Sam awoke with a start in the passenger seat of the Impala. The nightmare he'd been awakened from had been a particularly disturbing one. He looked around wildly for a moment and, getting his bearings, glanced over at Dean, who was staring pointedly out at the road ahead of him. Carmen sat in the backseat with one headphone popped in her ear and the other dangling haphazardly around her neck.

Sam huffed. He had the suspicious feeling that he had just interrupted a conversation.

Dean glanced over at him. "You alright?" He asked cautiously. It was as if Sam was a land mine, and they were treading carefully as not to set him off. He had been snippy after Jess's death, but they needed to cut him some slack. He glanced at Carmen's reflection in the rearview mirror. She quickly averted her eyes.

"Guys, I'm fine. Really," he assured them, but he sounded unconvincing even to himself. "I just think, maybe, we should have stuck around Stanford a little while longer." It had been a week since Jess's death.

"Sam, we searched high and low, the demon was gone. We just would have wasted more time if we stuck around." Dean told him matter-of-factly.

Maybe it wasn't for the demon's sake that he wanted to stick around, Carmen thought to herself.

"Where to next, anyway?" Sam asked. Carmen leaned forward between the seats as Dean reached over Sam into the glove compartment, which contained no gloves, and pulled out a road map and John's journal. He handed it all over to Sam.

"You tell me, Sammy. Check those coordinates that we found in Dad's journal." Carmen watched as Sam traced his finger over the map, searching for the junction of the latitude and longitude.

"Looks like somewhere in Illinois. Pretty far north. Got an Illinois road map?" Carmen dug in the back seat and pulled out what Sam needed. "Boone, Illinois. What's dad sending us there for?"

Dean shrugged. "He'll have his reasons. Maybe that's where he's holding up."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam murmured. "I hope so," his voice rose, "because if he was able to leave us coordinates to follow, why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Tell us where he is? Why are we playing this game of cat and mouse with him?"

"Sam, come on, there are a million reasons why he might not be able to call us."

"Like what?"

"Like, maybe he thinks he's being followed. Maybe he's on a really dangerous hunt."

"Both perfectly good reasons to call us and ask for help. Why doesn't he want us around?" Sam shook his head in frustration.

"Maybe he's closing in on the demon," Carmen chimed in. "Maybe he knows that you two will bring your emotions into the fight, especially you, Sam, and he doesn't want you two getting hurt. Maybe he doesn't want to lose any more family than he already has." She leaned back in her seat and looked at the side of Sam's head. "Maybe he doesn't want you two losing any more people than you already have." Sam looked at her in the review mirror. This time she held his gaze, and the unspoken acknowledgement of Jess's death hung in the air between them.

"Well, we can speculate all we want," Dean said, "but we won't know until we get there." He turned up the radio and sped the Impala down the road.

It was evening by the time the trio reached Boone. Carmen had been researching the town on her laptop from the car, and found that four local disappearances had taken place in the last two months. All of them, Carmen noticed, were females around her age, but she decided not to mention that to Sam and Dean just yet. John was definitely sending them to this city on a hunt. They planned on checking into a motel and then speaking to the family of the girl who had most recently disappeared, but, upon coming into the town, they reached a roadblock.

Carmen looked out through the front windshield. Blue and red sirens spun round from the tops of police cars, and pedestrians stood just outside the yellow crime scene tape that was encircling a nearby house. Firemen were examining the home, while policemen spoke to various people on the street. Sam, Dean and Carmen seemed to have just missed the action.

"You think this could be another disappearance?" Dean asked Carmen as they parked the Impala a few blocks off and made their way through the crowd.

"Looks like it," Carmen responded. "Fifth one in two months." She shook her head in disappointment.

They reached a tall, thin officer with a thick brown mustache. He had just finished speaking to a witness.

"Officer," Dean greeted. "What happened here?"

"Matthews girl disappeared from her backyard. You knew her?"

"Yeah, she was a friend from high school," Carmen lied without hesitation. "Did somebody take her?"

The cop scrutinized her. "There's no sign of that."

"But she was my age," Carmen persisted. "She didn't just disappear from her own back yard. There have been other disappearances, similar to this one, recently, haven't there?"

"There's no sign that Mel's disappearance has any connection with the others. But if you three know something…"

"No, sir. I was just a friend."

The cop handed her his card. "In case you think of anything," he said with a trusting smile. Carmen resisted the urge to laugh in his face.

"Well worked," Dean commented as the cop found another witness to interrogate. "How did you know she was your age?"

"Because all the people that disappeared were my age. And all of them were female."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

They decided to wait until the next night to search the house. Just like always, they spent the night in a shabby motel outside of town.

Carmen was awake long after Sam and Dean had fallen asleep on their lumpy motel mattresses. It was dark throughout the room, and the soft music that played through her headphones – the masterpieces of The Band – was her only companion.

A movement from the bed next to her caught her eye. Sam was restlessly tossing and turning beneath the covers. When she popped out her headphones, Sam's groans of discomfort reached her ears. She recognized that he was suffering from a nightmare, being very familiar with the signs herself. Sympathy for him welled up inside her.

More groans and sighs from Sam's bed. She felt intrusive, listening to his dreams, as if she was unintentionally eavesdropping. She decided to wake him. "Sam," she whispered as she shook him. His eyes popped open and he shot upright.

"Sam, its okay, you're fine." She said soothingly. "It was just a dream."

Putting his head in his hands, he heaved a deep sigh. "Yeah, just a dream."

Carmen scrutinized his miserable face. "Sam…" She began reluctantly. "These nightmares you've been having. Are they…I mean, it is because of…Jessica?"

"What?"

"Because if they are, you can always…I mean, I just want you to know that…" She sighed. It wasn't easy talking to the man she was once in love with about his new – and now deceased – girlfriend. "I know you really cared about her. Dealing with this can't be easy for you, and it's possible that I'm the last person you want to hear this from but…I'm here for you…if you need anything."

Sam looked up at her, eyes wide. "Thanks, Carmen. It has been tough dealing with her death, but…probably not for the reasons you think."

"What do you mean?"

He looked away from her and gazed out the window, watching a black cat with white paws slink stealthily over a nearby fence. There was pain in his face, and something more that Carmen couldn't quite determine.

"I want to tell you, Carmen. I want to tell you everything, but I don't think I can yet. There are some things that just…"

"Can't be said," she finished for him.

He turned his eyes back to her, and felt that she would understand better than anyone the things he was concealing.

"Dean, we can't just keep her on house arrest." Sam bellowed the next afternoon.

"The hell we can't! She's exactly the type of victim this demon is after!"

"We're not even hunting the demon yet, we're just scoping out the crime scene."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not letting her-"

"Letting me what?" Carmen asked, walking out of the bathroom with only a towel under her arms.

The boys exchanged looks, and it wasn't lost on Carmen. Neither of them said anything.

"Alight, you guys ogle at each other for a little while longer, I'm going to go get ready for the hunt." She said.

"No need," Dean declared. "You're staying here."

"Dean," Sam said, but was ignored.

"I'm staying here? Why?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know why."

"No, I don't." She retorted defensively.

"Because you're exactly the demon's type, and we're not risking it."

"Dean, we 'risk it' every single time we go on a hunt. This time's no different. I'm coming, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." She grabbed her clothes and walked briskly back into the bathroom.

Sam smirked. He was impressed by Carmen's resilience despite the fact that he knew she would never let Dean stifle her. Dean punched him in the arm.

A few hours later the trio arrived at the crime scene, which was now deserted. The sirens had be silenced, the crowd dispelled, and the cops vanished. Now, it only looked like a lonely house surrounded by trees.

"No one's home; the girls mother went to stay with her sister a few towns over." Carmen informed Sam and Dean. "Too afraid to face her house alone, I guess."

"Father?" Sam asked.

"Split when she was a kid. Hasn't been around for years."

"And you know all this how?" Dean asked skeptically.

"I asked around when I went to get dinner." She answered distractedly while she watched Dean load his pistol and stuff it into the back of his jeans. "What are you doing? We're not gonna need that; its just a crime scene."

Dean shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

Carmen squinted at him as they walked up the secluded driveway, blatantly ignoring the CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS yellow tape. "What's with you? Why are you all Mr. Cautious all of a sudden?"

"I'm not," said Dean defensively. "I'm just…I'm not, okay?"

Carmen looked over at Sam, expecting him to mirror her own mocking grin, but instead she saw him scrutinizing his brother. Her grin subsided.

"I'll search the backyard where Mel disappeared, you two take the house." Dean made his way around the back while Sam picked the lock on the front door.

"What's with Dean tonight?" She asked when Dean was out of sight.

"Carmen, nothing's with him. He's worried about you. You should cut him a break."

She made a frustrated noise in her throat. "Well, he shouldn't be." The door swung open and they stepped inside the very average house.

"I'm going to check upstairs, you keep searchi-"

"I'll come with you." Sam cut her off and made his way towards the stairs. She put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Sam, I'll be fine. I promise. Stop worrying. Search this floor, and the basement if there is one. We'll get out quicker that way, okay?"

Sam sighed, but shook his head in acquiescence. "Just…be careful, alright?"

"Whatever," she said, but her stomach fluttered at the sincerity in his voice.

Mel's room was an average 19-year-old's room: beige walls, a small flat screen mounted on the wall, neatly made bed. Carmen found nothing out of the ordinary. She crossed the hall to the bathroom, where she also found nothing extraordinary. She briefly moved the curtains away from the window, and her heart skipped a beat.

The window looked down into the backyard. Upon glancing out of it, Carmen saw Dean's limp body lying spread-eagled on the grass.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as she sprinted out of the bathroom and raced down the stairs. She saw the basement door slightly ajar – Sam must be down there.

"Sam!" She called, but didn't slow as she darted through the back door. She reached Dean in seconds and knelt down next to him.

The first thing she checked was that he was still breathing. She put her ear to his mouth and heard the rush of air entering and exiting his lungs. She sighed in relief.

"Dean, hey, hey!" She gently tapped his face and he came around quickly.

"Carmen?" He asked, disoriented. His eyes darted around at his surroundings, and then rested on the mass of trees that secluded the house.

"Get inside the house. Now." The fear in his voice drove her into obedience, but she never made it into the house. Something suddenly darted out of the woods and tackled her.

"Carmen!" Dean exclaimed. He had his pistol cocked and aimed in less than a second, but the monster stood facing him with Carmen in front of it as a shield.

The last thing Carmen saw before the thing took her into the trees was Sam's petrified face in the doorway.

Carmen was drifting in and out of consciousness, her head pounding with pain. A warm, sticky liquid trickled from her hairline down her neck. She opened her eyes, but the blackness surrounding her pressed painfully down on them. She could find no light filtering through to her eyes.

She felt a dull pain in her wrists, and realized that they were shackled. So were her ankles.

"Shit!" she cursed loudly. Her voice echoed around the room. She pulled violently at the chains binding her, and the rattling reverberated around the room as well. It sounded as if she was in some kind of dungeon or sewer…

Sewer.

Shit!

She was in the sewer, and it wasn't the darkness that disabled her sight. It was the thing that took her. A grimlock: the monster that steals the sight of its victims in order to see light around good people and kill them. It stole her sight, and she was completely blind.

She struggled once again against the chains that bound her. Her skin scraped along the rough concrete beneath her, but she didn't care. There was nothing she could do but helplessly struggle.

How could she let this happen?

How could she let Dean be right? He was never going to let her live this down…

If she lived at all.

A noise from her left made her jump, but it didn't sound threatening. She heard a soft moan of pain as someone else's quick breathing filled the silence around the room.

"Mel?" Carmen called softly. "Mel Matthews?"

"Yeah," her shaky voice responded, "it's me. Who are you?"

"My name's Carmen. I know this won't make you feel any better but…I'm here to rescue you."

Mel let out a shaky laugh. "Actually, it makes me feel loads better. I didn't know if I was ever going to see another person besides that guy who took me again…and I use the word 'see' loosely."

"He took your sight, too, then."

Mel answered with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Mel." Carmen said softly. "And I'm sorry to have to tell you this but…that thing that took us? It isn't human."

Mel was silent for a moment. She was probably debating whether or not Carmen was insane.

"If it isn't human," she asked after a while, "then what the hell is it?"

"A grimlock. I guess you could classify it under 'monster'. It steals sight in order to see and kill good people. This one seems to have a thing for young women."

"Are you crazy?" Mel asked. It wasn't an accusation or malicious; it was a serious question.

"It's been said. But I'm right about this. How do you think he blinded us?"

"I don't know; chemicals, some kind of drug…"

"How do your eyes feel? Are they burning? Do you feel drowsy like he drugged you?"

"No," Mel answered honestly.

"He didn't use chemicals. He didn't drug you. He supernaturally stole your eyesight. I'm sorry, Mel." And Carmen really was sorry.

"This is the thing responsible for all the disappearances in town, isn't it? And in the next town over?"

"What happened in the next town over?"

"Good people are being murdered all over the place. Pastors, volunteer firemen… you said this thing takes the lives of good people, right?"

"Yeah, it does. Shit, I hope Sam and Dean can figure this out."

"Sam and Dean?" Mel asked.

"Friends. We kind of hunt these types of things together. They're looking for us, but I never got a chance to tell them that it's a grimlock we're up against. I didn't get a chance to tell them a lot of things, actually." The image of Sam in the doorway swam into her mind. She thought that it was possibly the last image she would ever see of him.

"When I got here," said Mel "there was another girl. She didn't talk much, but after I was here for a while, the thing…it…it killed her." Her voice got high and constricted. Carmen could feel the terror seeping into her heart. "I think…I think...It's going to…"

"Mel, you're going to be fine, alright?" Carmen said reassuringly. "I promise; it's not going to hurt you. We're going to make it out of here, okay? Both of us."

"Okay," Mel said, calming at the sound of Carmen's soothing voice. "Okay."

After what felt like hours of being chained on the cold, moist, rough concrete, Carmen heard the heavy door scraping against the ground and felt a cool draft pass over her exposed torso. She hadn't realized before now that she had been stripped of her shirt and jeans, and was dressed in only the sports bra and spandex that were always underneath her clothing. She moved away from the noise, scared because she couldn't see who or what was entering through the door. She waited in the pregnant silence, praying to hear Sam's deep voice at any moment.

A rancid smell reached her nose and she knew it wasn't Sam and Dean.

"Mel," she whispered. "Don't move."

She could hear Mel's breathing quicken, and she thought she could hear her heart rate increase. Although she tried to stifle them, Mel's sobs of terror filled the room.

The thing in the room began to laugh mirthlessly. Carmen heard its footsteps shuffle towards Mel. It knelt down beside her. She heard Mel's terrified sobs become more intense. "No, no!" she cried desperately.

"Get away from her!" shouted Carmen. The monster's head whipped around as if he was surprised that Carmen was even in the room with them. He slowly came over and knelt down next to her instead. The closeness made her skin tingle. She scooted as far away from it as the shackles would allow, but its ragged breathing still got closer and closer until she could feel its hot, rank breath in her ear. "So beautiful," it whispered.

Carmen took a deep breath and slammed her head against the grimlock's nose with a loud WHAM, making it jump back and cry out in pain. Her headache got worse, but relief flooded through her when the monster retreated out the door from which it came.

"You alright?" Carmen called to Mel, a little delirious herself from the head injury.

"Uh-huh," she answered shakily. "You?"

"Been better," she answered.

"What did you do, punch it?"

"My arms are shackled," she could hear her own words slurring. "I head-butted him…"

"Carmen? Carmen! You might have a concussion…don't go to sleep, okay? Carmen?"

"Hhmm?"

"You've gotta stay awake. We're both making it out of here, remember?"

"Yeah." She fought to keep her blind eyes open. "Yeah, I know we are." Mel's voice made it easier to fight the impending sleep threatening to overtake her.

Another noise outside made the haze fade even more. She strained her ears to hear what was coming, but there was no need. The heavy door scraped once again against the rough concrete floor.

"No, no, no…" Mel cried once more, but her cry was unnecessary. The second that the door opened and the cool breeze blew through the room, Carmen knew that they were saved. Sam's scent hit her like a tidal wave; it was the smell of comfort, the smell of salvation, the smell of love.

"Sam," she whispered so softly that she thought no one could hear it but her.

Sam knew once he opened the door that Dean and he were right: it was a grimlock that took Carmen, and it stole her sight. He could see from across the room that she was already blind. The caramel colored eyes that he knew better than anyone else's, and that knew his just the same, had been zapped to electric blue. They stood out against her tanned skin and dark hair in an eerie contrast.

Before he could react, he heard her say his name, her voice saturated with relief. Despite her blindness, she knew he was there.

"Carmen," he rushed to her side. He dropped to his knees next to her and placed one enormous hand around her waist, and one on her cheek. The warmth felt so comforting.

"Sam, I'm so happy to see you…figuratively speaking."

"Carmen, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here."

"I know," she cooed. "Where's Dean?" She asked as Sam picked the locks on the shackles.

She didn't have to wait long for her answer. Dean came stumbling through the entrance, breathing heavily.

"Dean? What's the matter, can't keep up with your little brother any more?" She was freed, and stood up with Sam's help. "Shit!" She was suddenly engulfed in an unexpected bear hug. As she took a breath, she also took in Dean's scent. He said nothing; he just squeezed her.

"Dean, it's okay, I'm fine." She said. He reluctantly let her go.

"What the hell, Carmen Eliza?" He scolded as he pushed her shoulder.

"Whoa, what are you middle-naming me for?"

"You scared the shit outta me. NEVER do that again. I told you-"

"Now you sound like John," she said, rolling her blind eyes. "Dean, I'm fine!"

"Really?" He said as he grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to his. She could feel his eyes examining hers. She smacked his hand away.

"Just go get Mel out of her cuffs." She ordered.

"Who?" Dean asked.

"Over here," Mel called. "You guys are doing a pretty horrible job of rescuing me." That made Carmen smirk.

As Dean bent over Mel, Carmen reached for Sam's hand. "You okay?" He asked. She nodded. She placed a cold hand up to his face. Her fingers traced the rise and fall of his cheekbone, his deep-set eyes, the bridge of his nose, and the curve of his lips.

"I better be able to see this face again." She whispered.

Dean successfully picked the locks, liberating Mel Matthews. He helped her up from the ground.

"Whoa," she exclaimed. "Carmen, I like this one; he feels hunky." They all laughed.

"So how do we kill this thing?" Carmen asked.

"It's susceptible to electricity," Dean answered. "We brought stun guns. We kill it by cutting out its eyes and burning them."

"Oh, God." Mel said in a nauseated tone.

"The bastard deserves it," Sam said darkly. He hadn't let go of Carmen's hand once, and she could feel his protective stance over her.

"Will killing it get us our sight back?" Mel asked tentatively.

Dean hesitated. "I don't know."

"Wait," Carmen said. "I hear it. It's coming." Everyone was frozen for a heartbeat, but then she heard Sam and Dean spring into action.

"Don't move," Sam said to Carmen as he pushed her into a corner with Mel. Carmen stepped in front of her, shielding her from any possible attacks. She heard, for the third time, the large heavy door grind against the concrete, the grimlock entering through it. Sam and Dean tackled it to the ground and stunned it.

"Carmen, can you hear his heart beat?" Sam asked. She listened intently.

"Slow, and faint, but still beating."

"Perfect," said Dean.

Carmen took Mel outside and closed the heavy door so she wouldn't have to listen to the Winchesters mutilate the demon. Sam followed them soon after.

"Ready?" Sam asked. Carmen and Mel both shook their heads. They heard Dean flip open his lighter and set fire to the grimlock's eyes.

Slowly, the sewer began to materialize in front of Carmen. At first there were only blurred shapes, then colors, then details. When the grimlock's eyes turned to nothing but ash, Carmen had her full sight back again. Her and Mel looked at each other.

"Whoa, you're pretty!" Mel exclaimed.

"You are too. Funny, I pictured you as a blond."

"Ew, no way." She wrinkled her nose. "Cool scar," She commented. Carmen fingered the scar she hated so much, but smiled at Mel despite her discomfort. Dean came through the doorway, looking back at the embers.

Mel's jaw dropped. "Damn. I was right, he is hunky."

Sam, Dean and Carmen drove Mel safely back to her aunt's house, where her mother was beside herself with joy. She was introduced to the trio before they headed back to their motel room. Mel's mother was so grateful that she offered rooms for them all to stay in, but they declined. They got back to the motel at half past 1 a.m.

Carmen was shot. She was like a zombie as Dean unlocked the motel door and Sam guided her inside. She fell onto one of the beds, and drifted between sleep and consciousness. Sam was exhausted as well, but took off Carmen's shoes and socks and put her to bed before changing into his own sleepwear. Dean turned off the light, and Sam slid into bed next to Carmen, gathering her up in his arms. It felt so good to have her here after fearing the worst that night.

He kissed the top of her head, and drifted off into a rare deep sleep.

The next day, Carmen came back into the motel room from working out to find Dean and Sam's bellowing voices filling the room once again.

"Why don't you show him some respect? He knows what he's doing!" Dean yelled in Sam's face.

"Really? I don't know if you remember, Dean, but the hunt he sent us on last night almost got Carmen permanently blinded, and it could have been worse!"

"But it wasn't; he knew we could handle it."

Neither of them looked up when Carmen came in. She stood in the doorway, watching the fight ensue, knowing it was a bad idea to interrupt this time.

"I don't understand why the hell you trust him this much. You have your own mind, Dean, you don't have to blindly follow him-"

"I'm not! He's our father, he raised us, and he knows what's best for us-"

"Obviously not, considering he almost got Carmen killed last night."

"How was that Dad's fault?"

Carmen's phone buzzed obnoxiously from her pocket. She took her eyes off the feuding brothers for a moment and flipped it open.

"Dean," she said without taking her eyes off the phone.

"He knew there was something dangerous here, something that was hunting girls exactly like Carmen. He sent us right into it! No warning, no briefing-"

"So what, you want him to baby us forever? He wanted us to kill the grimlock, and save the girls, and we did, we saved Mel!"

"Dean!" Carmen said forcefully. She got his attention. "Look at this."

She handed the phone over to him, and he read the text message. "Who's this from?"

"Unknown number." Dean handed the phone to Sam.

"Coordinates?" He said skeptically. "More coordinates…"

"They've got to be from Dad," Dean said.

"How do you know?" Sam said accusingly.

"Who else would send them?" Carmen asked.

Dean had won; they were on the road following the coordinates in less than an hour. Sam had been reluctant, but Carmen convinced him that no one else would be sending them coordinates, military style, except John. She also convinced him not to be too heated with Dean. She knew better than anyone that he could be a pain in the ass, but it was coming from the right place. He just wanted to reunite his broken family.

Despite the bothers butting heads back at the motel, Carmen felt uncharacteristically light. She felt that they would have made John proud by saving Mel and countless other potential victims by killing the grimlock. Thinking about John made her a bit nostalgic; she missed his guidance and protection. But her worry for her father figure was not enough to dispel her good mood.

"Dean, you sound good." She complimented as he sang off key to the Metallica song playing on the radio. Sam scoffed from the passenger's seat as he picked at the salad he had gotten from the fast food restaurant they were pulling out of.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'll stop."

"No, I was being serious." She started humming along to the song herself, pausing only to pop a french-fry into her mouth.

Dean and Sam exchanged a very confused look.

"I'm sorry, was that a compliment? From Carmen Valente?" Sam said in disbelief.

She smirked. "Alright, don't have a freakin' aneurism." She took a handful of fries and chucked them playfully at Dean.

"Ay!" He exclaimed as he laughed and attempted to retaliate with a chicken nugget, but was distracted by driving and accidentally hit Sam in the face.

"Dean!" Sam laughed. He threatened him with a ketchup packet.

"It was for Carmen, I'm sorry!" He held up his hands in surrender.

"You're right," he turned the ketchup packet on Carmen. "Want some ketchup for those fries?"

"No!" She laughed as she wrestled with Sam. "No, Sam!" Her smile made Sam temporarily forget his afflictions. It had been such a long time since he had seen that smile, and it awakened something inside him that had been dormant since they had parted.

"Okay, okay, wait. I just got a voicemail." She announced as her laughter subsided. She flipped open her phone, traces of a smile still lingering over her lips. Sam couldn't take his eyes off her, so he watched her as she put the phone to her ear.

But the smile that was warming his heart suddenly made it turn to ice. Carmen's face dropped and she looked into Sam's eyes with a mixture of terror and pure sadness.

"Dean, pull over. Now."

He did as she told him, pulling the Impala over on the deserted dirt road. Carmen opened the door and climbed out before Dean fully stopped the car. Pacing, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Sam and Dean followed her out of the car and waited.

"Mel Matthews is dead." She blew smoke out of her mouth and it travelled into the wind.

"What?" Sam cried.

"She's dead, she's fucking dead. Last night something came into her room and slit her throat. Dammit!" She threw her pack of cigarettes down into the dirt and kicked them as hard as she could. She ran frustrated fingers through her hair and marched away from the Impala, unaware of where her feet were taking her. She found a huge boulder around the corner and sat, looking out over the horizon.

"I can't believe this," Dean ran a hand over his stressed face.

"I'm going to talk to Carmen." Sam said somberly. "Call Bobby, see if you can find out what did this."

Carmen was looking into the setting sun with no expression on her face when Sam reached her. "It's my fault," she said. "We should have stayed, we should have made sure…"

"Carmen, look at me," her frantic eyes rested on Sam's. "It's not your fault."

"How do you know that, Sam?" She said with a lump in her throat.

"Because…"

"Because what? You're just saying that to make me feel better but you can't-"

"I'm not! I'm not just saying that, alright? I know it's not your fault."

Carmen's expression turned from being full of turmoil to quizzical. "How?"

"Because...because it was my fault. Carmen, there's something I need to tell you."