Author Notes: Alright. I posted this story a while back. But I took it off for really no good reason, other than I can never make up my mind. Anyway, here's the first chapter again. There's a couple very minor changes, but it's all pretty much the same. I promise to leave this story it alone this time.

Follow me at andie-winchester dot tumblr com (link on my profile page) for a blog specifically about Andie and this story. There, you will find out about updates, future characters, and how I picture the characters looking. (I use Willa Holland as the face claim for Andie).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural nor any of the characters, plot lines, dialogue, or other materials which can be found within the show.

Where These Roads Lead

Chapter One / / The Woman in White

Andie jolted awake from another night of restless sleep as she was shook awake by her older brother, Dean. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes, and slowly became conscious of her surroundings. Dean was pacing back and forth in the small motel room, frantically packing around her, and whispering something about how they needed to go.

"What's going on?"

Dean reached behind to the other bed, grabbing a hand-held sound recorder out from the top of his duffel bag and handed it to her. She took it, no questions asked, and pressed play. The familiar voice of their father spoke, buried well behind static. "Dean...something big is happening...I need to try to figure out what's going on. It may...Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."

"And after some work, I got this." Dean leaned over and hit another button on the recording device. This time, over their father's, was a woman's echoing voice, "I can never go home."

"What the hell?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but Dad's in trouble."

"We're going to Jericho." Andie stated, then sprung from the bed, walking over to the corner of the room where her duffel bag sat.

"But first, we've got to make a pit stop."

"Okay. Where?"

"No way."

"Oh, come on, Andie." Dean gave her a nudge. "He's our brother."

"Yeah, and I would love for him to join us again, for us to go find Dad, and become this great, wonderful, big happy family, but I think we both know that's never gonna happen with Sam's stubbornness and Dad's temper.

"It's at least worth a shot to talk to Sam."

"Fine, but when he rejects you, don't come crying to me," she half-heartedly joked. "Do you even know which one is Sam's?"

"Of course I do!" Dean answered, sounding slightly offended that she would even doubt him. With one last look into the opened Chevy Impala door, Dean said, "I'll be right back. Watch the car!"

It was Halloween, never a big holiday for the Winchesters, but to drunk college students, it was all the rage with parties, egging houses and cars. And because they sat behind an apartment building near Stanford University's campus, Dean was all worried that some drunk and/or high idiots would hurt his baby, which left Andie on car-sitting duty. The rule was if someone touches, hits, even looksat the car, shoot them. She thought it was a bit extreme, but the black 1967 car had been in the Winchester family for awhile now. It had been originally their father's, before he passed it on to Dean as a present for his eighteenth birthday.

Andie looked around for her brother, but he was long gone, and on his way to retrieve Sam. She loved Sam, he was her twin brother and all, but she didn't necessarily see why they needed him so bad for this hunt. If Dad was there, then there should be no reason why the three of them wouldn't be able to handle it. Though Dean would never admit to it, Andie knew him well enough and through enough indirect remarks, she suspected that maybe he was just desperate to have what he once experienced during the first four years of his life, a white-picket fence family, the apple pie life, they called it. Something neither Andie nor Sam had been able to have for themselves since they were both only six months old when their mother died in the nursery fire. That same night, John Winchester became a man that overworked his children, trained them to be soldiers, and was never much of a father to either of them. He was rarely around, always leaving Dean in charge of the twins. They lived out of motel rooms or abandoned houses, and they were constantly on the move, causing them to always be the weird new kids. Their only source of income came from their father's nightly gambles at bars, making it all off poker games and pool. Sam had hated the way they lived, and successfully left. After trying ridiculously hard in the million and one schools they attended, Sam received a full scholarship to Stanford, which should be a parent's proudest moment. Not in their messed-up household. Dad was furious. Him and Sam got into one of their infamous fights that consisted of screaming, breaking a plate to a nose, and getting kicked out of motel rooms. But their last fight had ended with, "If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back!" And so went Sam. All because Dad wanted revenge on the monster that killed his wife.

To cope with her death and his mistakes (which there was a lot), John turned to alcohol. Sometimes there were days when he got rougher than usual with his children, and would pull harder on their tiny arms, scream at them a little louder, and it was always over the tiniest things, like accidentally spilling the milk at dinner. Andie suspected that in two days her father would be returning to some of his old habits as November 2nd quickly approached them. The day Mary Winchester died. The day the lives of the Winchesters were changed forever.

Andie's attention changed focus once she saw Dean emerge from a back door, followed surprisingly by Sam. Even through the closed car windows, she could still hear Sam's complaints, "The weapon training, and melting silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors"

"So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that right?" Dean asked, leading the way towards the car's back. Andie stepped out of the car, and met her brothers at the trunk.

"No, not normal, safe," Sam corrected.

"And that's why you ran away." Dean scoffed as he glanced away from his brother, silently letting his anger grow. Sam had no idea how bad his leaving had affected them all. There had been one night, only days after Sam had left, Dad had gone out to some bar, and Dean, who was still angry to even look at him, stayed behind with Andie. The two had stolen various types of alcohol from the local liquor store, and they downed as much as they could until they passed out. It only made Dean more angry when both of them spent the next day hungover. He was furious that they would ever come to such a low point over just another Sam and John argument. Except, this one wasn't like any of the others. It was the final one that broke their family apart.

"I was just going to college," Sam stated. "It was Dad who said if I was going, to stay gone, and that's what I'm doing."

Andie frowned. That doesn't mean avoid your family for four years, dipshit.

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it."

Sam stared at his brother, then his sister. Both were obviously worried about Dad, and it made him feel guilty inside to know he didn't share the same feelings. Not as strong as they did at least.

Dean then added, "We can't do this alone."

"Yes, you can." Sam knew, like Andie, that his help wasn't needed. He had been gone for four years, and here they were before his eyes, still standing.

Dean looked down. "Yeah, well, we don't want to."

Sam sighed at that. He glanced over at Andie, who was being unusually quiet. She stared at him as well, waiting for his answer as so did Dean. He thought long and hard, before finally, he said, "What was he hunting?"

With a new feeling of satisfaction, Dean propped up the trunk of the Impala. "No one gave you trouble, Andie, did they?"

"Nope. Didn't even need to show off the shotgun."

"Awesome," Dean replied. He dug around through the cluttered trunk, full of various weaponry from a pistol to an arsenal. "Alright, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?"

"In the back, underneath the silver bullets," Andie responded.

"Thanks."

"So when Dad left, why didn't you guys go with him?" Sam asked.

"We were working our own gig," Dean explained. "This, uh, voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?"

"I'm twenty-six, dude," Dean said, shooting Sam a look. He then nodded towards Andie. "And she's twenty-two."

"We can survive quite well on our own. You'd be surprised," she added in sarcastically.

"Alright, here we go," Dean said, moving on. "So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop from outside Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," he handed one of the printed news articles from The Jericho Heraldto Sam. The one about Andrew Casey, the most recent guy to disappear. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely M-I-A."

"So, maybe he was kidnapped." Andie scoffed at that. Sam shot her an annoyed look in return.

Dean seemed to agree with his sister. "Yeah, well, here's one in April. Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two," Dean listed, each accompanied by another article from the same newspaper. "Ten of them over the past twenty years. All men. All the same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more, and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since then, which is bad enough. Then I get this voicemail yesterday." Dean held up the black tape player, and let Sam listen to the message he had previously played for Andie.

Once John's voice stopped, Sam asked, "You know, there's EVP on that?"

"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean grinned, but Sam shook his head. "Alright, I slowed down the message, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He played the edited message of the mystery woman, "I can never go home."

"Never go home," Sam echoed.

Dean slammed the trunk back down. "You know, in almost two years, we've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."

Sam sighed, split between his choices, but then he said, "Alright, I'll go. I'll help you find him. But I have to go back first thing Monday. Just wait here." He turned to leave, but Dean stopped him, "What's first thing Monday?"

"I have this...I have an interview."

"What, a job interview? Skip it," Dean suggested.

"It's a law school interview," Sam explained, "and it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?"

"So, we got a deal or not?"

When Dean said nothing, Andie answered, shooting her silent brother a look, "Deal."

Sam sighed happily as he flopped on to the bed, his eyes peacefully closed. A drop of blood fell on to his forehead, and he flinched in response. Another drop fell, and then an another. Confused at the warm feeling, Sam opened his eyes, and gasped out.

A blonde, curly-haired girl was pressed against the ceiling. The front of her shirt was covered in blood and she was a pale, purplish color, staring down at Sam.

"No!" he cried out.

A fire suddenly broke out. Flames first overcame the blonde's body, before it took over the rest of the ceiling and the walls of the room, then consumed the furniture, the desk, the bookcase. Pieces of the ceiling were falling. Sam was completely surrounded by the burning down room. He instinctively brought an arm over his face. "Jess!"

Andie's eyes shot open. Her breathing was short and rapid, as she panted. She took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that she had only been dreaming again. She laid in the backseat of the Impala, resting on her stomach with her head against her rolled up jacket. Every time she closed her eyes she witnessed Jess's burning body and Sam's screams. For a week the nightmare had been haunting her following her to every new motel room or overnight in the car.

With a prickling feeling in her arm, Andie moved so she was laying on her side, propped up on her non-numb arm's elbow. Examining around, she noticed that they were parked beside some small, cheap gas station through the backseat window. Dean wasn't present in the car, but Sam still was. She was half in, half out of the car with his door wide open. He had a cardboard box in his lap, which Andie immediately recognized. It was Dean's cassette tape collection.

Thinking back on her dream, Andie frowned. Jess pinned on to the ceiling above Sam, bleeding from a slash in her stomach, and then a fire with no warning, no identifiable cause. It was almost—it was identical to the way the stories she had heard of her mother's death had always gone. Of course, her father never wanted to speak much about it, so who knows how much of the story she really got.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hm?" Sam hummed, shooting half a glance towards his sister.

"You wouldn't happen to know a Jess, would you?" It was a dumb question. Why would he? It was only a dream. But the feeling she received from the nightmare made her wonder if it was something more.

Sam again looked back at her, but instead continued to focus on Andie. "Y-yeah, that's the name of my girlfriend."

Girlfriend? "Did you happen to mention her, uh, ever?"

He shook his head, confound. "I didn't think so, but I must of." But that was a long shot. Sam hadn't spoken to her, nor Dean since the day he had left for Stanford.

Sam and Andie were still watching each other, when they heard Dean call from outside, something along the lines of , "You want breakfast?"

Andie was the first to break away from their gaze, with Sam shortly following, turning towards Dean as he approached. "No thanks." Sam continued to glance over the tapes, as Dean filled the Impala's gas tank. "So, how'd you pay for that stuff? You guys still running credit card scams?"

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean told him. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."

"And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, swinging himself back into the car, and shutting his door, as Dean headed towards the driver's seat.

"Uh, Burt Aframain, and his two children, Hector and Eileen. Scored two cards out of the deal." Dean knocked on the backseat window. "You awake, Andie?"

She grudgingly sat up. "Yep. You get anything good?"

"Chips and Lifesavers."

She grimaced. "Pass."

"I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection," Sam said to Dean, staring into the cardboard box.

"Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two, Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" As Sam named each band, he held up the correlating tape. "It's the greatest hits of the mullet rock."

"I just finally house-trained Andie, and it looks like I've gotta teach you too." Dean snatched the Metallica one out of his brother's hand. "House rules, Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?"

Dean cranked the radio, and shouted over the song, "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!"

Sam glanced back at Andie, who offered him an innocent shrug, a small smile playing on her face. He turned back towards the front, and huffed.

"Thank you," Sam spoke into his cell, before hanging up and placing his phone back into his coat pocket. He turned towards his siblings. "There's no one matching Dad at the hospital or the morgue. So that's something."

Dean was only half-listening to Sam, as he caught sight of the scene ahead of them. He slowed down, nearing a closed-off bridge, complete with cops. Bingo. "Check it out."

Sam and Andie both leaned forward.

Dean parked just before the bridge, then reached into the glove department, revealing various types of fake badges. He smirked at Sam, who was staring at him in horror. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dean passed a badge back to Andie, then stuffed one against Sam's chest, plus grabbing one for himself. "Let's go."

Dean lead the way towards a couple of police officers, who stood by a car in the middle of the bridge. He and Andie stood tall, as they made their way over, searching around and making it look believable as they actually belonged there. Sam, however, walked behind, awkwardly following, clearly not impressed with his siblings' tactics.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked, unapologetically breaking into the two cops' talk.

One of the officers turned around. "And who are you?"

Dean and Andie flashed their badges, simultaneously. They had much practice. "Federal marshals," Dean answered, before taking a look-see at the car.

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"

Andie smiled. "You're sweet." She joined Dean's side. "You had another just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," the officer agreed. "About a mile up the road. There have been others before that."

"So this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked.

The man nodded. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Dean circled around the car. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?"

"No. Not that we can tell."

"So, what's the theory?" Sam interrogated, moving to the other side of Dean.

"Honestly, we don't know" the officer answered. "Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." In response, Sam and Andie concurrently both stomped on each one of Dean's feet as code for: shut the hell up.

"Thank you for your time," Sam, embarrassed by his brother's behavior, forced a smile at a the officer, before briskly walking away.

Dean first smacked Andie in the back of the head, then Sam.

"Ow!" Andie cried. "Douche!"

Sam rubbed the spot. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean retorted.

"Why do you have to talk to police like that?"

"Come on," Dean started, "They don't know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

After speaking with the most recent victim's girlfriend, and researching at the local library, the Winchesters learned about the local legend of Constance Welch. The lore said she took a fall off of the same bridge where the accidents had been happening. They then decided that they would head back to the very spot at nightfall, when all the police officers would be gone.

Dean leaned over the edge of the railing, spotting a river down below. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive?"

"You think Dad would have been here?" Sam asked.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him." Dean stated, walking away from the edge of the bridge.

"So now what?" Andie asked. She stood beside Sam, as the two slowly followed Dean.

"Now we keep digging until we find him," Dean explained. "Might take awhile."

Sam stopped. "Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday."

"Monday, right. The interview," Dean recalled, turning around to face Sam. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

"Maybe. Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

Andie sighed. "Dean—"

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy," Dean commented sarcastically. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are." He pivoted away from his siblings, and continued the other way.

"And who's that?" Sam called after him.

"You're one of us."

Sam ran in front of Dean, stopping him. "No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility to—"

"To Dad and his crusade?" Sam asked, baffled. He couldn't believe Dean. Him and his constant loyalty to Dad. Why couldn't he see Dad for who he really was? "If it weren't for pictures, I—Andie and I, we wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference does it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she's not coming back." Now, that was crossing the line.

Andie's eyes widened at her brother's ruthless talk. She nervously glanced over at Dean, waiting for him to react, and she thought maybe for a second, just a second, that Dean was going to let it slide, but then he lunged at Sam, gripping the collar of his shirt, and slammed him against the side of the bridge, proving Andie wrong. "Don't you ever talk about her like that," Dean said through gritted teeth. He dropped Sam, and turned away, his anger fuming, until he spotted a pale, young woman dressed in white, standing on the ledge of bridge. It was no one other than the spirit of Constance Welch. "Sam, Andie."

The twins turned their heads towards the direction where Dean was looking. The ghost glanced the Winchesters' way, then jumped. They bolted over to the spot where Constance had fallen.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked, scanning over the river below.

"I don't know," Sam answered.

Constance was gone. The three siblings knew she couldn't have just disappeared. They knew better than that, but they were still surprised when they heard the familiar soft roar of a car starting behind them. They spun around, and caught the flicker of the Impala's headlights.

Puzzled, Sam asked his brother, "Who's driving you car?"

Dean pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket. They jiggled slightly in the wind, signaling to Andie, who hadn't bothered to look towards her brother's hand, that indeed, the car was possessed.

The black Chevy was set into drive, and started for the three of them. They ran, until they could no longer outrun the car, and took a jump over the bridge's railing, their seemingly only option. But Andie wasn't ready to let herself to take a dive into the mucky waters below, so before she could fall, she took a chance, and grabbed on to the bottom of the railing bars. She opened her eyes, and beside her was her twin, but where was Dean?

Andie and Sam called out their brother's name. Within seconds, he resurfaced on to the shore, crawling, covered from head to toe in mud. "What!"

"Are you alright?" Sam asked.

Dean held up the universal hand gesture for okay. "Super!"

Sam lifted himself back on to the solid ground of the bridge, and held out his hand for Andie, but she pridefully avoided it, easily raising herself all on her own. The two glanced back over at the ground, and couldn't help but at least smile when they saw their grumpy, older brother making his way back on to the bridge. Dean scowled at them once he was close enough for it to be visible. He moved around them and over to his car, opening the hood, and checking for possible damage the spirit could have caused.

"Your car working alright?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now." Dean shut the hood, then leaned against it as he exclaimed out, "That Constance chick, what a bitch!"

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam stated. "So, where's the job go from here, genius?" He sat beside Dean, who threw his hands up in frustration, flicking some of the mud off. Sam scrunched his nose, then looked over at his brother. "You smell like a toilet."

Dean grimaced. He held out his arms wide to Sam, as if to give a hug. Sam stepped back, nervously shaking his head, "Don't you dare." Then, without warning, Dean spun, and wrapped his arms around Andie, a smug smile on his face.

"I hate you!" she squealed. She attempted to push him off, but he wouldn't budge. After several moments, Dean finally let go, leaving a presence of mud on Andie's jacket and jeans.

Sam was the one laughing now. That was until Andie swiped her hands on the back of Dean's leather jacket, and rubbed it all over the front of Sam's shirt. He raised his eyebrows, obviously not impressed. "Really?"

But Andie was impressed with herself, and it showed as she smiled. "Really."

"One room please." Dean threw his credit card down on to the motel desk.

The old man behind the counter examined each Winchester skeptically, glancing them up and down, especially the oldest who had the worst of mud on him. He looked down at the name on Dean's card. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframain," he explained. "He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

"Well, yeah, we are," Andie lied, "What room did you say Burt is staying in?"

"I didn't." The guy was suspicious, debating on if these guys were real or not. Then again, Burt had been a big creep himself. Right up front, demanding no room service be done to his room. Over the course of the motel owner's life, he knew that meant nothing but good, but yet he never went against the person's wishes. Dean, figuring the guy's feelings, added casually, as if he was only speaking to his siblings, with a small chuckle, "Uncle Burt got here fast. Didn't expect him until Monday."

That was enough for the owner, who lacked empathy to start with. "He's in room twelve." He glanced down at the guest book. "There's a room beside him. Room eleven, with two queens?"

Two queens meant that someone was on the couch, or two would have to fit into one bed. When they were children, commonly Sam and Andie would share a bed, and this went on til they were about fifteen, until they simply became too big to continue to doing so, and John started getting two rooms. But even after, when the Winchesters were low on money, and could only afford one room, sometimes the twins still shared a bed, or one took to the floor. However, now, ignoring the fact that they were both much bigger now, Andie didn't feel real conformable with that. She had know Sam her whole life, even before, but at the same time, after these four, estranged years, she almost felt like she didn't. Not well at least. However, Andie didn't object, and even told the old man that it "sounds perfect", as she snatched the key from the his hand.

Back into the daylight, they walked down the sidewalk beside the motel doors, passing straight past room eleven, and right for twelve. Sam gave one quiet knock, the Winchesters' secret knock, to the door. But nobody came to the door. He jiggled the knob, but it was locked. He nodded towards his brother and sister, who immediately took the position of look-out as he knelt down to pick the door's lock. Once it clicked open, Sam and Andie entered, but Dean had seemed to miss the memo, and continued to stare out into the mostly empty parking lot. Sam rolled his eyes, and grabbed the back of Dean's jacket, yanking him in.

Inside, the three observed the ghost town-like motel room. The walls were covered in news stories, many from the newspaper Dean had collected his articles from. Salt lines were across the floor, sitting in front of the doors and windows. There was even a half-eaten burger on the table. "I don't think he's been here for a few days at least," Dean said, giving the rotting sandwich a sniff.

Andie shot him a look of pure disgust.

"What?"

"Why'd you have to sniff it?"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, "there's salt, cat-eye shells." He ran his fingers across the line of salt beside the door. "He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Dean placed down the burger, and walked over to one of the covered walls.

"What have you got there?" Sam asked, meeting his brother.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean answered. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

"You mean, other than the fact that they were stupid enough to pick up some random woman hitchhiking in the middle of the night? Dunno." Andie offered a shrug, as she walked towards her oldest brother, the sarcasm dripping off her words.

Sam, who had moved to the other side of the room, spoke up, "Dad figured it out."

Dean, along with Andie, glanced back. "What do you mean?"

"He found the same article we did," he explained. "Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

Dean stared at the pictures of Constance's victims hanging on the walls. "You sly dogs." He turned away, and looked back at his siblings. "Alright, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness," Sam offered.

"Well, Dad would want to make sure." He crossed across the room, and stood beside Sam. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell," Sam said, "If I were Dad though, I'd go ask her husband." He tapped the picture of a man titled as Joesph Welch. "If he's still alive."

"Alright," Dean agreed. "Why don't you two, uh, see if you can find an address. I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

He started to walk away, but Sam stopped him, "Hey Dean?"

Dean turned.

"What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry."

The oldest Winchester held up a hand. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam laughed, and nodded. "Alright. Jerk."

"Bitch."

Andie rolled her eyes, playfully. "Idiots."

Sam let out another laugh, as Dean disappeared through the bathroom door. His smile faded, as his eye caught something on the mirror that sat above the dresser. Hanging over the one of the mirror's corners was rosary, but that wasn't what gained his attention. That was normal. Below the cross, was a picture pressed against the glass. He picked it up for a closer view, and couldn't help but smile sadly at what his eyes perceived. Sitting on the Chevy Impala, all in their winter gear, was the Winchester family. John sat in the middle, with a young Dean at his side. In his lap, were an even younger Sam and Andie. In the small Polaroid, they didn't look so bad, like an actual, normal family. Too bad that wasn't the case.

Bored out of her mind, Andie laid on one of the beds, her stomach pressed against the sheets as she stared at the television. A local news anchor reported on the subject of the recent missing men, saying nothing good, only the fact that they were still missing. Andie frowned, grimly.

The weight of the bed shifted, and Andie shot a quick glance to the side as Sam sat down beside her. His phone was pressed to his ear, as he listened attentively.

Dean entered the room from the bathroom, much cleaner than he had been the night before. He crossed the room, and grabbed his jacket from off of a chair, shrugging it on. "Hey, I'm starving. I'm gonna go grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You guys want anything?"

"No," Sam answered.

"Aframian's buying," Dean added in, as if it was a deal-breaker, but Sam still shook his head.

"Well, I'll come." Andie shut the TV off, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and picked up her jacket from off of the floor. "This place is so depressing."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well, for one thing, Dad's not even here," she explained. "He's gone, missing, just like everyone else in this damn town."

He shook his head, not pleased and disagreeing with what his sister was saying. "Andie—"

"Oh come on, Dean, like it hasn't crossed your mind!"

"Dad's missing, so what?" Dean stated, with his normal care-free attitude. "That means nothing."

"It's just a big coincidence then, huh?" Andie crossed her arms and stared at her brother. They stood in silence for several moments. Dean obviously did not want to speak on the matter, but Andie felt it was a necessity, or they had to at least realize what all the possibilities were. "What about the voicemail? The I can never go home thing? That's nothing too? You said yourself you thought Dad was in trouble."

Dean let out a laugh. "Well, that's before I realized just what we were really dealing with. A woman in white, that's nothing." Dad was fine. He had been hunting for too many years, and doing it solo too, to let a little spirit be the one to bring him down. But it was a worry to Andie, so he added, "Dad's probably off, drinking, maybe even passed out at a bar. It wouldn't be the first time."

"He doesn't drink on the job," Andie reminded him, but she seemed to accept it, as she no longer brought the subject up. She rubbed the toe of her boot against the stained carpeted floor, before looking only partially the way up at Dean, as she asked, "Ready to go?"

Sam was watching his siblings, still only paying little attention, as most of it was devoted to his cell phone, but his interest had sparked towards his siblings during the course of their conversation. Dean caught Sam staring, and asked a hard, yet accidentally harsh, "What?" Sam shrugged in response, turning away from his brother.

Dean waited by the door, as Andie shot a "see ya later" to Sam, who only gave her a nod in acknowledgment. He lead the way to the Impala, but was stopped short. Only a few feet away, the motel owner was speaking to the two cops from the bridge, and was pointing at them. Before Andie could even comprehend her own thoughts, Dean had his phone whipped out, and Sam on the other end. "Dude, five-oh, take off."

Andie nervously glanced from Dean to the officers, who were now approaching. She sent a death glare towards the owner, who was heading back towards the motel. She looked back at her oldest brother, who still had the phone pressed to his ear. "Uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad." He placed the cell phone back into his coat jacket, before smiling up at the two men. "Problem, officers?"

"Where's your partner?" one asked.

"Partner?" Dean repeated. "She's right here."

The man pointed towards the motel room, and the other officer obeyed. "You had another partner."

Andie shook her head. "No, just us two. Three U.S. Marshals? That seems like a lot for a case like this."

"So, fake U.S. Marshals, fake credit cards," he listed. "You got anything that's real?"

Dean grinned. "My boobs."

The second officer had returned from the motel room, with no Sam, so that was something, but after Dean's little remark, the officer slammed Andie against the side of the cop car. "Ow, watch it!" she complained, her wrist pinched as he handcuffed her.

"You have the right to remain silent..." the first officer started.

Andie glared at Dean, who was in the exact same position. "Real smooth, dumbass."

"So, you want to give us your real name?" Sheriff Pierce entered the room once again, but this time with a box present in his hands, which he set down on the table in front of Dean and Andie.

"I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent. And she's Rusty Day."

"You do realize Rusty Day was a man right?" the sheriff asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. "I'm not sure you two realize how much trouble you're in here."

"We talking, like misdemeanor kind of trouble, or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean asked.

Andie rolled her eyes. "You'll have to excuse my brother, he think he's funny."

"'Cause I am," Dean defended himself.

However, the sheriff wasn't in the mood for any of their banter, and ignored it, continuing on with the interrogation, "You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You two are officially suspects."

"That makes sense," Dean stated, sarcastically. "Because when the first one went missing in '82, I was three, and she wasn't even born!"

But Sheriff Pierce still continued on. "I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So, tell me, Dean." He tossed a brown, bounded, leather-journal on to the table."This is?"

Both of the Winchesters stared at it. Dad's Journal.

The sheriff started to flip through it. "I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. With little I could make out—I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy! But, I found this too." He opened to a page, which in Dad's familiar hand-writing, Dean 35-111, was written across. "Now, you're staying right here 'til you tell me exactly what the hell that means." He glanced over at Andie, with a sickly, mocking smile. "And what your name is, sweetheart."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing, it's not sweetheart."

Ignoring Andie, Sheriff Pierce turned back to her brother. "So?"

"It's an old locker combo," Dean lied.

The sheriff raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

"Something that normal would be in there," he directed towards the journal, "with the Satanic crap?"

"How do you even know it's Satanic?" Andie asked, leaning slightly forward. "Only another Satanic worshiper would know that."

"Are you confirming?"

"No, just simply stating."

"I don't think you two realize how serious this really is," Oh like hell, they didn't. "You're treating this as if it's some big joke. This is murder. We're looking at up to a lifetime in prison."

Andie let out an ill-humored laugh. "You're the joke! People are dying, but you have us locked in here, when we actually have an idea of what we're doing! Unlike you, morons!"

"Hey!" Dean interrupted. "You stomped on my foot yesterday for saying the same kind of crap!"

Andie glared at Sheriff Pierce, who's back was turned to the Winchesters. He flipped through a couple files, and said, as if neither Dean nor Andie had spoken, "With you in here, nobody else should be dying."

"Oh, that's rich!"

Pierce swung around, slamming his hands down on to the table, his face inches away from Andie's. "Listen here, missy!"

She leaned forward, staring the sheriff down. "My name ain't Missy either!"

Fed up with the youngest Winchester, Sheriff Pierce spun around, so he was facing Dean, and jabbed the number written in the journal with his pointer finger. "What is this?!"

"I don't know how many times I gotta tell you. It's my old high school locker combo," he answered, innocently.

"We gonna do this all night long?"

An officer stuck his head into the room. "We just got a 911, shots fired over Whiteford Road."

The sheriff turned to the Winchesters. "Either of you have to go to the bathroom?"

"No," Dean said, and Andie shook her head.

"Good." He took out two pairs of handcuffs, and slapped one cuff over each a Winchesters' wrist, connecting the other side to the table. Once he was out of sight, Dean spotted a paper clip in Dad's journal and began twisting one end of of the paper clip into his handcuff, moving it back and forth until he heard the sweet-sounding click of it unlocking. He handed the paper clip to his sister, who completed the same task as Dean.

Dean moved to beside the door, peeking into the rest of the police station to see the officers frantically running around. "Grab the journal," he instructed.

Andie did as she was told, and joined Dean at his side, but he stopped her, manually flipping her around, and gave her a gentle shove. "Out the window!" She ran towards the window and yanked it open. The two climbed through, and down a nearby pole. They stopped at the end, and quickly, yet thoroughly glanced around, making sure none of the officers were watching, then they bolted. Andie had no idea where she was going, and she figured Dean didn't have a better clue either.

Dean then grabbed on to Andie's jacket, and jerked her into the direction of a phone booth around the corner. "C'mon!" He stepped in, Andie following, and placed change from his pockets into the slot, and dialed a number, which Andie recognized to be Sam's. Dean held the phone to his ear, and Andie pressed her phone besides Dean, so she could hear.

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal," Dean said into the phone.

"I bet law school wouldn't be very happy with you," Andie added.

"You're welcome." The grin on Sam's face could be heard through the payphone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean told his brother.

"Tell me about it," he agreed. "So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's why I'm trying to tell you." Dean explained, "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal." Dean glanced at Andie, making sure the book was still with them, and hadn't been lost in their hectic escape. At the mention of the journal, Andie unconsciously tightened her grip around the leather-binds.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam stated.

'Yeah, well, he did this time."

"What's it say?"

"Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam understood. "Where to?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?" Then, through the phone, Dean and Andie both heard a muffled bang. For moments after, all they heard was silence, until the next words, from a woman's voice. Words that sent both Dean and Andie into full-blown panic.

"Take me home."

Andie stared at her oldest brother, waiting for him to tell her what to do, but he didn't give any instructions. Instead, Dean sprinted away from the phone booth, and over to a back parking lot. He picked a car, one he knew would be easy to break into, and hot wire, which he did. Andie, who had followed Dean, running behind, now stood next to car, every other second or so, checking for any sign of humanity to bust them for their unlawful acts.

The car roared to life, and Andie immediately felt relieve wash over her. She rushed into the passenger side of the car, and Dean took off before she could even get the door shut.

Speeding down the roads, Dean ran through almost every stoplight and stop sign that he could without creating a collision, knowing that getting into a car accident wouldn't help any of them. Next to him, Andie anxiously bounced in her seat, distracting Dean endlessly. After several minutes of her fidgeting as if she was a little kid that needed to pee, Dean snapped, "Stop that!" She instantly fell still.

Within record time, Dean pulled up to the address Sam and Andie that found the previous night. As soon as the stolen car came to a full stop, he jumped out of the car, along with Andie. They approached the Chevy Impala that was in front of a beat-down house, guns blazing. They each took a side, and began shooting, shattering the windows into bits.

Constance's spirit flickered, and Sam weakly sat up, so he could set the car into drive. "I'm taking you home." Sam stomped on the gas, and the car went flying through the front wall, the house collapsing around him.

Dean and Andie ran towards the mess, calling out Sam's name. By the car's side, Dean asked, "You okay?"

"I think," Sam answered.

"Can you move?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Help me?"

Dean leaned through the window to give Sam a hand. Andie, who stood a foot behind Dean, still had her gun raised at Constance, who held a picture frame in her hands. Once both Dean and Sam were standing beside Andie, and away from the car, Constance stared up at the three Winchesters. A bureau came flying across the room and slammed the three Winchesters against the side of the car. They grunted out in pain as lights flickered and two voices from the top of the stairs spoke in unison, "You've come home to us, Mommy."

Constance looked at them, terrified. Suddenly, the two children were behind her. They embraced her tightly, and Constance screamed, as the three spirits melted into a puddle on the floor, disappearing for good.

Dean glanced at his siblings, and then they each gave the bureau a shove. It fell on to the floor, freeing them from the grip. Stepping towards where the ghosts has disappeared, where there was a small puddle, Dean said, "So, this is where she drowned her kids."

"That's why she could never go home," Sam said. "She was too scared to face them."

"You found her weak spot. Nice job, Sammy," he congratulated, patting Sam on the chest.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you two. What were you two thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freaks?"

"Hey, we saved your ass, didn't we?" Andie pointed out.

Her twin nodded. "Yeah, you did. Thanks for that."

"I'll tell you another thing," Dean told him, rotating around the Impala, as he examined every minuscule bit of it. "If you screwed up my car, I'll kill you!"

Sunday night. It was literally hours before Sam had his interview. The Winchesters were back in the car. No major damage had been done, except the two front windows were blown into bits, and it needed a paint job. Dean was driving, of course. Sam sat next to him, looking at a map for the coordinates Dad had provided. In the back, was Andie, staring at Sam's cell phone screen wallpaper, a picture of him and Jessica. But most importantly, Jessica. It was the girl. The exact same girl. No doubt about it. Andie, letting the realization hit her that Sam was heading back to Stanford, back to Jessica, she was worried. Especially since realizing only about twenty minutes ago, Sam was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing in her dream. This dream was her first to pay any attention to clothing. Not even when conscious did she pay attention to one's outfit, so Andie had asked to see a picture of Jessica, and Sam handed her his phone.

"Are you sure I've never met her?" Andie asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Do you want to meet her?"

"Nah, it's fine."

Sam looked back down at the map. "Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean nodded. "Sounds charming. How far?"

"About six hundred miles," he answered.

"Hey, if we shag ass, we could make it by morning."

Sam looked at him. "Dean, I—"

"You're not going," he said, coldly and lifelessly.

"The interview's in like ten hours. I gotta be there."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Andie wrapped her arms around the back of Dean and Sam's seats, pulling herself forward. "It's okay, Sammy, we understand." She shot a forced a smile at Dean, who rolled his eyes, and reluctantly said, "I'll take you home."

Within an hour, they were back on Stanford's campus. This time, however, Dean parked in front of Sam's apartment building, rather than behind. Sam got out of the car, then leaned through the window. "Call me if you find him?"

"Yeah, of course," Andie responded.

"And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" he offered.

"Yeah, alright," Dean said, still sour. He watched Sam start to leave, but then stopped him with a "Sam?" When his brother had turned back around, Dean continued, "You know, we, the three of us, made a hell of a team back there."

"Yeah."

Andie crawled over the front seat, and plopped herself down into spot where Sam had just been sitting. She looked at her twin brother, and hesitated as she said, "Bye Sam."

Dean glanced once more at Sam, before driving off and leaving Sam alone in the darkness. Andie watched Sam for as long as she could until he became out of view. She looked back towards the font, suddenly feeling overly anxious.

"You okay?" Dean asked, shooting her a quick glance.

"I have a really bad feeling."

"What kind of bad feeling?"

"I don't know. I-I just do," she told him. "Maybe we should stay, just the night."

"Stay the night?" he raised his eyebrows, then smiled teasingly at his little sister. "Are you missing Sam already?"

"No, I just—" Andie started, but she was cut off by the radio as it turned to static.

Dean frowned, as he tried to change the station, but each one was the same. He glanced down at his watch. It had stopped, none of the tiny clock's hands moving.

"Dean, what is it?" she asked.

"You're right." He made a fast and balancing on the line between legal and illegal U-turns, and sped back towards the direction of the apartment building.

The two Winchesters darted out of the car and up the stairs, Dean leading to Sam's apartment building door. His hand was on the doorknob, when he heard his brother's screams. Without another thought, Dean kicked down the door, rushing to the room Sam's cries were coming from.

Andie froze.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Sam!"

Sam laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the hot flames dominated the room, claiming the life of a blonde girl. Jess. He shielded his face, as bits of the room began to fall. "No! No!"

Dean yanked Sam off of the bed, and attempted to shove Sam out of the bedroom, as his brother struggled against him. He glanced over at Andie, who wasn't moving. "Hey, Andie! Come on!"

Even though she still remained in shock, Andie obeyed, and followed her brothers out. On the way down, Andie spotted a fire alarm, and pulled it, warning all the other tenants of the burning down building they were in. Sam continued to push against Dean, as they reached outside.

"Let me save her!" Sam yelled.

"She's gone, Sam!" his brother flat out told him.

"No!" Sam cried out once more, as Dean let him go. He fell to his knees, and began to weep. "No, no."

Andie crept down beside her twin, and reached out a hand, unsure on exactly how to comfort him. Sam grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her neck, and sobbed into her shoulder, consistently muttering Jess's name, over and over. Andie shot a nervous look up at Dean, who shared a similar expression, which in a way, was sort of comforting to her. Neither knew what to make of what had just happened.

Dean stood as close as the police officers would allow, watching the firefighters work. Beside him was his sister, who gazed towards the burning building. He turned towards her, and hesitated, before saying, "How'd you know?"

Andie frowned. "Know what?"

"That something was wrong."

She laughed, her eyes switching from the flames to her big brother. "Dean, we've been doing this for how many years now? And I just had a feeling. It's not like I really knew." Lies, lies, lies, Andie repeated over and over to herself, but she forced that voice in the back of her head to shut up. She glanced back at Sam who was standing beside the Impala, digging through the trunk, and loading a shotgun. He had sobered, holding all of his emotions back behind a mask of anger. She walked over, and offered a faint smile, and softly said, "Hey", but he didn't answer.

Dean shortly approached after, and glanced between the twins. He looked at Andie, who gave a small shrug. They both looked at Sam when they heard a clunk from him tossing the shotgun back into the trunk, Firmly, he stated, in almost a simple way, "We've got work to do."