Summary; Will a certain personal case show Sam, Dean's true colors? Will they be able to make good like they have so many times before? Or will taking this case not only in danger the girl, but put Dean's life in danger as well?

Authors Note; I'm re-doing this story, trying to make it better. Give me all the reviews you feel like leaving, more reviews, the quickier I write. In upcoming chapters you will notice some of the same stuff just being explained in a more detailed way. This story is rated T-M+ for voilence, language, and sexual content that will be burried out through this story.


"Myriah, get in the damn car!" A young man yelled, he was roughly built and even managed to look somewhat attractive when he was pissed off. "Come on!" His tough voice yelled again as a younger woman ran up beside him. She was tanned, with flowing brunette hair, and barely stood 5'5 next to a man who was 6'0.

Her chocolate brown eyes flickered as she turned around, disobeying what he was telling her to do, she looked at her house being engulfed in flames. For a second, the man stood still as they watched the last bit of the house burn up. Around this time, the woman's crying was becoming louder and clearer to hear.

Wrapping his arms around her, he forced her to turn to the car as he pulled the door open and sat her inside. She didn't fight him, either. Sitting down in the seat she heard him shut the door. As soon as he was out of her vision area, her eyes shot back to the fire which use to be her home.

The car engine started and the other door slammed shut. Before she could grasp it all, the car was driving down the road with hell-raising speeds. Within minutes she felt further from the house then she had since she bought it.

Her head leaned against the cold window, which seemed to numb the feeling even further. She hated pain, and didn't want it. But every human has to face it, sadly, this would not be the worst pain to come within the forty-eight hours.

An hour or so had to pass before The Man would actually say anything. Placing his hand on her knee he took his eyes off the road for a second and studied her. She was depressed, numb. It was easy to see with her voided look and the fact she hadn't even moved when he touched her. "My, it's going to be okay. It was just a house, at least you got out." He stated trying to be positive, trying to be upbeat. Which, was not like this man at all.

"You know what that was.." She said her eyes now meeting his, and with that his hand removed itself from her knee and replaced itself on the steering wheel, as well as his eyes had darted back to the road. "Tell me, damn it!" She said, or yelled.. he couldn't really be sure. She was starting to cry again, and her voice was cracking, but he was pretty sure with the force she had put behind it, it was meant to be a yell.

"Yeah-alright? It's not something you'll deal with, and it's not something that will come after you again. Just forget it." He was becoming himself again, he was starting to crawl back in the little shell that hid reality from this woman sitting beside him. He'd tried to protect her several times before, something about her called out to certain things like tonight.

He'd worked very hard for the past year to hide anything she might be able to find was supernatural from her. He'd protected her from the very world he knew very well, but the world she didn't belong in. How could he keep protecting her though? He knew damn good and well what that thing was, he knew it was there to kill her.

She was the one in danger, yet he was the one stressing out. Not that he ever minded stressing out for her, but since he'd first run into an attack on her he'd known she was pretty much Hell's Callingcard, and something wasn't right about it.

He looked over at her again, her head was leaning back on the window and her eyes were closed tightly. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. She was nearly perfect, at least in his eyes. On any normal day she was the nicest person he'd known. Something was changing in her though, and something was changing in his life. Tonight was going to be the last night together, for the protection of both of them.

Pulling into a small Inn after several hours of driving, he parked the car and got out. Followed shortly by her as they made their way inside. Dean had used every cent he had to make sure of several things; they had a room, they had food, and that Myriah's friend Mystery would pick her up in the morning.

In the mean time, he had to find away to leave her. Without causing her much more pain.

It was three o'clock in the morning when Dean woke up laying in bed next to her. Her hand and head laid gently on his chest, the other arm curled up underneath herself. Now was the time-

Slipping out from underneath her hand and her head, he made sure she was gently laid down in bed. Slipping on his jeans and shirt he set money down by the table, not much, but enough to make sure Mystery's bum-ass car made it back, if it happened to break down. Grabbing the rest of his things he started heading towards the door, but wasn't quick enough.

"Dean?" he heard her voice ask. "Uh-yeah." he said turning around to face her, which was probably one of the worst mistakes in his life. He knew what that meant, and he was correct about it. He could see confusion turn to pain quickly as she looked at the money and halfway realized what he was doing. He could almost feel her heart breaking, but almost isn't exact. Though, he could pinpoint the moment she became numb again. "You're leaving," was the only two words out of her mouth for several minutes, but those two words expressed it all.

Her anger, her pain, the numbness. He didn't mean to do that to her, but he had to leave her and he knew it. He was becoming too involved in a case, that's all she needed to be was a case. Nothing more, nothing should have happened like it did. It was a mistake-everything that had happened between them was a mistake.

He watched her fingers pick up the money and she studied it, as if a note would be on them. A small, horrid laugh came from the back of her throat. He knew that laugh, he'd heard it before. This is where she'd start thinking of how much of an idiot she was to think someone like him could actually care for him. This is where her numbness would turn to anger, not only with him, but with herself.

"Am I your whore or something now?" She asked in a monotone voice as her eyes met his. "No-it's for Mystery, she's coming to get you in the morning, I wanted to make sure you had money incase her car broke down." Something he thought was nice, but he wasn't exactly using his full brain when he said that. "You mean, you planned this? You planned to leav-"

She just stopped. Her head was shaking back a forth, she didn't want to talk anymore. She didn't want him there anymore. So she let him start walking towards the door, of course, an idiot like him wouldn't know when he was a head and when he wasn't. He turned around as he opened the door. "Don't be so hurt, My. You were the-"

A sudden whip of air hit Dean's chest as he shot up in the bed. Letting out a loud groan he laid back down. He hated that dream, no he loathed that dream. That was the dream that haunted him ever since the night it fucking happened, and he was ready to forget it. Looking over at Sam who was sleeping sound, for once. He envied him. It seemed one night he wouldn't sleep so hot, then the next night Dean wouldn't.

For some reason that moment in his history kept reanimating itself in his dreams, only thing was, it was becoming more frequent. When it use to only happen one night a month, it was now happening two or three times a week. He couldn't take it.

His body was weak, and it needed the damn sleep that dream was keeping it from. Letting his eyes drift closed, he protested in his mind hopping this time the dream wouldn't plaque it.