I sigh in frustration as the door to my holding room remains closed. What if the sheriff is already interrogating Dean? I pull my hands together and clasp them, hoping to calm some of my nerves. I am not used to getting into trouble of any kind. When we were kids, Dad did his best to make sure we were never caught. At school I was never late, never failed a test, and never got into any fights. I may not have been popular, but I wasn't bullied either. So the fact that I am currently seated in a room at the police station wears my nerves thin.

I get pulled from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening. It's the sheriff. I frown as I notice he is empty handed. He smiles and sits across the table from me.

"Look, I know you aren't here to cause trouble. What we really want is to catch the men responsible for the missing victims. The two men you were with are suspects in the on-going investigation. But you don't want those boys in any more trouble, do you Grace?" My eyes widen as he addresses me by name. "That's, right. We know all about you. What we need is for you to come clean about what's going on. The more you tell us, the less trouble those boys are going to be in."

I look at the table and remain silent. The sheriff wouldn't believe me if I told him the truth, and I'm certainly not going to say anything that could incriminate Dean further. He sighs and I can feel him watching me as he stands up and walks over to me. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Grace, you're only going to get yourself into more trouble if you don't help us. You are a good girl. I don't want those boys to bring you down with them. So, can you help me?"

I shake my head. "No. I can't." I don't look at the man, though. I can't even believe he would try to use me against the boys I see as my own brothers. I can't believe he wanted me to turn on them to save myself. I can feel the sheriff's disappointment as bends down and cuffs one of my wrists to the other and pulls me up by my right arm. "I really wish we didn't have to do this, but you left me no choice. If you aren't going to tell me what you know, Dean is. Because that's his name, isn't it?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. How could this man already know so much about us?

He nods before pulling me through the door. He walks me down the hallway to another door. Just inside the glass I can see Dean. The sheriff looks at me. "You just got yourself into a load of trouble. Now do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way? I can take the cuffs off if you aren't going to run." He looks me in the eyes and I nod. He nods in return and unlocks the cuffs before opening the door and pulling me into the room.

Dean looks up at me as we enter the room and the sheriff pulls up a chair and sits me next to him. I can tell by the confusion in his eyes that he has been left alone thus far. I relax slightly next to him. He always knows what to say. It's what makes him one of the best older brothers in the world. The sheriff eyes me for a second before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a very familiar book. It's Dad's journal. He never goes anywhere without it.

"So, boy, you want to give us your real name?" The sheriff takes a seat across the table from us, eyes carefully watching Dean. Dean just smiles. and crosses his hands in front of him. Less relaxed in his chair than when I first came in, but still putting up a good front.

"I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent." Dean's smile flashes momentarily brighter as he hides a laugh. I try not to smile as Dean plays this game. The old Rock and Roll personas were his favorite.

"Boy, I'm not sure you know how much trouble you're in. How much trouble you've gotten your friend here in." Dean's smile just grows as he leans back slightly in his chair and stretches his arms.

"We talkin' like… Misdemeanor kind of trouble or squeal like a pig kind of trouble?" He jokes as he looks over at me. He knows that it makes me nervous to have to deal with the police. He looks back over at the sheriff. The sheriff gives him a rather piercing look.

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall." I look at the table as Dean looks away, probably trying to figure out how to convince this guy that we aren't the ones taking these men. "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo." He lowers his head to look Dean in the eye. "Boy you are officially a suspect. And now so is your friend here, since she won't tell us what your up to."

Dean chuckles under his breath and looks at the sheriff. "That makes sense. Because when the first one went missing in '82, I was three, and she had barely turned two."

The sheriff wasn't having any Dean's games today. "I know you got partners. One of them is an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing." He reaches a hand behind himself to take something from one of his back pockets. He takes it and tosses a very familiar leather-bound book onto the table in front of us. "So tell me, Dean, is this his?" I continue to look at the sheriff as I see Dean shift slightly next to me. On the table is Dad's journal, the one he never goes anywhere without.

Dean's silence is disconcerting as he stares at the book."I thought that might be your name." The sheriff reaches over and flips through it, past newspaper clippings and old notes about the monsters Dad has hunted, along with old photographs. "See I leafed through this, what little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy." The pages he flips past show drawing of monsters that I haven't ever seen. Dean leans closer to see the book better. "But I found this, too." The sheriff looks at both Dean and myself. "Now, you're staying right here until you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

He points a chubby finger at a lined page that says: Dean 35-111. To anyone who doesn't know our Dad the numbers wouldn't make any sense. To Dean, Sam, and I, it is a lead to where Dad is. It's a set of map coordinates that he uses to tell us where he is going. Something he picked up from when he was a marine.

Dean smirks at the officer standing over us. "It's my high school locker combo."

The sheriff rolls his eyes. "Come on, What the hell are those numbers?"

Dean just shakes his head. "I don't know how many times I gotta tell you. It's my high school locker combo." He clasps his hands in front of him as he stares at the page. I watch with a half smile.

"We gonna do this all night long?" The sheriff gestures at Dean with one of his hands when one of the deputies stands at the door..

"We just got a 911. Shots fired over at Whiteford Rd." He leaves to go with the other officers. The sheriff look back at us. "You guys aren't going anywhere. You have to go to the bathroom?" I shake my head. Dean answers with a confused no.

The sheriff smiles. "Good." He reaches over and cuffs Dean's left arm to the table. Reaching over and cuffing my right arm to the chair, he doesn't notice that he is leaving Dad's journal on the table. A very good place to find something to pick the locks on the cuffs. He leaves the room, closes the door, and locks us in behind him. Dean looks over and smiles at me.

"Well, that went well. How you doing over there, Gracie?" He glances at me for a moment before reaching towards the book with his free hand to grab the paper clip pinning the page to the journal. WIth trained ease he grabs the clip and bends it into a usable shape before sticking it in to jimmy the cuff on his wrist. Within a few seconds he is free. He walks over to me and does the same to mine.

He offers me a small smile as the lock clicks. I quickly stand up from the chair and look over at the door. No shadows have crossed the light since the sheriff left. A glance at Dean and a nod later we find ourselves outside the sheriff's office and in the hall. I glance around and pause as someone walks by in the other room. The footsteps recede and we make our escape as the last of the officers leave the building.

Outside, Dean looks around and finds an old telephone booth a couple streets down. I follow him, knowing that it would be best to call Sam now that we were out. He walks only two strides ahead of me as he follows the path to get to the old booth. He puts in some spare change and dials a number as he pulls the phone from its slot. The phone rings a couple times before Sam picks up.

"Fake 911 phone call, Sammy. I don't know that's pretty illegal." I can barely hear Sam's response from beside Dean. It was said with Sam's sense of wry humor.

"You're welcome. "

"Listen we've got to talk." Dean shifts his weight to his right leg absentmindedly.

"Tell me about it. So, the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white, and she's buried behind her old house. So, that should have been Dad's next stop." Dean looks at me as he listens to Sam's words. Finally he grows tired of waiting.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"

Sam continues on as if Dean had never said anything. "I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse, yet."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well, that's what I been trying to tell you!" He pauses for just a breath. "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

I can hear the surprise and confusion in Sammy's voice as he answers. "What?! How do you know?" I imagine his puppy dog eyes with a small tilt of his head as he tries to figure out what we know and he doesn't. Dean sighs as he looks down at the leather bound book from the station.

"I've got his journal."

I can just make out Sam's response. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing…"

Dean looks at the pages of the journal as he talks to Sam. "Yeah, well, he did this time."

"What's it say?"

"Ah, the same old ex-marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates. Where to?" Sam sounds resigned.

"We're not sure. Grace and I haven't had the time to check it out, yet."

"Guys, what the hell is going on? GUWH!-" A thunk can be heard from the phone.

"Sam?! Sam?" Dean and I both call out, hoping Sam is going to answer. The line goes dead. Dean and I look worriedly at each other. Something is happening to Sammy, and we need to be there two seconds ago. I look around.

"Dean, do you think Sammy was out on Centennial Highway? Maybe to go and try to burn the bones?" He just nods with his serious green eyes. He looks around for a way for us to get out there in time to help Sammy. We start running. We are close enough to the old bridge to know that we should be at the property in time if Sam could create a diversion from what is believed to be the woman in white.

Dean grabs a shotgun from the bag we had when we were apprehended. It's filled with rock salt rounds, the ones we can use on spirits and things. He hands it to me as we keep running, the process almost jarring as we try to get to the old Welch house down in Breckenridge. Dean pulls one of his iron round filled guns from the bag before shutting in and running faster in the distance we can make out the glowing tail lights of the Impala as it drives on towards the old house. It stops and the lights go out.

I look at Dean, but we are still too far from the car to do anything. We keep running. Within a few minutes we are much closer to the car, but the sound of Sam yelling in pain cause us to run faster. No one messes with Sammy... Nothing messes with Sammy, and gets away with it. The yelling stops and Dean opens fire on the ghost of Constance Welch. He misses her on the first few shots as we run up to the driver's side window. When I get close enough Dean stops firing and I fire a shot of the rock salt shotgun. Constance disappears into smoke as the salt hits her.

Sam pants in the seat. Five holes have been burned through the fabric of his shirt and his clothes are in disarray. Barely glancing at us, Sam sits up and starts the car. He glares at the house in front of him. "I'm taking you home." He pushes hard on the gas and the car all but jumps forward, ramming into the side of the house. Dean and I take off after the car.

"Sam! Sammy?" I call as we get into the house. The Impala is stationary in the middle of the front room.

"Here." It sounded as if Sam was in pain.

"You okay?" Dean jumps over most of the debri trying to get to his brother.I look around the house making sure Constance doesn't show back up for another round with Sam. I look back as Dean yanks open the passenger side door.

Sam looks at us. "I think." It makes me want to run over and check on him, but I need to make sure nothing else gets the chance to get a drop on us. Nothing is out of the ordinary, yet, but most of the front room lays in shambles around us. A picture of a family lies on the floor in front of me. I dust it off. It looks like constance and two children, perhaps her own. I set it back down as Dean pulls Sam out of the car. A chill passes over me as Constance appears in the spot I just left. I watch as she picks up the same portrait and stares at it.

I quickly move back over to Sam and Dean. Sm looks alright, but I don't want to take any chances of the situation becoming any worse. Constance looks up from the photograph and glares at the three of us with a hatred I can only assume comes from the fact that we brought her back home. She throws the painting aside as we watch her, waiting for her to make her move. A dresser suddenly slides across the room and into the us. Three pain filled grunts resound as we are slammed into the side of the Impala.

Dean recovers first and tries to shove the dresser away. Soon enough Sam and I join in, but nothing we do can get it to budge. Constance moves closer, staring heatedly at all of us. The lights flicker and the house begins to shake. Constance is distracted by it. She looks around before turning her gaze to the stairs where the sound of water running can be heard. Small whispers of what may be the word mommy echo around the house as Constance stares. A light fills the staircase as two children appear at the top of the stairs, dripping with water. We all watch as Constance moves to the foot of the staircase looking at the children. The children grab hands.

"You've come home to us, Mommy." They flicker out and back into of existence at the bottom of the stairs, behind her. She whirls around in fear to face them. She looks distressed and scared. Her children suddenly reach out to hug her. The second their arms meet her body, they begin to fade. Constance screams as water encompasses her. She flickers into different forms before dissolving into water herself, along with her children. Nothing is left but a wet spot on the floor.

Three of us look at each other, breathing hard. Dean glances down and we all work together to push the dresser off of us. It falls over at our feet. I look one more time at the boys before walking over to the place where Constance and her children disappeared. I fear the boys walk up behind me as Dean places a hand on my shoulder and looks at the puddle. His face is disbelieving.

"So this is where she drowned her kids?"

Sam and I half nod as we stare at the puddle ourselves. I look over at Dean and he hand moves back to his side. "That's why she could never go home." I laugh slightly at the end of my sentence. Sam finishes it for me. "She was too scared to face 'em."

Dean looks over at Sammy. "You found her weak spot." I smile as Dean continues on. "Nice work, Sammy." I turn and look behind me as I hear Sam laugh and try to cover a yelp of pain. I shake my head. Boys will be boys, I suppose. And Dean's tough love routine isn't going to end anytime soon.

Sam smiles. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak."

Dean smiles and points at Sam. "Hey, saved your ass. I bought you enough time for Grace to take care of her for a while." Dean glances at me before turning around and studying his car as if he needed to make sure it was perfectly fine. "I'll tell you another thing… If you screwed up my car…" He lets the threat hang before deciding to finish it. "I'll kill you."

I laugh. Dean wouldn't dream of killing Sammy in a million years. He's just worried about Baby's paint job. "Yeah, right. Dean, you wouldn't lay a hand on your brother if it got ten different flavored pies out of the deal…"

"Yeah, well…" He looks at Sam. "Don't do it again." I can tell he's fighting back a smile. Sam and I laugh as he goes back to looking over the car. Dean always worries about his Baby. I think the world would end if he ever lost her. I laugh again as I walk over to help dig her out of the rubble. Dean looks at me. "You two are so giving her a good wash when we get out of here."

I shake my head as Sam walks over and we eventually get the wood cleared away from the Impala. Dean walks around to the driver's side door and pulls it open. He sits down in the chair as the rest of us climb into the car. Dean sighs as he starts the car. He reaches over and hits the button that plays the radio. AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' fills the car as Dean looks into the rearview mirror and backs out of the house. He pulls far enough back that we would have room to turn around before shooting back off down the highway. It's time enough we left Jericho and started to decipher the coordinates left by Dad. Sam pulls a map from the glove compartment and opens the journal to the page that holds the coordinates. I lean forward from my seat in the back to see what he finds.

He drags a hand across longitudinal and latitudinal lines as he finally locates the place where Dad will be found. "Okay, here's where Dad went." He points the place out to me while explaining it to the driving Dean. "It's called Black Water Ridge, Colorado." Dean nods his head as he looks out the driver's side window.

"Sounds charming. How far?" He glances over at Sam and back at the road. Sam looks at the map. "About six hundred miles."

Dean looks over at Sam and tilts his head in his direction. "Hey, if we shag ass, we could make it by morning."

Both Sam and I hesitate to take the offer. Tomorrow morning would be Monday. We had to get back to Stanford for Sam to make his interview. We both look over at Dean, who is still looking at us, but keeps glancing toward the road. Sammy beats me to the words.

"Dean, we, uh…" I look at the floor boards. I really don't want to disappoint Dean, but we have to go back to school. I just let Sam do the talking for now. The flash of hurt on Dean's face that I saw before I could get my head down is going to bother me for the rest of my life.

"You guys aren't going, are you?" He closes his eyes for just a second before looking back at the road.

"My interview is like, ten hours. I gotta be there." Sam tries to explain, but I know what it will sound like to Dean. We're leaving again. We can't help him look for Dad. I look up and watch Dean as he glances at me in the rearview mirror. He refuses to meet my eyes as he goes back to looking out the windows and nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever." I fight back the urge to cringe at the hurt clearly evident in the statement. "I'll take you home." He looks back out the windshield. Sam goes back to looking at the map. I just sigh and sit back in the seat. It's going to be a long, quiet ride back to college.

I sigh in relief as Dean pulls up at the front of the apartments. The rest of the ride had been so silent... I had almost thought that the boys would fight, but the silence was worse. It was sos many times worse. Dean looks between me and Sam.

"Well." He glances at the dash. "I guess this is goodbye, for now. I'll call you if when I find Dad." He places one hand on the steering wheel as the other unlocks the doors. Sam steps out and leans against the window.

"Maybe we can meet up later, huh?" Sam looks over at me before stepping back. I hesitate to leave. I don't exactly want Dean to hunt for Dad on his own. Something could happen to him. Sam waits for me at the base of the stairs as Dean turns and looks at me.

"Grace, you can't keep Sammy waiting forever…" I sigh.

"I know… I just… I don't want you hunting for Dad alone. What if something happens to you, Dean? Who's going to be there to tell me? To tell Sam?" I look over at Sam, still standing at the foot of the stairs. It's Dean's turn to sigh.

"Grace, nothing's going to happen to me. Trust me on this. Besides, I'll see you soon. It's not like I'm leaving forever. You go and do whatever it is you geeks do. I'm going to go look for Dad." I don't move. "Look, I'll call you later if that makes you feel better. Don't beat yourself up about this." I nod with a sigh and get out of the car with a small wave at Dean. He nods and drives away, leaving me with Sam.

I look up the stairs. "Let's go." Sam trails up the stairs behind me, obviously still upset that he had to choose the interview over searching for Dad. I slow down to keep pace with him, but keep silent, knowing he won't want to talk about it. I walk with Sam all the way back to his and Jess's apartment. I can hear Fang whining on the other side of the door.

Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, to allow both of us in. But the moment the door opens wide enough Fang tears off out of the door, down the hall and away out into the street. I open my eyes wide at Sam before giving him a brief goodbye. I quickly chase after her, wondering just what could ever make my dog do that. She's never been this scared. I nearly trip down the stairs as I lose my footing for a second. I catch myself just in time and keep running.

Fang is standing on the other side of the street howling as if the world was ending. She's staring up at the apartment Jess and Sam share. I frown and I walk over to her, trying to calm her. The sound of someone yelling catches my ear as a bright light fills up the window of the apartment. It flickers almost as if… Oh my God… their apartment is on, is on fire! I glance at Fang, but she has already started running again. She's long gone. I look back up at the fire and race back up the stairs. I bust open the door to the place and race to go and find Sam. I reach the bedroom just in time to watch the last of Jess's form on the ceiling disappear. Somewhere near I can hear hear the sound of someone calling Sammy's name, but all I can see is the fire. And all I can remember is the fact that for months Sam has been telling me about these crazy dreams… Ones where Jess is killed by a fire, pinned to the ceiling.

Sam is in hysterics. He can't accept what's happening. He's calling for Jess and denying that this is happening. I can hardly believe it myself. I stare up at the body pinned to the ceiling, engulfed in flames. Wasn't this the reason we left the hunt? The reason we worked so hard to get to college? So something like this didn't happen? I feel a hand on my arm. It's not Sam's, but that doesn't matter. I continue to stare at the burning body. That was Jess. On the ceiling. Jess who was dead. Jess, the woman Sam had fallen in love with. Jess my friend.

Something drags me and a wailing Sam away from the fire. I just stare at Jess until I can't see her anymore, and then I just stare at the place she had been in my vision, shocked. This couldn't happen. They were just dreams. Just Sam's dreams. Dreams were not supposed to come to life and kill the people you knew and loved. Dreams were to supposed to stay in your head where they can torment you, they aren't supposed to happen. Not like this.

I can feel my feet moving blindly in the direction I'm being pulled. Smoke is filling the air. The apartment behind us explodes into flames. I watch as smoke files out the windows in copious amounts. We've somehow made it to the ground. Somehow survived this. I finally turn to look at Sam and whatever was pulling us away as we stop, far enough away from the fire now to not draw too much attention to ourselves. It was Dean. Dean.

I can feel my brows furrow. Dean had come back. Dean had saved us. Dean was trying to calm a very traumatized Sam down enough to quiet him completely. Eventually it just fades to shock, and then to anger. Sam looks so angry. Slowly my own shock fades into worry. Worry for Sam. Whatever killed Jess, killed Mom… and we saw how well anger turned out for Dad. He's been hunting this thing for years and he still hasn't found it.

I look around to see a crowd had formed around the apartment building and firetrucks had arrived on the scene. I follow Sam and Dean to the Impala, parked in an alcove nearby. Dean looks at us before going to look at the scene, leaving Sam and I alone with the Impala.

"Sam-"

"Don't. Just don't."

"Sam if you don't want to talk to Dean about it… Fine. But you can't hide this from me. I'm worried Sam. You can file this away all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that this wasn't your fault. You couldn't have know that this would happen if you-"

"Yes. I did. I had those dreams for months-"

"Sam! We both thought those dreams were just that. Dreams. If you want to blame someone, at least make sure that it's the both of us. I knew about them. That makes me just as liable as you are." Sam stares at me. "I mean it, Sam. Don't you dare just blame yourself… because that rabbit hole is big enough for the two of us." I shut up the moment I see Dean turn back and look at us. Sam just nods and opens the trunk, picking up a shotgun and loading it. I sigh. "Wherever you go, I'm going with you."

Sam nods. Dean walks up behind us, watching Sammy carefully. I can see that he is frustrated by the fact that Sam went through the same thing Dad did. Twenty two years ago. Except Sam is already trained, is already a hunter, and will do everything in his power to track down, and kill, the thing that took Jess. Dean remains silent while he switches his gaze over to me. I can tell he wants to know what happened but I don't think Sam, or myself, is ready for that. Because the truth is… I wasn't lying when I told Sam to blame me also. I blame myself. And I don't blame Sam at all. I should have known something like this could have happened. We were Hunters. And if you aren't the hunter, you're the hunted.

I look away from Dean. He doesn't know how close Sam and I have grown over the past few years. Sam was the only one who talked to me when I first came to college. And then he started coming in person. Two years after that, Sam was here on his own scholarship. There was no secrets between us. He knew about every weird dream, every test, every opportunity, and moment of despair. And I knew the same things about him. We were best friends, having grown up as brother and sister, and we kept as close as was expected of family. And then Sam found Jess. I knew he liked her from the moment he knew himself. He had planned on marrying her, finding a place on his own, becoming a lawyer.

I can feel more than see the look of disbelief as Dean looks back at Sammy, who sighs. He stops holding the shotgun, already finished with loading it, and tosses it back into the trunk with a nod. "We've got work to do." He slams the trunk shut and walks to the front passenger door, pulling it open and shutting it behind him. I look towards Dean for a second before turning to walk to the rear passenger door. Before I can take two steps, he catches my arm and makes me face him.

"Grace."

I sigh. "What, Dean? We should be going."

He shakes his head. "Really? You think we should be going?" He throws his hands in the air. "Oh, yeah. everything's perfectly fine. I know you, Grace. You're not telling me something." He looks pointedly at Sam's closed door.

I sigh again. "Dean, what just happened doesn't just affect Sam, so whatever it is… I hope it can wait. Jessica was my friend. I just watched her burn to death! Can't you just let things alone for a minute. Yeah, usually, I'm the chick. Not today. I don't want to talk about this." I turn to walk back to the side of the car and this time Dean lets me. I open the door and close it behind me. I lean back in the seat and close my eyes. Maybe sleep will come easy this morning. Then again, when was the last time I actually slept without a nightmare?