A/N Ugh… guys. I tried to get through Croatoan but I got like six pages done and I was only half way through the episode and I had no more ideas so this one is definitely going to be late. I had to skip through a ton of episodes to get to one that I even think I can do. I have ideas on what to do with the sister but that can't even really start until the season two finale, which is six episodes down the line. I'm rewatching the episodes with subtitles so it'll sink in more. Anyone who wants to read what I have of Croatoan can PM me. And to anyone that is struggling to picture Harley, think Amber Heard from 'Drive Angry'.

Two Aquari and a Taurus

Sam had been missing for a week and Dean was absolutely losing his shit. This was the sixteenth time he had called the Roadhouse in a week and the nineteenth time I called Bobby.

Goose egg.

So we were sitting here under a bridge with me in the passenger seat of Baby waiting for him to get off the phone so we could restart our search. We had dumped my car in a storage unit I own in boston so we could travel together.

I do not belong in the passenger seat of the impala, I never have, I've always been in the backseat.

"Sammy, where the hell are you? Are you okay?" I roll down the window as fast as I can, Dean ignores me.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey. Calm down. Where are you? Are you okay. Alright don't move, we're on our way."

When we find Sam's motel room Dean knocks on the door. Well more like pounds on it actually. I don't blame him. The dread and anxiety I felt over the last week has multiplied the closer we got. Something's wrong, I can feel it, and I think that Dean does to but that might just be big brother worry. There's some sister worry in me too, but there is something else as well. I just can't place it…

"SAM?" Dean calls through the door. I nudge him aside and twist the knob. The door pops right open.

This isn't good. Sam of all people should know to keep the door locked up. We glance at each other before going inside.

Sam is sitting quietly on the bed, hands in his lap, head hanging low.

"Hey." Dean says carefully.

"Hey, Dean." Sam replies softly.

"Are you bleeding?" I ask reaching for one of his bloody hands.

"I tried to wash it off."

Dean reaches forward and moves aside his jacket to reveal a large rust colored stain on his shirt.

"Oh, my God." Dean says keeping his hand on Sam's shoulder.

I go to the bathroom with the ice bowl, fill it with warm water, and grab a rag before returning.

"I don't think that it's my blood." He says in the same voice he used before.

I kneel on the floor in front of him before quietly wiping dried blood off of one of his hands.

"Whose is it?" Dean demands

"I don't know." Sam says watching my hands. I don't know what to do or say about this so I stay quiet and continue to get rid of the blood so I can see what's underneath.

"Sam, what the hell happened?"

Dean is distressed. Again, I don't blame him.

"Dean...I don't remember anything." I glance up. Sam seems worried passed the point of worried, Dean's scared and so am I but I stay calm.

"It's okay." I hear myself say "It's okay we'll figure it out. We can fix this." And then it's like the time when Sammy took a spill in the motel parking lot while Dad was out and I cleaned the blood and gravel out of his knees while Dean held his much smaller hand.

'It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. We can fix this, I promise. You'll be okay.'

Dean goes out to get food and ask around about Sam, and I stay here with him. I don't mind babysitting so I lounge on the bed while Sam showers and changes. Dean comes back shortly after sam gets out of the shower with a bag of fast food.

"What'd you find out?"

"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora." Dean says "I think the scariest part of this whole thing is that you're a Bon Jovi fan."

"Dean."

"Your room's been quiet." Dean says moving his arms "Nobody's noticed anything unusual."

Sam starts pacing "You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?"

Dean shrugs a little "Yeah that's what I mean."

"Then how the hell did I get here? What happened to me?" Sammy's getting snippy at Dean's back. I remain silent like a good little nurse. Dean shrugs off his jacket.

"I don't know, but you're okay, and that's what matters." Dean shoves up his sleeves. "Everything else we can deal with." He doesn't look at any of us but his words have conviction

"Oh really?" Sam's got his bitchface on. "'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?"

"Sam." It's the warning tone, the one that I remember from when we were little.

Dean is also bitch facing it.

"What if this is what Dad warned you about?" My muscles tighten instinctively.

John Eric Winchester, Father of the Year.

"Whoa, whoa. Come on man. Let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We got to treat this like any other job."

Sam shakes his head a little.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Me and you in that motel room in West Texas."

That was a week ago. A week is a long time to go without remembering anything.

Sam sinks down on to the bed. "We went out to grab some burgers."

"West Texas… That was over a week ago." Dean wonders closer

"That's it." he pauses "Next thing I knew, I was sitting here. Bloody. I felt like I had been asleep for a month."

"Okay. Retrace your steps. Manager said you left yesterday afternoon and never saw you come back." He walked over to the window and pulled back the filmy, white curtain.

Bloody fingerprints on the window handle.

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There is something very wrong with this picture.

We're here. In this guy's house. Standing over his dead corpse body. All the signs are here.

And I somehow can't find it within me to believe that this could have been Sam.

This guy's throat is slit, this is the last place Sam seems to have remembered he's been, and I still can't blame Sam.

He goes "Dean, I did this." and I still don't believe him.

Dean goes "We don't know that." and I agree with him.

"He's right." I say

Sam's stressed, his voice raises a little. "How else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood?"

Dean raises his too. "I don't know man, why don't you tell me?"

Only Sam can't. Because Sam said he doesn't know and that means he doesn't know because Sam isn't a very good liar.

Dean continues "Even if you did I'm sure you had a reason- you know, self defense, he was a bad son of a bitch, something."

He starts to pat down Mr. Dead Guy, looking for weapons, I assume. Or maybe hex bags, or a summoning charm, or something incriminating.

Sam gives a twitchy little head jerk thing.

Dean sighs. "He doesn't have any I.D."

Looks like I was wrong.

"I need your lock pick." says Sam

"What?" asks Dean. I glance over at Sam, silently sharing Deans sentiments.

What the hell could an amnesiac, who thinks he killed a man in cold blood, need a lock pick for?

"I need your lock pick." He moves to the closet. Dean gets up and hands the pick over.

Sam gets the door open pretty fast to reveal a collection of neatly placed guns going all the way up a wall.

"Holy shit." I state aloud.

"Either this guy's a unabomber or-"

"He's a hunter." Sam concludes. "Dean, I think I killed a hunter."

I nod to a camera in the corner. "Let's find out."

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Dean fast forwards on the monitors.

Sam enters with Mr. Dead Guy, both of them fighting but Sam seems to be kicking his ass.

Sam sits quietly watching the monitors, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

Camera Sam puts his hand over Mr. Dead Guy's mouth and slits his throat with the knife we found in the car he stole.

The Sam sitting in front of the monitors looks horrified.

Dean pauses the clip and Sam hangs his head in shame.

Dean walks away.

"Move." I say to Sam.

He picks up a letter of the desk.

"Move Sam!" I snap "I have to erase the tapes!"

He doesn't move.

I rip the letter out of his hands and get down to his level. "Look at me." I say.

He doesn't.

"I know how this looks. But there is nothing in that tape that says he wasn't a baddie. Got it? There is nothing there that says that it wasn't him or you. Hunters get possessed or go bad just like anyone else."

"I killed him."

"I know."

"I just broke in and killed him."

"You had too."

"We don't know that."

"Yes we do." He shakes his head.

"Right, Dean?" I say over my shoulder.

Dean looks at me for a moment before picking up the computer CPU and throwing it on the floor before putting his foot through the busted bits.

"Christ, Deanna. Take a midol."

He glares at me before tossing Sam a bandana. "Wipe your prints. Then we go."

I reach into the busted bits of CPU and pull out the hard drive, set it on the ground, and putting my knife through it.

Dean sends me a startled look and I shrug.

"No point in smashing the CPU if you're not going to break the hard drive."

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When we get into the motel room it's dark.

Dean orders Sam to get a few hours of sleep because we leave first thing tomorrow.

"I know this looks bad," Dean says.

Wonder where that was hours ago when I was telling Sam that.

"You gotta snap out of it." Sam starts pacing the room again.

"Sam, say something." Orders Dean in his concerned big brother voice.

"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?" Sam snarked "Murder, Dean. That's what I did."

"Maybe, okay?" insists Dean. Sam snorts.

"Hey we don't- shapeshifter." It's a weak excuse and Sam has no problem pointing it out.

"Oh, come on. You know it wasn't. You saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion."

"But it wasn't you, alright? Yeah, it might have been you but it wasn't you."

"Well, I think it was." he sinks onto the bed "I think maybe more than you know."

"What the hell does that mean." asks Dean

"For the last few weeks, I've been having… I've been having these feelings."

Ick. Feelings.

"What feelings?" asks Dean.

"Rage...Hate." And the way he says it and the look on his face sends shivers down my spine. Dean sits down on the bed with a pinched expression. "And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse."

"You didn't tell me that."

Sam shifts. "I didn't want to scare you."

"Well, bang up job on that" Dean says slapping his knee and getting up.

He has a serious tact issue. We might have to work on that.

"Dean, the yellow eyed demon- You know he has plans for me."

I get up from my position at the table with the words of a nightmare ringing through my head. Not Sam's. They belong to someone else.

"And we both know that he's turned other children into killers too."

"Where are you going with this Sam?" I interrupt, not wanting to listen to his speech anymore due to my stomach twisting like it had been shoved into a Maytag.

"Dean," he says "You promised him. You promised me."

Dean is trying to convince Sam that We Will Save Him when sam says: "You'll live to regret this." and pistol whips Dean across the face.

"What the shit, Sam?!" I yelp backing up.

He says nothing, just comes up and knocks me flat on my ass.

I scramble up right. "Sam?"

He sort of smirks and punches me again. Hard. Hard enough for me to see stars.

I fall again but this time I kick out at his knees my foot collides with his leg but he doesn't even flinch. He sends his foot into my rib cage and stomach a few times just for funzies.

I lash out when he picks me up by the front of my jacket.

It's not sam. I know that now . It's not Sam.

I land a right hook on the side of his face.

It's not Sammy.

He just smiles. "You're lucky I need you alive." I keep fighting even though it's getting pathetic. He has me by my jacket up so high the toes of my boots are barely brushing the ground. Another punch has blood streaming from my nose.

My fists might as well be rabbit paws for all of the damage that they're doing.

It's not Sam.

He smirks again and pitches me into the wall.

My head collides with the window's glass and just like that I'm gone and so is the world.

It all goes dark.

It's not Sam.

I wake up in the passenger seat of the impala with my head resting on Dean's shoulder.

It takes a while for me to understand what the fuck's going down right now and how I got here.

I groan and sit up, wrapping my arms around my ribs as we go over a bump.

"Mornin' Sunshine." Dean quips.

I groan and drag my hand down my face. "That wasn't Sam that did this," I start

"I know," Dean interjects.

"But," I continue "Goddamn does that boy pack a punch." I rub my hand along my tender jaw. I glance into the mirror. It has bruised pretty nicely in the time that I've been unconscious. It's a dark blue color spanning most of the right side of my job. If I lifted up my shirt my torso would probably be the same color.

I grin crazily at him to show that I'm not mad even though it hurts a little due to the split lip Sam dished out.

"You're insane." he mused.

"That's what they keep trying to tell me." I laugh aloud.

"Got you pretty good, huh?"

"Well, he's got a good nine inches as who know how much weight on me." I whine "Hardly a fair fight."

He snorts.

I send him a teasingly snide look. "At least I didn't get bitch slapped with a pistol, like this Winchester guy I know. God, would that be embarrassing."

He rolls his eyes,

"Seriously, though." I say sobering up. "You guys need to get warded. If you don't want a tattoo get a pendant, because you two make some dangerous prom dresses."

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After the final battle I mop everybody up. I mother hen like I used to, doing what I was trained for. Dean tries to tell me that my services aren't necessary so I tell him to shut up and let me feel useful for a minute. Bobby's relatively fine. A few bruises and a bump on his head.

Sam's the next. I chuck him an ice pack and tell it to put it on his arm while I check Dean over, then I toss him another one for wherever else.

Dean's pretty well off too, considering. No concussion, which is good. The cut on his eyebrow isn't deep, his nose isn't broken, but his stitches were torn open.

Sam keeps glancing at us all guilty so I ask him if he can get me some witch hazel, just to make him leave. Truth is I already had plenty of peroxide which works just as well on an infection. He leaves long enough for me to mostly patch Dean up. I wiping neosporin on the wound when he comes back with a clear plastic bottle. He sets it lightly on the table beside me.

I smile at him "Thanks Sam." I nod to a chair. "Sit."

I slap some gauze on Dean's arm, quick swipe the witch hazel over Dean's split eyebrow to make it seem like I actually needed it and send him on his way to go get a beer or take a nap or something.

Then it's on to sam.

He's pretty good too, other than the wicked burn there are a few minor bruises.

I put neosporin on the burn, bandage that up, and give him back the ice pack.

"Harley, I'm sorry." He's got his guilty puppy dog eyes on looking at my face.

"Why? You break into my car again?"

"No. I'm sorry about-" he motions to my face.

I touch my jaw. "What? This? This is nothing. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Lie. Total lie. It is nothing compared to a lot of the beatings I've received but it did hurt.

"And even if it was something, you have nothing to apologise for."

"But-"

"Nothing. It wasn't you, it was that demon bitch Ruby."

I look from Dean to Sam. "You boys look like shit."

Sam smiles a little and Dean goes "Right back at ya."

Mission accomplished.

Bobby comes into the living room from the kitchen.

"You kids ever hear about a hunter named Steve Wandell?"

We all shift a little. I'm not sure I'm cool with lying to Bobby."

"Why do ask?" questions Dean, avoiding the question entirely. Apparently he doesn't fancy lying to Bobby either.

"Just heard from a friend, Wandell's dead," He looks each of us in the eye, when he gets to me I try to keep a neutral expression. I assume that I succeed because he moves on.

"Murdered in his own house." Sam looks away.

"You wouldn't know anything about that."

"No, sir. Never heard of the guy." says Dean.

"Dean." Sam chastises.

"Me either." I say shooting Sam a look. Like shut up.

"Good." says Bobby, also shooting Sam a look. "Keep it like that. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up. They're not going to slow down and listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying."

Dean nods. "We better hit the road…" he turns to Sam "If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car." We all get up.

"Here," Bobby says dropping something into each of the boys' hands.

"What are they?" asks Sam

"Charms. They'll fend off possession." he nods at me "That demon is is still out there. This will stop it from getting back up in you."

"That sounds vaguely dirty, but thanks."

"You're welcome. You be careful now."

"You too."

Then we leave and I'm back in the back seat where I belong listening to 'Back on the road again.'

God, I love this car.

A/N

God that took for ever. I still own nothing. R and R please.