with romance-novel hair and a smile that'll melt your heart!"

The bartender let out a low, impressed whistle. "Where can I find me a man like that?"

"That's what I wanna know!"

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know if they were talking about my Ella.

"Excuse me," I said. The waitress gave me a surprised look, as if she hadn't realized I was there and couldn't believe I'd dared to interrupt her gossip.

The bartender, however, swatted her hand at the waitress and turned toward me. "What d'ya need, hun?"

"I was just wondering if you were talking about Ella Harken."

"Y'know Ella?"

"Yeah," I nodded eagerly. "I'm actually looking for her. She's an old friend of mine, and I wanted to surprise her with a visit, but I can't remember her address, and it looks like she's changed her phone number since we last talked."

"Ever tried a phone book?" the waitress said rudely, and the bartender shot her a warning look.

"Ella's not in the phone book, Jen," the bartender said smartly, and Jen at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Don't ya have some work to do since we're short a server tonight?"

Jen huffed. "Alright, fine," she grumbled as she walked away, and the bartender shook her head.

"Sorry 'bout her. I can tell ya where Ella lives, if ya want."

"That'd be great, thanks!" Relief washed over me. I'm about to find her. I'm about to find Ella and figure out what's going on. Everything is gonna be okay.

"Alright," the bartender said, "all ya gotta do is take a right outta the Square by the 7-11 and drive on down 72. Take a left at the red light past the Westbrook Motel, and Ella's in a little robin's egg blue house about three driveways down. There'll be two old muscle cars parked in front: one blue and one black. Ya can't miss it."

"Thank you so much," I said, a genuine grin spreading over my face. "Um, I don't suppose Abbeville has a taxi service or anything?"

The bartender laughed. "Nearest taxi service is about two towns over. But I can take ya."

"No, you really don't have to do that." I said hurriedly, not about to make this woman I just met drive me around. "I don't mind walking."

She laughed again. "It's about ten miles from here to there." I frowned at that. I'd been hoping it was closer. "Look, I'm goin' on break in..." She glanced at her watch. "...about thirty seconds. I'll take ya out there. It's no trouble at all."

"Are you sure?" I asked, still feeling guilty.

"Yep. Just lemme go clock out."

I finished off my second glass of whiskey as the bartender went to clock out, and I stood as she came back. "Thank you so much for this. Seriously."

"It's no problem, hun," she said with a smile. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Gari."

"Nice to meet ya."

"Likewise."

Alice had a new white Camry that looked different from the new white Camry that I was used to seeing. For some reason, annoyance sparked in me at the sight of the car, like I had some grudge against Camries or something. I shrugged it off and got into the passenger seat.

I had to fit my feet around some fast food wrappers in the floor, and Alice laughed embarrassedly. "Sorry 'bout that. I got a thing for McDonald's apple pies. Plus, Mickey D's is usually the only place open when I get off work."

"It's fine, really."

"So where ya from?" Alice asked conversationally.

"Oh, um..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. "All over, really. I move around a lot."

"Alright, well, where were ya born?"

I frowned. "Alabama," I said reluctantly. I wasn't used to being asked that.

"I thought I caught a little bit of Southern accent!" Alice said triumphantly. "Ya tried to get rid of it, huh? Why's that?"

I shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn't be too offended if I blew her off. "So how long have you known Ella?" I asked.

Alice gave me an apologetic look, thankfully realizing that I wasn't comfortable with her question. "Oh, just a few years," she said. "She started workin' at the Grill last year, but she's lived here for maybe three years. I heard she used to live here when she was little, and the whole town knows about what happened with her sister. Why she came back after all that, I dunno. I don't think I coulda done it."

"Yeah..." I said slowly. I didn't know why she came back, either, but I was determined to find out soon.

"Here we are!" Alice said suddenly, and I looked out the window to see the house she had described earlier. It definitely screamed Ella, what with the girly color, the white shutters, and the flower boxes on the window sills, and I saw Greg's Impala in the driveway, looking just as well-cared for as I remembered it. My heart started racing with anticipation and I found it suddenly hard to breathe, and I wondered if this was what I panic attack felt like."Y'okay?" Alice asked worriedly. Apparently, I looked as panicked as I felt.

"Y-yeah," I said weakly. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for bringing me out here."

"Anytime! If ya ever need another taxi, just lemme know!" Alice waved as she drove off, leaving me standing outside the house alone.

I looked up at the tiny house, which suddenly looked imposing and kind of scary as I thought of what awaited me on the other side of the front door. Well, let's find out. As long as Ella is here, everything is gonna be okay. I exhaled slowly and headed up the steps to the porch. I stood in front of the door, my hand raised to the doorbell, for what must have been nearly ten minutes.

Just press it, I urged myself. It's just a doorbell, and Ella might be in there. Even if nothing is making sense right now, it'll be okay as soon as I see Ella. She'll make everything okay.

At that thought, I was able to muster up my courage, and the doorbell rang out through the small house. "Just a minute!" a man's voice called, and heavy steps made their way toward the door.

Okay, that is definitely not Ella. Maybe it's her boyfriend's brother or whoever Jen and Alice were talking about? Should I run? Should I get outta here and come back later? I should probably—

The door opened; it was too late for me to run away.

My first thought when I saw the man was than Jen the waitress gave a pretty accurate description, though instead of the "smile that'll melt your heart," he was wearing an expression of complete and utter disbelief. As a matter of fact, he looked like he was about to cry. My second thought was that he was one of the men in the picture in my pocket, the one that I'd been hugged up to, and that made me even more uncomfortable than I would've originally been if he'd been a complete and total stranger. The fact that I'd probably known this man once was enough to make me think of bolting again.

I stood there awkwardly as he stared at me, his mouth opening and closing as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words. "Y'know, if you keep your mouth open like that, you're gonna catch flies," I said sarcastically, finally fed up with this guy's behavior. "Seriously, dude, what the—"

I was rudely interrupted by his mouth on mine, and then something even stranger happened. Some sort of montage flashed through my head, featuring me, this man, and a whole lot of kissing. There were multiple scenarios, more than I could keep up with, and each flash struck me with a different feeling, ranging from happiness to desperation.

Naturally, I freaked out, and I shoved him away angrily, wiping my mouth as I yelped, "Whoa, what the fuck, man?! I like spontaneity as much as the next girl, but I'd like to at least know your name first!" I chose not to dwell on how good of a kisser he was—I shouldn't be focusing on that; I should be pissed that he kissed me in the first place!

He had been grinning despite being pushed away—Jen was right again—but, at my words, he frowned in confusion. "What?"

"What d'you mean, 'what?' I'm the one who just got assaulted!" I gestured wildly at him as I spoke. "I ring the doorbell, and BAM! Lip attack! Y'know, I've punched guys for less," I shrugged, "but you're cute, and you taste like cookies, so I'll let you slide with a warning." I didn't intend to flirt, but he was extremely attractive, and he was the one who'd made the first move—I couldn't help myself.

"What?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I'm trying to find Ella Harken. She's an old friend of mine, and I was told she lived here. If she's not here, that's fine, just tell her I stopped by and that she needs a new guard dog. Seriously, what good are you if all you do is kiss unsuspecting guests? Some people would enjoy that too much. Not me," I said hurriedly, "but some people." I knew I was rambling, but, hey! I'd expected Ella to come to the door and hug me and maybe cry, and instead I got sexy Goliath waging war on my mouth. I was a little taken aback, to say the least.

"What?!"

"Seriously, man, get a new word," I huffed. "Just tell Ella that a friend came to see her and wants to know why said friend woke up in a coffin this morning. That kinda shit can really fuck a girl up. Later, Cookies," I said with a wave, and I turned to go.

"Gari—"

I spun back around and narrowed my eyes at the man. "How d'you know my name?"

He now looked more skeptical and exasperated than shocked, and I wondered why. "Can you just stop for a minute?" he asked. "Seriously, cut the act and give me five minutes just to look at you. I can't believe you're back." His eyes got that misty quality again, and they went all wide and soulful as his expression turned to one of awe. "We buried you; I-I brought your body all the way back here; I lost Dean and Cas and Kevin and Meg, too; I was alone and I-I didn't know what to do so just—" He took a deep breath to steady his trembling voice. "Please," he said simply, reaching a hand out toward me.

I looked between his hand and his face, and my heart broke a little, but still I shook my head. "You've got the wrong girl," I said, his obvious pain and relief stopping any joking response I had planned. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

The skepticism was completely gone from his face, and the awe changed to fear. I could tell he believed me that time. "I-I don't understand," he said shakily. "How d'you not know me? After everything we—"

"I'm sorry," I said again, and I really meant it. I had the strangest urge to hug this guy, just to see if it would make him stop looking so devastated.

It was amazing how quickly he went from heartbroken to suspicious. "Then what the hell are you?!" he growled, narrowing his eyes at me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was a little scared (and a little turned on, but that's irrelevant).

I masked my fear easily, rolling my eyes and saying, "Oh, yeah, wait 'til after you suck my face to ask the important questions. If I really know you and I really just came back from the dead, you'd think testing me would've been your number one priority." He didn't seem to know what to say to that, and the suspicious look faded a little, now competing with embarrassment. "Look, I'm human," I assured him, and, hey, it was almost true. "I'm not a demon or a shifter or anything else monster-y. Scout's honor." I held up my hand mockingly, and I smirked at him.

"Prove it," he ordered, the wary look coming back.

I reached down to grab my dagger out of my boot only to realize that it wasn't there. "Can you help me out here?" I asked. "Ella must have decided she didn't wanna bury me with a weapon. I can't imagine why."

"Hold out your arm." He pulled a knife out of his waistband and looked at me expectantly.

"I can do it myself, thanks."

"You think I'm trusting you with this?!" he asked incredulously.

"You trusted me with your tongue, so I don't see why not."

His face turned a deep red, and I almost laughed. He was blushing from head to toe, and it was adorable. He spluttered indignantly, trying to come up with an excuse, and I watched on with amusement as he floundered for words. Finally, he calmed down and huffed out, "Just gimme your arm!"

I decided to humor him and held my arm out for him. "Y'know, it's not totally necessary to do some deep, dramatic cut," I told him as he pressed the knife into my skin. "If it burns, you'll know right away. Even pricking my finger would tip you off."

"Yeah, okay, you've got a point," he conceded, and I nodded satisfactorily as the knife just barely pierced my skin. Nothing happened.

"So…not a shifter. What's next, splashing me with—"

I got a face full of holy water at that moment. I dunno why I didn't see that coming. "You're also not a demon," Sam noted.

"So did I pass your tests, then? Can I stop standing on the porch and come in—" This time, he interrupted me by pulling out a small water pistol and spraying me in the chest. "If I was wearing a white shirt," I said drily, "I would have punched you. What the hell was that for?"

"You're not a Leviathan, either, then." He put the water gun away, and he started to look all broken-hearted again.

"No, I am not a giant sea monster…" I said slowly, raising my eyebrows at him. "I would've thought that was kinda obvious…"

"What?" He looked totally confused, and then realization seemed to dawn on him. "Oh. No, that's not what they are. They, well… It's a long story."

"Okay… So, uh, I don't really hate to say I told you so, so I told you so." I smirked at him. "I'm totally human."

Suddenly, he wiped his face clear of all emotion, which I both hated and was grateful for. That careful, emotionless mask that I'd been known to use multiple times looked completely out of place on him, but at the same time, I didn't know how much longer I could've held out with him looking at me like a kicked puppy or like I was a murder suspect.

"Okay," he said with a nod. "Alright. Then that means you really don't remember me. But you're alive, and that's..." His mask faltered, letting joy and hurt seep through his eyes, but he quickly regained control. "I guess I should introduce myself then." He stuck out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Sam."

I took his hand, pretending not to notice how it trembled or that he held on a little tighter and longer than was strictly necessary. I was impressed at how quickly he'd adjusted to me not knowing him, especially if I'd been as important to him as I suspected. "Nice to meet you," I said formally. "And I'm Gari, but, uh, I guess you already knew that."

He nodded, and a smile started to tug on the side of his mouth, but it faded right after. "So, uh, what do you remember?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, obviously you remember Ella, but is it just your memories of me that are gone or are the memories of Dean and Cas and Bobby and everyone else gone, too?" His voice took on a strange tone, and I soon recognized it to be curiosity. It seemed that he'd completely gotten over the disappointment of me not remembering him and had moved on to interest in what had happened to me.

"I don't know any of those people," I told him, shaking my head. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay!" Sam said hurriedly. "You don't have to apologize! Whatever happened to you wasn't your fault. I just wanna know what you know." He suddenly seemed to realize that we were still outside on the porch. "Oh, uh, sorry; d'you wanna come inside?" I nodded once, and he moved out of the way to let me in then closed the door behind us. He led me into a tiny kitchen and gestured to a row of bar stools. "Want anything? We have cookies."

"I noticed," I said with a smirk, and his cheeks turned pink. Okay, yeah, totally adorable.

"Heh, uh, sorry about that," he said embarrassedly, and he ducked his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I thought you—"

"I know, Sam," I assured him as I took a seat. "And I'm pretty sure I wasn't complaining."

His blush deepened. "Um, so, what were we talking about?"

"You were asking me what I remembered."

"Right, so—"

"I woke up thinking it was 2003. Does that answer your question?"

His eyes widened. "Wait, so, you lost ten years?"

"Apparently. And in that time, it seems that Ella hooked up with your brother, moved back to her hometown, had three kids, got left by your brother, and hooked up with you, which makes your behavior on the porch extremely confusing, and I'm kinda wondering if I should kick your ass for macking on me while you're with my sister."

"Wait, what?!" Sam sputtered. "I'm not—Ella and I—we—she's—Dean—"

"Small town gossip," I broke in. That's the third time he's mentioned this Dean guy. Could that be his brother? Wait, why does that sound so familiar? "Got it. Sorry. Jen the waitress has a mouth on her."

Sam sighed. "Jen. Of course."

"I'm guessing you've met her?"

"I fixed her air conditioner when I moved in with Elle last year."

"And she's been after your cookies ever since?" I teased.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that."

A small silence passed between us, and I was surprised at how comfortable it felt. I decided to break it, however, as questions continued to plague my mind. I had to get answers somehow, and I figured Sam would be as good a person to ask as any, especially since Ella apparently wasn't home.

"Can you tell me what happened to me?" I asked finally, figuring that that question would pretty much cover all the bases.

Sam frowned and sat down on the other bar stool, but he didn't look at me, instead choosing to stare at the marble countertop, and I suddenly regretted my choice of question. "You were stabbed," he said quietly. "You were stabbed in the back, and you died in my arms."

I wished I was a comforting person. I wished I'd remembered knowing Sam. I wished I hadn't felt so awkward just sitting there while Sam relived what appeared to be the extremely painful memory of my death. All I wanted to do was reach out to him, tell him it was okay and that it wasn't his fault, and that it was worth it, but I didn't even know if any of that was true or if my saying that would change anything at all.

"We were taking down this monster boss who'd been giving us trouble the past year," Sam continued. "We split up: Dean and Cas went to kill Dick Roman, I was trying to find Kevin, and you and Meg stayed behind to fight off the other Leviathans." There's those Leviathans again. I wonder what they really are. Right now, all I can picture is the kraken.

"I found Kevin, and we were planning on getting him out of there once we killed Dick. But, apparently, killing Dick creates a backlash that sends you to Purgatory 'cause that's where Dean and Cas have been for a year. Dean got out a few days ago, but I-I guess we lost Cas." Cas seemed important. I could tell by the way Sam said his name that they'd been friends, and that they'd been through a lot together.

"Crowley showed up after Dean and Cas killed Dick, and he got Meg and Kevin. He—he told me I was alone," Sam said, his voice breaking slightly, "but I didn't understand him at first. Then I did, and I ran back outside, and..." He swallowed roughly. "A-and I found you."

"Sam..." I hesitantly reached toward his hand, but he kept talking and didn't seem to notice.

"I brought you back here because I thought Ella should be able to see for herself, and I thought she should get to decide what to do with your body," he said after clearing his throat, and his voice got stronger. "She wanted to bury you with her family, and I let her."

"You had to know how dangerous that was," I said rationally, and I made a note to speak to Ella about it later.

"I know," he said, meeting my eyes for the first time, and I was the one who looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes and not wanting to understand the implications of those two words. He knew there had been a possibility of me coming back as a spirit, but he'd let Ella give me a traditional burial, maybe on the hopes that I would've chosen to stick around despite the knowledge of what would eventually happen. Okay, so I was in super deep with this guy. Like, codependent-deep. That's...kinda scary.

I swallowed and pulled my hands back toward me, twisting them together and fidgeting as I still felt his eyes on me. "So, uh, y-you didn't—"

"No," he said adamantly. "We promised each other we'd never do it, and you'd already upheld your end. It was my turn." I decided not to ask what that meant, afraid of what he would say. "So I'm guessing you don't know how you got back, then?"

I shook my head. "I wish I did. It'd be nice to have a lead to getting my memories back."

"Well, there's not many things powerful enough to take your memories in the first place," Sam said, and I knew he was trying to be reassuring, "so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

"Your optimism is very refreshing."

"Don't get used to it," he chuckled.

"So where are Ella and your brother?"

"Kiddy club," Sam replied. He seemed to find that extremely amusing, and his laugh made me laugh, too. It was warm and real, and I had the sad feeling that it was rare, especially lately. "They should be back in a few hours. They'd just left when you got here."

I nodded. I wanted to ask him about us—I was sure he would've tried to act more normal around me if he'd known I'd lost my memories when he first saw me, but now the cat was out of the bag, and I wanted to know our story. But I can't ask him that. It would be too awkward, and I technically just met him. I've just gotta wait until he's comfortable talking about it.

"So, uh, don't take this the wrong way," Sam started, breaking me out of my reverie, "but d'you wanna take a shower?"

I laughed. "I look that bad, huh?"

"Alright, you know I didn't mean it like that." He rolled his eyes. "You're just covered in dirt and you've been in those clothes for a year."

"Good point," I conceded. "Alright, where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall; the last left."

"Thanks!" He nodded and turned to walk away, but I called him back. "Hey, Sam?"

He turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." I shrugged. "For, well, everything."

"Anything for—" He stopped himself with a grimace. "Anytime," he amended, and he left the room before I could tell if he was blushing.

The bathroom was just as cutesy as the rest of the house. The walls were a pale green, the towels were a light beige color, and both matched the paisley print on the shower curtain. I couldn't help grinning at how absolutely Ella the whole house was.

While I waited for the water in the shower to heat up, I examined myself in the mirror, wondering if I looked as filthy as I felt.

I did.

My face was darker than I'd ever seen it, and that was sadly because of the dirt smudged all over it rather than me actually having a tan for once in my life. My platinum blonde hair was flat and still slightly damp from the sweat produced by exerting my powers earlier that day. What's more, I had two scars on my face: one ran from my left temple to the corner of my lip, and the other was straight down my right cheek, nearly missing my eye. Where the hell did these come from? I haven't had a scar since that wendigo that nearly got me killed.

I made a mental note to ask Sam about them later as I undressed and threw my clothes in a pile in the corner of the bathroom. I let out a happy sigh and closed my eyes as the hot water rushed over me, and I could almost feel my stress melting away. Yeah, I had a lot of questions—if I believed everything that Sam said, I'd been dead for a year and lost ten years of my memory—and I knew those questions wouldn't all be easily answered. But, at the moment, I just stood under the stream of water and focused on nothing other than the feel of it hitting my body and rinsing away the layers of dirt on my skin.

That feeling of relaxation disappeared as soon as I glanced down at myself.

I let out a gasp and almost lost my balance as I took in the network of scars crossing over my abdomen, chest, arms, and legs. Five ran perpendicular to the wendigo scar on my chest and stopped under my ribs, and my stomach looked like two people had played about sixty games of tic-tac-toe across it. Scars crisscrossed my arms and legs; two bullet wounds had left their mark on my left shoulder; and my right thigh had a patch of wrinkled, red skin left by what must have been a bad burn. My breath came fast and hard, and the water suddenly felt too hot. I backed out of the stream and propped myself up against the wall as my head started spinning. What the fuck happened to me?! I'm not supposed to have scars! And certainly not this many! How could this happen?!

I hurriedly finished up my shower, a burning need to ask Sam about what else had happened to me taking hold of my mind. I wrapped a towel around my body before walking out into the hall, wishing I'd had the idea to ask Sam for some new clothes before I'd taken a shower. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable just wearing a towel; I just figured it would make Sam uncomfortable. But, if I was being honest, all the scars that marred my body made me feel more self-conscious than I'd ever felt before, and my brain warred against that insecurity with all its might.

"Sam!" I called as I made my way to the kitchen. I saw his back as I entered and started talking immediately. "Okay, one: can you tell me what the hell happened to my body because I look like a human tennis net and I'm not okay with that. And two: can I get some clo—"

"Gari!" I was interrupted by an unfamiliar man hugging me. I stiffened as his arms wrapped around me, thinking of the fact that I was naked except for a thin towel.

"Dean," Sam sighed exasperatedly. "I told you she doesn't—"

"Couldn't help myself, Sammy," the man named Dean said. He stepped back with a grin pulled across his full lips, and I recognized him as the other guy in the photograph. He awkwardly raked a hand through his short, light brown hair as if just realizing how uncomfortable he'd made me. Though he shrugged apologetically, his bright green eyes showed no regret, only happiness, and I couldn't help the small grin that grew on my face in response to his joy and apparent relief. "Sorry, really," he told me, still grinning. "Sam told me you don't remember, but, hey, I haven't seen you in a year and we all thought you were dead, so can you blame me?"

"Eh, at least you didn't make out with me," I said casually, smirking at Sam, who blushed and looked away as his brother started laughing.

"Really, Sammy?" Dean chuckled. "You couldn't even give her a second to explain herself?"

"Hey, you can't blame the guy for being enthusiastic," I defended jokingly. "Apparently, I was a big damn hero before I died."

Dean's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, Sam told me about it. Sorry I wasn't there to stop it."

I shrugged. "It's not like I remember it. Or anything else, for that matter… So how was your vacation in Purgatory?"

His grin returned to its former strength, but now I could tell that it was forced. I kind of regretted asking, but I was curious. Up until Sam had said something earlier, I hadn't known Purgatory existed. "Looks like a forest in Canada and it's full of all the things that go bump in the night. Hunter's paradise. I'm thinkin' of buyin' a summer home."

"I'm sure there's prime real estate just waiting to be bought out there."

"Oh, no kiddin'. Tons of river-front properties. Little bit of a pest issue, though."

"I'm sure you can get a job as an exterminator. I bet the pay's great."

Dean laughed. "Well, you may not remember anything, but you've got the same sense of humor."

"Why, thank you. So where's Ella? She's the only person I remember, and I'm kinda dying to see her."

"She took the kids by Jess's house. Our babysitter," he explained at the confusion on my face, and I nodded.

"I still can't believe she has kids…" I said wonderingly, and Dean chuckled. I turned to Sam, who I had the feeling had been watching me a little too closely. I suppressed a grin as his gaze darted away from mine, and I glanced down at my towel before looking back up at him hopefully. "So…clothes?"

He nodded. "Yeah, follow me."

I did as he said, saying, "I mean, I know you probably don't have anything that'll fit me, but I can deal with one of Ella's dresses if I absolutely have to—at least until we get me some more clothes. Her pants, not so much, since she's got a bigger ass and is also much shorter, and I'm pretty sure my lack of significant boob size would allow her shirts to swallow me whole, but—"

"Here," Sam interrupted, opening the door to what I supposed was his room, judging by the flannel in the closet and the small, open suitcase full of weapons at the foot of the bed. Stacks of books took up one corner of the room, and I itched to go through all of them. I'd bet there was so much information that I didn't know or had forgotten, and I couldn't wait for the chance to sit down and catch up.

"Okay, now I know your clothes aren't gonna fit me," I said matter-of-factly, and he shook his head and led me into the room. "I mean, maybe I could wear one of your shirts as a dress, but I dunno…" He walked over to the chest of drawers and pulled open the top drawer, revealing a bunch of black tank tops and lacy underwear. "Oh."

"We kept your stuff," he said unnecessarily, and he blushed as he realized he'd just shown me my underwear drawer. "We kept meaning to get rid of it, but we couldn't ever bring ourselves to do it. I guess that's a good thing now, right?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, thanks." I glanced around the room again, knowing exactly why my clothes were in his room, yet still wanting to hear it from him. "So…I take it we shared a—"

"I'll let you get dressed," he broke in hurriedly, his face getting redder, and he had left the room and shut the door before I had time to react. I stared at the closed door for a minute, smiling to myself at his awkwardness; then I shook myself out of it and started going through my clothes.

It looked like I hadn't updated my wardrobe in ten years. Almost everything I found was something I'd had in 2003. There was a lot of new underwear, a few new pairs of pants, and one or two new shirts, but that was about all that had changed. Maybe I should take this new life as a chance to update my wardrobe… Nah. Too much effort.

So Dean seems nice, if a little overbearing at times, I thought as I pulled on a tank top and some skinny jeans. Purgatory messed him up more than he's letting on, though. And Sam's been through too much, but I can tell he feels like he shouldn't complain after what his brother's gone through. And maybe what I went through, too, even though none of us have any idea what that is.

Gah, why do their names sound so familiar? It's killing me! Sam and Dean who? Sam and Dean…

I let out a gasp of shock and anger as it hit me. Distrust, blame, and rage bubbled up in my stomach and made my palms sweat, and I squeezed my eyes closed against the rise of emotion and the power it threatened to bring with it.

I threw open the door and stormed back to the kitchen, the heat in my hands getting worse with every step. "Hey, you look—" Sam stopped midsentence, his grin fading as he saw the fury on my face, and he furrowed his brow worriedly. "Gari, what's wrong? Is everything o—?"

"Oh, everything's fine," I said scathingly, rolling my eyes. "It's just that I just now realized who you two are."

"Who we are?" Dean said confusedly, sharing a look with his younger brother. "What d'you mean?"

I let out a harsh laugh. "You're those piece of shit Winchesters," I spat, and I sighed internally as I felt my hand catch on fire.

I'd expected my anger to be reflected on the brothers' faces, but Sam looked at me with resignation, while Dean huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes in exasperation before letting out a tired, "Aw, man, not again."