Hello, and welcome back everyone! Thank you all for reviewing, following, and favoriting this story, it really makes my day. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

After reading this chapter, if you would like to read more about Carter, you can check out my story called "Her Life and Other Tragedies."

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters

Warning: If the use of curses angers you, this is not the story for you!


Booth had arrived a half an hour early to the diner. He had ordered a coffee and plopped himself down at the counter. Eyes lingering on each new person, he watched as they came into the diner and took their seats. He scanned every single face, applying to each person the image of the youngest Winchester that had been seared into his brain. He was nervous, though he would never admit it.

The last time he saw Carter was when she shot Jimmy Spacer in the chest. Booth had tackled her to the ground, but she had gotten up when his back was turned and escaped out the kitchen door. His agents had searched ceaselessly for her for months, but hadn't been able to pin her down. Four years later and he was still getting his ass beat for dropping the ball on that one.

He took a sip of his coffee, regretting putting that extra sugar in. He looked down at his watch and noticed it was now 6:10, ten minutes past the time Carter was supposed to meet him. To a normal person, those ten extra minutes wouldn't matter, but Booth was meeting a wanted criminal, one who had resorted to killing a man the last time he saw her. He expected her to be on time, at least.

A coffee cup plopping down on the counter next to him pulled him out of his reverie. "Mind if I sit here?" Booth pulled his eyes away from the door and looked at the 20-something year old woman standing next to him. Her hair was straight, light brown, looked recently cut, and she had bangs. It was definitely not the image of Carter he had seared into his brain. Carter's hair was longer, dark brown, had little curls in it, and she didn't have any bangs.

"Actually, I'm saving that seat for someone else," Booth pulled out clean and smooth, already inching to look back at the door. Instead of moving away, the woman sat down, pulling her coffee cup closer to her.

"What, you don't recognize me?" The woman asked, feigning sadness. Booth turned back to the girl, taking in all her features and finally connecting her to the criminal he was there to meet: Carter Winchester.

"You changed your hair." His tone was dark, upset with himself that he didn't even think that she might change her hair. Obviously she was smart and wouldn't leave her mug to match the hundreds of wanted posters decorating America.

Carter shrugged, her ever familiar smirk of defiance on her face. "I decided to change things up a little. You feds put my mugshot everywhere," she said, stating what Booth had come to realize, "I wasn't even able to buy a sandwich those first few months."

"Oh, I feel for you," Booth replied sarcastically. "You know, you wouldn't have that problem in prison."

Carter rolled her eyes.

"Can we just get to the reason I called you here? I need a favor." She took another sip of her coffee and sighed, looking down into the brown liquid. "Sam and Dean's bones … they're locked up pretty tight in the Jeffersonian. I already tried getting them myself, but I couldn't."

Booth interrupted, "What do you mean you 'tried getting them yourself?' You telling me you broke into the Jeffersonian?" He looked over at her face and scoffed. "You're really not helping yourself here very much. In fact, I'm going against my better judgement by not arresting you right this second." At his last sentence, he looked around, trying to keep this conversation on the down-low as much as he could. "Give me something I can work with, here."

Carter put down her coffee cup and turned her body towards Booth, slight desperation showing, "Listen, Booth, I came to you, alright? Isn't that something? That should count for something."

Booth sighed, forsaking his own coffee and putting his hand on his hip, turning his body towards Carter as well. "What do you even want me to do, huh? Their bones are evidence; Sam's case is still open and without you in prison, their bones would never be released." He paused. "I can't help you, kid."

She bit her bottom lip in frustration. This seriously couldn't be happening right now. Booth was her last straw, her last big hope. She had spent three of the four years she was out of prison searching for some way to bring her brothers back from the dead. But no demon would listen to her and no other spells or faith healers worked. When she finally admitted defeat, she switched to focusing on spending the next few months figuring out how she could bring her brothers to peace. After realizing Booth was her only chance, she knew she would have to risk going back to prison. She had run out of options.

Tears pricked in the back of her heart as she stared at Booth with pleading eyes.

"They're not just my brothers, Agent Booth." Her voice soft, she continued, "They raised me, they protected me, they had my back when no one else on this goddamn earth did. I can't just leave them in a cold warehouse alone. They're already dead, I can't do anything about that; but bringing them peace is what I can do." When Booth didn't respond, Carter looked away, collecting herself.

The dinner rush around them softened their silence. Plates clanged onto tables, chairs scratched against the flooring, and the kitchen bell rang every couple of seconds. Every table had at least two people and the counter was completely full. The traffic light outside the diner changed to red, the cars slowly nearing it.

Finally, Carter scoffed. She was exhausted, wanting only to lie down in her bed and cry until she could no longer feel her face. "Whatever," she said, giving up on Booth helping her. She stood up, taking one last sip of her coffee. She took out a slip of paper she had written up earlier in the day and handed it to Booth. "If you change your mind, send them to this address. The guy who lives here is a good friend who can be trusted."

She turned and started walking towards the door, but stopped halfway there. She turned to face Booth and called out, "Oh, and Booth? Thanks for meeting me," she flicked her eyes around the room, "alone."

With that, she took the last few steps to the door, bringing in the cold as she flung it open. She stepped out into the street and immediately fell into the rhythm of the walkers around her.


Let me know what you thought! Reviews make me very happy and encourage me to write more!

See you next week with chapter three! And if you want, check out "Her Life and Other Tragedies."