Happy February and welcome to chapter three! I hope you are as excited to read this chapter as I am to post it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

My apologies for the lack of flashbacks in this chapter!


The sonofabitch hated John.

Three years after that conversation, his son got killed on the job. They were working with her father to hunt a witch when the kid got stabbed. The father, Jimmy Spacer, blamed it on John and wouldn't speak to him for days. He never seemed that mad at John after that, especially not enough to have killed him. And Dean? Jimmy had nothing but love for Dean, as if he was his own son.

Carter could see now that it was never love; he just needed to get close enough to Dean to learn his patterns to figure out how to kill him. Dean, after all, is not that easy to kill.

The teen looked away from the screen and stared off into space, searching her mind to find when the last time she saw Jimmy was. As far as she could remember, it had been years. They stopped crossing paths and keeping in contact after her father died.

The Winchesters had changed hundreds of phone numbers since then and Jimmy's number was lost to them. So his location was even more a blur. The only way she could hope to get into contact with him would be to call Bobby, or another hunter that could trace back to him.

Carter looked up at Booth. "I'd like to take that phone call now." Booth looked her over and mumbled, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"You stay right here where I can see you. And no funny business, you hear?" Booth demanded before handing over his phone. "And why don't you put it on speakerphone? I want to know who you're talking to."

Carter grabbed the phone and jut out her lip. "Can't I have a little privacy?"

"You're a warden of the state, you don't get any privacy."

Carter rolled her eyes and looked down at the phone. She flipped it on and ran Bobby's number over her mind before getting it correct and typing it in. She watched as the phone rang, flipping it to speakerphone, and Booth leaned towards her. She could also see Angela leaning discretely close behind Booth. The call went through and a thick voice answered.

"Hello?"

At hearing his voice, Carter's smile appeared. Just knowing he was listening was enough to comfort her.

"Hey Bobby, it's me." Booth watched as her face relaxed at a single word. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile, not just smirk.

There was a pause on the other end as Bobby processed what he heard. "Carter?" He asked, his tone disbelieving. "I thought I told you to call me if you were plannin' on escapin'."

Carter fumbled, not daring a glance at the agent in front of him. "I-," she started but stopped. She took a breath. "I'm with the FBI. You're on speakerphone."

Bobby didn't answer. Booth looked from the phone to the kid in front of him.

"Well, don't leave me hangin', kid. What's happened?"

Carter licked her lips. "They found Dean's body in a grave. They brought me in to help find his killer."

"Idjit," he muttered after a pause. "What do you need from me?"

"Jimmy Spacer, how long has it been since he contacted you?"

Bobby sighed. "A couple months back he needed to know how to kill some Pagan god. I told him to stick it where the sun don't shine and forget my number. Seems like he forgot about Texas." He paused. "Did he do it?"

Carter didn't answer his question. "Do you still have his number?"

Bobby sighed, "Yeah, gimme a second." Papers could be heard sifting on his end for a minute before he came back. Booth reached around for a piece of paper as Bobby recited his number. "If you find him, give me a call."

"Sure thing, Bobby," Carter replied.

Before both hung up the phone, Bobby muttered, "Idjit."

Instead of handing the phone back to Booth, she began typing Jimmy's number in. Booth looked between the phone and the paper in his hands. He noticed the similarities and immediately snatched the phone back from her hands. His eyes blazing, he glared into the young teen's face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You could've just blown this entire case!" Booth cried. Carter's handcuffs clinked as she lowered her wrists down.

"I'm working this case, that's what the hell I'm doing. I don't see you doing anything! I just gave you his name, his phone number, and soon to be his location if you just give me the damn phone back."

"And what was your plan, huh?" Booth calmed down. "Ask him where is? Tell him to turn himself in to the nearest police station?"

"No," Carter rolled her eyes. She changed her voice as she would talk on the phone, "'Hey, Jimmy, it's Carter Winchester. I could use your help on a case here in D.C., seeing as Dean has been MIA and Sam is, well, I'm sure you heard. I don't know many hunters out this way, and I've known you forever, it seems, so I figured why not give you a call?'" Her voice changed back to normal. "And then I'd tell him to meet me at that motel we passed on the way here and I'd popped a cap in his ass and call it a day."

Booth remained silent. He leaned back from Carter. Booth had known her a whole whopping ten hours and killing him was the last thing he expected her to say. To him, killing was a last resort; never would it be a first option. But to Carter? Damn, she made it sound like it was just another Tuesday to her.

"So?" Carter asked, since Booth neglected to answer. "Are we doing this or not?" She reached towards the phone in Booth's hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just go around killing people," Booth responded softly and quietly.

Carter lowered her hands. "No, you're right. Normally I would say 'talk first, shoot later.' But this sonofabitch killed my brother; he doesn't get the choice of living. The best he can get now is a bullet to the brain." Again, she gestured toward the phone.

"No," he stepped back a step. "If anything, I'll go undercover to get him, but you're not doing anything. It seems like you forgot who's in charge here."

Carter scoffed. Both at the fact that he thought he could pass as a hunter and that he thought he was in charge. To play it safe she decided to go with the former. "Any hunter worth their shit would spot you a mile away."

Booth shrugged. "It's not the first time I've gone undercover. I'll just throw on some camo and I'll be fine."

Carter started laughing, but at Booth's face she pretended to cough instead. "Wrong kind of hunter, sweetheart. We don't hunt Bambi, we hunt monsters." At Angela and Booth's looks, Carter decided to abandon mission and get the heat off her back. "Would you mind pointing me towards the bathroom? I've been holding it since prison."

They both remained quiet. Angela walked up next to Booth, the tablet missing from her hands. "I can take her," she broke the silence softly. Booth nodded his head.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me."

Angela started walking out of her office but when Booth neglected to pull out the handcuff keys, Carter waited. "You gonna unlock me?"

Booth laughed. "Nice try, kid."

Carter licked her lips and turned on her heel, swallowing her comments and following Angela to the bathroom. The bathroom wasn't far away, which could be counted as both good and bad. But the handcuffs were her problem. She wasn't actually going to go, but she wanted them to stop chafing her wrists. It was safe to say they weren't made with comfort in mind.

As they walked in, Angela stood in front of the mirrors, adjusting her hair. Carter went straight to the stall closest to the clouded windows. As she shut the door behind her, finally not being watched so harshly, she felt the gush of emotions wash over her. Silently, several tears dropped down her face as she sat there. Ignoring the presence of Angela, she brought her hands to her face and took in a shuddering breath.

Everything that had happened in the last hour since she'd been away from the FBI building crashed over her head. Finally seeing her dead brothers, peering at a car that was once so lively, and finding out an old friend made that all happen. She took in another shuddering breath, this time a sob escaping afterwards. She closed her eyes, digging her fists into them.

On the other side of the stall, Angela stopped what she was doing after the sob. She looked over her shoulder towards the stall the girl was in and frowned. All this time, she'd only been seeing Carter as a criminal, not as a living, breathing teenager. One who should be going to football games and dances instead of sitting in prison for the rest of her life. Although there was nothing she could do about that.

After several minutes, Carter wiped the tears off her cheeks and stood up. She flushed the toilet, despite not having even gone, and opened the door. Immediately, Angela turned to watch her.

Angela didn't say anything, just smiled sadly. Carter walked to the sink and began washing her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Angela watching her with a sad expression.

"I'm not a bad person, you know," Carter supplied. She turned the water off and stared down at her drying hands. "They locked me up because a lot of the people I meet end up dead. And they think I killed them." She took a deep breath. "But that's not my problem. My problem is that I couldn't save enough of them." She shook her hands, flinging water droplets everywhere, the handcuffs clinking. She looked up at Angela, who had turned her body towards Carter. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about them every single day."

Carter started walking towards the paper towel dispenser next to the door. Angela followed Carter. "What do you mean you couldn't save them? Save them from what?" Carter grabbed a towel, turning back towards Angela. A look of both sadness and reluctance shined up at the woman. "From monsters?" She asked. "I mean, that's what you said earlier, but" Angela started faltering. "I mean obviously monsters aren't real." Carter shrugged, turned around, and headed out the door.

Walking out the door, she immediately spotted Booth. He leaned against the wall checking his phone not too far from the bathroom.

"Alright! So," Carter started as she approached Booth. Angela noticed Booth and headed up to the platform on her own. "If you're going undercover as a hunter still, you seriously need my help. You need to wear a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. I assume I'm not allowed to join in, so I suggest letting me stay in a van parked not too far away so I can listen to what's happening and tell you how to respond."

Booth cut in. "I don't need your help, it's not the first time I've been undercover. It's all common sense. The only place you're going is back to prison."

Carter rolled her eyes. "You may have been undercover before, but you've never posed as one of us. Its miles different. Have you lost anyone?"

At her last statement, Booth froze. "Excuse me?"

"Have you lost someone?" Carter repeated and sighed once he still didn't answer. "99% of hunters get into hunting because they've lost someone they love in a weird way. For my dad, it was his wife. For others, it could be their husbands, their kids, their best friend. Really, anyone you're close to. That other 1% get into hunting because they themselves almost died by or saw something that wasn't natural." She paused. She bounced forward on her toes and looked away from Booth. "And then there's me." She shook her head when Booth remained silent, set on changing the subject. "So, if you've lost someone, keep that hurt in the back of your head, controlling the manner in which you hold yourself. If you haven't, then imagine you did."

Hands on his hips, Booth looked into Carter's eyes. A question had been burning in his brain ever since he got her file. And now finally he had his chance. "Your file doesn't mention what happened to your dad, just that he disappeared when Sam and Dean were kids. There's a couple reports of him checking you kids into school, but after a while they just stop."

Carter paused, just watching Booth. Finally she answered, "He died." Both of them locked eyes. "Spent his last few hours protecting us."

Booth's eyes softened at the realization. The FBI never found anybody else related to the Winchesters, so except for friends, Carter was really alone. "I'm sorry," Booth's voice remained low and apologetic.

Carter shrugged, uncomfortable with the "chick flick" moment, a trait she inherited from her brother. "It's fine. I mean, he was hardly ever around anyway," she half-lied. "Can we just get back to the case?"

Booth nodded, "Yeah." He looked up at the main platform for Sweets, finding him watching the monitor. "Here, come with me." He led her up to the platform where Dr. Brennan, Dr. Sweets, Wendell, and Angela all stood around. Booth led her over to the railing on the other side of the sets of remains and took out his handcuff keys. Carter's eyes brightened when she saw them.

"Are you finally trusting me without cuffs?" Booth unlocked one wrist and before Carter could even think, he twisted the cuff under the railing and locked it back onto her wrist. She frowned and tried to lift her hands up, already knowing the outcome. "Seriously?" Booth ignored her and called over to Sweets, who bounded over immediately. Their backs to Carter, they spoke in hushed tones, Sweets nodding his head a couple times. Finally, Booth turned and walked down the stairs and walked out of the building. Carter turned towards Sweets but didn't say anything. When he didn't say anything back, Carter sighed and looked around. Sweets pulled up a stool and sat near Carter. The building grew to a rushed hushing of motions. Everybody did as they normally would do on a Tuesday night. Soon, many of them forgot a criminal was even there.


An hour and 45 minutes later, Booth came strolling back in the building. All of the regular workers had gone home so all that remained was Dr. Brennan, Dr. Sweets, Angela, Hodgins, and Wendell. About 40 minutes ago, Booth had called asking for a meeting place, since they couldn't meet at the motel. "Too many innocent people around if things should go south," Booth had explained. Carter then suggested an abandoned house, to which Booth agreed. While at the FBI building, Booth had also called Jimmy to set up the meeting. He ended up telling him that he was a newer hunter based around the D.C area and he could use his help on a hunt. A skinwalker, he explained. (All of this, of course, with the guidance of Carter.)

Carter sat on the floor, her hands still cuffed, but resting above her head now, stuck on the top railing. Certain Carter wasn't going to escape, Sweets had abandoned his post next to the girl and had taken to walking around the platform. Angela and Hodgins were hidden away in Angela's office and Dr. Brennan and Wendell both stood at a set of remains. The glass doors clanged open as Booth strolled in, his shoes making clicking noises as he walked.

Carter gazed tiredly behind her as Booth swiped his card, entering the platform. She remained on the ground as the agent walked over towards her.

"Stand up, let's go, I'm taking you back to prison."

"Yes, sir," Carter mumbled as she stood up, Booth simultaneously pulling out his keys. He unlocked her from the railing but promptly locked her hands back together. None of the doctors bothered to pay any attention to the girl. But as Agent Booth and the girl headed of the platform, Carter called back, "Nice meeting you all!"

That night, lying in bed on her uncomfortable prison mattress, her nightmares returned. She remained still, her blanket trapping her as Sam's eyes loomed before her. It had taken her months to get rid of these images. Months. And they were back just like that. All because Agent Booth decided to bring it back up.

To say she slept terrible that night would be an understatement.


Let me know what you think of this chapter, follow if you haven't done so, and I'll see you all next week! We only have two more chapters to go!