I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. A few days after posting the first chapter we were out of town for a week, staying with family. With no internet or phone service. Kinda nice. ANYWHO! Just been a little busy, so here's the next. I'm working on the third. Also, Dean seems a little out of character right now, but he'll settle down, I promise. Thanks for reading!

"So, you think she's following you? For what?" The boys had high tailed it to Bobby's for an in person pow wow. Dean had blared angry rock music the entire way there and Sam was glad for some conversation.

"That I still have no clue about. It'll be hard to figure out, too, if we don't know her name or what she wants. I figured if she wanted us dead she'd have done it when we saw her. Or even in the past few weeks since." Sam, the rational one. Always looking for answers and trying to maintain his cool.

"Who cares? There is nothing good can come from this. She's not a groupie, she doesn't want an autograph. This whole thing reeks, and we should have put an end to it that night." Sometimes Sam admired his brothers passion. Sometimes he wanted to tell Dean to stuff it.

"You mean when she lowered her weapons and got naked in front of you? Is that when you should have killed her?" Instead of answering Dean got a thousand mile stare while he drifted into that memory. Sam shook his head.

The three of them talked for hours, going in circles. Dean announced it was the last beer, as he grabbed the last beer. Bobby rolled his eyes, "Guess I better go for more. You boys sit tight, we'll figure this all out."

Upon exiting his front door Bobby scanned the junk yard. He grinned as he got into his car and headed through the gate toward town.

The boys sat in the library, Dean nursing his beer, Sam looking over the large map they had pinned to the wall to keep track of her. She hadn't been seen since they saw her. Three weeks was the longest span of time. Where had she gone? Dean slouched into a chair as Sam leaned one hand on the map, the other rubbing his face.

Then the lights went out.

Both men froze, their senses quickly reaching high alert. There wasn't a sound. Their eyes met, illuminated by the lights in the salvage yard.

Only the house.

Each knew the others thought as if it were his own. Sam lowered himself out of sight and scuttled behind Bobby's desk, grabbing his gun from a drawer. Dean slid off the couch to his knees, pulling his own weapon from the small of his back.

With a tip of his head and twitch of his hand Dean gave directions and the boys set out to scope the house. Dean lead, crouched low, back straight, elbows lose. Sam was upright, taking up the rear.

Dean entered the kitchen and begun to clear the room when Sam, who had been covering him, flew in the doorway. He crashed into the table, hit the floor and didn't move. Dean was up in a flash, gun to the door, stepping between it and Sam.

"Sam! Sammy, you awake?" There was no reply, no movement. Dean couldn't see anything past the doorway, he backed toward his brother and kneeled down to check for a pulse. Relieved to fine one he straightened again and headed toward the dark doorway.

"Come out, you bitch! I know it's you," his voice was hard. This had already gone way too far and he planned to finish it. His ears strained for a sound, a clue. The silence in the room was deafening. He slowly kept past the couch, his eyes scanning the nearly impossible darkness.

Then his chest hit the floor with a weight on his back, his gun sliding across the room. He saw red. With what he could only assume to be a knee between his shoulder blades and his wrists yanked back he had little leverage.

"I hope you have a good grip, Sweetheart, cause if I get out of this you're dead," his threat was delivered through gritted teeth as he assessed his options and conserved his energy. Aside from her jumping them here he had thought she wasn't stupid.

"Relax, Smooth Operator, I'm not after you. You're a means to an end. And if you help me you and your brother will be-"

Her last words were cut off with a thud and she hit the floor next to Dean. He rolled to the right and looked up to see Bobby with his shotgun. Dean relaxed, letting his head hit the floor. "Fine timing you've got there. Sam?"

"He's fine. Let's get her up." Dean closed his eyes and nodded. Resisting the urge to gank her right there. She said they weren't the ones she was after. Suddenly he had a whole new boat load of questions.

She felt the stinging in the back of her head before she even opened her eyes.

Shit.

She slowly lifted her head, tugging her hands lightly. They didn't budge from her back. Her ankles were bound to the metal chair she was sitting in. Her mind was still foggy, but it seemed to her she made a mistake. She looked around the dim room as the haze cleared. It looked like a dingy jail cell.

Then there was a metallic clang and footsteps coming closer. She dropped her chin to her chest as the door to the cell opened.

"Don't bother. We saw you on the camera. Rise and shine, Laura Croft. You've got some splainin' to do," Dean's voice was confident, almost arrogant. She lifted her head with a smirk on her lips.

"Seems I may have underestimated you meat heads. My mistake. How's your brother? He's my favorite," she had raised her gaze to meet his. Gauging how much trouble she was in by his response.

"Oh, he's just fine. Takes more than a hit from a girl to knock him down."

"Looked to me like he fell pretty hard."

Dean stood in front of her, over her, trying to intimidate. She never wavered from his gaze. He crouched down in front of her.

"You're in a world of trouble. We know you've been following us. We know you're not after us, said so yourself. We want to know why?"

She tipped her head to the side and sucked her top lip into her mouth. "Just wanted an autograph." Dean smirked.

"Woulda given you one last time we met. Why didn't you just ask." He stood, circling her chair from a distance. She shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm shy." Dean let out a throaty laugh as he circled behind her, trailing a finger up her arm and across her shoulder. He felt her shudder under his touch, and let up feeling a little dirty himself.

"You obviously know who we are. You have been following us. You didn't seem too surprised to run into us at that warehouse. Then you split without a word. Now you're here. I'm going to take a guess and say you've been tailing us since the night at the bar," she didn't move, didn't flinch. Her steely gaze never moved from the door. "What I want to know is why?"

He ended his question in front of her. His hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in her face. Her eyes fixed on his and for a second he saw a flash of fear before her cool demeanor took back control. He squinted an eye and tipped his head.

The battle raging in her mind was fierce. Talk or not? Act scared? Act tough? Either way she was bound to a chair, she had been stripped of her weapons, she could feel their absence. She couldn't see a way out. She inhaled to speak when the door opened again and in walked Sam.

Dean was visibly irritated. "I was almost there, Sam."

"Aw, jealous?" She regained a bit of confidence with the intrusion. She knew instinctively Sam was the more rational of the two, or so most thought. Sam was just more impressionable. Dean shot her an annoyed look.

"Hey, Sam. Sorry about that thing in the kitchen. Dean was much easier to take down without you there," her last words were spoken while watching Dean. She loved getting his goat.

Dean smirked while shaking his head, "ya know, you're getting pretty irritating, lady. I'd just as soon whack you and be done with it. My brother is a little nicer and more curious."

"Then let the grown ups talk, huh?" Sometimes she reminded him of Meg.

"Good luck, dude." With that Dean was gone, climbing the stairs to grab a brew and watch from the camera.

Sam pulled up a chair, settling in with the back between his legs. His face looked concerned as he stared at her. There was a gash above his right eye, clean but not taped. And he just stared. For some reason this unnerved her more than being grilled for info.

Sam could read people fairly easily. She was no different. When faced with threats and violence she was cool as a cucumber. When no one yelled or threatened her she became unraveled. Which only told Sam she wasn't used to kindness.

"What?" She was the first to break the silence. Sam knew then this was in the bag.

"Where are you from?" His question threw her off guard, visibly. But she quickly regained composure. She contemplated a snarky response, but decided it didn't really matter anyway. She had been caught, her mission already compromised.

"I don't even remember anymore," as the words fell from her lips her face softened. She looked smaller, frailer. Right then and there Sam felt the need to wrap her in his arms.

"What's your name?" She stared for a while, he could see the wheels in her head turning. He knew if he spoke before her he lost. He needed to let her fight this battle with herself.

"Doesn't matter. I am a ghost." She slowly shook her head, finally giving in to her defeat. She had been fighting a long time, her exhaustion was worn on her shoulders. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

Sam was slightly taken aback with her response. He narrowed his eyes a bit and tipped his head toward the camera, prepared to make an executive decision.

"You said you weren't a hunter. What were you doing at the warehouse? Killing werewolves?" He could see Dean's smirk. She looked slightly confused. She had stalked them, tried to capture them before Bobby returned. Obviously it had been a trap, they figured out she was tailing them. Now he was trying to get to know her.

She was sure once her motives were revealed they would kill her. She was also sure if she told them nothing they would keep her here, locked up. She was also sure she was ready to die. She was dead already.

"I have been following you-," her confession was cut off by the opening of the iron door. Sam sighed and put his forehead on the back of the chair. So close.

"Found your truck. Wasn't too hard, all Bobby has are junkers," Dean said sauntering in. Her face remained stoic. "Found your books, your computer, your weapons. We found everything. Including your little scrapbook," he finished by tossing a leather bound journal on the floor in front of her. She never glanced at it.

Sam reached down and picked it up, looking up at her before opening the cover. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, losing the battle. Sam flipped through a few pages with newspaper clippings and notes, looked at her, then Dean, then back at the book. His mouth hung open slightly and his brows furrowed.

Dean placed his hands on the arms of her chair again and leaned into her space. His signature move, apparently. His eyes were angry and his pretty mouth was twisted into an ugly scowl.

"Why is that book filled with information about our father?" Cutting straight to the chase. Dean was beyond angry at this point. Shown up by a girl. Turns out a girl that was following their dad.

She tipped her chin in the air and set her jaw, glaring right back in his face. Dean's vision got fuzzy, he snapped. Straightening up he swung at her. His open palm connecting with her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Sam dropped the book and flew out of his chair.

"Woah! Hey, okay, Dean. Take it easy," Sam said stepping between the girl and his brother, he grabbed dean's shoulders and started urging him back. Bobby opened the door, saw Sam had it and waited. Dean stood firm, jaw set, glaring at her.

"Why not take a break, man" Sam suggested, pushing Dean a little more firmly. The older Winchester started to move back, then stopped.

"She was after Dad, Sam!"

"I see that, or at least that's what it looks like. Let me talk to her." Dean huffed at Sam's patience. Then turned on his heel and stormed out, before he lost control again. Bobby clapped a hand on his shoulder and locked eyes with Sam. He nodded he was okay.

Sam turned back to her, one hand on his hip the other rubbing his chin. She was looking at him now, a few strands of hair stuck across her face. One of them stuck in the small trail of blood at the corner of her mouth.

"Touchy about your old man. They have a special relationship or something?" Her defenses were back up. Sam sighed, he was sure he had it. He could picture Bobby holding Dean back from storming downstairs.

"You like to push buttons. It's only going to dig you deeper here. I'm willing to listen to what you have to say," Sam's voice was calm and even. The look on her face told him it threw her off again. She squinted at him a bit, gauging his aura. He settled back into the chair.

"Do you mind?" She asked tossing her head as if trying to move the hair from her eyes. Sam reached up then hesitated, raising his eyebrows at her. Making sure she wasn't going to bite him. She held still as he tucked her loose strands behind her ear. She slipped her tongue out to swipe at the now drying blood, drawing his attention back to it.

"Sorry about Dean. He just wants answers. We all do. He's just not as patient when it comes to family." She looked skeptical. Then her eyes fell on the book on the floor. Sam followed her gaze and leaned down to pick it up. She cursed herself.

"We have a pretty close family," he mentioned flipping through the pages. Most of the articles were about the same thing, which concerned him. First, though, he wanted more info about his father.

"Must be nice," the words were spat under her breath, but Sam caught them. He closed the book on his finger to mark his place and crossed his arms over the back of the chair.

"You don't have any family?" He didn't need her to answer her silence and moist eyes said it all. She looked away from him to the floor, angry at the tears she was losing control of. She pulled helplessly at the ropes on her wrists, her arms were starting to go numb. Her frustration with not being able to hide from him made it worse.

The dam was breaking. She was getting weaker. Fat, hot tears began to roll down her cheeks. At least she wasn't sobbing. He couldn't stop the waterworks but she held her gasp at bay. Her mission really was over. Her cover blown.

She stared at the face across from her. Sam actually looked concerned. She wished he'd just leave. Or kill her, get it over with.

Sam was concerned, she looked to be in agony. He had no idea what to think. All he knew was if he left it would be over. He had a feeling if he didn't press now they'd never hear another word from her mouth.

"What happened to your family?" His voice was soft and low. Her head fell and her shoulders shook a few times. Then she sucked in a deep breath, sniffed, and looked him right in the eye.

"Your father killed them."