One

Gatlinburg, Tennessee. 1:13 a.m.

Alaine had been sitting alone at a table in the back of an old country bar. As classic rock music blared loudly in the background, she quietly noted the shift in the atmosphere inside of the bustling establishment. The small place had become overcrowded with middle-aged men. Some had taken to drowning their misery and pain of a broken life into bottles of cheap bear while others sat on the prowl for whatever poorly dressed women they could get their hands on. Ultimately to her, they were all arrogant, overbearing pigs that she preferred to avoid at all times, even more so while being on the hunt for a case.

For two full weeks, she'd been searching endlessly for any leads that could point her towards something potentially supernatural. She scanned through newspapers, and checked all forms of online media for anything that would stand out to her as "unordinary," but to her growing frustration, she'd only found radio silence. There wasn't any news on any recent demon possessions, or tips leading to a possible vamps' nest; there was absolutely nothing, and that was something she found to be a bit odd.

She had blown out the third exasperated sigh of the night as she propped her elbow up onto the table, her temple pressing against her knuckles. With a bored expression, she reached for the half-empty beer bottle in front of her to take another swig when out of nowhere, a man drunkenly approached the side of her table. Flickering her gaze to him, she was met with a sly smile that was almost hard to notice underneath his thick, graying beard. He leaned in closer-possibly to better inspect her nonexistent cleavage-before his thin lips parted to address her.

"What's a pretty thing such as yourself doing here all alone? In need of some company?"

Offering him a cheap smile out of courtesy, Alaine casually downed the remnants of her beer. "Sorry, sugar. Not interested."

With a soft thud, she set the empty bottle down onto the table, and pushed her chair back to rise from her seat. She adjusted the hem of her t-shirt, then took a step to walk past him, but as her shoulder gently brushed against his, the drunk man briskly took hold of her wrist and halted her mid-stride.

"Hold on now," he purred, his fingers locking around her. "What do you say we head on over to my truck? Maybe I could change your mind."

The muscle in her jaw twitched slightly. Slowly, she turned to face him, and with a smirk now tugging at the corners of her plump lips, she gently settled a hand onto his shoulder.

"You'd like to try, wouldn't you?"

Eargerness flashed across his wrinkled features, his eyes lighting up, expectantly. "Oh hell yes."

"Well—" she gripped the collar of his old biker jacket into her grasp, and leveled her gaze to his. "—sorry to break it to you, but I'm not in the habit of screwing backwater-town trash like you."

His expression looked momentarily stunned, then as the insult she'd spat at him fully registered, a nasty scowl contorted his aged face.

"You disrespectful bitch. I oughta teach your ass a lesson-"

"Really?" Alaine smiled. "Go ahead then."

By the look in his widened eyes, she gathered he hadn't at all expected for her to challenge his threat. He stood there, appearing somewhat stunned as her gaze flickered down to the hand still firmly clamped onto her wrist. Without having to utter a word, he silently pulled his fingers away from her.

"Ah. Didn't think so." Releasing her grip on his shoulder, she took a step away from him, but not before giving him a small push that'd sent him stumbling backwards into the table.

The sudden commotion had captured the attention of some of the patrons. They stood by, quietly sipping their drinks as they watched Alaine saunter away. She'd managed to make it to the exit without being stopped or questioned.

Had it been uncommon for sleazy guys to get knocked around by women for trying to make a move on them, surely someone would've stopped her. But even so, there was something about being able to defend herself that always instilled within her a sense of empowerment. Whether if it was a dive bar brawl or a one-on-one fight with a demon, Alaine loved the thrill of adrenaline that came from kicking ass. If her brother were still around, she'd surely be given the scolding of a lifetime.

Jesus, Ali. Would it kill you to ease up a bit? You don't always have to be so freaking rough. I swear, one of these days someone's gonna end up knocking your ass to the ground, and I sure do I hope I'm there to watch so I can laugh in your face.

Strolling through the bar's double doors, she came to a small stop just outside the establishment. She lifted her gaze to the night sky, taking a moment to marvel at the small speckling of stars that glimmered softly. Smiling at the passing clouds, she let out a sigh of content.

"Wouldn't you hate to know I'm still running an undefeated streak."

Adrian had always disliked her attitude. Although she was nothing short of loving and sweet towards him, he never hid his opinion in regards to her brazen behavior against others. You don't always have to fight about everything, he would always say.

Growing up in the care of their father, fighting was all she came to know. With the responsibility of being the eldest child, not only had Alaine needed to fend for herself, she also had to be in charge of looking out for her younger brother whenever their dad left them behind to go out on a hunt. From a young age, he'd instructed them to the best of his abilities. He took it upon himself to love them, and guide them to be strong and independent. When he saw that both Alaine and Adrian had grown enough to be able to handle a weapon of their own, he began teaching them hands-on how to defend themselves against werewolves, ghouls, shapeshifters, and various other unholy creatures he'd dedicated his life to killing. He brought them up to be better hunters than what he'd hoped himself to one day be, and took great pride in his two beautiful children until the very day he died.

Now, all that was left of the Ventura family legacy was her, and that was something she would forever take pride in. She'd spend whatever years were left of her lonesome life honoring the memory of her late brother and father because that was all she had left. Making them proud was what kept her going, and hell, she was going to make sure she kicked some ass while doing it.

Crossing the crowded parking lot of the old dive bar, she approached the spot where she'd stationed her '09 Sierra 3500, and popped open the door to climb up into the driver's seat. She settled herself behind the pickup truck's steering wheel, and released a heavy exhale. Inserting the key into the ignition, she turned over the engine and lazily buckled her seat belt into place before pulling out of the parking space and driving off.

Sticking to the main road for about five miles, she quickly came upon the small roadside motel she'd been living in for the past couple of weeks. It's blinking neon sign read the word Vacancy in bright green.

Parking in front of her designated room, she jumped out of her truck. As she rounded the front of her vehicle and pulled out the electronic key card from her back pocket, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

It forced her to come to a momentary halt just outside her door. She turned around to face the object that had captured her sudden attention, and for just a mere moment, all Alaine could do was stare at it in awe.

The beautifully well-kept '67 Impala sitting beside her truck shone under the lights of the overhead motel sign, its glossy obsidian paint job making the vehicle appear all the more dominating than what it already was.

Well, this baby sure wasn't here earlier.

Alaine did a quick visual sweep of the area. Being that it was now nearing two in the morning, it was pretty unlikely to run into any of the other motel guests.

There was an urge inside of her; a growing need to get a closer look at the car. For whatever reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, it felt as if something was drawing her to the vehicle.

Wait...have I seen this car before?

Suddenly as the thought entered her mind, a bittersweet wave of familiarity came over her, and it was then that she realized why she hadn't been able to take her eyes off of the Impala.

Of course she'd seen it before. How could she forget?

For just a moment, Alaine allowed herself to relive the vivid memories of her childhood. It had been so long ago, but the images of that sweet boy she'd once met as a young teen were still as clear as ever. After all, how could she ever erase the playful glimmer of his eyes from her mind.

No. She'd always remember them. Just like she would always remember the short moments spent in his company.

As Alaine stood there outiside of her motel room, she found herself pondering on the fate of that young boy.

Where could he be? What could he be possibly doing at this moment? Did he even remember her at all?

Every now and again, she would occasionally wonder about these things. At times, she would even stay awake into the late night hours just thinking; wishing she could one day be granted the opportunity to see his face again. If she had any friends, she was sure they'd call her stupid for hoping for something so pointless.

In secret, she kept up-to-date with whatever passing information she'd pick up off other hunters. She'd listen to the stories they told of him—his achievements, his failures. Every bit of his life was not only saddening, but it was also awe-inspiring. Hunters spoke of his name, and it could be heard in their voices the great respect and admiration they held towards him. Although there were some who couldn't stand the sight of him, the majority knew he was a force to be reckoned with.

The great Dean Winchester.

No one would dare cross his path. To those who feared the ground he walked on, they would simply admire him from the shadows. And for those who proudly called him a hero, they wouldn't think of passing up an opportunity to fight alongside him. Hearing of all of his endeavors-the lives he's saved, the battles he's fought-gave her an incentive to keep fighting.

If he were to know of her many great achievements, would he be as proud of her as she was of him?

The foolish thoughts of a lonely woman. She sought recognition from others in regards to her abilities, and of course, there were many hunters who knew and respected her for the name she carried. Yet, that respect hadn't necessarily been won by her sheer skills; it had been granted by the legacy of her father.

Alongside the Winchester name, her family name, Ventura, was nothing short of second-best. But in a world where one's abilities were meant to speak for themselves, Alaine wanted to be known for who she was a hunter, not for what others believed her to be.

One day, she'd make sure to surpass the expectations of everyone, and prove her worth as a woman capable of handling anything tossed her way. It all came down to making her brother and father proud, and even if it killed her, she was going to make sure she'd be remembered for many years to come.

Feeling the serenade of sleep calling to her aching muscles, Alaine finally pried her eyes away from the Impala to enter her motel room. Blindly, she reached for the light switch on the wall and after a few seconds, the cozy space was illuminated in a soft, pale glow. Dragging herself across the carpet, she approached the queen-sized bed and plopped down onto the edge of the mattress to remove her riding boots. She haphazardly discarded them onto the floor, and tossed her leather jacket and button-down denim shirt onto the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. After shedding her jeans, she slipped under the cool sheets, and as she nuzzled softly against one of the pillows, it was only a matter of seconds until she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

As a hunter, training yourself to be a light sleeper is essential towards staying alive. In the midst of an attack, a person should be able to react quickly. At the faintest sound, a hunter should be ready to draw their blade, or aim their gun.

At this moment, said training is what jerked Alaine awake into sudden awareness and had her pointing the barrel of her M11-A1 into the darkness of the room. The sound of a loud thump had snapped her awake, and as she briskly reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, she caught a glimpse of the time on the digital alarm clock. It was now half past three.

Great. I've only been asleep for forty-five minutes.

Grumbling, she briefly scanned her surroundings. Everything appeared just as she'd left it before going to bed, not a piece of furniture moved out of place. She expelled a small sigh as she clicked the safety to her gun back into the on-position. Tucking the firearm back under her pillow, she settled back down and fluttered her eyes shut. Unlike before, she hadn't fallen asleep so quickly, yet after a few minutes of listening to her steady breathing, she finally began to dose off.

But instead of falling into a blissful state of unconsciousness as she'd hoped, she was jerked awake once more by another thump, this one much louder than the first.

Eyes flying open, she sprung upright, her bare legs scrambling to jump out of bed. Blowing out an annoyed huff, she briskly pulled on her jeans when the sound of muffled, incomprehensible shouting erupted from the vent in the wall.

Now angry, Alaine reached for her gun and quickly stowed it away. She stomped her way across the room, throwing the door open to storm outside. The cold chill in the air nipped at her arms, making the thin hairs stand on end as she marched on over to the motel room next to hers.

Drawing near, she could hear two distinct male voices speaking loudly. Moving quickly, she approached the door and without a moment's thought, balled up her fist and banged as hard as she could.

In an instant, the arguing on the other side ceased. There was a long pause of silence, which only frustrated Alaine further. Once more, she rattled the hinges with her forceful knocking.

Suddenly, the door swung open before her. Alaine quickly pulled her hand back in time as a gargantuan man appeared from inside the room. His thin brows were furrowed into a small frown as his bright eyes regarded her, curiously. He took a moment to look her over before his features softened at the sight of her own angered expression.

"Hi...is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? Do you have any idea what time it is? I've been trying to get some rest but your damn arguing's been keeping me awake. I'd appreciate it if you'd do me the favor of just shutting up for the remainder of the night. Unlike you, I actually value whatever measly hours of sleep I can get!"

The man blinked. He'd been stunned into silence.

Alaine watched his mouth open and close in an attempt to produce what she expected had to be some sort of apology. She waited, then as the words finally formed themselves on his tongue, the sound of the gravelly voice she'd heard moments before stopped him in his tracks.

"Who is it, Sam?"

The giant whipped his head around to glance at his companion, the tips of his brown, shaggy hair brushing across the side of his face. "It's uh...it's the girl from the room next door. She's upset."

Annoyance could be clearly distinguished in the clipping of his words. "Not our problem. Close the door."

"It kind of is since your yelling is what got her mad in the first place," Mr. Giant informed his moody pal.

"I don't care. Send her grumpy ass back where she came from."

Alaine raised a brow. Grumpy ass?

"Hey, asshole! I hope you know I can hear you. If you're not looking to get your ass kicked, I suggest you mind what comes out of your mouth next."

"Excuse me?"

Quickly, the giant shifted his body to block the open doorway. From the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near, she assumed her words must've angered the other man further.

"Dean, wait—"

"Move it, Sam. This chick's got a lot of nerve thinkin' she can just waltz over here and start hurling half-assed threats."

Grabbing hold of the door jamb, Alaine tiptoed to try to get a look over Mr. Giant's shoulder.

"They're not half-assed, dickhead!" she called out. "I'll beat your ass, just try me!"

Angry Man scoffed, humorlessly. "Really? You think you're tough—dammit, Sam! Move out the friggin' way."

"Stop! You're not about to pick a fight with a girl."

Alaine jabbed a finger into the giant's back. "Hey, don't worry about me. I can handle him. I'm used to fighting bitches."

There was a small pause of silence, then slowly, as if daring her to repeat her words, Angry man spoke up again. "Did... Did you just call me a bitch?"

Got him. "I'm sorry, what I meant to say was: punk ass bitches."

"Alright, that's it!"

A whirlwind of events followed shortly. Everything happened too quickly for Alaine to process a proper reaction. Mr. Giant had been suddenly shoved out of the way. She stood just outside the door, her wide eyes watching as he stumbled sideways into the wall. Then, in a matter of mere seconds, another tall figure appeared before her, his menacing stature much more alarming than that of the first guy's.

He'd been agile and quick. His hands lurched forward with great speed; almost too fast for her to even see. They roughly grasped onto her upper arms, and in that split-second, Alaine met the soul-riveting gaze glowering down at her before she'd been lifted off the ground and hauled into the room.

A loud gasp of surprise escaped her. Effortlessly, the man pinned her up against the wall. He stepped into her, his forearm pressing down at the base of her throat.

Adrenaline quickly spiked through her veins. She ground her teeth in anger, her body bucking in an helpless attempt to wrench away from him. To her misfortune, his strength had easily overpowered hers, thus leaving her trapped, and utterly defenseless as he loomed closer.

Alaine glared at him as his face drew near. She surveyed his shapely lips part just a few centimeters before a shallow exhale evaded his mouth. She felt the warmth of his minty breath ghost across her face, and for a small moment, had been dazed.

Her gaze flickered all over his rugged features. His expression was stern, the hard lines of his angled jaw emphasized by the scowl contorting his face. There was something about his feral elegance that had her forgetting how to breathe. He was so close; close enough that the heat emanating from his broad body had her ensnared in its vice-like grip.

It had to be humanly impossible for a man to be able to produce that much testosterone. It was suffocating just as it was intoxicating, and the longer Alaine was held captive under his piercing gaze, the more she felt herself slipping away.

What the hell is this? This...this has to be the adrenaline...

She was fueled by anger, by the urge to kick his ass. Yet, there was something else-a feeling like no other that was bubbling to the surface. It was strange, but also familiar; almost as if she'd experienced it before.

It swelled inside of her, then suddenly, a spark of electricity crackled to life around them. It charged the air, making it hard for Alaine to drawn in breath as his expression shifted into something unreadable.

She could tell by the way his eyes now regarded her in curiosity that he must've felt it too. It'd caught him by surprise, leaving his defenses wide open.

It was just the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

As his piercing green gaze bore deeply into hers, she carefully flattened her palms onto the wall behind her. She waited and counted the passing seconds before using all of her strength to launch herself at him.

She acted swiftly. Not giving him the time to react, Alaine swept a leg under his, and shoved at his chest, knocking him fast to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!"

The man landed on the floor with a resounding thud. Alaine quickly reached behind her, untucking her firearm from the waistband of her jeans. She switched off the safety, and pulled it around to point the barrel at her attacker.

"Don't move, asshat."

The man's eyes snapped up to her face. He barely paid any mind to the gun aimed at his chest. He merely gave it a passing look before his menacing glare locked onto Alaine.

From somewhere inside the room, the sound of shuffling broke out. She turned her attention to the giant to see him dashing for a duffel bag that sat open on top of one of the beds. He cast her a quick look and froze as their gazes met.

"Don't even think about it, big guy," she warned.

He noticed the seriousness in her voice, and decided to heed her words. He remained stock-still, all the while regarding her closely. He assessed the way she was standing-her correct posture, the way she held the gun in both hands. She looked as if she'd done this before, as if holding a weapon meant nothing to her. He also couldn't ignore the look in her eyes. It was one he knew all too well, being that he'd seen it on himself more times than he'd like to remember.

Who was she, and why was she suddenly so familiar?

"Where'd you get the gun?" asked the other man from the floor.

Alaine glowered at him. "None of your damn business."

"Why don't you put it down before you hurt yourself."

"Not gonna happen."

"Listen, you'd be doin' yourself a real favor. I don't take too kindly to being threatened, so why don't you be a good girl and put the gun away."

"Yeah? Or what?" she challenged.

Slowly, a smirk crept along his lips. Alaine stared at him, a look of confusion etching into the creases between her brows. Just as moments before, his agility had gotten the best of her. She hadn't seen it coming. He'd quickly lurched upright, his hands flying out to grab a hold of the area rug underneath them. He then gave it one sharp tug, and before Alaine could realize what was happening, her body came crashing down.

The force of her back smacking the floor knocked the gun out of her hand. It flew across the room, landing just a few feet away from the open doorway. To everyone's luck, the weapon hadn't misfired. She shot a panicked look in the gun's direction, her gaze then quickly shifting back onto her attacker.

The look she saw on his face had frozen her to the core. There was a murderous expression in his eyes, an expression so alarming she now wondered if he planned on killing her.

He'd moved so swiftly, she had not time to get back up onto her feet. In just a second, he'd appeared above her, his looming presence almost swallowing her whole. She met his dangerous gaze, her own eyes growing wide.

He'd attempted to reach out for her, to grab a hold of her arms. A wave of panic fleeted through her, throwing her body into fight-mode. She kicked and swung at him, but to no avail. He'd mounted her, the entire weight of his six-foot body pinning her down to the hardwood floor.

She screamed out in protest as he straddled her waist. His hands clamped around her wrist just as she made a move to throw him off. He held them tightly in his grasp, disabling her completely.

"Dammit, hold still!"

She writhed and bucked underneath him, her head thrashing against the ground. "Get off me, you jackass!"

From the other end of the motel room, the giant had managed to scoop up Alaine's gun from the ground. He'd slammed the door shut before returning his attention to the crazed altercation unfolding before him.

"Calm the hell down. I ain't gonna hurt you!"

Alaine fixed the man straddling her an incredulous look. She'd been struggling to free herself, but the more she fought him, the tighter his hands gripped her. She now cursed in frustration as he adjusted his weight over her. He was keeping her pinned and she felt completely defenseless.

In efforts to get him off, she looked him dead in the eyes as she said, "Let go or I'll start screaming rape!"

The expression over his face shifted into one of exasperation coupled with confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. I swear I'll do it!"

"Oh, the hell you will!"

Throughout the entirity of this senseless back-and-forth, the giant had been standing idly by, watching her. That nagging feeling inside him hadn't let up. It kept telling him this woman was no stranger, and although it made no sense as to why he suddenly felt like he knew her, he tried his best to put a name behind her familiar face.

"Dean, wait. Let her go."

The fighting had come to stop. The man shot his companion a bewildered look. "Hell no. She threatened to shoot me—"

"And I'll do it if you don't get your Neanderthal-ass off of me!" Alaine snapped from underneath him.

"See? Nuh-uh, she's stayin' right where she is."

"Dean-" With an exasperated huff, the giant walked over to them. He grabbed a hold of the man's shoulder and with one forceful pull, he hauled him off of Alaine.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing!?"

The moment his hands unraveled from around her, and his weight had been removed, she quickly scrambled up onto her feet. She retreated a few paces, putting a significant amount of distance between her and the men. She was weaponless, and at a disadvantage.

The taller of the two—or Sam as the other had called him—offered her an apologetic smile. Holding her gun, he clicked the safety back on, then flipped it around and held it out for her to take.

"I think this belongs to you."

"Have you lost your mind?" snapped the man named Dean. "She'll kill us the second she gets that gun back."

"No she won't. She's not a threat, Dean."

"The hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet."

"Figured what? That she's friggin' nuts? Oh, yeah. I kinda got the impression of that already."

Sam fixed him an annoyed glare. "Just look at her, Dean. You know her. We know her."

Dean looked upon him in confusion. "What?"

Flickering his attention away from Sam, Dean turned to look at the woman before him. Granted she was hot—probably one of the hottest chicks he's ever seen—it eluded him how Sam's statement could even be true. With curves like that on a woman, Dean was sure he'd remember her. Without a doubt.

Looking back to Sam, he regarded him with a pointed look. "Listen, I don't know what you're trying to get at—"

"Dammit, Dean, just look!" Sam gestured to her with a wave of his hand. "Come on. After all these years, she hasn't even changed. Her face looks just the same as it did back then."

This prompted Alaine to stare at the men in wonder.

What the hell is going on? Did she know them somehow? No. No way. She'd never seen them before in her life. He had to be mistaking her for someone else. What was his name again? Sam? And the asshole that tried to kill her... His name was Dean...

Amidst the all the fighting and the yelling, she'd obviously missed it, but now that she thought of it, those names were familiar, almost too familiar. She flickered her attention between the both of them. She let her gaze roam their distinct yet similar features. She studied them closely, and found herself paying more attention to Dean-more than she should've.

When his eyes snapped over to her, she felt her body go numb. There was this hardness in his gaze, a look she was sure would send anyone running for the hills. Oddly enough, she didn't fear it. At least not anymore. What didn't click before now made absolute sense.

These two must be hunters.

Everything about them, from the way that they carry themselves to the expression etched across their faces, indicates towards that very thought.I t was a thing of gut instinct to be able to tell apart common folk from her own kind. It always came down to the eyes, the haunted, faraway look that says: I've seen it all.

And Dean surely had that look, more than any other hunter she'd ever met.

Finally, all of the jumbled-up puzzle pieces aligned.

Sam and Dean...

Her heart slammed against her chest. Slowly, her eyes widened with recognition as a rush of breath escaped her lungs.

"Hey, you okay over there?"

Dean had been watching her curiously. He saw the emotions flicker by in her eyes and furrowed his brow in thought.

"Dean?"

The way his name fell from her lips, as if she'd waited an eternity to speak it, triggered something inside of him. It was a feeling, followed by a powerful memory that surfaced from the depths of his subconscious.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, stepping forward. "It is you."

His mind had chosen that very moment to hurtle him back in time nineteen years to the summer of 1995.

It was the month of June. Both he and Sam had been staying at this rundown motel in Nevada while their dad hunted after a group of wendigos. The motel hadn't had any working a/c's, so most of their time had been spent suffering in the sweltering heat. On the bright side, the two brothers had been able to find a source of entertainment while John was out on the job.

It was another family of hunters. Coincidentally, the father of the two children Sam and Dean had befriended happened to have been chasing after the same monsters as John. The men had quickly agreed upon joining forces, and for the entire month of June both families stayed at the motel, all four children established an unbreakable bond.

One memory in particular stood out to Dean. It was one he hadn't dug up in years. He'd kept it locked away for the sake of saving himself from having to deal with the pain all over again. Against his will, the images of that fateful night surfaced inside of his head. He could see it all clearly. Once more, he'd been struck with the wave of emotions that had rocked him so long ago, but unlike before, he kept himself grounded, and held his feelings at bay.

As he looked at her, his gaze taking in every bit of detail, he found that he couldn't will his heart to stop beating so fast. From the long waves of her brown hair, to the glimmering of her whiskey colored eyes, the memory of her imprinted into his brain was just as different as it was the same.

She looked older, much older. The wear and tear of years had etched itself into the fine, delicate wrinkles underneath her eyes. Her skin still held that golden, olive tone. Everything else, like the soft angles defining her slender face, to the wide curves outlining her pear-shaped body, was all new to look at.

She wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't that sixteen-year-old girl he'd met all those years ago.

She was a woman now, beautiful and strong.

His gaze moved wildly along her face. He parted his lips to speak, his eyes growing wide with realization as a name—the one he used to call her by with so much love—surfaced on the tip of his tongue.

"Lainey?"

A fluttering sensation emerged from inside her chest. She released a soft sigh of relief, then slowly, she nodded her head as her lips quirked up into a gentle smile.

"Took you a while there, didn't it?"