When the Impala comes to a stop, I'm jolted awake. I sit up slowly, and look around. We're at a bridge of some kind. Dean and Sam are still in the front seat. Dean is reaching around in the glove compartment for some fake ID.

"Where are we?" I croak. My throat is dry.

"Well, good morning sleeping beauty!" Dean says to me, looking back at me in the rearview mirror. "We're in Jericho, where Dad last was."

"Are we almost at the motel?" I ask.

"We'll head there soon. Right now, we're working on Dad's case, to see if it'll lead us to him." Dean explains. "You stay in the car."

I'm about to protest, because I haven't stayed in the car for a case since I was fourteen, but Sam and Dean both climb out before I can say a thing. I silently fume about this for a couple of moments, before sinking back down into my pillow. I really wish that the impala was more comfortable for sleeping, but we can't have everything, can we? I take out my iPod, and blast my music. I don't even hear my brothers coming back in the car over the booming music of Nirvana's Smells like Teen Spirit.

"So? What's up?" I ask Dean, pulling out my earbuds.

"Victim's name is Troy. He's missing, his car was found on this bridge, but no body. They have no idea how it happened." Dean says, putting the IDs back in the glove compartment.

"This is the case?" I ask. "Sounds like a missing persons."

"Well, it may be, but just to make sure, we're gonna talk to the vic's girlfriend." Sam says to me. I pause before answering for just long enough for it to seem like I'm ignoring him.

"Motel first?" I say eventually.

"I'm sorry Gwen, I know you like to veg and relax, but we need to find Dad!" Dean tries to explain.

"We can't find Dad if we're sleep deprived, and I am not sleeping in this damn car!" I snap.

"Don't talk about baby like that!" Dean says to me as we begin to drive back to town.

"Hey, hey, wait!" Sam butts in, before I could say anything back. "Maybe we should go back to the hotel. Remember what Dad said to do if we ever got separated?" Both of us look at him, waiting for him to get to the point. He rolls his eyes and explains, "Whenever we're separated, go to the first hotel in the phone book. That's how we'll find each other."

Dean looks at Sam, and turns suddenly down a different road. "Sammy that college education is paying off!" looking back at me, he says, "We'll drop you off at the first motel, Gwen, and you'll see if Dad's still there!"

"You think he is?" I ask incredulously.

"Honestly, Gwen, I'll take what I can get." Dean says. "Sammy, find the motel." We pull up at a phone booth. Sam went in, and flipped through the phone book, the phone held to his ear. A couple seconds later, he comes back out.

"Aardvark Motel." Sam says as he climbs back into the car. "Straight that way and take the second left and it should be right there."

Dean floors it, and a couple minutes later we pull up in front of the motel. Now as far as motels go, there are just shades of shitty. Some of them only mildly stink of piss and sweat, only look like they've seen the bad side of one vengeful mistress. And some of them, like the one we're pulling up to now, look like they've survived World War Three and back. I can only imagine how bad this one is going to smell. I'm really sensitive to smells. It triggers my gag reflex.

Dean hands me his credit card. "The name is Aframian. This is your brother's credit card." I nod, and get out of the car, grabbing my backpack and my bag. Within these two bags is literally everything I own.

I walk to the lobby, shouldering my bags. The bells jingle as I walk in, and the man behind the desk looks up at me. "Can I help you?" he says.

"Yeah I need a room for a couple days. Two queens." I tell him, taking out my brother's card from my pocket.

"Two beds for one little girl?" the man asks, taking the card, but he doesn't swipe it. "And aren't you a little young to be having a credit card?"

"Yes sir, it's my brother's card." I explain. "My two brothers are out at the car getting our things."

"Ah, well alright then." The man says, swiping it. "Hey, are you guys having a little family reunion?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" I say, rolling with it, my hopes rising. Was Dad checked in? Was he here?

"Burt Aframian checked in a couple weeks ago. Has the place out for a whole month." The clerk says, handing my card back to me.

"Is Uncle Burt here already?" I ask, using my doe eyes. "Can you tell me his room please so I can surprise him?"

The clerk laughed a little. "Sure missy. 118. Your room is 109."

"Thank you, sir!" I chirp, pocketing the card and literally skipping down the hall to my room. I unlock it, dump my bags down on what is now my bed, and lock the door behind me as I walk down to room 118.

I knock on the door expectantly, but there's no reply. I try the door, and it opens. It must've been left unlocked.

"Dad?" I call as I walk in, but there's no one inside. But Dad has obviously been here. Papers and notes cover the wall, bits of string connect different pieces of paper, and Dad's messy scrawl covers every page.

I reach into the back pocket for my phone, before remembering that Dean is going to be talking to a girl. He doesn't need me telling him about something like this when I don't know more and when he's trying to flirt. I sigh as I come to the realization that I'll have to actually read and do research.

Don't get me wrong, I love reading. My backpack is filled entirely with my favorite books to read. But there's a difference between reading for fun and reading for the job. Reading for the job is just painful to sit through. Most of the texts are so old you have to use a dictionary for every word, and those that aren't are usually written by whackos. Or, like right now, they're hand written, and that person usually has horrendous handwriting.

Taking a deep breath, I begin looking through Dad's papers. I start with one that seems to be the start of a chain of strings. It's a news paper clipping.

Young Man Missing on Centennial Highway

The clipping reads. The string leads to another article with a similar title, and again, and again, and again, all across the wall, until I reach the far wall. This wall is split into two parts, one part about a girl named Constance, and one part about different types of supernatural creatures. Circled is a page that says, "woman in white".

I start on the side about the girl named Constance. She committed suicide in 1981, supposedly after her children died in the bathtub. She left behind a husband, and on another page I find the husband's address. There's not much else on this side about her. On the other side, I go straight to the page that says Woman in White. I have only a vague idea of what that is. Dad only has the one circled sheet that mentioned a Woman in White, so I break out my laptop and start digging.

My eyes are about to fall out from so much reading by the time Dean calls me.

"Hey, Gwen, guess what we found?"

"Guess what I found." I say. "I'm in Dad's room in the motel. He's not here, but he left behind all his work. We're dealing with a Woman in White. They're vengeful spirits who go after men who've cheated on their girlfriends or wives."

"Yeah? We were at the library. We find out about this girl called Constance Welch. She kills her kids and then commits suicide by jumping off the bridge." Dean says.

"I'm guessing she killed her kids after she found out her husband was cheating then." I say.

Suddenly I hear Sam's voice. "Do you have the husband's address? Or where Constance is buried?"

I feel my face stiffen when I hear his voice. "Husband lives at 343 Kondike. Constance is buried in the only cemetery in town."

Back to Dean. "Alright, Gwen, we're gonna go see Constance's grave, see if Dad got so far as salting and burning. Then we'll come by and pick you up. We'll check out the bridge again without any cops, and we'll head to visit the husband after."

"Oh, I'm allowed to go places now?" I ask pointedly. "Or am I gonna be sitting in the goddamn car again like a pathetic ten-year-old?"

"Dammit, Gwen, don't start this again!" Dean growls. "You know it's hard to pass off as police or Feds if I have a short, young looking girl following me around!"

"According to the guy in the room across from us, I don't look too young!" I say, totally making it up. But Dean doesn't need to know that.

"You mess around with any guy, and I'll shoot his nuts off. Got it?"

"Sir yes Sir!" I say, hanging up. I'm angry now, and I have no idea why. I don't know why I brought up being made to stay in the car earlier, and I hadn't even realized I was so mad about it until I said it. I sigh, close my laptop, and start walking back to our room. Once inside, I drop my laptop on the table in the kitchen area, and collapse on the bed. Goddammit, life was confusing as all hell sometimes.

I stare at the ceiling until boredom threatens to make me rip out my brains. I reach into my backpack, and pull out El mapa del tiempo, one of my favorite books, open it to my bookmark, and begin to read. I love reading, because in books, I know that the things I read about can't hurt me, unlike the monsters I faced day to day in real life. This particular book I've been dying to get to, but I can't start one series while I'm still reading another, I just can't. So I had to wait while I read through all ten books in the last series I read. But now… Time travel, Victorian era London, hoaxes and romance… This is the kinda crap I love to read about.

For one, I love history. For two, I'm a teenage girl, and hot Victorian English gentlemen seriously do it for me, though I'm ashamed to admit it. If Dean ever finds this book, I'll have to Obliviate his memory, Harry Potter style. Another book series I loved. I'm a sucker for time travel and romance. Probably why I love Doctor Who, now that I think about it.

As I read, everything else falls away, and I'm sucked into the world of Victorian London, watching from above as the main character, Jacob Realy, works to get back his lover by going back in time seven years. As it turns out, this is all a scam, a trick to get Jacob out of his funk that he'd fallen into after his lover died.

I'm just about to turn the page to the next part of the story, wondering where the story could possibly go from here, since they had a very serviceable beginning, middle, and end, when my phone rings. My ringtone, to my brother's eternal annoyance, is "Yeah" by Usher. My brothers and my father are all fans of classic rock and roll, and they absolutely hate that my ringtone is a "modern Pop&B piece of garbage."

"Hello?" I say, accepting the call and holding the phone to my ear.

"What room are you in?" Dean asks.

"I'm in room 109. Dad's room is 118." I answer. "Should I be heading out to the lobby?"

"Yeah, sure, but I want to take a look at Dad's room."

"Nothing's there Dean. No sign of him. All his stuff was gone, only the papers on the wall."

"Well then I wanna see these papers on the wall!" Dean snaps. "Maybe they tell us more about where he is, or what we're dealing with!"

"Dean, we know what we're dealing with! A Woman in White!"

"Yeah, well Women in White are vengeful spirits, which means they're attached to their remains. And Dad already salted and burned this one's remains, so there must be something that you missed!"

"Oh, so now you're blaming me?" I shout, before I remember there are other people here.

"No, Gwen, I'm not blaming you! But this woman is still around, so there must be something else!"

"Jesus Christ and God Almighty!" I throw my hands up in defeat. "Fine, go to the room, tear it apart, but you won't find anything that I didn't. I'll be waiting for you in the Impala." I snap my phone shut, angry all over again. I shove my book into my backpack, and grab a gun and a knife, like I always do whenever I leave the motels. I put the gun in the waistband of my jeans, and put the knife in my boots.

Right now I'm just wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans so torn they're basically patched patches, and Timberland work boots. My knife is well hidden by my jeans, but my gun sticks out like a sore thumb. To fix this, I grab a red varsity jacket from my clothes back, and it makes the gun stick out a little less.

Once I'm sufficiently armed and disguised, I walk out of the motel room and out to the lobby. In the lobby, I see Sam, standing there looking pitiful, and no Dean. I don't want to deal with either of them right now, so I just blow right past him to the Impala. I yank on the handle to open the door, and it stays shut. I yank on it again, determined to break the damn lock just to get back at Dean.

"You won't be getting in anytime soon. Not until I unlock it." Sam says from behind me, jingling the keys.

"Unlock it, Sam." I tell him.

"Not until you and me talk."

"Talk about what, Sam?" I ask, still not turning around to face him. "As I recall, you've had four fucking years to pick up the phone and 'talk'! But did you ever call me, or answer one of mine? Nope! You didn't! Not once!"

"Look," Sam says, "I'm sorry I didn't call you like I said, but –''

"No, you didn't 'say' that you were gonna call, you promised!" I say to him. "And you never did!"

"Gwen, please, hear me out, okay? I have a reason."

"Oh, you have a reason? You have a reason that somehow justifies ignoring your sister for years, when you mother fucking promised that you'd keep in touch? You have a reason for changing your number so I couldn't reach you?" I snarl, letting every bit of poison and venom I could seep into my words. I'm tapping into a grudge that I'd kept under lock and key for years, and all that anger that'd been kept there has had plenty of time to fester.

"Gwen! Watch your mouth with me, missy!"

"Oh, don't you 'missy' me! I'll fucking curse at you all I fucking want, because you're just a shitty, shitty, asshole of a person! You're not even my brother anymore, not that you ever wanted to be!"

Suddenly Sam grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around, holding me against the Impala while he glares at me. "Listen here. Hate to burst your bubble, Gwen, but I never promised you anything! You wanna know why I never called you? Because you were a part of the life I wanted to forget! I wanted to call you, I really did, but then you'd try and get me to come back, and I'd be sucked back in again! I hate hunting, and I never, ever wanted to go back to it!"

I'm about to cry, but I refuse to. I will not give him that satisfaction. Sam continues, "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings so bad, but I never thought you'd hold onto them like this! It's just not healthy, Gwen!"

"Really?" I ask, and I make my voice quiver a little bit just to make him feel guilty. "You thought I wouldn't hold a grudge? Then not only are you an ass, you're also an idiot." I shake his grip off. "Unlock the door, Sam."

"Gwen, please!" Sam pleads with me. "Just let go of the anger! I'm not saying forgive me, or anything like that, I'm just saying please, stop being so mad at me! It's not healthy!"

"Unlock the door."

"Gwen…"

"Sam, I'm telling you, unlock the damn door."

"Please, just promise me you'll let go of the anger?"

"No. Unlock the door."

"Gwen… C'mon…" Sam looks crushed, but I don't care at this point. I grab the keys from Sam's hands, and unlock the door to the Impala. I slide into the shotgun, and slam the door behind me, plugging in my earphones and blasting my music. It's still set on Smells Like Teen Spirit, and I change the song to Lose Yourself by Eminem. I close my eyes, and ignore everything. I'm only aware that we've started towards the bridge once the car starts moving.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pull out one headphone, but don't look at Dean.

"So did you and Sam talk it out?" he asks.

"Did you and Sam arrange for me and him to be alone together so we could, you know, talk it out and kiss and make up?" I ask back. "Because it didn't work."

Dean sighed, and remained silent. The whole ride was just silence. Angry silence, awkward silence, and mean silence. We're silent the whole way to the bridge. By the time we get there, darkness is just about to take full hold. The day is almost over, but it feels like it's only been a few hours since I woke up this morning. Dean parks the car at the edge of the road near the bridge where Constance jumped to her death, and we all pile out. I intend to just leave my headphones in, but Dean yanks them out of my ears once he sees them.

"We're on a case." He says. "Grow the hell up and act like it." I roll my eyes and put my earphones back in the car. The three of us walk down the bridge in the fading light, stopping to look over the edge.

"So this is where Constance took her swan dive." Dean says, shining a flashlight down onto the muddy river below.

"You think Dad would've been here?" Sam asks, looking at Dean right over my head. Both of my brothers are six foot plus, and little old me down here isn't even a full five feet. Yet. I'm almost there, just two more inches.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him." Dean answers, flicking off the light. He keeps walking down the bridge, and Sam and I follow.

"Okay, well, we're here. So now what? What're we looking for?" Sam asks.

"We're looking for Dad." Dean says. "And we're gonna keep looking until we find him. No matter how long it takes."

"Dean, I have to be back by Monday." Sam points out. I sigh and roll my eyes. I know where this is going.

"Oh, yes, Monday… For the interview…" Dean says. "Yeah I forgot, you're really serious about this crap, aren't you? Gonna become a lawyer, and marry your girl? Jessica?" And just like that Dean was angry, and I knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Yeah, Dean, maybe I am. Why not?" says Sam.

"Well, how well does she really know you, Sam? Does she know the things you've done?"

Sam pushes me gently out of the way, and glares at Dean. "No, and she's never going to know."

"You sure that's healthy, Sammy?" Dean asks. I'm getting ready to push myself in between them and make them stop, because the both of them have always been prone to physical altercations, even before Sam left. "Sooner or later, Sammy, you'll have to face up to who you really are."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam says, "And who's that?"

"You're one of us." Dean says. Sam takes two steps forward so he's as close to being nose to nose as he can with Dean. Don't get me wrong, Dean's pretty tall too, but Sammy's taller. They're both getting that look in their eyes again, and I look around nervously. I see something flicker in the corner of my eye, but when I turn my head to look, it's gone. I keep one eye on it just to be sure, but I keep the rest of my focus on my brothers. Last thing I need is for one of them to push the other over the edge.

"No, I'm not like you!" Sam protests. "This is not my life!"

"Who you tryna convince, Sammy?" Dean asks. "You have a responsibility to –''

"To who?!" Sammy asks angrily. I see something again, and when I look, I see a young woman in a white dress. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach as I keep looking at her. "To Mom? To Dad? To Dad and his, his crusade? Dean, I barely remember that Mom was a blonde, and if it weren't for the stories you and Dad told, I would have no idea what she was like!" The woman steps up to the side of the bridge, and looks me in the eyes. Right at me.

"Sam. Dean." I say, trying to get their attention, but of course they ignore me completely.

"And, Dean, even if I did remember, what difference would it make? Even if we find the thing that killed her, it's not gonna bring her back! Mom's gone. She's dead, and she's never coming back to us, no matter what we do." Sam says. Dean grabs Sam and pushes him up against the railing. The woman is still looking at me.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that." Dean says lowly. The woman looks away, and is about to jump.

"Dean!" I shout, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from Sam. "Look!" He turns his head to look just as Constance jumps.

"Sam, c'mon." Dean says, and we all start running towards where she jumped. Dean reached it first, skidding to a halt and looking over the edge. When I join him, I can't see anything, even with Dean's flashlight.

"Where'd she go?" I ask, looking around for her.

"No clue." Sam says, before we all hear the familiar roar of the Impala's engine. I whirl around to see the car's lights shining in my eyes, getting bigger as it comes barreling closer to us.

I turn around and start running instantly, with Sam and Dean just behind me. But the car is faster than us, and just as it's about to hit us, we all dive over the side of the bridge. I grip as tight as I can to the railing, and I see Sam doing the same in my peripheral vision, but I don't see Dean anywhere. Then I hear the splash of water, and know that he overshot when he dove.

I see the lights of the car as they zoom past us, and stop at the edge of the bridge. I wait for what feels like ages, no one speaking, to see if the danger has passed us for the moment. Once it's been silent for a couple of minutes, Sam asks,

"All good?"

In answer, Dean spits out water and yells,

"I swear if that bitch wrecked my car!"

"Alright, Dean's okay. What about you, Gwen?" Sam asks, and I turn to look at him in the darkness.

"I'm good." I say, smiling at him. He smiles back, and swings himself back up onto the bridge. He extends a hand to me to help me up.

"Glad to hear it." He says.

We look over the railing, down at Dean, who's crawling out of the river all muddy. I can't help but laugh a little.

"Yeah, yeah, Gwen, laugh all you fucking want," Dean breaks into a fit of coughs, "But just you wait, you'll regret it!" More coughing, and I let out another laugh.

"That's some big talk from someone who's too busy coughing up mud to finish a sentence!" Sam calls down to our brother, laughing as well.

Dean takes a deep breath, and stands up on the muddy bank. "I will murder both of you in your sleep!"

"And when you find Dad, you can explain to him how two of his children suddenly wound up dead!" I taunted him, walking towards the Impala. "On the bright side, looks like baby is okay."

"She'd better be!" Dean hollered as he trudged up the hill back to the road. He emerged sopping wet and his hands and knees were muddy. He walks to the driver's door, and is about to open it when Sam says,

"You sure you wanna drive baby when you're soaking wet?"

Dean considers this for a moment, before turning for the trunk and taking out a blanket. He draped it over the backseat, and sat down on it. "Don't you dare wreck my car…" He mumbled.