After leaving the bar, the three had gone back to the hotel. Mist got a room a few doors down from Sam and Dean's.

In the Winchester's room, Dean was trying to find any trace of Michelle Matthews in any database; birth records, school records, warrants, bank accounts…even a friggin e-mail address but he came up empty. Meanwhile Sam was reading up on some recent killings in California. Well, he was trying to anyways. His mind kept thinking back to Michelle, that burn on her hand, the shade that was after her. After a good ten minutes of reading the same sentence over and over, he closed his laptop and went to the door.

"Where you going?" Dean asked, his smirk evident through his voice. "Gonna go see your girlfriend?"

"Dean, she's not-" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm going for walk."

"Right," Dean said. "You're just gonna go for a late night stroll all by yourself." Sam was about to close the door when Dean called him.

"What?" Sam asked, clearly exasperated.

"Oh, touchy, touchy." Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. "I was just gonna say you should bring your jacket."

Sam scrunched his brows. "What?"

Dean smiled. "Michelle might get cold on your little romantic walk."

"Ha-ha." Sam commented dryly. He shut the door and took a few steps towards Michelle's room and stopped. Sighing, he turned around, opened the door to his room, and grabbed his jacket. Before closing the door again, he pointed at his brother, who was shaking with laughter. "Not a word."

xXx

Mist lit a match and tossed it into the bowl on the floor. Flames flew up as she summoned him. She got off her knees and stood up, looking around the room. The lamp by the door flickered. She looked at it for a moment before that tingling feeling went down her spine.

"Hello beautiful." His voice greeted from behind her. She turned around to face Azazel, resting her hands on her hips with a cold glare set on him. He took a step towards her. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

She said nothing, but pulled off her hoodie, and took off the black satin vest she was wearing under it.

Azazel looked a little surprised, but kept the smirk on his face. "Well, I'm up for it, but what about Sam? Isn't he your boyfriend now?"

She remained silent, only glaring at him as she took off the long sleeved black shirt, leaving her in a white tank top. From her wrists up to her shoulders, all across her stomach and down to her waist were markings in a language she'd never seen before, burned into her skin. The demon looked at her arms in mild amusement.

"Oh," He said with a smirk. "That."

"Yes, that." She said in an icy voice. "What the hell is it?"

"Hey," He responded in an equally cold voice. "Calm down, beautiful. It's our agere[1]."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes as she shook her head. "No, I never made a deal with you."

"Ah, but you did." He shrugged. "Not in the traditional way, but it was a deal none the less. That-" He pointed to her arm. "Is just the contract. So you won't forget about it."

"What are you talking about?" Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. "I never made a deal with you!"

"Six months ago, at that old church? You were unconscious in, couldn't wake up…" He smiled as she shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I helped you."

She scrunched her brows and looked down at the floor, trying to recall what happened. She remembered the wasteland, the place Guardians were sent to be recycled. She couldn't remember anything else. Before she had a chance to react, Azazel grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She pushed against him as he pressed two fingers to her temple.

Memories, from Azazel's point of view filled her vision. She went back to that night, when Dean and Castiel had come back from purgatory.

Azazel was about to walk out the doors of the chapel when a familiar scent crossed his nose. He stopped, a smile creeping onto his face as he walked past the many pews. He stopped when he reached the steps of the podium. Lying there on the floor next to the podium was the young woman Azazel had never forgotten about. She lay on her side, head resting on her outstretched arm, her back to Azazel.

"Well, well, well," Azazel said, walking closer to the unconscious girl on the floor. She looked much different than she had when he'd met her last time. Then she had brown waist-length hair and tanned skin, now she had pale skin and shoulder-length black hair that made her skin seem even paler. But he could sense that it was Mist on the inside. He knelt down next to her and turned her from her side to her back.

The demon raised a hand and pushed a strand of her black hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. As he pulled his hand back, hers whipped up and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. He didn't even try to move, knowing that he wouldn't be able to. He wasn't sure what was happening to her, but he could sense that she was powerful right now- definitely more powerful than him.

Her eyes snapped open, startling him when they were dimly glowing orange instead of the green he'd been expecting. Her eyes found his face instantly and a low, dangerous growl emitted from her throat. A warning. She looked at his hand and back at him face in a less than a second.

"Azazel." Her voice was different; it almost sounded like a hiss. With that one word, his own name, chills were sent down his spine. "Not dead?"

Before he could answer, she released his wrist as tremors shook her body. Her hands flew to her stomach, where the pain must have been coming from. She turned onto her side and curled up into a ball as the roots of her ebony hair turned brown. Her normal brown color flowed down the length of her hair, replacing the black until all her hair was back to its own brown. At the same time, her pale skin returned to her olive toned complexion.

Azazel didn't move a muscle as her transformation started and finished. Once again, he rolled her from her side onto her back. He could no longer see her chest moving. He picked up her now limp hand and held it in both of his. He could sense that she was lingering on the brink of death. He thought back to that night twenty-nine years ago, the first and only time he'd ever seen her. He'd sensed her many of times when Sam had been near, but he never saw her again until tonight. He remembered the plans he had for this girl, and how they were interrupted.

He smiled as she caught a breath and groaned. Her eyes still closed, she raised her other hand and put it over Azazel's.

"Sam?"

The demon chuckled and shook his head. "Nope. Guess again."

That got her to open her eyes. They were green again. They widened when she saw just who was holding her hand. She took a ragged breath as her eyes flickered orange. Azazel dropped her hand. She scrunched her eyes and threw her head to the side as an ear-splitting scream tore from her throat.

When she stopped moving, Azazel closed his own eyes and tried to enter her mind. But he was, literally, thrown out. His body went flying back into one of the pews. From what little he saw in that pretty little head of hers, he gathered that Mist was fighting off whatever orange-eyed thing had taken control of her body. He didn't know what it was, but it was powerful, more powerful than a demon or anything he'd sensed before.

He could hear three sets of footsteps going up the stairs and hurried back to the girl. "Why don't I help you out?" He entered her mind once more, this time he was prepared for the powerful force of energy that tried to slam him out. Once he'd finished, he pulled out from her mind and stood up. Her eyes fluttered open as he winked at her.

"You owe me one, beautiful." He disappeared as she fell unconscious again.

Then she was falling. Falling faster than she would've ever thought possible. Mist was slammed back into her body; she grabbed onto the demon's jacket so she wouldn't fall. She faintly registered a knocking sound, but she was still trying to gain consciousness. No doubt she would've fallen to the ground if Azazel's arms hadn't been holding her up. When she opened her eyes, her head was back, exposing her neck, and her hands were clenching his jacket.

"Let me go." She mumbled, scrunching her eyes for a moment, trying to see clearly.

He smirked at her. "You first." She looked down and saw that her hands were still gripping his jacket. She felt the heat rush to her face as she uncurled her fists. He let her go and looked at her door. "You've got a visitor."

"What did you do?" She asked, ignoring the knock at her door. "How did you help me?"

Azazel's eyes flickered from her to the door, then back to her before answering. "We'll save that story for another day, beautiful. You should get the door." She already knew who was at the door, but she also knew Azazel would leave as soon as she turned her head, and she nowhere near close to being done talking to him.

"You'd better get out there," He said. "Sammy is waiting." She turned her head towards the door and when she looked back at the demon, he was gone. She muttered a few curses and walked to the door. After pulling her shirt and vest back on, she opened the door to see Sam's worried face.

"Hey, Sam." She greeted, trying to at least sound casual.

"Hey. Is everything okay?" He tried to look inside, but she laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back as she stepped outside, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah, why?"

He looked from her to the door, back to her again and shook his head. "Uh, no reason I was just," He sighed. "I wanted to talk to you, about something."

She nodded. "Sure, what's up?"

He looked around before motioning to the side walk that went from the hotel to the town square. "Could we take a walk?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." She said as they started walking. "It was getting a little stuffy in there anyway."

The two left the hotel and began walking down the street, going nowhere in particular. She looked up at him every once and a while, his brooding demeanor evident on his face; his brown eyes glued to the ground in front of him. After ten minutes of silence, except for the occasional honking of cars speeding by, did she break the silence.

"What's wrong Sam?"

He looked over at her, her green eyes wide with concern. He gave her a sad smile. "It's-" He wanted to ask her about her burns, but decided on a subject more pressing. "It's about Dean."

When he hesitated, she bumped his arm lightly with her shoulder. "Hey, whatever you tell me stays with me." He looked into her eyes. "I swear."

He nodded. "I know, it's just, Dean would be pissed if he knew." She waited for him to go on. "I know you probably won't be able to help, but I don't know, I guess I just-"

"Need someone to talk to?" She offered.

"Yeah," He told her about Dean's nightmares and the fevers, and how they were escalating with each passing day. As he spoke, she listened intently, nodding every once and a while, but kept silent. They passed through the park and she took his arm, pulling him gently to a table. She sat criss cross on top of it, while Sam came to an end of his story.

They sat in silence, Mist mulling over what he'd just said, Sam wondering what was happening to his brother.

"Have you talked to Castiel?" She offered. "Maybe he-"

"He can't." He said curtly. "I called him, he wouldn't say why but he said he couldn't heal him."

"Did he say why this is happening?" He shook his head. "What about Dean? Have you spoken to him about this?"

He chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I mentioned it once. He said it was nothing to worry about."

She didn't know what to say. They remained silent until Sam's voice, sounding so hopeless, made Mist look at him.

"All the times before, when Dean hunted on his own while I was at Stanford, when he made that deal to bring me back and went to hell," He shook his head. "I just can't help but think…what if this time he can't just bounce back? What if he-"

She brought her hand to his face and turned his head towards her. "Sam, he's strong, and he came back, fought his way through hell and friggin' purgatory, just to get back to his brother." She sniffed and tucked her hand inside her sleeve against the cold wind. Sliding from the table top to the seat next to him, she continued. "And whatever he's going through, he'll get through, cause he's got the best brother in world."

He smiled and reached up, placing his hand over hers. The wind blew again and she let out a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest as his warm hand covered her cold one. She could've sworn she saw him move forward, but before she had time to see for sure, Mist pulled back her hand.

"So where is Castiel?" She asked, resting her elbows on her knees and looking down at the ground. She already knew, but it was something.

Sam cleared his throat. "He, uh, he was looking for one of his friends-"

"Meg? Has he found her yet?"

"No, not yet." He paused. "But when he's not looking for her, he stays with a friend of ours, Jody Mills. Seems she and Cas really hit it off."

She looked around and stood up. "We should get back." He nodded and they started walking back to the hotel. Halfway there, Sam looked over at her and smiled inwardly. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She smiled as she inhaled his scent on the jacket.

"You looked cold."

"Yeah," She chuckled and looked ahead. "Thanks."


[1] Agere means 'deal' in Latin.


xXx

Hailey Jenkins, a forty-three year old woman who'd been cleaning this hotel for many years, opened the hotel room door and walked in with her cart, stopping when she saw the woman on the bed, all torn up and bloody.

"Oh my god," She murmured, her hand flying to her mouth. She timidly took step towards her. Was she dead? She took another step, then another and far sooner than she wanted, she was standing next to the woman.

"Hon?" She reached out a hand and gently shook her shoulder. The girl's eyes shot open and rested on the maid's face. Hailey reached for the phone on the table next to her to call 911 but the girl grabbed her wrist.

"Stop…"

Hailey gawked at her wrist. There had been blood on the girl's hand, and now it was on her wrist. She closed her eyes and tried to keep calm. "I'm gonna call 911. You need to get to a hospital."

"No." The girl breathed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "J…"

"What?" Hailey leaned closer; the girl seemed to be straining herself to even speak.

"John…" She murmured. "…Winchester." She handed Hailey a cell phone. "Please, just-" She was cut off by a fit of coughs, resulting in more blood spilling from between the fingers on her other hand, which was covering the wound on her stomach. When she stopped coughing, she took a deep breath and continued. "Just call him."

"You can call him when you're at the hospital." She said, reaching for the phone again.

"No, please." Hailey knew she should just call 911, but there was something about the girl that made her think maybe someone was after her. Why else wouldn't she want to go to the hospital? Of course, she could also be a wanted felon.

"Okay," Hailey grabbed the phone from the girl's bloody hand and, trying her best to ignore the blood on the buttons, searched through the contacts until she found John Winchester. She pushed dial and put the phone a few inches from her ear. She looked over at the girl on the bed. "Honey, what's your name?"

Her brown eyes opened for a minute before fluttering closed. "I'm a hunter."

xXx

As they neared her hotel room door, Mist took off Sam's jacket. She handed it to him as they stopped in front of her door.

"Thanks for the jacket."

He nodded. "No problem. And thank you, for listening to me."

"Anytime." She smiled. They stood there, Mist leaning against the door and Sam with his hands in his pockets. She couldn't help but think there was something she was missing- he seemed to be waiting for something- but she wasn't sure what it was. "Well, I should get some sleep, long drive tomorrow."

Behind her back, she turned the doorknob and took a step back. Sam grabbed her arm as she started to walk into the room. "You'll come over, before you leave, won't you? To say goodbye?"

She nodded. "I will." They locked eyes, his brown ones looking into her green ones.

"Okay," He looked down before looking back at her. "Goodnight." He had started walking away when she walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned abruptly, making her bump into him.

She took a breath and threw her arms around his neck, wrapping him in a warm hug. It got a bit warmer as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. "Everything is gonna be okay, Sam." She pulled her head back to look him in the eyes. "I promise."

He nodded and looked into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze surprised her and before she knew it, she was blushing. It was an odd reaction. Why would that happen now? It seemed an odd reaction to have when she'd known him for twenty-nine years.

She decided to believe that it was the cold wind.

As her arms dropped from his shoulders, his arms left her waist but his hands stayed on her hips. She felt all ten of his fingers burning through her clothes and she began to blush harder. Tugging on her hips, Sam pulled her close. Lowering his head down to hers, Mist gasped in surprise just before his lips touched her own. Gently, she pulled back just enough to still feel her breath against his lips. Then, completely ignoring the feeling of breaking an important rule, she leaned in, returning the kiss. Sam moved a hand up, palm to her cheek, holding her face gently in one hand.

xXx

Dean smirked as Sam and Michelle passed by the window. Shaking his head, he continued reading about Abaddon.

In purgatory, Dean had been attacked by that ugly sonofabitch. And in the attack, Abaddon had bitten him on his right bicep. Since he'd gotten back, the wound had gotten better- physically, anyway. There was no blood, no scar, nothing. But the poison was beginning to take a hold on his mind. At night, he'd dream of purgatory, hallucinate about his worst memories and almost every night, Sam had had to shake him awake.

He hadn't told Sam about the poison from Abaddon. He knew he'd have to eventually, but until that moment, Dean wasn't gonna let this burden his little brother.

Then his phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. It wasn't that phone. He looked at his bag on the bed and got up, unzipping the inner compartment and pulling out several of his dad's old phones. When he found the one, he flipped it open.

"Yeah?"

A scared female voice answered. "John Winchester?"

"Who is this?"

"Please, she's bleeding so much and she won't go to a hospital. She said to call you." She said quickly. "Please hurry." She paused and Dean heard another voice in the background. "She says she's a hunter."

"Who is this?"

"Hailey Jenkins. I'm a maid at the motel 6 in San Francisco."

Dean shook his head. He couldn't think of any female hunters that his father knew—that were still alive anyways. He grabbed a pen and paper off the table. "Okay, give me the address."

xXx

"Ahem," Mist jumped back, tearing her lips from Sam's, and looked around Sam to see Dean leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face. She blushed even harder. "Sorry to interrupt, but uh," He looked at Sam. "We've gotta go."

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Seriously, right now?"

Dean looked from his brother to the girl and back. His smirk dropped and he raised his hand, in it was one of their dad's old cellphones. "Got a call, a hunter's bleeding out in a hotel room in San Francisco as we speak." When Sam said nothing, Dean looked at their connected hands and then over at Michelle. She was blushing so badly, which brought the smirk back to his face. "I'm gonna pack up our stuff so…make it quick you two."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean went back inside. He looked back at Michelle and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, he's-"

"It's fine, I just-" She looked at her hand; he was still holding onto it. She finally looked up. "That was just incredibly embarrassing."

"You think that was embarrassing?" He asked. "I have to be in the same car with him for god knows how long. You don't think I'm gonna hear about this the whole ride to California?"

She laughed. "Yeah, you've got it worse."

Dean came through the door carrying all their bags and threw them into the trunk. Then he got behind the wheel, waiting for his brother.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry-"

She held a hand up. "I understand. It's part of the job." In truth, she was glad they were leaving; it'd give her time to think.

He gave her hand one last squeeze and got into the car.


Please R&R!