Having their election, graduation, and freedom, respectively, at stake, Nathan, Rory, and Dean left before the police arrived. Sam and Peter stayed behind to try to explain the dead teacher near them on the roof. The police were skeptical about their story, but when the medical examiner came and said that the preliminary cause of death was electrocution and there was no sign of foul play, the police had to believe them.

"We're meteorology students, officer," Peter had said. "We have a project due this week, and we needed more data. So we were just working up here, when she came up. It was raining a little. She was raving about ghosts and her roommates. Said she killed her roommate in college. Then the lightening just… hit her." He didn't mention the gun. Dean had taken it before he left. The police let the two men leave, and they did so quickly. Once off campus, Sam called Dean.

"We have to leave," Dean said. "Wait where you are." A short time later, the Impala pulled up with Dean, Nathan, and Rory.

"Rory's promised only to write up the story you gave the police," Nathan reported.

"As though anyone would believe me anyway. Paris'd tell me to go write for the Weekly World News," Rory said, and laughed.

"Sam," Dean said seriously, "We need to leave."

"What?" Sam asked worriedly. "Dean, is everything alr…"

"We just… need to leave."
Sam shrugged but said goodbye to the others.

"We should get going too, Pete," said Nathan. "Are you coming back with me?"

"I guess so," Peter replied. The Petrellis and Winchesters parted ways, leaving Rory behind. She never saw any of them again, except on television. Once, in mid-November, she saw Nathan standing in front of a crowd of people, a woman in a wheelchair on his left side, Peter on his right. They cheered for him, and he embraced them.

Peter had been going to see Dr. Mohinder Suresh almost every day since he returned to New York, looking for answers. When he had arrived in the city after leaving Yale with Nathan, he found that things had changed, despite the fact that it had only been a few days. Claude was gone, leaving only a cryptic note about a man with glasses. Simone had called and left message after message, but Peter didn't return them. It was rumored that the man known as Sylar had killed again. And, for the first time since he was a child, Peter understood his brother, and he believed that Nathan understood him. Things had changed.

Things had changed for the Winchesters as well. Dean was strangely quiet as her drove (even faster than usual). He didn't make stupid jokes, or sing, or throw things at Sam, or do any of the things that made him Dean Winchester.

When he reached out and turned off the radio- turned off Back in Black, no less- Sam spoke up. "Dean, you ok?"

"I'm fine," Dean replied in a very not-fine voice.

"Do you want to talk about this?"

"No, Sam, I do not want to talk about this."

"So, what?" Sam exploded. "Are you just going to pretend that nothing's happened? Nothing's changed? Newsflash, Dean: You can control the weather. That's not exactly…"

"You think I don't know that?" Dean yelled. "I know it! I just… can't handle it. I'm a freak. I'm a freak like you!" Sam's eyes got big and sad. Dean saw. "Sam, damnit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just… I'm scared, Sam," he admitted to his younger brother.

"I know." Dean turned away. The brothers rode in silence, until a strange noise came from the engine of the Impala. It sputtered and died. The car coasted to a stop. Dean tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn't move.

He hit the dashboard. "Come on," he said. No word from the car. "Come on," he repeated, and hit the dash again. "Come on. Come on, come on, damnit!" He grew louder and hit the dashboard harder. "Why are you going this? Come on, you sonofabitch, start up baby, come on. Why the hell are you doing this to me?" Tears ran down his face and Sam put a hand on his shoulder. The sky was dark.

"Hey, Dean. It's alright. I'll take care of you. It's gonna be ok."

"That's not how it works," Dean sobbed. "I'm supposed to keep it together. I'm supposed to take care of you." Raindrops fell. "Dad told me to…"

"Well, he's not here, and I think you're doing a good job," Sam said. Dean took a long shuddering breath. Sam's words had clearly cheered him up a bit.

"I can't deal with this right now. We need a job."

"What? You want to take a job?"

"Yeah," Dean replied.

Sam raised his eyebrows but opened his laptop. "Let's see, there's been a series of strange deaths in upstate New York. Looks like voodoo or something. But Dean, the car…" Dean closed his eyes. He sighed. He tried the car again. The engine turned over and then began to run. Sam smiled and showed Dean the map. "Maybe a day's drive?"

"A day? Bet I can make it in six hours," Dean answered, turning on the radio and pulling out onto the road. His voice joined Robert Plant's singing "Hey, hey, what can I do, I got a woman, she…"

Sam smiled, watching Dean. As they drove away, the clouds cleared, and the sun began to shine.