Short update. There will be more coming soon as soon as I tweak it to my liking, might take a while haha.

This follows the episode quite a bit, and I take no credit for the actual lines and actions taken from the episode AHBL2. That belongs to writers Erik Kripke and Michael Moore, and is under the direction of Kim Manners.

I hope you guys enjoy. This has become one of my favorite stories to add to, and I hope I can keep y'all interested in it too. :)


My next conscious thought I was in my rightful place. Now at this point, I know I'm not haunting my body, or the place I died. If you can call this haunting I guess. I'm not trapped within the confines of how I died, I'm trapt within those of how I lived.

I'm sitting on the slick leather bench seat of a gleaming black 1967 Chevy Impala. I'm on the passenger side, to the right of the driver. I'm haunting a person. I'm haunting Dean. I'm being pulled along for his self-destruction, like a toddler dragging a dog around by the leash. Like the dog, I can't stop it. And in some morbid way, like the toddler I don't want to.

The scenery is a blur by the window; the Impala is racing down a dirt road at death-defying speeds. Her handler is easily pushing her around the tight bends, and I'm sure if I was able to I would feel the contents of my stomach creeping up my throat. Gravel flies from beneath the tires, and pings through the undercarraige of the car.

Normally, Dean would be giggling like a kid at a carnival, urging his baby on faster as they clipped near miss after near miss. I would be gripping the dash and the door, Dean would be calling me a 'wuss' and an 'uptight old woman'.

Not today.

Today is different.

Dean is gripping the steering wheel so tight I can clearly see the whiteness of his knuckles and the redness as his fingers lose circulation. And he doesn't know I'm here.

His stare is aimed straight ahead. I keep expecting to see that familiar side glance of his as he gives me some smart comment, but not once does he turn my way.

"I'm not giving up on you Sammy." The words were so quiet and so loud at the same time.

"Dean, please, stop the car." I don't know what else to do. I can't physically stop him; I sure as hell can't psychically stop him, so pleading is what I have for the moment. It's all I've got.

"I can't." I know he isn't answering my demand directly, but those two words answer it all the same.

The Impala slides the last few inches as Dean slams on the brakes. He's out and heading towards the trunk before I can even process his movements. By the time I'm out, he's got the small wooden box in his hands and is heading for the center of the crossroads. He never falters; he just gives two quick looks over each shoulder and drops to his knees to dig.

At this point I am an inch from his face, screaming obscenities that would have made him blush. He continues piling the dirt on the damned box, and I'm yelling and waving my arms like a lunatic. He would laugh if he could see me now.

He slowly rises, and I attempt to dig at the small pile of disturbed dirt. The rocks begin to shift, and just as I reach the box, I blink and the hole appears undisturbed. Unable to comprehend, I try once more. Same results. I can't reach that damn box.

"Oh come on already," Dean whispers. "Show your face you ugly bitch!" he yells a bit louder.

"This cannot be happening! Dean, you're an idiot!" I yell right back. I've given up on the box.

"Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."

I look up and find the angelic face staring right at me, and she quickly shifts her gaze to Dean. She heard me, she could see me.

"You stay away from him!" Once again her eyes flick my way before moving back to my brother. She ignores me and begins to walk towards him, taunting him. "You hear me you bitch?!" Of course she can hear me, I know she can.

The Dean I know and depended on for so long is gone. Her voice echoes around me, and the longer I focus on Dean the less I can hear what she's actually saying He has been replaced by a mere shell, I can see the life drain from him, each word the red-eyed demon throws wears at him like waves on the shore.

I snort, imagining Dean's reaction to my developed train of thought. Maybe Stanford really did ruin my 'more useful education' as Dean calls the first eighteen years of my grooming at his hands.

"I should send you straight back to hell," Dean sneers, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Both the demon and I know he won't, but she's the only one that voices it. She's feeding off his pain, using it to fuel her addiction for human misery and despair.

Dean begins to bargain with his soul, like he's some used car salesman. "There are a hundred other demons who would love to get their hands on it. And it's all yours, all you gotta do is bring Sam back. Give me ten years…"

"I don't want to live with you for ten years just to lose you!" I scream again. "God I swear I'm going to kill you myself!" I just can't take this, I can't watch this happen. Dean's going to bring me back, and I'm going to lose him in the process. "Let's not forget about the part where hell hounds tear you to pieces and you spend the rest of eternity in hell!"

"You must be joking."

For a moment, hope soars like a jaded ray of freakin' sunshine. I realize then that Dean's pain might be too much for the demon to pass up on. She might spare my brother just to watch him beg for my life.

In the end this could be the only thing that saves his.

Dean begins to slowly bring his price down. Year by year, he's vainly trying to temp the demon into a deal.

He drastically drops it to five years, adding that its his last offer, and the demon smiles. She approaches him, and leans in.

"No!" I cry out before I can rein it in.

"Then no deal," she breathes against his lips.

"Fine," he challenges.

"Fine," she accepts. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinkin' up the joint." Right after she says it, she peeks at me and smirks.

"Rot in hell you demonic bitch," I can't help but growl at her as she walks towards me.

"Wait." No, Dean, no!

"It's a fire sale and everything must go," she tells me, before turning back to Dean.

"What do I have to do?" Just like that, he freely opens himself up in an open, general contract. I didn't have to have a law school background to understand how stupid that move just was.

The demon caves, but somehow I don't doubt it's what she's been trying to get all along. She never had any intention of walking away, leaving my brother to wallow by himself. She knew she was hammering the last nail in his coffin when she used the 'bury Sam' comment.

Damn her. I've had enough at this point. I jump between her and Dean, but she simply walks right on through.

I feel disoriented for a moment, but I hear her chilling laughter in my head. She continues to taunt Dean, but assuredly offers him one year.

I can hear Dean's train of thought on this one, doesn't take much. He's thinking how great three-hundred and sixty-five days with me sounds versus one more day alone.

"You know you won't get him," I inform her. She won't, I'll see to that. "You'll never receive payment."

"But here's the thing," she adds, her eyes flicking to me, and I know she's making sure I pay attention. "If you try to welsh or weasel your way out then the deal is off, Sam drops dead and he's back to rotting meat in no time."

She beefs it up, "It's a better deal then your dad ever got. What do you say?" She already knows the answer, and neither of us is surprised when Dean angrily grabs the back of her head and seals the deal, selling his soul for my measly life.

The world around me beings to blur, the colors run together like someone pouring water over fresh paint. I feel like my body is being torn apart, and I am pulled away screaming.


I'm actually not sure how long this thing is going to be and when I'm actually going to cut it off. We'll see I guess lol...